Trinity Peters has three great loves in her life; books, cake, and mostly cats – her CAT CAFÉ in Nottingham allows her to indulge in all three. Amiable, attractive and ambitious, she knows what she wants in life and sets about making it happen. Everything is going nicely for her until a handsome city slicker, with the suits to match, enters her café by mistake one evening. Nothing would ever be the same for her again.
Blake Lawrence is the well heeled city boy who loves to play big city games. He wouldn’t normally venture too far from the bright lights of London, but business interests direct him to the East Midlands. He meets, and is captivated by, the sexy, mad cat woman Trinity Peters.
As much as Blake liked seeing his friend Becca, being at her house, her stomach swollen with baby number two, whilst baby number one was still in nappies was not his idea of dinner party bliss. He’d escaped as soon as he could, not missing the look of mischief on his dear friend’s face.
He and Becca went way back, she was the only female friend he hadn’t slept with. They’d been at boarding school together in France, or was it Italy? He couldn’t remember, but they’d been friends. He was Godfather to baby number one, Dominick and he did all his Godfatherly duties like be there at the Christening, buying bonds in the little boys name and generally asking how he was once a month. Yes he was a good Godfather.
Too early to go home, well to the flat he used whilst in Nottingham, Blake decided to walk around. It was barely nine o’clock, all the shoppers had gone as Nottingham still operated by the antiquated five o’clock shop closure system that was a pain for busy people like his PA when he needed him to get him something. He always grumbled about the early closing times.
People were heading out to restaurants, no doubt filling up before dancing off the excess of calories he thought, as he walked through Hockley. He could see his building in the distance and knew he only needed to walk for another fifteen minutes and he’d be there.
A group of women dressed in a haze of fluorescent pink and white surged out of a pub and surrounded him like a swarm of angry bees.
“Oi, here’s a nice one,” one of them said.
Smiling tightly Blake tried to extricate himself, but two looped their arms through his stopping him.
“She’s getting married next week,” one with spiky black hair explained. “See?” She pointed to a blonde wearing a pink tutu and white sash and a gleaming plastic crown.
“Congratulations.” Blake murmured, trying to hustle the women along up the narrow lane.
“Would you like to come for a drink? Her last hurrah and all that?” another one asked hopefully, batting her overly long false eyelashes at him.
“Aww please,” spiky black-haired woman pouted up at him. “You’re a nice looking bloke, tall and handsome. What colour are your eyes?” she moved in closer to look into his eyes. “Blue or green?”
Blake gritted his teeth. What was it with these northerners and harassment? Sexual harassment worked both ways.
Peeling himself away as firmly as he could he quickly walked around them and into the nearest shop. Then stopped.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
There were cats everywhere. He blinked just to see if the curry he’d had for dinner wasn’t playing with his brain cells.
Yes, there were cats of all different sizes all different colours on the other side of the glass wall.
He turned to go, but a girl with a red rose in her hair caught and held his attention.
She’d changed. It was criminal to hide what she’d been hiding in that boxy suit she’d worn earlier at the bank.
Now, as she was bent over a cat, he could see her cute derrière and slender legs in a pair of blue faded jeans. The fabric was worn and faded where it cupped her bottom.
The door opened behind him.
“Go on in please mate, before that hen party change their minds and find me.” A man, not much younger than Blake said taking off his shoes.
“Take your shoes off or Trinity will eat you alive,” the man advised. “You don’t bring outside dirt near the cats.”
“What is this place?” Blake asked, puzzled.
The man grinned.
“The Cat Café, I come here every chance I get,” the man explained. “My girlfriend is allergic to cats but I like to come here and chill out and watch some football if I can wrangle the remote off Trinity.”
“Yes mate,” the man stuck his hand out. “I’m Travis,”
They shook hands.
“Take your shoes off and stick ’em in there,” Travis advised, pointing to a row of wooden lockers with keys, watching as Blake followed his instruction with obvious reluctance. “Use this.”
After placing his shoes in the locker he palmed the key the young man gave him, then following his example Blake put on a pair of disposable socks. Travis then pumped hand sanitiser on his hands and indicated for Blake to follow his example
“Are you ready?” Travis asked, practically bursting with excitement.
“What for exactly?”
Travis grinned, wriggling his pale eyebrow. “To fall in love of course.” He pushed open the glass door.
Blake looked at the girl with the red rose in her hair and perfect golden brown skin, he exhaled and went in.
Caroline Bell Foster was born in Derby, England and with her family went on a six week holiday to Jamaica. She stayed for 18 years!
Ever the adventurer, Caroline bought her first pair of high heels in Toronto and traded her pink sunglasses for a bus ride in the Rift Valley at 18. She wrote her first short story on that bus and had it published the following year in a local newspaper.
With themes of substance, Caroline’s latest novels’ defy convention and celebrate modern day Britain.
Other Novels’ – Ladies’ Jamaican, Caribbean Whisper’s, Saffron’s Choice, Call Me Royal and Call Me Lucky (The Call Centre Series)
The Call Centre Series is written as a tribute to all those who work the night shift in a call centre, as she has done. The first novel, Call Me Royal, became an Amazon best seller.