Monthly Archives: November 2016

by | November 21, 2016 · 5:00 am

PRIMARY SEASON BLOG TOUR

 

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Today we have the blog tour of PRIMARY SEASON by Sara Celi. Check out the tour and be sure to order your copy today!!

 

 

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About Primary Season:

Who says politics isn’t sexy?

PATRICK BLANCO wants nothing more than a chance at the presidency, and he’s willing to do anything to get it. At just thirty-eight-years-old, Patrick is already one of the youngest and most successful senators in the country, but he’s destined for more. Much more. When the cold winds of the New Hampshire primary blow in his favor, his campaign kicks into overdrive.

So does his love life.

ALEXANDRA JONES knows that working on Patrick’s election could be the job she needs to prove herself in Washington, DC. Win with him, and her life will change forever. She just didn’t count on something—her growing attraction to her boss. Pretty soon, she can’t deny it.

Neither can he.

As Patrick and his team head to South Carolina, life gets complicated. This is politics, after all. Secrets don’t say secret for long. Everything has a price. Everyone has a motive. There’s no time for love.

Or is there?

 

 

Order your copy Today!

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EXCERPT

That night around eleven fifteen, as I poured myself a drink from the minibar, I heard a knock on my hotel room door. When I opened it, I found Alex on the other side. She stepped backward in the hallway and sucked in a deep breath.

 

“Sorry to bother you and Kathryn,” she said as her cheeks grew pink. “But we need to chat.”

 

“That’s fine. You’re not bothering us. Besides, she’s already asleep in the other room,” I said, and glanced over my shoulder down the length of the suite. Kathryn’s door remained closed. Good. I turned back to Alex. “And I never go to bed this early.”

 

“Well, I was thinking about something on the agenda for tomorrow, and I didn’t think it should wait until the morning.”

“No problem,” I said, taking in the sight of her. “In fact, you’re just in time for a nightcap.” I held up the mini bottle of Maker’s Mark. “What do you say to a drink while we talk it over?”

 

She hesitated, then shrugged. “All right.”

 

“You like bourbon, don’t you?”

 

“Sure do,” she said as she glided into the room, still wearing the black skirt and white oxford shirt from earlier. I shut the door behind us and focused on her round, tight ass as she walked to the couch on the far end of my suite.

 

Damn.

 

“How you do like it?” she said as she sat down. “Straight up or on the rocks?”

 

“Straight up.” I grinned, took another bottle from the minibar, handed it to her and took a seat in the burgundy armchair across from the sofa. “Bottoms up.” I raised the bottle and she tipped her back to me. She downed the alcohol in a smooth shot, and I followed her lead.

 

“Whew,” she said. “Not bad.”

 

“You seem like you have some experience with this kind of thing.”

 

She sank further into the couch. “You don’t get out of Tulane without learning how to drink.”

 

“Of course, I remember now. You told me about Tulane that night at Old Ebbit.” I paused. “I’m trying to think what I know about that school. Hmm. The students named the mascot Pecker, didn’t they?”

 

“Guilty as charged. Of course, they wouldn’t let us keep that name.” She sighed. “But Riptide the Pelican just doesn’t have the same…ring.”

 

 

About Sara Celi:

An overactive imagination has always served Sara Celi well. Starting from age 10, with an epic tale about a soldier during the Civil War, Sara has made creating stories her life’s work.

 

After graduating cum laude from Western Kentucky University in 2004 with a degree in Broadcast News and History, Sara Celi started her decade-long career in broadcast journalism at a TV station in Louisiana, then worked in Oklahoma and Ohio.

 

Her love of the written word came to fruition with the publishing of her first novel, THE UNDESIRABLE, in 2013 and she has since published THE PALMS, PRINCE CHARMING, and NATURAL LOVE. She is also a contributing author to Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Power of Positive, Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Spirit of America, and a regular columnist for Cincinnati Refined.

 

Sara Celi calls the Greater Cincinnati area home. In her spare time, she likes to read, shop, travel, run, volunteer with the Junior League, serve on the Board of Trustees for Wesley Community Services, and work with Cooperative for Education, a non-profit providing educational opportunities for the children of Guatemala.

Connect with Sara:

WEBSITE: www.saraceli.com

MAILING LIST: https://saraceli.com/?page_id=446

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.amazon.com/S.-Celi/e/B00B6JFD0G/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1476296938&sr=8-1

TWITTER: @saragceli

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSaraCeli/

INSTAGRAM: @saraceli

 

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by | November 20, 2016 · 5:00 am

Hello Agnieszka Blitz

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Between Two Worlds, Book Two
Women’s Fiction, Coming of Age
 Date Published:  June 2014

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Elise thought she knew her mother. But when her oldest brother attempts suicide, painful secrets are about to be revealed. Agnieszka Halverson must now tell her children a past she has kept from them.

 

As a child in the seventies, Agnieszka discovers a passion for music when she hears her grandaunt Jola, a concert pianist in Poland, give a piano recital. Jola hones her talent and feeds her dreams. But too poor to continue professional training and with a mother who fails to support her ambitions, her dreams of being a pianist are shattered.

 

Agnieszka meets Lenny Weisz and they fall in love, renewing her hopes for happiness. But her hopes are thwarted  once again by forces beyond their control.

 

Weighed down by its roots, her family casts her aside. Can music and memories of her first love help Agnieszka make a life for herself all alone? Can she rise from the loss she has suffered and get a second chance at happiness?

 

Book 2 in the family saga Between Two Worlds (BTW), Hello Agnieszka explores mother-daughter relationships in a tale of a mother’s youthful dreams, thwarted and renewed amidst the exciting promise of the 70s,  In three standalone  novels of loss, love, second chances, and finding one’s way, BTW tells the stories of three strong women who cope with issues contemporary women face.

 

Praise for Hello, Agnieszka!
“…a beautiful narrative …an intricate, heart-wrenching coming-of-age story about family and love.”―GoodbooksToday Reviews
 
“…character descriptions written to perfection with a unique POV that places you deep in her thoughts and feelings.”–★★★★★Michael Alexander Beas for Readers’ Favorite
 
“…interesting, enlightening and, in some respects, heartbreaking. … All families struggle with issues, this one more than most.”–★★★★ Kathryn Bennett for Readers’ Favorite
Other Books in the Between Two Worlds Series

 

Between Two Worlds Book 1
Published: December 2013
What would Elizabeth Bennet be like if she had been born today? What things would she have to cope with? In this modern-day tale inspired by Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, bright, beautiful law student Elise Halverson looks forward to a promising career. The last thing she needs is to fall in love with well-known playboy Greg Thorpe. Besides, he’s engaged to be married.
Greg finds Elise so unlike the women he used to date and he’s deeply intrigued. But distrusting the image she has of him, Elise tries to keep away.

 

Elise’s parents invite Greg to their frequent dinner parties. There, Greg and Elise butt heads. She’s surprised to find that, behind his rich playboy persona, he’s intelligent and engaging. They can’t help feeling drawn to each other.
The night before his wedding, they give in to their mutual attraction. Although Elise expects nothing more from that night, Greg is in for trouble. His jilted fiancée strikes back, intent on revenge.
Two years later Greg and Elise get a second chance but they find that the way to their happy-ever-after is not so easy. For one, Greg is in for a surprise. Then, his former fiancée comes back and trouble returns to haunt Greg and Elise again.
At the core of this women’s fiction is a literary and realistic romance spiced with a twist of mystery. Hello My Love is Book 1 in the series Between Two Worlds, a family saga about three strong women. In three tales of loss, love, second chances, and finding one’s way, they cope with issues contemporary women face.

Between Two Worlds Book 3
Published: May 2015
Leilani’s mother has never set foot in her school until the day she whisks her children out of their Pacific Island country, without their father and without explanation. Eighteen years later, Leilani just wants to leave the past behind, move forward.
She has settled peacefully in California and like her long-lost father, she heals people. But her tranquil existence is disturbed one evening.

 

A computer nerd and culinary whiz with a biting sense of humor, Justin is brokenhearted from the loss of his girlfriend who has left him after seven years. All he wants is to drown his sorrows. But he finds more trouble than he’s looking for when thugs assault him.
On her way home from work, Leilani sees the assault. An ace with a gun, she rescues him.
Weeks later, they meet again and find themselves attracted to each other. Fearing Justin is on the rebound, or has a rescuer complex, Leilani doesn’t want to get involved.
But Leilani cannot deny her feelings. As they begin to fall in love, her past comes back to haunt her.
A friend of her father arrives with news which forces her mother to reveal a shocking, shameful secret—the truth about the role Leilani’s father played in a deadly political web.
Can Leilani deal with the truth? But hero or villain, he is her father and only she and Justin can rescue him from the island she’d left long ago.
At the core of this women’s fiction is an Asian woman-white man interracial romance spun with international political intrigue and a young woman’s acceptance of her past. Welcome Reluctant Stranger is Book 3 in a family saga. In three tales of loss, love, second chances, and finding one’s way, three strong women cope with issues contemporary women face.
About the Author
Evy Journey is a flâneuse (a female observer-wanderer) who writes about, and illustrates (oils, pastels, digital) what she sees that intrigues her.  In a past life, with a now-dormant Ph.D., (University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana), and the primacy of her left brain, she researched, evaluated and developed mental health programs. But writing was her first love.
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by | November 19, 2016 · 5:00 am

To Find You – Blog Tour with Excerpt

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Today we have the blog tour for To Find You by Cerece Rennie Murphy! Check it out and grab your copy November 29th!

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About To Find You:

Two Souls

One Desire

To Find Each Other…Again

The journey begins with Ama and Ekow ~ Two lovers betrothed, then torn apart by an enemy disguised as a friend. And in the midst of an unthinkable bargain, their freedom is sold for a bag of gold.

But what their enemies thought would break them only unleashed a power greater than life itself.

From the ancient shores of Ghana to the streets of pre-colonial India,

From the burning embers of Oahu to the heart of a nation’s capitol,

Their souls risked war, death, and betrayal to bend destiny to their will.

Will they survive?

Will they succeed?

Join them on this timeless journey and see…

Coming Soon!!!

Read an excerpt from To Find You and sign-up for Release Day notifications at

www.cerecerenniemurphy.com

 

Preorder Today!

EXCERPT

Part I:

 

In The Beginning

1754 ~ Gold Coast, Ghana

 

I wait for him here at the place where the night sky and the earth become lovers.  In the tall grass of our homeland, between two kingdoms, we meet.

 

Getting here early is easier than slipping away late, especially now when life in my village is bustling with the preparations for our wedding in just three days.

 

But as the reeds lick the backs of my calves, I know that this is only one part of the reason I wait.

 

The truth is that I like to feel him coming.  At this hour, when my imagination reigns over every shape and whisper, I can almost see him walking on limbs taller and stronger than mine will ever be.  He cuts through the night that hides his slightly lighter shade and stalks his prey.  I cannot hear his approach, but I feel him drawing near, compelled by the same force that holds me where I stand—the scent of my desire in the air.

 

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, imagining I can taste him, too.  The flavor is salt, sweet grass, and home.  It fills my senses and makes me thirsty.

 

On the outside, my knees shake and my heart pounds, impatient for its mate, while the deepest part of me grows calm and still—stretching towards the peace that only his presence brings.

 

And he’s close now, so close.

 

 

When we were children, Ekow was such a scrawny thing.  I used to like to wrestle him just to beat him, just to prove that I could.  I was young, determined and more than a little jealous of the physical prowess of my older brothers.  Secretly, I wanted to be like them, but my youngest brother, Kofi, was already 10 years my senior by the time I could walk.  With Ekow, I knew I’d finally found a way to prove that no boy could match me.

 

My laughter rumbles in the stillness as I think of it.  Oh, how angry he would be every time I beat him!  And in the beginning, there were many, many times when I did.  He would get so upset that his ears would twitch.  He would stomp away from his defeat with his hands balled up in knobby little fists—eyes glaring, ears twitching, while one of our elders cackled nearby with me sticking out my tongue. We didn’t see each other often enough for me to beat him every day, but I looked forward to it whenever I could.  I was always stronger than I looked, and even when he grew a little taller than me, his limbs seemed to flail awkwardly about him so that he was never quite coordinated.  And in my delicious reign as his tormentor, time seemed to stretch on forever, until one day, it stopped.

 

I remember the sun burned low in the sky that day as the dust and amber light conspired against me in swirling fits that stung my eyes.  Rolling around on the ground, I was shocked to find myself panting for air.  Suddenly, his legs overpowered me.  I couldn’t throw him the way I had been able to before.  His grip was a vice that I had to sweat to free myself from, and even then, he could catch me again, quickly—too quickly for my liking.

 

Unable to break free, I grunted and cursed as he pinned me down on my back.  At first, I refused to meet his gaze.  Beneath my eyelashes, I could swear I saw my own taunting smirk, the same one I had given him year after year, curling the corners of his lips.  Enraged, I shut my eyes and kicked my legs furiously, all to no avail.  I could feel the muscles of his powerful thighs holding me in place without the slightest indication of strain, and I couldn’t stand it.

 

As if sensing the scream that would send my brothers flying to my aid, he suddenly lifted his body from mine, then leaned over to adjust his grip so that our hands were stretched out above my head, palm to palm, fingers intertwined in the grass and the dirt beneath us.

 

How did I not know, even then . . . ?

 

Something about the gesture was so strange that it distracted me from my fury.  The feel of his hands pressed firmly into mine made my stomach flutter and clench in a way that was startling, but not unpleasant.

 

“Ama,” he called.  “Ama, don’t scream.  Ama, please, surrender.”

 

It must have been the “surrender” that made my eyes fly open to meet his in absolute indignation.

 

Sometimes I like to think that if I’d never opened my eyes, it never would have happened, but this is, of course, foolish.  I was meant to see.

 

I looked up to find him staring down at me.  The smirk I’d feared was nowhere in sight.

 

Instead, his eyes held the same wariness I felt as I looked back at him, then quickly dissolved into something I’d never seen in him before.

 

He eyed my mouth with what I understand now as a mixture of surprise and captivation.  Back then, I still had no idea what was happening, but as his gaze lingered, I began to feel that someone was seeing me truly for the first time in my life.  I remember fighting the nameless emotion that closed my throat and pricked my eyes.

 

“Ama, surrender,” he whispered, “Please.”

 

And that’s when I understood that I held him in place as much as he held me.

 

“Please,” he said again, and I finally realized what I needed to do all along.

 

Seeing the answer there in my eyes, he released my hands and rose to his feet.  I remember averting my eyes against the sudden rush of loneliness that came as he left.  But at the corner of my vision, I saw it, his hand extended out to help me up.  He’d done it before, even as I beat him and he’d risen in defeat while I remained holding my belly in victorious laughter on the ground.  I’d always ignored the gesture until that moment, when suddenly it felt like the most natural thing in the world to accept his help.

 

When I finally stood, I noticed for the first time that he’d grown at least 10 inches since the last time I saw him.

 

Despite my daze, I frowned.  “You’re taller than me,” I said in dismay.

 

“No, Ama,” he replied.  Ekow’s voice was deep, yet gentle as he stepped forward to take my other hand in his.  “Now, we are exactly the same height.”

 

I was 11 years old; Ekow was 13, and after that, nothing between us was ever the same.

 

About Cerece Rennie Murphy:

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Cerece Rennie Murphy fell in love with writing and science fiction at an early age. It’s a love affair that has grown ever since.

In addition to working on the release of the 2nd book in the Ellis and The Magic Mirror children’s book series with her son, Mrs. Murphy is developing a 2-part science fiction thriller set in outer space. Mrs. Murphy lives and writes in her hometown of Washington, DC with her husband, two children and the family dog, Yoda. To learn more about the author and her upcoming projects, please visit her website at www.cerecerenniemurphy.com.

Website: www.cerecerenniemurphy.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Cerece-Rennie-Murphy-205753729546299/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CereceRMurphy

 

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by | · 5:00 am

Ave, Caesarion Blitz

 

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The Rise of Caesarion’s Rome, Book One
 Fantasy, Alternative History
 Date Published:  October 21, 2016
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A single event can reshape a world—or shatter it forever.

 

Fifteen years ago, Caesar escaped assassination, and went on to be crowned Emperor of Rome. His son by Cleopatra, Caesarion, carries the blood of Mars, Venus, Isis, and Osiris in his veins—but will the power that the gods have granted him, be enough to secure his hold on Rome after his father’s death?

 

What of the powers his sister, Eurydice Julia, has begun to manifest, and her puzzling visions that hint at the sacrifices that the gods of both Rome and Egypt will demand of them?

 

Will they, together, be strong enough to forge a better world than the one their ancestors built?

 

Return to the world of Edda-Earth, where magic and science coexist and all the gods are real.

 

And always remember this truth: The end of all things . . . was just the beginning.
Recent Praise for Ave, Caesarion:
“. . . irresistible wit and superior characterization . . . . A scorching alternate-history adventure packed with romance and fantasy action.” — Kirkus
 
“. . . a fantastically complex, evocative and involving story that moves through . . . every nuance of the social, spiritual and political world of their times. [A]s gripping, involving, and as real as today’s modern world.” — D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review
Excerpt

 

On this warm summer evening, fifteen years after Julius Caesar had been crowned in the Forum of Rome, the Empire held its breath. Rumor—fleeter of foot than Mercury—swept through the city, from patrician homes to plebeian ones, whispering that Gaius Julius Caesar had suffered some manner of fit. It had long been murmured that he was subject to the falling-sickness, perhaps contracted in tropical climes, or meted out as punishment by the gods for having dared to ascend so far. More troubling, however, were Rumor’s sly additions to her tale: that the seventy-year-old emperor could not rise, and that his foreign-born wife, Cleopatra, would not leave his side, whispering spells and incantations to keep him alive.

 

The freeborn muttered in the marketplaces; the Empress might be a curse on Rome. Their beloved Emperor had divorced his third wife, Calpurnia, after his coronation, and had extended to Cleopatra and the Hellene-Egyptian House of Ptolemy Roman citizenship for “services to the Empire.” Italians who had only recently been granted citizenship spat at those words; her services, in their opinion, were those of a harlot, and the rights that their grandfathers had died for in the Social War had been granted to her for what lay between her thighs.

 

Few in Rome understood that the bread distributed by the government—the Annona—came at such a low cost to the state solely because Egypt’s fertile fields provided their plenty at the whim of their queen.

 

In the last light of sunset, five cohorts of legionnaires marched along the Via Flaminia towards the gates of Rome, accompanying two young men on horseback. The dirt and dust on their uniforms suggested a long journey, conducted rapidly. The senior centurion and all the men on foot were hardened soldiers in their thirties, members of the Legio X Equestris—the first legion levied by Julius Caesar. The Equestris formed the backbone of Caesar’s Praetorian Guard, the personal protectors accorded to many a general over the centuries. Hence the distinctive white crests on the helmets of their officers.
Of the pair on horseback, the elder, who wore the long white crest of a tribune of the Tenth Legion, didn’t look to have escaped his adolescent years; the younger, who wore no uniform, but rather just a tunic and cloak suitable for riding, looked barely old enough to have received his toga virilis. “Malleolus! Fall the men out,” the older of the pair called to the centurion, reining in. “Let them eat and bathe and see their families. But be at my father’s villa outside of Rome first thing in the morning.”

 

The centurion thumped his breastplate in acknowledgement, and the weary legionnaires gave a desultory cheer. But the centurion let the rest of his men file past, and then caught the young officer’s reins before he could thump a heel into his horse’s flanks. “I’ll be going with you, dominus?” Malleolus asked. It wasn’t quite a question.
The corners of the young man’s mouth kinked upwards slightly. “This is Rome.”
“Yes, my lord.” Solemn acknowledgement. “And fifteen years ago, seven men tried to murder your father. On the sacred soil of Rome.”
The young man put a hand on his shoulder, imperceptible through the armor. “I’m harder to kill than my father, Malleolus. Though I thank you for your care.” In the last rays of sunset, his eyes gleamed an unnatural shade under the shadows cast by his helm—the color of spilled blood. For Ptolemy XV Julius Caesarion Philopator Philomator—generally called Caesarion—was god-born.
His mother, Cleopatra, who had made her son co-ruler of Egypt with herself when he was no more than three, claimed that the blood of Isis and Osiris ran in her veins. His father had once minted coins that reminded the people of Rome that his house claimed descent from Venus. And none could deny that Mars had favored Caesar on the battlefield as well. Yet neither of his parents had shown the signs of divine favor as clearly as Caesarion did.
Malleolus released the reins, saying mildly, “I would sleep better tonight, my lord, if you’d allow me to follow you to the villa’s gates.”
A quick smile. “You’re going to insist?”
“I would never so presume. But I do ask, dominus.”
“For the sake of your good rest, then, yes.” A nod, and then the young patrician clucked at his horse, preparing to enter the city. But now his brother, young Alexander, caught the reins. “Caesarion,” Alexander said, his voice tight, “You’re not carrying a sword. You can enter the city legally. But . . . if you enter now, you’re giving up your right to a triumph.”
 “I don’t care,” Caesarion replied impatiently. “Father had a choice once, between being accorded a triumph for his victories, and standing for election as consul. He chose the consulship. You pick the thing that’s more important. And seeing him before he dies . . . that’s more important.” He grimaced. “And ensuring that we’re here to deal with issues of succession, too. Gods. I hate thinking like this.”
Alexander shook his head sharply. Five years younger than his brother, he still seemed to have more political acumen. “A triumph will ensure the love of the plebeians. And you must have the mob behind you before dealing with the Senate.”
Caesarion’s expression tautened. “It’s strange, Alexander. I see your face, but I hear our mother’s voice when you speak.” An impatient shake of his head. “Every man who stood with me in Germania deserves that triumph. They all deserve that recognition, because without the men who followed me, the seventh Legion would have been cut off, surrounded, and destroyed in that damned forest.” His face settled into stubborn lines. “But holding a triumph instead of making my way to Father’s deathbed?” He regarded Alexander steadily. “Bad taste. It would look as if I valued his position more than his life.” He stared at the Porta Flaminia, and then turned his head and spat into the dust at the side of the road. “To Dis with the damned triumph. Let’s go home, brother.”

 

Centurion Ramirus Modius Malleolus trotted silently alongside the pair as they entered the city. They looked far too young to bear the weight of the Empire on their shoulders. But Caesarion will have to carry it. And in spite of the young man’s high rank and youth, he liked Caesarion. Uncannily, almost everyone did. The love of his father’s legions was mostly assured, but Malleolus had seen freedmen and slaves who served the legionnaires in their camps—men who hated anyone with a patrician name—smile when Caesarion addressed them.
He sighed, and kept his eyes on the people crowding the streets. No one had yet given them more than a glance, but someone had to keep these two youngsters alive.
About the Author
Deborah L. Davitt was born in Washington State, but grew up in Reno, Nevada, where she earned her BA in English Literature. She received her MA in English at Penn State, where she taught college rhetoric and composition, and has since worked as a technical writer in industries including nuclear submarines, NASA, and computer manufacturing.
Her poetry has appeared in Star*Line, Blue Monday Review’s Storytime Challenge, Grievous Angel, Silver Blade, Dreams and Nightmares, Poetry Quarterly, and other venues. A short-story of hers has appeared in Intergalactic Medicine Show, and she has four novels published to Kindle–The Valkyrie, The Goddess Denied, The Goddess Embraced, and Ave, Caesarion.
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by | November 18, 2016 · 5:00 am

Collide Blitz

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Paranormal Romance

Date Published:  September 2016
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Be careful what you wish for, it just might come true…Lauren’s life has been turned upside down by some simple choices that have gone awry.
Since her father’s mysterious death, Lauren Cowley has been stuck in a pitiful rut until she begins having ominous encounters, haunting her every move. While attempting to break free from her wretched life she meets Donovan. He is tall, dark, good-looking, strangely familiar – and yet terrifying. His unexplained ability to stare deep into her soul with emotionless eyes frightens her, yet she has no desire to break free from the gravitating pull he has on her. He unlocks her passion…and suppressed memories forcing her to fight for everything she loves. Lauren now has to face the reality of demons and the tragic consequences they have had on her life.
Excerpt

 

The room was filled with several insidious beings, a scene Donovan was all too familiar with. This was a part of the work he detested the most. He didn’t want to be here, but this man’s corrupt desires forced his hand. Donovan’s height reached a good foot above the man’s stout body, making Donovan appear even more menacing. A heavy debate had transpired between the man and a friend who had tried to stop the transaction, causing heavy amounts of sweat beads to form around the stout man’s receding hairline – despite the cool air.
Turning towards Donovan the man begged, “Please, you don’t have to do this. I have a family and…”
“You should have thought about them before you decided to ruin their lives.” Donovan’s voice was dark, yet a tinge of regret coated his tongue.
The man’s eyes pierced into a part of Donovan he hadn’t felt for years. How could he justify what he was about to do? Just because he was trapped in this situation didn’t mean he should damn someone else to this life – if it even is a life. What is wrong with wanting something so bad you are willing to sacrifice everything for it?
The man slowly turned towards his dark-haired friend who had tried to stop the exchange, gazing into his eyes sorrowfully. The two men were a yin and yang of each other. Where one was stout and fair with the beginnings of a receding hairline, the other was tall and thin with dark, thick hair and olive complexion. Though the two were opposite in appearance their friendship was intertwined like a thick rope.
The dark-haired man’s eyes narrowed as he pleaded to his friend in a weak whisper, “If this needs to happen, let it happen to me. I have no family, nothing that will be destroyed by the outcome.”
The dank air within the room hung thick and dark like a heavy blanket suffocating the room and making it hard to breathe. Donovan was familiar with what was transpiring. Gripping his fingers into a tight fist he fought back the urge to give in to his now natural instinct. Locking his sights onto the two men in front of him he silently watched their useless debate. There was only one way out of this situation and that was if Donovan would let him go, and that could never happen.
The stout man grabs hold of his friend’s shoulders, uttering firmly, “No, this is my fault and I take responsibility for it, but I need you to do me a favor. I need you to…”
Instantly the door opened, causing the two men to turn towards the intruder. “Father, what are you doing?”
A blithe voice rang in Donovan’s ears as he turned abruptly towards the intruder. The girl’s eyes locked onto his and for a brief moment he was reminded of who and what he used to be – a good man. Though his past was now just a grain of virgin sand in a murky moat, for a brief moment
Donovan was able to see the grain and grab onto it.
Donovan watched her eyes transform from a bright joyful appearance to one of fear and disgust. Her smile dropped, ripping out her heart on its way down. Donovan’s eyes remained locked onto hers like two magnets colliding, mentally grabbing hold of her with fervor and strength – refusing to let go. Her eyes too were locked onto Donovan’s, though hers told a very different story. One of betrayal, rage and despair, something he couldn’t look upon anymore.
“Please leave, sweetheart. I need you to go – now,” the stout man uttered to his daughter. His voice echoed loudly with guilty pain.
“No,” she snapped back.
A growling voice instantly cut into the small yet crowded room, making everyone freeze with fear. A man stepped out of a dark corner from the far side of the room. He seemed to materialize from the bleak shadows draped mysteriously from the corners of the room, like tattered curtains ready to reveal the main event. “You are pathetic, Donovan. Do I have to do everything myself?”
“Darius, please don’t,” Donovan uttered, trying to stop Darius, but it was too late.
Darius’s black eyes deepened as he tore across the room. A swirling wind ripped through everyone as Donovan rushed over to the girl. His eyes locked onto her now silver-dollar-size blue eyes for the last time. He quickly lifted his hand, wrapped it firmly around her throat and gently squeezed. He watched as the light within her eyes slowly diminished, leaving the room a black plague where there once was light.
 
About the Author
L. R. JOHNSON is the founder and President of The Inspired Writers League – an active community writers group. When L. R. Johnson was a child she would live in a world of her imagination. Her teachers would have to put her in the front row of the class or she would drift off into a story she was creating. Though she studied Psychology in college she never lost her imagination, constantly creating stories in her mind. Bringing to life her characters and writing great love stories filled with adventure, dynamic characters, and brilliant surroundings is something that L.R. Johnson has a natural gift for. She lives in California with her husband and two wonderful children.
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Other books by L. R. Johnson:

YA/NA Romance
Published: November 2015
Needing a fresh start, eighteen year old widow Breanna Hayes flees from America to England to fulfill her husband’s last request and her dream of going to Cambridge University. There she meets Callum. He’s arrogant, brash, affluent, rippling with charisma – and certain to run away when he learns about her tainted past. But as an unexpected bond is formed between them she discovers he has secrets of his own. She must overcome her stubbornness, fears, and open her heart again or risk losing a chance at love and the stable family she has always wanted.
“Stop,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear a frivolous apology, “What I do is no longer your concern.” A heavy sigh rolls off of me, “I come from trash. I have always known it, and now I know you believe it, too.”
Turning my back on him I begin hastily walking away when suddenly I hear him softly utter my name. It rolls along the surface of the mist, slamming against my back, piercing into my core, revealing his internal pain. Ignoring his pleading call I continue to walk away from him, leaving all my hopes and dreams behind. My decision is made. I am leaving as soon as my classes are done.

 

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