Recently, an author friend of mine,
Cecilia Robert, tagged me in a Facebook meme. I was asked to share an excerpt
from my WIP or new release. It has been a while since I shared my work with you.
So, I’ve decided to share a longer excerpt here.
The past months have been crazy busy.
But baby is now here and I’m getting used to motherhood. Dara (six weeks) is such
a calm baby. She allows me the freedom to be both her mom and an author. I’ve
started proofreading HONEYSUCKLE AND JASMINE, my upcoming women’s fiction
novel, and plan to release it in September of this year. There will be a few
official reveals and some giveaways in August.
For now, Here’s a taste. ENJOY!!!
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He leaned
forward, the palms of his hands face down on the table, fingers splayed.
"Want to know why I'm nervous?"
"Want to
tell me?" I refused the urge to also lean toward him, even if I craved to
be closer, to feel his breath on my face.
"I haven't
been on a date in two years. It's a little nerve-wracking."
"You said
this wasn't a date."
He leaned back
in his chair and ran a hand through his lustrous hair. "That's what I
thought at first, when I asked you. Right now, I'm not sure. I really enjoyed
being around you last week. Deep down, I guess I wanted to spend a little more
time with you."
I wanted to tell
him I felt the same way, that I dreamed of him almost every night since the day
I met him, that my body warmed up every time he neared me, that I tried not to
fall in love with him but had no idea how to stop it. Of course I couldn't tell
him any of those things. As much as I felt for him, it had never occurred to me
to date him—or any other man, for that matter, with no experience whatsoever. I
smiled and tried to control my breathing. "Yes, it was nice working
together."
"And of
course we were not done with our conversation. You hadn't said much about
yourself."
My muscles
tensed up again, and I smoothed the tablecloth, gave myself time to respond.
How much could I tell him? If he had read my CV, he'd know I'd worked at the
orphanage, but not that I'd also lived there. Did I want him to know? I raised
my eyes. Why not? "I grew up in an orphanage, where I later worked as
well, for two years. I never met my biological parents." Why not just
leave out the whole adoption part? It would only call for more questions and
complicate things.
To my surprise,
Roman squeezed my hand, just for a second, but the warmth from his grip
remained with me. "I'm sorry to hear that. That explains it. I used to
wonder why you had this sad look in your eyes all the time."
I glanced away.
"I do?" I whispered. But then, how would I know? Whatever look I had
in my eyes, I'd lived with all my life. I wouldn't know if it was sad or not.
"Senia,"
Roman drew his chair closer to the table, "please look at me. It's nothing
to be ashamed of. I can't even begin to imagine how it would be, growing up
without my parents, even if they can be too controlling sometimes."
I allowed my
glance to meet his again. "Well, having never met mine has made it easier
to live without them."
The waiter
placed our food in front of us, halting our conversation. The aroma of Roman's
roasted pork in gravy and that of my beef and pork mingled in the air between
us before teasing my nostrils. So easy for the aromas to do—nothing in the air
to stop them from embracing. Unlike Roman and I. Between us stood many possible
complications that could send a potential relationship toppling before it even
started.
