Love doesn't care who it happens to...

There are those who live in the big print. The headlines. Loud and proud. In your face. In your space. They grab life by the throat with one hand. Then beat the shit out of it with whichever hand is left over.

Then there are those who live in the small print. Quiet. Internalised. Times New Roman. Eight Point. Hidden away at the bottom of the page. Where all the important stuff is. Of course.

The Hawaiian Shirt is one of the former. Shaved head. Cultivated moustache with upturned ends. Khaki shorts and very expensive sandals. No socks. Leather iPad satchel slung over his shoulder.

He’s a creative of some sort, with a powerful need to be seen and a deep-seated desire to be heard. He loves the admiration of his peers.

The Shadow is one of the latter. She is vertically challenged. Vocally diminished. Impressively intelligent.

She wears safe, unexciting clothes and cultivates the kind of personality that gives her the one thing she desires most in all the world. Privacy.

They’re both in the coffee shop this morning. Trying to keep as far away from each other as possible. Almost as if being near might infect each with the virtues and vices of the other. Almost as if it might reveal the secret each is fighting so hard to keep.

The Hawaiian Shirt is by the window. Scanning the rest of the world. Laughing with two amigos almost as loud as he is.

He’s gulping a large Americano enthusiastically. They try to copy him and fail miserably. Little Italy looks on from behind the bar.

She knows The Hawaiian Shirt’s secret. She knew it the second she saw him for the first time.

She turns her head and her gaze comes to rest on The Shadow.

Stuffed into a corner at the other end of the room. A vague shape that folk see. Or think they see. Before their eyes move on to something more interesting.

She’s drinking a triple espresso. Small cup. Big effect.

Regularly. Sneakily. She looks over at The Hawaiian Shirt.

Only for the briefest of seconds.

Just as he does to her.

Neither knows what makes them do it. They’re the last people on earth who should be together. The last people who should find anything in common with each other.

And yet…and yet…

Behind the bar, Little Italy smiles to herself. She has watched these two who shoot fast glances at each other for the past six months.

Always keeping their distance.

Never making a move.

She knows the power behind the attraction of opposites. So she looks up at the box on the wall and nods. Just once.

The box knows about attraction in all its forms. It reaches down and plucks number 42 from a dusty stack.

The vinyl makes its way up to meet the world and hugs the turntable like it was saying hello to an old friend.

The curtains open. The Fab Four are on stage. George lead vocals. John, Paul and Ringo in the back. Listen. The Hawaiian Shirt and The Shadow look at each other. Do you want to know a secret.

Love doesn’t care who it happens to. Or why.

Be cool…

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The above is a sneaky peek at the sequel to my book Love & Coffee (available from all good Amazons). This one's called Love & Coffee. The Refill. (No cover design yet).

Like its predecessor, it's about the lives and loves of the customers in a city centre coffee shop.

And it's about the woman who takes care of them.

You'll find Love & Coffee (along with all my other books, Ad Lib, Ad Hoc, Ad Infinitum, and Heaven Help Us) waiting for you to fall in love with, on Amazon. Any time of the day or night. Right here...

Love & Coffee: https://amzn.to/28IWaHq

Ad Lib: https://amzn.to/2kd4LKf.

Ad Hoc: https://amzn.to/2Nx8GL8

Ad Infinitum: https://amzn.to/3pof7Uq

Heaven Help Us: https://amzn.to/2nkQ1Jk

Grab a coffee, grab a chair, and grab a sneaky peek.

Then grab a copy.L