The Uni-Files novels are NA/Adult British romantic comedies that will make you swoon, laugh and sigh. The first book, The Art of Letting Go is now available. The Saving of Benjamin Chambers releases December 4th.
About the Book:Find the book: Goodreads
Benjamin Chambers needs saving, he just does not know it yet. Bored of his life of repetitive gigs with a band going nowhere fast and one night stands with girls who are only interested in his role as a lead singer, something has got to change. It’s just what do you do when the only life you know involves messing around with guitars and attempting to run away from any female attention that comes your way. Ben has a New Year’s resolution and one that he is determined to keep, quit the band and get a life of his own. Little does Ben realise that on his last night with his band Sound Box he is going to meet a girl who will turn everything he knows upside down. As Ben sets himself the challenge to find ‘The Girl’ again, he may be about to learn that in an effort to rescue her, he himself will be the one to be saved.
Find The Art of Letting Go: Goodreads | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Anna Bloom is a contemporary romance writer who writes about life as it happens.
Combining a busy schedule of looking after two small children whilst working in a local school and completing The Uni Files series she also spends a lot of time imagining kissing hot guys – all in the name of her art.
Delilah, Lilah or whatever she is called is, standing over on the far side of the room, her back against the wall wearing a figure-hugging red, floor-length dress. Her dark hair and eyes stand out in contrast. She looks like a Forties movie star, all curves and perfect poise, watching everyone with a critical eye. She hates this place and she hates the people that are here, that is clear to me straight away.
I want to jump off the stage to get to her. I can’t tear my eyes away, even though Dave has picked up my guitar and shoved it back into my hands, hissing, “play, you idiot.”
I am walking to the front of the stage still staring when I notice that I am being watched but not by her.
Some guy who looks like a pretentious arsehole is watching me watch her and then he starts to move across the floor to get to her before I can leave the stage. I am stuck like a rabbit in headlights, rooted to the spot as I watch him clearly move towards her like he is proving he has ownership.
When he gets to her he pulls her in close and winds his hands around her waist. I have to physically restrain myself from leaping off the stage and punching him. That’s what I want to do, a deep urge burning inside me. Jump from the stage, bop him on the nose, hopefully causing significant blood loss, and then throw her over my shoulder and march her off with her someplace. Someplace where I can kiss her and talk to her, in no particular order. Then I may well ask her to marry me because I am pretty sure that I want to.
I don’t though, I don’t move from my spot on the edge of the stage. I start to play my guitar instead but not the song the rest of the band are expecting. Luckily it has a long intro so they are able to catch up.
As I start to sing ‘Wonderwall’ I watch as the banker wanker twirls her onto the dance floor.
It’s not a song for twirling, what is he doing the bloody arse?
She has her hands on his shoulders and her back to me but I can clearly see an enormous diamond ring sitting on her left hand from my spot quite a distance away on stage.
Damn it to hell.
I nearly stop singing, but I hold it together and as I head into the second verse my choice of song becomes even more appropriate.
The banker wanker pulls her in even tighter and I get a nasty taste in the back of my mouth. I am just in the middle of the chorus when they take a turn and I catch a glimpse of her face.
That’s what does it. That very moment gives me something completely different to live for.
She is biting her lower lip and the beautiful eyes are staring far away in the distance, framed by a frown. She looks like she would rather be anywhere then where she is right now. She looks lost, but on top of that she looks lonely and I feel a bubble of something well up inside me, something like joy. Joy at the fact that this guy holding her, who’s obviously bought her the ring, has no idea what she is feeling. I don’t think he has looked at her face once, not to read it the way that I am. This is good. It means that if I can get to talk to her again then I can make sure my words are the right ones, the ones to make her notice me, the ones to make her want to at least talk to me. And, well, if that fails then I will just crinkle my freckles at her, pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and march off with her hoping for the best.
I know that I will do anything to save her from whatever is causing her sadness and by doing that I have a feeling she will save me.