romantic comedy novel Charmed, I’m Sure
by Lynda Simmons.
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Simmons is a writer by day, college instructor by night and a late sleeper on
weekends. She grew up in Toronto reading Greek mythology, bringing home stray
cats and making up stories about bodies in the basement. From an early age, her
family knew she would either end up as a writer or the old lady with a hundred
cats. As luck would have it, she married a man with allergies so writing it
two daughters to raise, Lynda and her husband moved into a lovely two storey
mortgage in Burlington, a small city on the water just outside Toronto. While
the girls are grown and gone, Lynda and her husband are still there. And yes,
there is a cat – a beautiful, if spoiled, Birman. If you’d like to read the
legend of Birman cats click here. If you’d like a link to allergy relief, click
she’s not writing or teaching, Lynda gives serious thought to using the
treadmill in her basement. Fortunately, she’s found that if she waits long
enough, something urgent will pop up and save her – like a phone call or an
e-mail or a whistling kettle. Or even that cat just looking for a little more
bit about Charmed, I’m Sure:
Maxine Henley is the happy bride-to-be and the next she’s the girl who gets
dumped over the phone. Max has never believed in magic and fairy’s tales, but
if wearing a love charm can warm her fiancé’s cold feet, she’s happy to stuff
that little wooden heart next to her own and wait. The charm came with a
promise that the right man will find her, guaranteed, but how can that happen
when her teenage crush Sam O’Neal keeps getting in the way!
scribbled the hamburger special on the board, carried his coffee through the
front door and sat down on the step. He sent a nod across the road as the
lights flicked on in Tracy’s beauty parlor. Raised his mug when Howard came out
to change the pictures in the window of his real estate office, and lifted a
hand to salute Jeff who was wheeling a third barbeque out to the front of his
at Cy’s Deli, rumor was that Howard had his hair colored in Tracy’s back room.
Some folks wondered what else went on back there, but Jeff swore everything was
aboveboard, since Tracy was still carrying a torch for Stan over at the Kwik
Way. Sam nodded at a passing pickup and the driver honked back. A typical
Saturday morning in Schomberg, every face familiar, every name known. While it
made privacy difficult and gossip a way of life, it also made it impossible to
ignore the woman talking to herself in front of the post office. She wasn’t a
crazy person and definitely wasn’t dangerous. She was just Molly, who had
wandered off again to sit under the statue honoring Schomberg’s war heroes and
read the names of her two sons, Albert and Walter. No one was surprised when Cy
took her into the Deli for a coffee because everyone knew Molly’s family would
be around to collect her soon enough, and she wasn’t hurting a soul.
rose with his empty cup, still finding it odd that the very things that had
driven him away years ago were the same things that had drawn him right back.
He’d taken a risk in moving to Schomberg, gambling everything he had on a town
that was still small and unsophisticated, and had only recently recognized its
own charm. Subdivisions had sprouted in areas he’d last seen as farms and
orchards, while outlet malls and shopping centers drew even the old-timers away
from Schomberg’s main street. Yet there were people like him trying to breathe
new life into the town with shops like the Looking Glass down the road and the
Peanut Gallery near the highway. And of course there was the Tap Room, the most
ambitious of all, with the most potential for disaster. Still, he couldn’t name
a single regret or find any way to make Maxine Henley understand why.