Don’t judge a book by the first phrases, it’s not a romance…

800px Stipula fountain pen 1 300x200 Book

 

Excerpt:

When he looks at me with those nemesising eyes, I love and hate the way I feel. I’m lost. No consciousness of the world around me. I know that I could never tell him no. I would do whatever he asked. Christean was a man among men. He made me feel more like a woman just by being next to him.

“Vanessa”, he whispered in my ear. His warm breath persuading my neck. As he moved closer to me, his 5 o’clock shadow teased my cheek. I wondered if he could feel my heart stop and start with every contact of his body to mine. He was an architect. His hands were strong and slightly rough. He gripped my waist as he said my name again,

“Vanessa”, pulling me even closer, closer that I could have envisioned. Christean could sense my reluctance. He waited for me to give him permission. To allow the urges we both had been denying to be gratified. Would I give in? Should I give in? I deserve to be happy, even if it’s just for one night. I knew nothing good could come from this. But how could I say no? How could I say it and mean it? Every time I attempted to pull away from him, he knew I didn’t mean it. I placed my hand on his chest to restrain him, hoping my actions would speak for the words that were impossible say. What a mistake that was. Excited by our closeness his swift and unsteady heartbeat pulsated through my fingertips right to my soul. If I closed my eyes, if I didn’t look at him, could I walk away?

 

 

Ready for a little more…

The Beginning

 

Now I’m at the point of what to share. I have alot, I have a lot of revisions. hmmmmmmmmmmm  guess I’ll just keep it going for now.

Part 2 New Start

 

a little more…

Part 3

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The writing of a novel is taking life as it already exists, not to report it but to make an object, toward the end that the finished work might contain this life inside it and offer it to the reader. The essence will not be, of course, the same thing as the raw material; it is not even of the same family of things. The novel is something that never was before and will not be again.