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483 pages
First published June 16, 2014
“She had my heart. I gave her my soul."
“The man I love all right,” Daisy said…
“I love you,” Erik said, laughing. He caught her hand, holding onto the connection a few more precious seconds…
“I love us,” she said, and kissed him.
“Us.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Yes.”
“What do you miss?”
“I cannot find the peace I had when I was with her. When I was with her, my cells were happy. I miss looking in her eyes and everything else just disappearing… She was my soul mate and I miss her.”
“Leaving isn’t always the end of loving.”
“All I know is twelve years later, you’re still in my head and I don’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
A good story absorbs you into another world, where you meet characters so believable, you’re pissed off you can’t call them to have coffee. Or take them to bed.
You don’t want just another “contemporary romance.” You don’t want a genre. You want a story that mirrors your longing. You want to see the unspoken words in your heart on the page. You want to be touched and validated. You want to be swept up in a love that erases the universe and sets you at the center of a new galaxy. But you’re no fool… You want it to be believable.
I want that, too. I want to write passionate but thoughtful love stories. I made up my own genre: I call it emotionally intelligent romance.
Now come over here. I have a story for you.
“Do you miss her?”
“Yes.”
“What do you miss?”
“I cannot find the peace I had when I was with her. When I was with her, my cells were happy. I miss looking in her eyes and everything else just disappearing… She was my soul mate and I miss her.”
“Leaving isn’t always the end of loving.”
“That is,” she said slowly, “such a violent thing. For a parent to disappear. Emotionally violent. It just stops a story dead in the middle. Like you turn the page and there are no more pages. What do you do with the story.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “It becomes a different story.”
She nodded. “Your story.”
・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・
・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・
Some seek the limelight and some hold the light in place.
I have set you in my presence forever. I uphold you. You’re in my skin. And I’m not leaving.
-"That is such a violent thing. For a parent to disappear. Emotionally violent. It just stops a story dead in the middle. Like you turn the page and there are no more pages. What do you do with the story?"
-"It becomes a different story. Your story."
The more she gave, the more he wanted. He had never wanted so much.
He wanted all of her. Her thoughts, her words, her silences and her stillness. He wanted her skin, her smell, her taste and her noises. He loved to make her come, could not get enough of the sound she made when he was bringing her around. Or rather, it was the absence of sound.
Poised on the lip of his own desire, he pushed further into her as he slowly wound the line tighter. Listening for it, feeling it, waiting for her edge to touch his. It was almost there. Just right there.
Staring into her eyes without speaking was making love. Being buried in the heat of her frustration was making love. Wether her kiss crashed into his mouth, or just brushed it like a passing dream, he could taste her love. And nothing could top it. Nothing could surpass it.
It’s not too late. And I’m ready if you are.
Perfect Peace
At some point you just gotta start living the truth of who you are and what you feel.
Roast nuts chesting on an open fire,
Nipfrost jacking off your nose,
Yuletide Carol getting laid by the choir ...
Given his way, he would destroy every known copy of
Elton John's "Tiny Dancer."