From despair to hope... #Romance #Literary

Waiting On Hope
by T.M. Souders


She stepped to the ledge of the balcony, welcoming death—and the mercy it offered.
Three more steps and she would be free. One. Two.
The sudden bang on the door made Lexie jump. She stood, her toes curling over the cool, rough, concrete, only inches from the edge of descent.
Gripping the chair next to her, she tried to concentrate. She raised her arms straight out from her sides like an airplane. The morning air, cool on her skin, wrapped around her in a soft caress. She visualized the jump, the slap of wind on her face and in her hair. She didn’t flinch from the thought of the agony of impact, which may come before the blessed numbness. After all, she was no stranger to pain.
Opening her eyes, she glanced down at her feet. Without a railing, the unguarded slab of stone made for easy access to the waiting street below. She straightened her toes, no longer supported by the balcony.
The banging on the door persisted, making it hard for her to think. She tried to ignore the interruption, but the caller’s persistence made blocking out the sound impossible. Behind the pounding she heard a voice—one she recognized.
“Lexie, open up. Let me in. What the hell are you doing out there? You’re going to get yourself killed. Lex?” Sienna continued to call through the door.
Lexie glanced from the inside of her apartment back to the street below. Traffic loomed, along with the occasional pedestrian. She cursed Sienna for interfering. Why did she show up now?
All she needed was one more step, but the insistent banging outside her door thumped in the background of her mind, jarring the still thoughts of death from where they perched. She would have to wait.

Two guys and beautiful girl struggle for love in 1830's Natchez, Mississippi #Romance #HistoricalFiction

Beloved Destiny

by Carol Ann Fears


William grasped her hand in his, kissing her fingertips one at a time, and then held her hand in both of his. “Your name suits you so well. Did you know that Carina means “beloved” in the Spanish language? You are meant to be my beloved one. I knew from the day I entered the door at Camellia Hill and our eyes met. Although you were upstairs peering at me over a rail, your face reflected a purity and intelligence that enthralled me in that instant. My soul has cried out to call you my beloved. May I?” William continued to hold her hand as if he could not bear to relinquish it. “My beloved Carina.” He repeated her name with a smile. He kissed the palm of her hand, the brush of his lips giving her the first hint of the sensual pleasure which could occur between a man and a woman.

From "Home" by Donovin Freeman

This scene is the wedding reception right after Cathy's daughter Tara marries Victor. Victor's mother Gwen has always had a battle with the bottle...

When Victor got downstairs, he wanted to scream. His mother had knocked the food table over and was sitting in the potato salad bowl. He reached out to help her. “I can get up by myself, asshole!”

 

As she got to her feet, she fell again. Mike and Jerome began to laugh. Cathy gave Mike the look and he stopped, Jerome continued. Janet and Eve didn’t take kindly to him making fun of their mother. “What you laughin’ at, monkey boy?” yelled Eve. Jerome headed straight over to them ready to fight. Mike pulled him back. Jerome had snuck a couple of drinks, and Mike knew he got crazy when drunk.

 

“Let his ass go!” yelled Janet.

 

“Yeah, let’s see if he’s as bad as he looks,” said Eve.

 

Jerome was enraged. “Let me go Mike!”

 

Cathy was growing madder with each passing moment. Gwen was still sitting in the bowl, denying Victor every time he tried to help her. And when Jerome lunged at Eve, knocking the punch bowl over, she lost it. “I want everybody out the door! Victor, get her drunk ass the out of here, and Mike, get that damn monkey and take his ass home!”

From "Fire Season" by VH Folland

A small group have been cut off by the fire, with the Brooke's Vale strip the nearest rescue base.

“Gotcha.” The other pilot shut the cockpit, and dashed back to his own aircraft. Quickly he began marshalling the remaining passengers into the Robin. Behind Jim, the woman was seated, securing the belt firmly around herself and holding the toddler on her lap sideways, arms and legs tucked in tightly. Mercifully the child was not crying, looking around with wide terrified eyes.

“Ready and belted. I’ve got a good grip on her,” the woman said, quietly. The headset was obviously already on, settled with professional speed.

“Hold her tight,” Jim growled. This did not sit well with him, but he saw no other choice. He increased throttle and turned the aircraft, giving himself as much space as possible to take off. The crop sprayer’s limitations were cabin space rather than weight, but with an unrestrained passenger he wanted a smooth take off and as much space for error as possible. He was breaking every safety rule in the book but he could not, in conscience, leave people to burn.