Part of Series
Belinda Afriyie is only in the Neapolitan Riviera for the wedding of her best friend’s daughter, never mind the fact that she bullied her way into it, mostly out of guilt for not being the mother figure that she should have been. At the very least, she had to make sure that Gina Robinson did her Ghanaian duty in marrying Nick Da Canaveze, even if Belinda had to get on a plane, pay excess baggage and suffer the heat for it. There would be no time for sightseeing, lounging around infinity pools and definitely no time for flirting with anyone. Especially not The Big Man, who was as troublesome as his son. The twinkle in Massimo Da Canaveze’s eyes told her that he was more than just trouble. He was a huge, fat God-like sign of what was missing from her life. Of just how glorious life could be with someone like him in it... But a man like him would never give her a side glance. It was fine. The wedding celebrations would last all of four days and she’d be off home. No looking. No touching. No flirting. None of that was good for her or her ego. Massimo Da Canaveze is not enjoying his status as widower. He’s lonely. Feeling that way had become a way of life and his son’s wedding at his 800 year old family villa would hopefully put that to a stop. He would be surrounded by people he loved. What he didn’t expect was the shrill voiced, authoritative, all commanding, arresting personality that was Belinda Afriyie to blaze through Italy in figure hugging, traditional African dresses and floaty kaftans that left little to the imagination. There hadn’t been an ample bosomed challenge like her to cross his path since his late wife. With a little music, a little sunshine, more than a bit of whiskey, he and Belinda were going to become very good friends. Four Italian named puppet masters sit on the sideline of this play, throwing pizza pies to hit two half-centenarians in the eye. The Da Canaveze family is about to add to their growing number and no one is more shocked about it, than the puppets…
Author
Ah, poor Billy. The only girl between two boys who each have nearly a foot on her. Didn't stop her from starting physical fights with them. She still thinks she can take them. So while she used to hide away in her wardrobe to read a book or four, she started to question why the heroines in those books would just lie there and take it. No, not just sex, but downright James-Bond-backhand-slapping, do-as-you're-told-woman, inappropriate lie there and take it. She couldn't understand it. These women were just playing that mental woman from Coming to America, Miss “Whatever You Like” who barked like a dog and hopped on one foot. Billy didn't want to do that. Definitely not because one empty-headed fool with different anatomy told her to. So she started to create characters and worlds where the women could own their sexuality, their intelligence, their right to turn around and say “jog on, mate” without apology. The small problem was that other people wanted to read what she was had written. “Er...why?” didn't cut it as an answer. After years of prodding and pleading and come on and for goodness’ sake, what's the point otherwise, she closed her eyes and pressed “submit.” Actually, she had Prosecco, limencello and white wine, then pressed “submit.” Who would have thought people would actually enjoy reading about the crazy characters who live in her head? But they have done, and Billy feels rather proud of that connection with her fellow man. Billy lives in London with the most patient family in the world and doesn't forget for a minute how lucky she is. Well, she wouldn't mind a BBC adaptation of one of her novels... Ooh, with Richard Armitage!
