Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
A part of it might be the fact that I could run her into the arms of another if I fuck this up. I haven’t gotten over my anger over Marlow wanting to force his sons on her. That’s not happening.
“Aw, you’re grinding your teeth. Relax, big fella. I might tell you my name and put you out of your misery if this date is any good.”
“Ya will do no such thing. Ya don’t have to pity me or tell me a thing, love. I’m going to earn what’s mine.”
Even as I say the words, I become possessive. I don’t want a relationship, but I’m starting to want her. Dean isn’t going to be a fling for me. I know this deep inside.
She places her hand on my thigh and gives a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to hear it. My man would never be a quitter. That would never do,” she purrs.
I nearly growl hearing her say my man. I’m not sure when it happened, but I am hers. For the first time in twenty-three years, that doesn’t make my stomach roll or cause me to want to run.
Then a small voice in the back of my head begins to whisper. Sasha could handle herself too, but she and the baby are gone. I swallow against the bile trying to rise in my throat.
And there we have it, the real reason I haven’t told her what I know. I want her, but my demons are waiting to consume me once I claim her.
“What made ya begin to write books?” I ask to get my mind off my wayward thoughts.
“Okay,” she drags out and goes to remove her hand. I reach to cover it and hold it in place as I lace our fingers together.
She releases a heavy sigh then begins to answer me. “Someone close to me used to teach life lessons through the stories he told, almost like parables. I often believed those stories were real for him,” she says as if thinking back to the times she listened.
“Aye, I know what ya mean. I knew someone similar,” I say, thinking of her uncle.
“I wanted to be just like that. There’s something about putting the visions in my head into words. You know, seeing something in my mind and then putting it on paper.”
“Have you ever drawn from real life?”
She snorts. “Don’t we all. I believe all creatives are influenced by the things around them and what they experience. I write urban romance, but I do believe a few of my characters are going to make a trip here to Ireland in the future.
“There are endless possibilities when writing and using my imagination. It’s a form of escape for me. When the real world gets to be too much.
“My characters can live out so much for me. I live through them, and they live through me. You get what I mean?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Besides, there are things that can’t be shared in real life, but on a page I can do what I like. I can show a side of me that the world will never know. The names and locations have been changed, but the stories might or might not be real.”
“How often is that so?”
She laughs. “A lot more than I’ll ever admit, babe. Now don’t go reading my shit. I might have to make sure your ass comes up missing. Besides, I doubt you would like what you find.”
I scoff. “What makes ya say that?”
She shrugs. “I told you. I’m a lot. There isn’t much that I don’t hide in my books. They are a true imitation of life. Once you see in my head through my books, you’ll know all of my crazy.”
I laugh with her, but I don’t ignore the truth that rings in her words. Aye, I’m talking to Demarco in the flesh. This lass does my head in.
She was made for me.
She seems to be relaxed and more open to sharing. This is the most she’s opened up to me since we’ve met. I take it as an opportunity to learn more about her.
We have time to kill before we get to our destination. I shift my hand to place my palm to hers and lace our fingers together. Warmth spreads through my hand and up my arm.
There is no doubt this woman is working her way under my skin. However, I still have so much to learn about her. There’s so much I want her to trust me enough to share with me on her own.
“What do ya like to do when ya’re not writing?”
“What do I like to do when I’m not writing? Um … let me think. That’s a loaded question.”
“Not really, love. Just tell me what ya like.”
“I have a few ventures outside of writing that are time consuming. To be honest, I need a new assistant when I get back. Someone to keep track of my personal trainer, my massages, and my deadlines,” she muses.