Thursday, December 27, 2012
WRITERS WRITE...WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL EXCERPT 3
A: Even though the presents have been unwrapped, the gift giving ended for the season...
Z: Unless, you are one of those of gives gifts on Little Christmas.
A: I'm getting another gift, yea!
Z: You and our readers. It might not be the Epiphany but we are offering our readers another excerpt from CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL. ALSO, for the first three readers who write us at firstname.lastname@example.org, we will give them a free copy of the book!
A: Well, good for us and great for them. Now, on to the excerpt!
About the story:
Resisting the fervent advances of Luke Calico while snowbound isn’t Anya’s only problem, she must also hide from the malicious preacher wishing to harness her power while withstanding the demonic spirit trying to lure her soul.
Uncomfortable, she put the tchotchke back on the table. Not many people used that word, most used knickknack or bric-a-brac, but this wonderful woman who taught her Sunday School, Mrs. Dowd, used it. At this moment she missed the strength and protection of Mrs. Dowd.
She returned her gaze to his face. He wasn’t judging, just absorbing her. His charisma came from the way he looked at her. Almost as if he was an art student and she a statue in a fine museum, he devoured every line of her, absorbing every nuance without being boorish or overbearing. She blushed1I and inhaled to cleanse. His eyes twinkled. She noticed and wanted to blurt, they twinkled. A sudden magnetism ignited the air and weakened her knees. She swallowed, trembled, for the first time fearing this stranger, not because he could physically harm her. Though if it had been his intent he would have done so while she was unconscious. Fear rose because he got to her without conscious intent, because in an instant he stripped away her emotional blockade consciously reinforced, yet, he breached her defenses. One pull within her begged her to crawl into his arms and plead to be held, hoping to dissolve in his strength. It had been so long since she had been in a man’s embrace. Winston didn’t believe in hugs, called them a weakness, and there had been no other she had taken seriously before Winston. In retrospect this should have been a signal about Winston—what man doesn't hug. She recalled trying to accept the rationalization of machismo but real men hugged. Their mothers taught them.She took in his swarthy dark-toned complexion that hinted at a Spanish heritage, but the man didn’t have the stereotypical height or frame. His long, sturdy legs combined with wide shoulders and large, yet elegant hands defined a Nordic strain. However, the greatest contradiction materialized in the form of audacious, blue eyes, much darker than her own. They devoured with such intensity it nearly made her moan aloud.
Where were these sensations coming from? Something about him granted her permission to feel. Why? His glow of honesty? How could a single look make her sizzle like rain on desert sand? Lord, she felt him in her very soul. Intertwining with intimate places of her being. How did it happen? She thought, no, knew, the sensual part of her had been broken. She couldn’t feel passion. But she did. Sexual pressure? She had never comprehended what all the fuss was about. It took a stranger's unconscious prowess to unlock a door she wasn’t even aware she possessed and when it was ajar a whoosh of uncertainty flushed forth. For the first time in her life, she wanted in the way of big screen romance, never consciously recognizing she hadn't had it. There it was as blatant as the ecru teeth on a grizzly, she craved that epic love. She didn’t know it was possible. She wanted even with this blasted fatigue dragging on her, wanted despite the situation, wanted because of the situation, wanted with the certainty that he could take her places she had never been. She took a deep sighing breath, chasing the thought away. Beyond the sensuality draping him like a dazzling aura, there was something very open about his personality, a man who thought little of heroics, a man who’d listen intently to others, a man of which Mrs. Dowd would have approved.
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Angelica Hart and Zi KILLER DOLLS ~ SNAKE DANCE ~
CHASING YESTERDAY CHRISTMAS EVE...VIL ~ Christmas 2012
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