Hello, everyone! Thank you, Addison, for letting me swing by today. Itâs always a pleasure to be here đ
Did you all know that JMS Books is turning twelve years this month? Itâs pretty impressive, isnât it? So many publishing houses have closed down in the last few years, but JMS Books is still around, and Iâm so happy to have found a home there.
To celebrate this happy occasion, there will be several stories released this month that has something to do with twelve. My contribution is called Keep it Down! and itâs about two neighbours who donât get along⌠or at least Eason doesnât get along with Nate. Nate thinks maybe they have something LOL.
Nate is having wild parties in his apartment way too often in Easonâs opinion â which he lets Nate know by sticking angry Post-it notes on his door and occasionally calling the cops on him. Nate acts like an irresponsible kid with no respect for the other tenants, and Eason wishes he could push him down the stairs.
But then Eason is hit by a car on his way home from work and ends up with a fractured leg. Nate kicks all his friends out and takes care of Eason.
The dynamic change. Eason was convinced he hated or at least disliked Nate a lot, but when he cooks and shops and makes sure Eason has everything he needs within reach, heâs not so sure anymore.
Many, many years ago, when I was studying to become a teacher, I fractured my foot. I lived on the third floor in an apartment building without an elevator, and Hubby was away being a UN soldier in Liberia.
I was studying language history at the moment, Swedish language history, and we were to translate runes and old pieces of literature. I found it interesting, but it was a lot to study, and a lot that I found hard to grasp, so I didnât want to miss any lectures. Hopping on crutches to get to the university was a nightmare, and I remember how much my hands hurt.
Luckily, there was a guy who lived on the same street as I did who had a car, and while we didnât have the same schedule, he could drive me some days.
Other than the pain of getting to and from school, I remember how I was hopping around my one-room apartment with a backpack on most times. With both your hands occupied with crutches, itâs hard to carry stuff, and a girl needs her coffee to be able to study.
I relived a lot of memories from that time while writing this story â getting down the stairs, showering, the pain of getting groceries and doing laundry. My poor mum, who lived in a neighbouring town, came to help me do laundry and shopping every weekend. So much fun LOL
My twelve to celebrate the twelfth anniversary isnât twelve fractured bones if that was what you think, but twelve Post-its. They go from angry to little reminders to cute love notes as the story progresses đ
Excerpt
He didnât know how long he stared at the white cast before the nurse came back with a pair of gray sweats. Eason winced. Theyâd ruined his work pants with scissors when heâd come in. âLetâs see if we can fit these over the cast.â She handed them over, and Eason realized he was sitting on the examination table in his underwear.
âOh.â
âIâll help you.â She bunched the left leg of the sweats and eased his foot into the hole, then she went about to do the same with the right. âNow it gets a little trickier. Do you have anyone who can help you shower at home?â
âI live alone.â
She grimaced. âYou need to wrap the cast with plastic so it doesnât get wet. Itâs easier with assistance.â
Nateâs face flashed before his eyes, but no. âI can imagine.â
âRight, here we go.â She nudged and pulled and soon he was dressed. She smiled for all of two seconds before sighing. âWe could have gone with a pair of shorts, it wouldâve been easier, and I donât think youâd be cold on your way home.â
Eason was wearing a dark blue suit jacket and gray sweats. He didnât want to go anywhere where people could see him.
âDo you have anyone picking you up?â
Again, Nateâs face popped up in his mind. âNo, Iâll call a cab.â
She smiled. âOkay, are you ready?â She reached for a pair of crutches he hadnât seen her bring into the room. Damn, had his brain melted on the way over here? How had he gotten here?
After a brief lecture about pain medication and how to not get the cast wet, not put any weight on the foot, keep it elevated, and so on, he left the hospital and managed to get into the cab rolling up right outside the entrance.
By the time they reached his street, his leg was throbbing, and he was gritting his teeth. Fuck, it hurt to break your leg. How could people say that when they wished someone luck?
The cab driver helped him out but left him on the sidewalk. The first problem came when he had to get in through the door, but it proved not to be anything compared to getting up the stairs. His mood didnât improve when he heard music thumping in the staircase. Fucking Nate.
By the time he reached the third floor, his muscles were straining, his arms and left leg shaking, and sweat was trickling down his spine.
Unlocking the door, he hopped into the kitchen, grabbed a Post-it, and wrote: Keep it the fuck down or Iâll call the cops.
He wanted to shower, even his hair was wet from sweat, but he wasnât sure heâd manage to stand for much longer. Hopping out onto the landing outside his and Nateâs door with the Post-it stuck to the back of his hand, he closed the door behind him to prevent Loki from running out. He was not fit for searching for a cat in the staircase today.
First, he knocked on Nateâs door, but no one opened. Then he rang the doorbell, but no one opened. Sighing, he took the Post-it and stuck it over the peephole. He didnât believe Nate would see it, but the cops would when they arrived if he called them. Turning around, he managed two small hops before Nateâs door was banged open, and a girl no more than twenty, in far too little clothing, laughingly fell out onto the landing. She laid on her back and laughed again as she looked up at him.
âEason?â Nate stepped out of the apartment and offered the girl a hand up.
âKeep it the fuck down.â
Nate stepped closer, ignoring the people spilling out of his apartment. âWhat happened?â He motioned at the crutches.
âI was run over by a car. Can you please keep it down?â
Nateâs mouth was open as he studied Eason, then he pressed his lips into a thin line.
A guy in skintight jeans, a holey T-shirt, and enough bracelets to make him jingle with every move hooked his arm in Nateâs. âCome on, Nate. Letâs get out of here.â
Nate shook his arm loose. âAnother time.â
âWhat?â The guy pouted, not attractive on an almost grown man. Eason sighed. He didnât know how Nate could stand to hang out with these children, and if that made him a condescending bitch, then so be it.
âEason needs me. You hurry along, and I might catch up with you later.â
The guy groaned and shot Eason a nasty look.
âYou can go. As long as your apartment is quiet, Iâm fine.â
Nate shook his head. âIâm staying with you.â
âNate.â He didnât mean to whine, but it was how it came out.
âWeâll watch a movie. Iâll fix some food. I bet you havenât eaten.â
Eason shook his head. He hadnât eaten, and no way would he be able to stand long enough to cook something. âOkay. Thank you.â
The smile Nate gave him would be one he would keep with him forever.
Blurb
One day, Eason Wickham will push his next-door neighbor down the stairs. Nate Allen might be hot, but heâs the most annoying person Eason has ever met. He has no respect for the people living in the building, and night after night, he has a party. Whenever Eason rings his doorbell and tells him to keep it down, he flirts and tries to get Eason to come inside.
Calling the cops does not affect Nateâs behavior, and neither do Easonâs angry Post-It notes. But when Eason is hit by a car and fractures his leg, Nate sends his friends packing and makes sure Eason is okay. He cooks for him, shops for him, and does his laundry, but heâs still the most annoying person Eason has ever met. Right?
The cute Post-Its Nate leaves for him to find doesnât mean heâs a different person, and while Eason longs for when Nate gets off work every day, it doesnât mean they should be more than friends. Does it?
About Ofelia
Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes romance, contemporary, paranormal, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.
Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.
When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from her husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woodsâŚif sheâs lucky she finds her way back home again.
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