Writing Mr. Right Read Free

Georgia had every intention of sleeping the day away. It didn’t go as planned.
    Walter Timlin, the man she’d once thought perfect, was married.
    They met shortly after his first marriage ended – a marriage as loveless as could be. He’d showered her with affection and assurances of his love, proclaimed his desire to father her children, something Georgia had always wanted with a hint more desperation than she wanted anyone to know. And Georgia fell, hook, line, and sinker. There was another rather telling detail of his character that made him irresistible.
    See, Walter Timlin was what Georgia came to refer to as a ‘fake Scot.’ He owned a kilt and often wore it out drinking with his friends, claiming he liked the attention it drew. He often faked a Scottish accent while having a few drinks for the same reason. Along with these particular details, he was a dark haired, barrel chested Virgo with the sex drive of an Arabian Stallion, when he wasn’t commenting on her weight.
    Georgia remembered Nana’s comment often – ‘You’ve already met him.’
    That fake Scot tricked her Nan into thinking Georgia already found her love. At least she passed away before discovering how wrong they’d both been. The fates had nothing to do with Walter Timlin.
    Yet he’d fooled them all. Why? Because as everyone in Georgia’s life knew, since her first visit as a little girl, Georgia was in love with Scotland. When she sat down to write her wishes on the New Moon each month, the most important wish was always for love, followed immediately by living in Scotland. When she wrote this same wish around Nan, Nan demanded she combine the two. Georgia obliged, writing ‘I marry a man in a kilt.’ When a man in a kilt named Walter Timlin appeared and began showering her with affection, there wasn’t a single person in her life that didn’t believe he was the one.
    But he wasn’t the one. He wasn’t even a fraction of the one.
    Yet, despite his complete failings as a human being, he’d done one great thing for Georgia.
    Enter Douglas MacCready. Douglas was the perfect man. He was tall, dark haired, hilarious and kind, honest and courageous. He was a green eyed pirate who loved a strong woman and loved tossing her around the bedroom with painstaking regularity. He was also born of the Highlands of Scotland, and was known to wear a kilt from time to time.
    The being Scottish wasn’t what made him perfect, nor the green eyes or the dark hair. Those pieces were just details that had been as much Georgia’s control as the Earth orbiting the Sun. Still, once she’d written them, they became such integral parts of the character, and she found herself fixated on those details – and on Douglas MacCready.
    The only problem was that Douglas MacCready was one hundred percent fictional. Georgia had written him herself, and he was now the focus of several thousand readers’ affections as well. He really was a spectacular specimen of man.
    And he didn’t exist.
    Yet, when Georgia was in the middle of mourning her Nan, of mending her heart after Walter Timlin shattered it, she escaped in the act of writing her novel, and in thoughts of Douglas MacCready.
    She was midway through writing the book when Nana passed, and in the weeks leading up to Walter’s betrayal, she found that strange gift of hers rearing its ugly, fickle head. First there were little things; the way Walter tucked her hair behind her ear one day, exactly as she’d written it the night before, or the way he spoke of the sea when he sprung the news that he was going to buy a boat – direct quotes from her yet to be finished manuscript. By the time he broke her heart, he’d recited parts of her novel as though he’d learned it for a stage play.
    Yet, one of the many red flags Georgia overlooked when they were together was that despite his claiming to be madly in love with a writer, Walter never once read a single page of her writing. Not a single word.
    Now, he was