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    Gin Me Over
    Gin Me Over
    Gin Me Over
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    Gin Me Over

    By Susan Mac Nicol

    ()

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    About this ebook

    BIRDS OF A FEATHER

    Imaginative, creative, brilliant are some of the accolades Bradley "Birdy" Dobbs enjoys as the creator of top-of-the-line designer gin. Flighty, crazy, and irresponsible are also monikers used to describe him, mostly by the parade of Relationship Managers – read: death and doomsday business wazzocks – the bank sends over to Birdy's company, Ori-Gin. When the latest number cruncher shows up with propositions Birdy can live with – and some he's aching to try – Jaydon Tyrell becomes the most important member of Birdy's flock.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBoroughs Publishing Group
    Release dateFeb 4, 2020
    ISBN9781951055578
    Gin Me Over
    Author

    Susan Mac Nicol

    'The Official Stuff' Susan writes steamy, sexy, and fun contemporary romance stories, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark, and she hopes, always entertaining. She’s also Editor-in-Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a member of The Society of Authors, the Writers Guild of Great Britain, and the Authors Guild in the US. Susan is also an award-winning screenplay writer, with scripts based on two of her own published works. Sight Unseen has garnered no less than five awards to date, and her TV pilot, Reel Life, based on her debut novel, Cassandra by Starlight, was also a winner at the Oaxaca Film Fest.. 'The Unofficial Stuff' Susan loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man-crush Adam Lambert), walks in the countryside, a good G and T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness. Her chequered past includes stories like being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a bad influence (she encouraged free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard. Connect with Susan: website: authorsusanmacnicol.com facebook: Author-Susan-Mac-Nicol twitter: SusanMacNicol7 instagram: susiemax77 linkedin: susanmacnicol

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      Book preview

      Gin Me Over - Susan Mac Nicol

      Chapter 1

      Birdy

      The day had started well enough, but as we all knew, unexpected events can soon lead to disaster. I stared in horror at the woman lying face down in a mud puddle, her stockinged legs splayed ungainly while she cursed like a biker chick. Her vocabulary was certainly…colourful. Not what I’d expect from a bank employee here to advise me on business affairs.

      Beside me, my shop manager and friend, Valerie Vickers gawped in dismay, her gaze flicking from me to the large, preening peacock strutting around the garden. I supposed I’d better try and put some essence of discipline into the awkward situation.

      Bad bird, I admonished helplessly. You should be so ashamed of yourself, King Lear. You’ve been a very, very bad peacock.

      I had offered to help the unfortunate mud-spattered woman up, but she’d growled at me and told me to leave her the fuck alone. I’d backed off, of course. I was a gentleman, after all.

      God, I’m so sorry this happened to you, Ms Greer, Val said as she reached out a and to help the lady up. The bird isn’t usually that ferocious. I don’t know what came over him to chase you like that. She glared at me again while she helped Polly Greer to her feet. I wasn’t sure why I was in trouble. King Lear had never chased anyone before, and I couldn’t account for his actions.

      That animal is dangerous, how can you have such a bird on your premises when you have customers? Polly’s high pitched voice made King Lear give her the beady eye, and I moved swiftly to wedge myself in between them in case he decided to charge her again.

      He’s a peacock, I offered helpfully. They can be quite territorial. I winced when Val’s fingers pinched my upper arm.

      "Not the time for a nature lesson, Birdy, Val said between clenched teeth. Now get that damned bird out of the way while I help poor Ms Greer inside to clean up. I think she needs a cup of tea too. Come with me, dear."

      I watched as the two women left to walk up the cobbled garden path to the main store. There was a positive side to this unfortunate event, I mused. I didn’t have to sit and listen any more to Ms Greer talk about downsizing and making employees redundant. She’d had a one-track mind and after revealing her master plan for the benefit of my business—without any benefits I could see, mind you—I wasn’t altogether sad she might not come back.

      If I could fist bump you, dude, I would, I murmured to King Lear as I held out a piece of his favourite ginger cake to lure him back into the pasture far away from the store. I always carried a bit of something sweet in my pocket, either for the King or to feed the birds I saw on my travels. But I don’t condone your behaviour, do you hear me? You can’t go around scaring poor women into falling into mud puddles. It’s just not done.

      King Lear squawked loudly, and I winced at the sound. I understand you thought you were doing me a favour, but don’t do it again, okay? I’ll probably be sued by the bank now, I muttered gloomily, for causing stress and damage to one of their employees. God, I hope that doesn’t happen. I don’t need any excitement in my life.

      When King Lear was far enough away from the main store and could be deemed no more danger to anyone, I threw him the rest of the ginger cake and ambled back up to the shop.

      Time to make reparation for my wayward bird and see if anything I could do would keep future trouble away. Perhaps I could offer Ms Greer a nice bottle of our expensive Blueberry Explosion gin. That should calm anyone’s nerves.

      ***

      A month later….

      I’m sorry, Mr Dobbs. I simply can’t do this anymore. Elias Cranston, my ex customer relations manager all of ten seconds ago, shook his head vehemently and looked as if he was trying not to cry. I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried. But it isn’t working.

      I stared at him in confusion, noticing the nervous tic in his left eyebrow, and the fingers clenched at his sides. He seems terribly stressed. Perhaps I should make him some more tea. I’m so sorry to hear that, Elias. Must I tell you once again not to call me Mr Dobbs? It’s Birdy, for Christ’s sake.

      Elias closed his eyes in what seemed like despair and carried on with the head shaking. I was rather worried he was going to lose it the way he was going. It’s not right to call a man Birdy, he garbled, waving his arms at me. Especially when that man is your customer.

      Huh. Elias must have a soupçon of Italian in him, I mused, given the extravagant nature of his gestures. I loved Italy. I’d been there when my parents were alive. We’d stayed in Tuscany, and it had been a trip of a lifetime. The birdlife, the warm olive scented air, the sun on my skin… I dreamily remembered a clear pool we’d swam in somewhere on one of the islands. I’d seen the most exotic Kingfisher I’d ever seen…

      "And this is exactly why I can’t stay." The present intruded as Elias’s voice grew louder and more frustrated. I peered at him. Good God, was the man actually wringing his hands? I’d thought that was a literary term and no one ever really did it.

      Elias glared at me. You zone out when I’m talking to you. You ignore my proposals and go off on a tangent. I never quite know whether anything I’m saying is getting through to you. That’s why you’re in this financial mess. His voice quavered. And that awful tea you force upon me every time we get together makes me ill. I’m not a fan of liquorice.

      I blinked slowly behind my glasses as I raised a finger and pushed them up on my nose. I made sure not to use my middle finger as I'd nearly had my lights punched out once by an irate stranger in a pub who’d thought I was flipping him the bird. No pun intended, but I admit to having a penchant for the phrase. "I’m sorry, were you saying something? Err, I promise to listen.

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