Monday, July 9, 2012
She felt so cold. She didn’t understand it and she couldn’t seem to make her mind work.
Where was she? What happened? Why was she so damned cold? Slowly opening her eyes, fear coursed through her. Sweet Hekate, I’m buried alive! Panic gripped her. Then she remembered and dread took over. That man, that vampire, he killed me! But, why am I awake in my grave?
Oh shit! No, don’t tell me he turned me, made me a filthy parasite? Please Hekate, no! She closed her eyes, made herself stop and take stock of the situation. She noted she didn’t have a heartbeat, her skin was cold and clammy, and she didn’t need to breathe. Yep, he’d definitely made her one of the undead. She didn’t want to be undead. Okay, think back to the old folklore about vampires. You don’t have to be one forever. You have a couple of options open to you. She could get herself staked, she could meet the sun, or she could be set on fire and burned to a crisp. She could ask a priest to dump holy water on her. That was supposed to work, too. And silver would work. Wait, no it wouldn’t. Silver would hurt like hell and immobilize her, but according to the stories silver didn’t kill vampires. Neither would garlic or crosses, they’d only repel and burn her a bit.
Also, she’d no longer have a reflection and would forever be frozen at the age she was when he turned her, never to change in appearance. Damn it, this sucks! In more ways than one!
Opening her eyes again, Lilith could no longer bear the close confines of her grave. She began to claw at the dirt above her head. She kept clawing and clawing until at last she saw a glimmer of light and pulled herself up through it. She was ravenously thirsty. She felt almost mindless with hunger. Crying out in pain, she pulled herself free from the grave at last.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
9300 Bryn Mawr Avenue
Rosemont, Illinois, 60018
April 11-15, 2012
More info here
Author of FIVE STAR When We Were Amazing
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Come visit me at: www.christinelondon.com for all the latest!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Film mirrors real life. Writers of fiction and fact speak the truth through the words of their characters. The power of love. The power of the pen to write what is in men’s hearts when they fall…
She has 600 different smiles. They can light up your life. Make you laugh out loud, make you cry, just like that.
— When a Man Loves a Woman
When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.— When Harry Met Sally
The world is moved by love. We kneel before it in awe.
— The Village
We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.
— To Love and Be Loved
Love is the strongest thing. Nothing can touch it. Nothing comes close. If we love each other we're safe from it all ---Snow Falling on Cedars
Wherever she is, that's where my home is.— The Notebook
You make me want to be a better man —As Good as It Gets
I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone. — The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for? What is worth dying for ?The answer to each: only love — Don Juan DeMarco
Truth & love has always won There may be tyrants and murderers and for a time they may seem invincible, but in the end, they always fail. --Gandhi
There are too many mediocre things in life to deal with and love shouldn't have to be one of them.— Dream for an Insomniac
"I want the last face you see in this world to be the face of love.… I'll be the face of love for you."— Dead Man Walking
I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss from her mouth, one touch of her hand, than eternity without it.
— City of Angels
Known someone that could level you with her eyes... an angel on earth who could rescue you from the depths of hell. " — Good Will Hunting
It seems right now that all I've ever done in my life is making my way here to you."— The Bridges of Madison County
Yours has been the most important friendship of my life.— Sense and Sensibility
Christine London www.christinelondon.com
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
My name is Liam Stalls, author of the erotica short story: The Enchanted Bathroom, now available at MuseItHOT, the sensual side of MuseItUp Publishing.
I've been asked...well, before I continue let me offer you the back cover to my story:
Sandy Warner finds more than she bargained for in the Three Lillies bathroom. Overcome by the moans and groans from the couple in the next stall, she begins to fantasize a hunk obeying her every wish.
Richard didn’t expect to find the woman of his dreams flustered in his restaurant. After a surprise grab to his groin, he smiles.
Sandy, unsure if the man before her is real or her imaginary hunk, steps back. After an embarressing moment, she now must decide if she should make a move while the smile is plastered on his face, or apologize and walk out with her dignity.
I was at a standstill where to host my sensual scene for this story. The bedroom was typical, but lo and behold, while taking a shower, I visualized the woman of my dreams standing beside me, and my story's location was born. Naturally my dream/fantasy continued in the shower, but that's a whole different topic for another post. LOL
My question to you fine readers, and also writers, is this:
Where have you fantasized making love? Or where have you made love beside the normal confines of a bedroom? Was it more sexually appetizing to be daring?
Before I end this post, I will leave you with my excerpt of The Enchanted Bathroom, available now for only 99cents at the MuseItUp Publishing bookstore.
“Miss, are you all right? I heard...well...someone being sick and just wanted to make sure no one needed my help.”
I stared at him from the mirror. My hunk! My imaginary hunk stood behind me. In a daze I turned around and grabbed his crotch.
“Hey!” He stepped back.
I must have turned all shades of red because I felt the embarrassed heat flaring my cheeks and neck.
“I’m...so...sorry.” I just grabbed this guy’s crotch. What am I? Nuts? “I just wanted to make sure you were real and not a part of my fantasy. Oh my God, you must think I’m nuts.”
Totally surprised, he didn’t run out like a mad man. He actually approached me and...
Now that you are all hot and bothered...looking forward to reading your responses.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
There was a time, a few winters ago, when the fourteen hours of travel to fly down under was but a moment in time. Full summer Melbourne, warm breezy sun and a bouquet of wildflowers; the young man that greeted me at the airport radiated ebullient enthusiasm. Nervous? Were we not. The year and a half of emails and messages exchanged online had allowed us to know nearly everything about each other, yet nothing of true import.
So often I am asked if an author's fiction reflects true life. Whether it's a name, a scent remembered or a story lived, those who write can not help but include their experiences in their tales. From what else do we have to draw? What else would ring so true?
In the end it really does not matter where reality ends and fiction begins because a great story IS true whether or not it happened just that way,
You are cordially invited to come along on a journey of discovery. Can a young man barely out of university be convinced that there is worth in paying societies dues? Can a life-worn woman years his senior have what is truly important to offer or will the secrets she’s' so carefully guarded destroy his faith in her as a wonderful human being? I could tell you what real life dealt. You might suppose that most young men could not handle the complexities of an adult life filled with truths and tragedies lived in all its messy realism. You might be right? Or would you…
I invite you to experience one young man who has that ineffable something that separates him from the crowd—extraordinary tenacity, the willingness to grow and change even when he thinks his heart might shatter and the stuff that makes a true hero— a leap of faith toward love.
“Walk me home, Bryan.”
The smile slid from his face. Re-fastening the stud of his jeans, he turned to her. “What’s wrong, Carrie?”
“Look at me.” He hooked her chin with two fingers. “Why are you treating me like I’m suddenly a stranger?” Tilting her face up to his, he lowered his head to engage her eyes. She still had hers cast to the ground. “Come on. Did I say something wrong? I felt…it was…you were amazing.”
Her eyes scrolled in reluctance to his. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“What do you mean? You just did…and in the most incredible way.” He smiled, testing the waters of her reaction.
“It’s not you…You were perfect.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”
Clamping onto her shoulder he looked into her with intensity. “God damn it Carrie. Don’t start clamming up. We never did online. Why start now?”
“We never had sex online.”
He raised a dubious brow.
“Okay…so we wrote about sex. That doesn’t get you pregnant.”
“So you are worried.”
“I should have waited to go to the chemist.” He shook his head in self-recrimination. “Should have had a condom.”
“No…I can’t.” She stiffened again in his arms.
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t get pregnant,” she spewed.
He felt his jaw drop. “You can’t…”
“Yeah. Can’t,” she reiterated in cold indifference, like a news reporter delivering a story.
He instinctively drew her to his chest, holding her body as though it might break. “I never dreamed…I think it’s…okay…”
She pulled away from him, engaging his eyes once more. “Yeah…I can tell it’s just what you had in mind.” Turning, she began to jog away from him in the direction of the high-rise hotels.
“Damn it, Carrie.” He took off after her. She quickened her pace. Shit she was fast. He broke into an all out sprint to catch her.
Hooking her arm, he twirled her about like a top. She spun into him, air knocked from her at the impact. “Let me go, Bryan,” she spouted in gasp.
“I don’t even know where you’re staying.”
“Why do you need to know? It was obviously a mistake coming here.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me Carrie. It’s you who’ve decided what’s important to me. I don’t give a rat’s arse if you can have kids.”
“Yeah…that’s why you’ve been talking about what a great dad you’re gonna be…how much you want to watch them grow up.”
She’d caught him. He had said those things when they’d exchanged hopes and dreams online. He tried to keep his expression even, but the look on his face sent her over the edge. The pain in her eyes was something he never wanted to see, never meant to cause. He knew he’d sent a knife to her heart.
She turned from him again and ran. He stood, arms hanging in impotence at his side and watched her disappear into the night, her figure reappearing in the lighting of the awning of the hotel closest.
It seemed an hour before he was able to move. His feet felt glued to the pavement; his mind reeled in self-loathing and regret. Why hadn’t he stopped her? What was wrong with him?
The chill of the night invaded him. He felt it press into his bones through the thin t-shirt he’d dragged over his head. He’d left his jacket behind under the trees where they’d...
“Damn.” The word shot from him sounding like it came from someone else. His chest ached with it. He turned toward the beach car park and walked numbly to his Rover.
She fell into the center of the billowing white comforter. Clothes sweaty, she shivered. The envelope of the duvet surrounded her like a comforting nest.
She lowered her head to her chest. His aftershave clung to her skin, rose around her as though he were with her again. “Damn it.” She struck the mattress with clenched fists. Why had she even brought it up? It shouldn’t matter. They were, after all, fast friends first. He was a young man. Of course he had dreams of home and family. But when he’d made love to her so tenderly, with such ardor, she’d melted. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on hers.
“God, you’re an idiot, Carrie.” Her words sounded hollow, disembodied. She grabbed the edge of the comforter and rolled herself in it like a cocoon. Sweat beaded at her forehead and a wave of nausea swept through her. She had to escape.
He drove through the night along the road toward Mornington, every curve and bank negotiated by rote. Taking the long way through the hills, he made a sharp turn into the overlook and skidded to a stop, tires sliding on the gravel. Pulling the emergency break, it felt as though it would fracture in his hand. The percussion of his shoulder into the door sent it flying open, recoiling back into him as he exited.
He tore into the forest, stumbling along the narrow overgrown pathway leading to the ridge. The trees thinned, and then opened onto the broad ledge of an overlook. The heels of his shoes scrapped the rock face as he came to a standstill. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing straining under the demands of his descent. The town of Mornington lay below, asleep. Only the occasional porch light dotted the shadow of homes sprinkled along its perimeter. Above the sky glowed indigo into purple with impending day. It was still an hour away, but the turn of the earth allowed first light to seep into the blackness.
Eyes scrolling to the sky, he looked at the winking stars spread across the path of the Milky Way in artist’s stroke of genius. God, but he lived in a beautiful place. Why did it seem suddenly flat, cardboard? He drew the resinous air in through his nose expanding his lungs until they ached. Holding his breath for a moment, it burst out of him in a mirthless laugh. His shoulders shook with the violence of the emotion erupting from him. Abdomen contracting, he wiped at the corner of his mouth.
“God forgive me, Carrie.” The words tore from his chest. “I can’t.”
When We Were Amazing
A Novel by: Christine London
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release: November 11, 2011
Editor: Fiona Young-Brown
Line editor: Antonia Tiranth
Cover artist: Delilah K. Stephans
Buy Now through MuseItUp Publishing
Coming soon to Amazon.com