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!!!
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.