Anniversary Shenanigans: Author Visit + Giveaway - Joanna Chambers


Joanna Chambers is bringing her historical Dreamweaver magic to the clubhouse today as well as a special giveaway. 



Strawberries

The world, which is now grey, used to be full of colour.

That was before the war.

When I look back, it’s as though it was always summer then. The years have somehow merged, in my memory, into one endlessly long summer day. A day spent lazing by the river with Oliver, the sky innocently cloudless above us, the water summer-still, its glassy surface only disturbed by the occasional plop of a frog hopping into the water. Insects droning contentedly.

In my memory, the wine stays magically cold, no matter how long it’s been sitting open and the strawberries are always perfectly ripe. And when I kiss Oliver, that is what I taste—strawberries.

In my memory, I make love to Oliver in the open, under the sun. There is no fear of discovery. We are the only two people in the world.

I have carried this memory with me through the war. I have carried it like a dried flower, carefully pressed, somewhat preserved. Liable to turn to powder if handled too much.

I worry about how much I’ve built on that memory. The impossible weight of all my hopes and expectations. Because I know the sun did not, in fact, always shine, and sometimes the strawberries were green in places.

And we did not make love in the open. Not at all.

We wrote to one another, when we could. We even managed to meet once, for a whole afternoon. We went to the cinema. Saw Mrs Miniver, hands clutched under my coat. That was nearly three years ago.

And now the war is over. And miraculously, we are both alive. Only, I am not that innocent, carefree boy by the river anymore. The reality of the man I now am weighs heavy on me. I can’t imagine Oliver could possibly want the man I have become.

I walk the two miles from the train station to the river. It’s not sunny. It’s grey and looks set to rain.

When I wrote to Oliver to say I was coming, I said I’d meet him at our favourite picnic spot, and sure enough, when I climb over stile and turn down the path, there he is, leaning against the old tree, his shoulder propped against the great, gnarled trunk as he watches the river glide smoothly past.

I take a step forward and a branch snaps under my boot.

Oliver turns. There is hope—and fear—in his eyes.

Peter—

And then he’s running towards me.

I throw my pack to the ground an instant before he reaches me and then his lean, solid weight is slamming into me and he’s crushing his mouth against mine. The memories scatter—everything is made new.

There’s not so much as a strawberry in sight, and I don’t give a damn.

Author info

Joanna Chambers always wanted to write. In between studying, finding a proper grown up job, getting married and having kids, she spent many hours staring at blank sheets of paper and chewing pens. That changed when she rediscovered her love of romance and found her muse. Joanna's muse likes red wine, coffee and won't let Joanna clean the house or watch television

Website: http://joannachambers.com/
Twitter: chambersjoanna


Enter to win and ecopy of Children of the Night an anthology with ALL the proceeds going to Rainbow Railroad! Giveaway ends November 11th @ Midnight EST. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

We thank Ms. Chambers for helping us celebrate turning the big 4!

Don't miss entering in our month long unicorn giveaway HERE! It ends 12/1/17!

Trivia Question: Name the series set in a large northwestern city in the US that heavily features coffee, baked goods & romance. 10 pts

15 comments:

  1. Angela:
    Love it. Thank you for sharing

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  2. I liked your ficlet, wouldn't mind reading more :)
    Laura05

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  3. Awww. What a lovely ticket! <3 The emotions were oh-so-there & oh-so-powerful. And I definitely second the poster above my comment, I would love to read more.

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  4. Aw thank you all! I must admit, I am tempted to visit these characters again...

    I was somewhat inspired by a favourite poem of mine (first read read by me 28 years ago) "Strawberries" by gay Scottish poet, Edwin Morgan. Its wonderful final line is:

    "Let the storm wash the plates"

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  5. That was beautiful! I would love to read a longer story about these two.

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  6. That's so lovely, perfect ending! (My haiku's in the anniversary post comments.)

    --Trix

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  7. Thank you for sharing your ficlet with us. I really enjoyed it
    AHPG

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  8. I really like historical so this was a very nice surprise.
    Rene

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  9. Lovely and timely

    Got the anyhology the other day, looking forward to reading

    Suze

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