No pastime is more pleasurable to me than reading a book as long as the story is one that I can’t put down. Sometimes, though, I have to read five or six books which are merely okay before I find the one that really carries me away. I enjoy writing for that same pleasure. It helps me fill the yearning for a story that satisfies. And if my stories don’t satisfy me, how can I expect them to satisfy someone else?
Yet, I’m aware that everyone has different tastes. A book that grips my imagination may not be one you would find particularly enthralling. I’m largely an historical fiction fan, dabbling in contemporary romance. You may be a sci-fi enthusiast. Still, isn’t it wonderful that there is the online world of book lovers out there, where we are able to discover kindred spirits and form virtual book clubs or enjoy simple discussions?
Those of us who are passionate about books sometimes seem a little odd to the rest of society; but, oh well. We’ll enjoy our imaginary getaways anyhow.
What are the titles of some books you’ve been absolutely passionate about?
It’s been great to be here on LASR this week, sharing a little about how I visit my book passion. Before I bid you adieu, I’ll leave you with this opening excerpt from The Green Veil. Of course, I hope it’ll leave you wanting more. But if historical stories aren’t your bag, maybe you can stop by my site to say hello and take a closer look at my debut contemporary romance Heart Not Taken.
In the meantime, enjoy your book passion!
Pain seared Colette’s temples, neck, and shoulders. Behind her eyelids, everything blazed like a powder keg of dynamite going off inside her. Explosions roared and blasts glared — red, and now and then a streak of hot white. She stirred on the bed, and her satin dress rustled.
“Wear the dress, Lettie.”
She picked it up and held it before her in front of the oval mirror, noticing how the crimson sleeves would drop off her shoulders, and the bodice would all but reveal every inch of her form. The rest of the dress was cut to accentuate her womanliness, and the rustle of the fabric caressed her skin when it stirred.
“They all admire you. Tonight, I don’t want them to be able to take their eyes off you.”
“You would put me on such a display?”
A condescending laugh rippled out of him, and she pinched her eyes shut.
“A display? You want to help me succeed, don’t you?”
“It’s so degrading.”
“Degrading.” He didn’t shout the word, yet it seemed so. “You never want to please me.”
“I do.”
“No. If you wanted to please me, you would do these simple things I ask of you.”
“But–“
He stepped up behind her and slid his fingers over her shoulders.
“Vashti,” he whispered. He tipped his lips to her neck and nuzzled her skin. “My Vashti. Wear the dress.” His use of that name sliced into her. He caught her gaze in the mirror and entwined one multi-faceted ringlet around his finger, stroking it against the curve of her jaw. “And leave some of your hair down. Just enough to tickle you here… and here…”
His words echoed in time with the blood pulsing through the bruise on her cheek.
They all looked at her. There was no mistaking the hungry thoughts barely veiled in the eyes of the men as they regarded her. The women whispered behind fans and gloved hands, and she felt their rebuff.
Shame. Flooding her. Turning her cheeks crimson, which only seemed to attract more of their attention.
“Dance with the gentlemen, Lettie. It pleases me. That’s all I’m asking. Only dance.”
So she’d danced. But somehow, even that hadn’t pleased him. Somehow, she’d done something wrong.
Tears crept out from under her swollen eyelids, and her shoulders rocked with quiet sobs. How had she come to this place? What had happened to all the dreams she used to harbor?
God, how could I have been so wrong?
Images from another life, a life she’d lived a long, long time ago, hurtled through the blare of her thoughts — images of a small town with a street covered in pine dust, of a white house on a hill and a trip across the great lake into the shroud of forest where she’d first met her destiny.
A key turned in the lock of the door. Colette wished she could reclaim that other time from the foggy past. But now it was too late. She could never go there again.
Her body convulsed in a shudder as she willed her tears to cease. The door brushed open across the carpeted floor, and her husband treaded softly across the room.
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THE GREEN VEIL – Book 1 – Empire in Pine Series – historical inspirational romance from Desert Breeze Publishing http://www.desertbreezepublishing.com
HEART NOT TAKEN – A contemporary, inspirational novella from Black Lyon Publishing http://www.blacklyonpublishing.com
