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Twelfth Annual EPIC EBook Competition (July 15-Aug. 15, 2010) EPIC’s ebook competition, the oldest continuing competition honoring ebooks and the e-publishing industry, is a premier event for authors and publishing houses. It opens for submission entries on July 15, 2010, accepting entries through midnight (CST) August 15, 2010. Entries must be e-published between June 1, 2009 and May 31, 2010. The Competition Guide will be on EPIC’s website (www.epicauthors.com) on June 1.
Judges consist of active EPIC Members and guest judges, all of whom are either published authors or publishing professionals. Entries are judge in two rounds, with finalists announced during the first week of November 2010.
The 2011 New Voices Young Writers Competition (Aug. 1 – Oct. 20, 2010) EPIC’s membership supports ebook education within public, private, and home school environments with this popular global competition for young authors. The New Voices Young Writers Competition opens for submissions from August 1, 2010 through October 20, 2010, and introduces young authors to the exciting world and possibilities of ebooks and e-publishing - the wave of the literary future.
We invite middle school- and high school-aged authors, ranging in ages from thirteen through eighteen years old, to submit essays, poems, and short stories in this growing competition. If you are a young writer, with a desire to fine-tune your craft with constructive feedback from industry and education professionals, please consider entering our competition. The guidelines will be found on the New Voices website: http://newvoicesyoungwriters.com/ in July 2010.
If you are a parent, teacher, or librarian, you may request brochures by email from epic.competition.chair@gmail.com. Please supply your name, mailing address, best email contact, and contact phone number as well as the quantity you desire. Mailing takes about 3 weeks, so please be patient.
EPIC's 2011 Art Competition (Nov.1 – Nov. 15, 2010) Also in its twelfth year is a competition that honors the finest selection of cover art for electronically published books. Details will be available on the EPIC website (www.epicauthors.com) the first part of October 2010 with entries accepted from November 1, 2010 through November 15, 2010.
Covers go through two rounds of judging by EPIC’s membership, with finalists (in category) awarded the ARIANA before moving on to the final round. The ultimate winner, the artist whose work receives the most membership votes, is celebrated with EPIC’s highest honor for art - the QUASAR.
EPICon Conference (March 10 – March 13, 2011 in Williamsburg, Virginia) All awards, other than those for the New Voices Young Writers competition, will be presented during EPIC’s 2011 EPICon conference's gala award ceremony March 13, 2011 in Williamsburg, Virginia. The New Voices Young Writers awards ship to winners, and their indicated schools/libraries, within six months of EPIC’s conference.
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EPIC – Electronically Published Internet Connection is a non-profit, professional organization for published and contracted ebook and print authors that was established to provide a strong voice for electronic publishing—the major publishing marketplace of the future.
No woman had ever filled his arms the way Kimber did. No woman could ever make him hard as steel, just by being there. He had been hard since she flung open the door. The bulky shirt she had worn earlier was gone, leaving her in the flowing skirt and a camisole. As he had suspected, her body was a dream. Full breasts pressed against the silky fabric, outlining nipples he remembered as being full, a little on the long side, and when she was excited, so erect and sensitive, perfect for suckling. There was a womanly sway to her walk that hadn’t been as pronounced when she was younger. The promise he’d only glimpsed at in high school had been fully realized- and then some.
He still wanted her. Had he ever stopped? It had taken three years for him to start dating again after her father had shown up at his parent’s house with the baby, claiming not only did Kimber not want the burden of being a single parent, but that she didn’t want to raise a mixed child. That had hurt worse than anything ever could. How many nights had they talked on the phone or in each other’s arms planning how many children they would have one day, what they would name them, the type of home they would build? And yet, there had stood Dr. Knowles claiming Kimber had rejected all of their hopes and dreams. That she had left knowing she was pregnant, with every intention of getting rid of the child as quickly as possible.
Holden, in his childish hurt had believed him. He had swallowed every lie and let it foster a bitter hatred at the woman he thought had threw his love back in his face. He should have known better. In a way, he had. Maybe he had never admitted it to himself, but Kimmie wasn’t the type of woman to lie about her feelings. She had always been an open book to anyone willing to read. Dr. Knowles had never been willing. He had wanted to create his daughter in his image. He wanted to mold her in to his ideal of a woman. And Kimmie had been far too loving and kindhearted to push her father away. She had always tried to be the daughter Dr. Knowles had wanted her to be, but had always fallen short in the older man’s eyes. And Holden had always hated him for that. Yet, he had taken their daughter and in essence, kept the baby away from her mother. He was every bit as guilty as Dr. Knowles in a way.
As much as he loved his daughter, there would be no little Kimmie without the big Kimmie. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her until now. He hadn’t realized how empty his arms had been until she had dove on him. Over time, there had been other women. At first, he only dated women who were the polar opposite of Kimber, trying to drive her out of his mind and heart. That had been a disaster. It didn’t matter what color the woman was, her profession, her background or upbringing. There was only one woman his mind and body craved. Sex itself had become an empty bodily function; so much so, Holden hadn’t had a physical relationship in two years. He couldn’t take it; the cold emptiness he felt afterward. It didn’t matter how long he actually dated before trying to start a physical relationship; it was always wrong somehow. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep all night with anyone. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling he was being unfaithful.
In more ways than one, Kimber’s return was a Godsend. He hadn’t realized how much until the truth smack him around a little. He was never going to love any other woman the way he loved her. Holden was becoming colder and colder to the outside world. Only his daughter could make him smile. He felt isolated, cut off from those around him. His entire life had been his daughter and his job. There was no room for anything else. Not because there was no time, but because he could not bring himself to join the outside world. He had fewer and fewer friends, he was curt and standoffish on the best of days. He was freezing from the inside out.
One look at Kimber and his heart began to thaw-no, more like the frozen casing had scattered completely apart, leaving the organ bleeding and raw, but just as hot has it has always been for her. His resentment and acrimony that had been a mainstay in his life for so long started to slip even before he had seen her again; in Dean Whittaker’s office, he had known what awaited. He had starting to feel again. He had started to hurt again. Only Kimber could ever take him to heights of pure ecstasy or drag him down to desolate despair. Oh, how he loved this woman-still.
This was it for him. She always had been it for him. Holden had loved Kimber most of their lives, had realized it when they shared their first kiss at thirteen in his garage. They had never even considered dating anyone else all throughout high school, being attached at the hips as best friends and evidentially as lovers. It had taken three woefully awkward tries before losing their virginity to one another on the beach after Homecoming their senior year. They had explored their burgeoning sexuality together; reading about techniques and then trying them, until they found what the other liked the most. Up until the time her father snatched her out of school and moved them away, they had spent every available second together.
No doubt the reason for Dr. Knowles taking the position in Boston was because he had finally noticed how close she and Holden had become. Little did any of them know about the baby.
What kind of fool was he not to realize when Dr. Knowles was a lying snake? He was still having a hard time coming to terms with that.
As soon as their bodies collided, a long dormant switched was flicked on in his psyche. He had only meant to hold her, to comfort her in some small way. But feeling Kimber in his arms again, Holden’s carefully erected walls came crashing down.
His hands twined in her hair of their own accord, pulling her head back and her lips open. Nothing could have stopped his mouth from descending on her soft pouty lips, not even the sharp crack of a hand across his cheek. Had she resisted, he probably would have backed off. It might have been the hardest thing he would ever have to do, but he really would have.
But she didn’t resist. Instead she went all soft and pliant in his arms, receiving the probing of his tongue with a soft sigh. Damn, she tasted so good! He didn’t just kiss her, he took full possession of her mouth, her lips, her very breath with all the pent up frustration he felt from their forced separation. No other woman had ever tasted like this.
“Oh God, Kimber, I missed you so much,” he murmured against the soft flesh of her throat as his lips traveled everywhere his frantic hands could bare her flesh.
She had on too many damn clothes! Pure need pooled in his gut, crude, gnawing hunger demanding to be fed crawled underneath his skin. He tore off her clothes, ripping anything that could not be easily discarded. White noise filled his ear drums, the center of his focus only on her, only her.
“Holden, Holden…”
Her mournful cry tore at him, spurring him on. It was primitively base, the need to be inside her, but Holden could not shake the feeling if he didn’t bury himself deep, become a part of her in a way denied for far too long, he would explode. His lips never left her body, traveling across the smooth skin of her face, back to her neck, her shoulders, and returning to her lip. He wanted to howl in victory when he felt her small hands tugging on the fastening of his pants. He wanted to assist her, but he couldn’t stop touching the woman who had always ruled his heart and mind.
When she finally freed him, Holden’s mind blanked.
Acting on pure instinct, he rolled them over, parting her thighs with the width of his body. He drove his throbbing length deep inside her in one stroke, burying himself to the hilt.
*****
Kimber didn’t know what she expected when she opened her eyes to find Holden looking down at her, but she never dreamed of this! One touch, that was all it took and she was transported back in time. Warmth, hope, love, all these feelings she had never hoped to feel again, not like this, came back in a rush. It was almost as if she had never left. He completed her now so much it was as if they’d never been apart at all.
But this was not the slow, gentle lover of her youth. Holden the man was forceful, demanding, and he felt so damn good inside her. His face contorted to look more primal than she’d ever seen, he powered inside her, shaking her body and soul. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All the words she would’ve loved to say came out in primitive grunt and moans. Later she would allow regret and allow distrust to seep back into her consciousness. This wasn’t real, not anymore. As for now, all she wanted to do was feel. He was thicker than she remembered, filing her to the point of pain. Her inner walls clamped down on the strangely hard, yet smooth shaft, demanding that he move- do something-anything to relieve the burning ache.
“Please, Holden!”
She should hate him for making her beg, and tomorrow she probably would. Right now she needed him to drive into her over and over, so hard she forgot her name. Forgot the cold emptiness that waited for her after he left. And he would leave. She couldn’t take it otherwise.
“Look at me, Kimber.”
Her response to the fierce growl was immediate, sending tiny shivers of sweet, agonizing anticipation down her spine at what she saw. When had he grown so commanding? His eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t identify. His chiseled jaw was set in determination; his mouth slightly swollen from his own bruising kisses was drawn into a grimace. He was gloriously male. So much more than he had been at eighteen. She didn’t know this man that was inside her now. This wasn’t the sweet, gentle boy she loved with desperation. This man was so far outside her scope she felt a tingle of fear, even while her body melted for him, opening completely for his exploration. How was possible to feel so deeply for man she didn’t even know? This was not her Holden. A slight niggling doubt echoed in the recesses of her mind. Oh, God, was he married? What the hell was she doing?
“Don’t you dare try to leave me,” he rasped while holding her head still so she couldn’t look away. He seemed to have read the doubt and fear in her eyes. As if to reinforce his order, his hips rocked into her without withdrawing first. The broad head of his penis brushed against her g-spot, sending bursts of lights to dance in front of her open eyes.
Her fingernails dug into the solid flesh of his arms as she canted her hips, desperate for more.
“Do I have you attention now?”
All Kimber could do was nod. Did he ever!
“I am so sorry, baby. I didn’t know. I should have-” Funny how his voice had gone all deep and smooth. No less male, but no longer growling. There was earnestness in his gaze that made her want to believe. If only she could. “I can’t make it up to you, but I swear I will spend my life trying.”
No, he wouldn’t. She could never allow that. She would not know where to begin to try and handle this man buried inside her. And now was just not the time to contemplate such things. The last things she wanted right now were to have this conversation. And thankfully she didn’t have to. Their bodies seemed to have taken over for the both of them, urging them to continue the mating dance as old as time.
Whatever reply Kimber could’ve possibly come up with was lost in the urgency of his thrusts. Fear, anger and even love drove her to push back just as hard, arching into his carnal embrace. More, more until she was no longer woman and he no longer man. They were one, wrapped in a blanket of bliss, surrounded by sensations too raw, too base to survive it. She thought she might’ve screamed, she couldn’t be sure. Her body shattered, sharp edges of ecstasy ripping her to pieces before slowly melting her back together, while but forever changed.
“I love you, Kimber.”
How she once longed to hear those words. How she had dreamed of that same whisper, said at a time just like this. But that time had long since passed, and those dreams were never going to come true. Her heart couldn’t take it. So she said nothing, working up the courage to do what she knew needed to be done.
She couldn’t breathe! Kimber’s head swam from lack of oxygen as she tried desperately to gulp in enough air. If Tawny hadn’t had a firm grip on her arm she would have wandered aimlessly around this damn monstrosity of a building looking for a way out until she just crumbled wherever she wound up. By some act of God, Tawny managed to get her outside and to her car. How she had held in the scream that welled in her chest she would never know. For once in her life, she didn’t want to be dignified or poised. She want to rant and rave, tear out her hair as she pummeled the unbelievably asshole standing like an idiot upstairs.
Did he think she would never find out? Did he really believe he could have kept the knowledge of their child from her forever?
He almost had. Chills could not begin to explain the ice that her skin had become.
Nine years! Nine fucking long, hard, empty years she had lived with shame, agony, and defeat. Kimber had never believed her father when he said her child had died at birth. Although drugged and disoriented, she had remember the wail of a newborn, had reached out to touch the miracle that she had struggled to birth right before her world faded to black. She had spent every waking moment trying to find that baby. She had harassed every adoption agency from New York to South Carolina looking for some sign, some clue that her baby was still alive. She had never known if it had been a boy or a girl. Her father never let up on his insistence the child had been born dead, but Kimber had known in her soul that wasn’t true.
She had almost willed herself to die in the beginning. Believing she had lost everything, she hadn’t wanted to face another day without Holden or their baby. It was days later when her brain began to clear from the drugs they had given her in the tiny private facility that she began to suspect something wasn’t right. The nurses hadn’t been able to look her in the eye, the doctor had refused to talk to her, reporting directly to her father who would not even allow her the dignity of being examined in private. As soon as she received her high school diploma, she had left her father’s house and pursued her degrees with single minded determination.
Kimber had never known her mother. The mysterious Cathy Knowles had died when she was three years old. Kimber had always resented that. In her young, fanciful mind, Kimber had convinced herself her mother had died to get away from her father’s autocratic, distant ways. But Cathy had left her daughter a way to precious freedom, leaving her more than enough to pay for her own education in a trust her father couldn’t touch with enough left over to live more than comfortably on.
Although she had used the money to pay her tuition and various bills, she had worked two, sometimes three jobs to pay for private investigators. She had no time for anything beyond school and finding her child. Dozens of private investigators and more than a couple of restraining orders later, there had been no trace of the child she had born, dead or alive. When her search had been exhausted on the east coast, she had decided to come back here, back to where it had all begun.
Not once had Kimber ever considered Holden would still be here, teaching at the same college where their father’s had been colleagues and sometimes research partners. Holden had wanted to go into physics, which meant he would have gone to a school like M.I.T. or somewhere similar. The last place she would have ever guessed to find him was teaching as a Literature professor. He had always teased her on her love of reading what he considered fluff. What the hell was he doing as the fucking department Chair of the English Literature Department?
Dean Whittaker had hired her without a personal interview, for which she had been honored and grateful. Now she realized she should have looked into the English Lit Department more carefully. Usually cautious, Kimber had only wanted to come home, to confront, and then bury her past. She had thought perhaps to begin to live again. She had planned on visiting Holden’s parents, who had always been like family to her, getting his address, then writing a long confession letter explaining what had happened. She thought he would be married with children by now, probably far too involved in his own life than to give her confession no more than a cursory once over, maybe a sad smile. That ass had been here the entire time, raising her child without so much of a thought to get in contact with her. He could have found her if he had tried. Hell, she had damn sure found him and Lord knows she was far from trying to see him again!
If he hadn’t been here, she would never have known her child was alive. That though soothed some of her anger. She had a little girl! A little girl with toasted almond skin and her father’s laughing bluish-gray eyes. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Almost. She simply had to stare; she had to imprint her daughter’s face in her mind for all time. She lived too long with the ghost of the child could be like; the reality was so much more than anything her imagination could’ve conjured. If Holden hadn’t burst into the office suite she would have probably still been staring at the sight she had despaired of ever seeing. Kimber had been afraid to reach out and touch the little girl; scared that if she dared, she would disappear into a puff of smoke.
How could Holden had kept knowledge of their daughter from her like that? After all that had happened, never once had Kimber blamed him. She had always held him up in her mind on a pedestal. He had always been her ideal man, the main reason she had been physically incapable of having a normal relationship with any other since high school. She had never believed her father when he had told her Holden had cursed her name and washed his hands of her as soon as he had dragged her to live in Boston. She just knew Holden loved her. After all this time, she had suspected he would be married with children, but she had been secure he would at least have some fondness in his heart for her.
But how could he? How could he have felt any regard for her at all? Surely he had to know she would be desperately looking for her child. He’d known her well enough to know she would’ve never willingly given up her own flesh and blood had she been able to help it. Why would he keep the knowledge her baby was safe and loved with him? Why be so cruel knowing all Kimber had ever wanted was the love and security of a real family- the one thing she’s never had herself.
It was punishment, pure and simple. For whatever reason, Holden’s failure to disclose he had full custody of the child they’d created together was punishment. But why? For leaving him? Surely he recognized she had had no choice! She had been seventeen when she found out she was expecting. Her father had whisked her away before she had to the chance to tell Holden about her pregnancy. Was that why he had done this to her?
It was not like the Holden she knew. As Tawny drove toward the small condo she had purchased, pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place. There was no way Holden could have gotten custody of their baby without the assistance of her father. While she had been kept sedated, having fallen apart after they had told her baby was dead, Reginald (she refused to refer to him as Father, even in her thoughts) had had more than enough time to fly back to California with the baby. He had no doubt informed Holden and his parents that she didn’t want the child. Lies, half-truths and deceit dripped so easily from Reginald’s lips. Holden should have seen it as a lie. Out of all the people in the world, Holden should have known her heart and mind. There wasn’t anything she hadn’t shared with him, no secret desire she hadn’t confessed. But he had believed reginald, and he had blamed her. Or had he?
So why had he named the baby after her? She didn’t believe Reginald had told Holden she had died. He hadn’t been shocked to see her. Surprised and frantic she had already seen Kimber, or Kimmie as the little girl told her everyone called her. But he hadn’t been shocked. That meant he had believed whatever line of bull Reginald had fed him, and it wasn’t that she was dead.
Why? Why had he had so little faith in her? What had she ever done to make him believe she would be so callous?
He believed it because he wanted to. The thought came back to her over and over again. He hadn’t wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He hadn’t cared enough to see for himself.
“I’ll make you some tea,” Tawny offered as they entered her small abode.
Kimber looked around at the boxes stacked along the bare white walls. The starkness of the place matched her mood perfectly. She didn’t feel like having company right now. She just wanted to go her room and climb into her cold, empty bed to like her wounds. She would decide on a course of action later, right now, she just needed to get rid of the throbbing ache in her head.
“Look Tawny, thank you for bringing me home, for being there for me…” Kimber closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t form polite words to explain her need to just be alone.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Tawny knew her well enough to get the message.
“I’ll call you later,” Tawny sighed, kissing her on the forehead. “Lock up behind me, okay?”
A brief nod was all Kimber could muster as she walked her friend to the door. Tawny paused, and then turned to face her once more. Kimber knew what was coming, but she just didn’t want to hear it.
“Maybe you should, I don’t know, give him a chance to explain.” Kimber repressed the urge to shake her head, to yell and scream at her friend that Holden didn’t deserve the chance to explain jack shit. He had never afforded her the same courtesy, why the hell should she? She managed to hold it inside, but just barely. “You both have been through some heavy shit, you know? You were both lied to. Try to remember that.”
Yeah, well, she’d certainly never blamed Holden before today. She’d never doubted him or his love. More the fool she.
Tawny didn’t wait for an answer, for which Kimber was relieved. She couldn’t give Tawny the reassurance she would be fair. Damn it, she didn’t want to be fair. Who had been fair to her? No one! Not Reginald, not Holden, not even Holden’s parents who had always seemed to love her. She would not be magnanimous; she would not be the bigger person. She was the one who had walked around for nine years with a giant fucking whole in her heart-no, in her soul. She would not be the one letting everyone else off the hook this time. It was time that the world owed her for once.
Kimber closed all the drapes and curtains, turned off all the lights, and then lay on the couch staring at nothing. She allowed the pain to course through her, accepted the anger with open arms without thinking too deeply about the implications or reasons. Evidentially, the pain began to subside to where she just felt numb. She pushed everyone and everything out of her heart, allowing room for only one other than herself.
Kimber Ann Bainbridge. The precocious nine year old with the bright eyes and equally bright smile was the only person she found that she gave a damn about. She loved the little girl with a fierceness that surprised her. She didn’t know her daughter at all. How was it possible to feel such immediately love and protection for a little person she didn’t even know? Yet, she did. She loved that little girl with a ferocity that scared her.
Holden could try to keep her away from her daughter if he dared. She would destroy him. There was surprisingly no anger in the thought, just cold determination.
She was so deep in thought that when the doorbell rang, she didn’t think twice before swinging the door open without looking and returning to her station on the couch. She had expected a return visit from Tawny, especially since she had studiously ignored the ringing telephone. She was no doubt worried.
“Do you always just let whoever is on your door in?”
Oh, God that voice! Why did that voice bring her so much pain still? Because he betrayed you. It hurt, it hurt so bad, her stomached cramped and her head throbbed.
“Why are you here?” It was the correct thing to say, although she knew very well why he was here. He was here to make amends, to try to make it right. Well, it was too late for that. About nine years too late.
“Please look at me, Kimmie.”
The soft plea was far too close for her liking. And the nickname, the same one he had given their child. As much as she didn’t want to open her eyes, she couldn’t seem to keep them closed.
Time had been kind to Holden. Whereas he had always been handsome to the point of almost being beautiful; now, he had ruggedness that enhanced his natural looks. He was incredibly virile; his muscles had thickened, making him appear stringer, more manly. There was a wisdom in his blue-gray eyes replacing the optimism that had once been there. And pain.
The pain offended her. What the hell did he feel pain about? He hadn’t lost a child. He hadn’t spent untold sleepless nights in tears, wondering where that child was, or even if that child even existed. He had held their baby whenever she cried, seen her first smile, heard her first words. All of these things Kimber had been robbed of. How dare he feel pain!
“Why are you here?” Contempt laced every word, surprising Holden a bit.
Good! Did he think she would welcome him with open arms?
“I thought you gave her up.”
Just when she thought the anger had run its course, seething resentment came back with a fierceness even she was unprepared for. The grief and pain crashed into her so hard she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to hurt him, to make him feel at least a tiny amount of the anguish she felt. But there were no words, no way to convey her need to see him aching like she ached. Maybe then he would understand the waking nightmare she had been living through. Instead of slapping him this time, she lunged, throwing her body on top of his. Never had she hated the way she hated right this second. Never had she wanted to wrap her hands around someone’s throat and choke the living shit out of them.
But as soon as their bodies collided, memories returned in a rush, washing over her like a tidal wave.
He didn’t bother to try to protect himself; he just cushioned her fall when they landed on the floor, his arms surrounding her with a gentleness she hadn’t felt in so damn long. She froze, unable to hit him, as was her intention. When his large hand began caressing her back, she was a goner. No one had touched her with gentleness in nine long years. No one had held her so gently, or spoke as softly as he did now. In fact, the last time she had been held, it had been Holden who held her.
“Damn, Kimmie I missed you so much.”
Kimber hadn’t believed she had tears left, yet they rushed her eyes before she could choke them back. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of her heart and mind, she had always fostered some hope she would one day find her way back into these arms again. Surely allowing herself just a few minutes wouldn’t do any harm?
“I hate you.” The words were muffled because she had buried her face in to his chest, taking in his scent. His cologne was woodsy and crisp, and oh, so manly she felt her core heat and melt. But then, Holden had always smelled so good, so perfectly male.
Would it feel as good as it used to?
No! No, she could not allow things to progress that far. She had to establish some boundaries. In a minute. Just one more minute.
What type of story will draw a person in, connect them to the characters, and make them never want the story to end? It's an old age dilemma of not writing the same type of storyline every time. It's a difficult thing to do. In all honesty, I struggle with this question on a regular basis and I still don't have the answer. Having the right balance of strong vs. sensitive characters and fantasy vs. realistic plots is an ongoing process and we never stop learning and growing.
However, as a reader, I know that I want to be moved in some way when I sit down to enjoy a book. If a story can make me laugh out loud, then it's a keeper. If a story can make me cry....oh man, I might read it the very next day, just because I loved it so much. However, if a story makes me angry, then I'll be the first one to throw it in the trash, across the room, delete it from my computer, etc. Whatever it takes to remove it from my presence. I've read quite a few books in my life and there have been some that have made me so angry I've resorted to....well, let's just say they made me angry. So, while I don't know everything about books, writing, etc., there are a few things I do know:
A storyline with a weak woman will never be on my keeper list.
A storyline with a weak man will never be on my keeper list.
Even if the man is strong, but he lets the woman walk all over him as if he's a doormat...no, I'm not feeling that.
With interracial plots, if you have family members or friends who are still so ignorant, they hold on to stereotypes as if they're the gospel...you should keep that story to yourself.
If the story isn't a paranormal story, keep it realistic. Reading to escape is all fine and good, but I hate to waste time or money on a story that is so far-fetched, every other thought I have is, "are you kidding me?"
An Aalpa male is never "seen, but not heard"...and that's all I'm going to say about that.
Any other key points you consider when deciding if a book is a keeper?
Okay, so instead of the usual blog post, I decided to write a free read, one chapter each Saturday. I hope y'all enjoy- and please leave comments.
Chapter 1
Holden Bainbridge stared at the resume in his hand; taking deep shallow breaths he focused on keeping his fingers from crushing the expensive linen paper in his fists. Rage unlike any he had ever known encompassed his entire being, threatening to choke him on his own spite. The letters swam on front of his eyes as a reddish haze clouded his vision.
Kimber Knowles, PhD. She hadn’t taken her husband’s name-if she has a husband. Holden didn’t want to even consider why the very fact she might be well and truly wedded caused bile to threaten to erupt from the depths of his gut. Surely it wasn’t because he still wanted her. Those days were well over it. He couldn’t allow himself to go there; never again. Despite the racing of his pulse as he considered the implications of Kimber moving back here, he refused to even entertain the tiny spark of hope he had fostered down in the deep recesses of his heart and mind for nine long years. She was poison; a deliberate Jezebel whose true nature came to light too late. He had to be strong against her siren song. Not just for himself, but he must stand firm for his little girl.
A sharp pang of fear braced him as he thought about his daughter. Had Kimber come back for her? Did she think she could take away his child? The possibly made his body turn stone cold. It would be a cold day in hell before he would ever allow that to happen. Kimber had walked - no ran away from both him and the baby they had created. She didn’t deserve to know how sweet and wonderful little Kimmie was. She would never get her calculating hands on his baby girl. Hadn’t she said she never wanted to be a teenaged mother? That she hadn’t wanted the stigma of raising a child, let along a mixed race child? Well, it was too damn late now. He hadn’t had a problem with it. As if he would have ever left her to raise Kimmie alone. But had she bothered to tell him? To let him know? He would have told her then; he would have moved heaven and earth to be with her, to be there for her. But she had never allowed him that. She had never given him a change. Instead she had thrown their child away like so much trash.
“Why are you showing this to me?” Holden queried the dean, all too afraid he already knew the answer. His palms began to sweat, his throat dried painfully. No, no, no! Please God, no. Not when I have finally started to live again. Well, somewhat anyway.
It had taken years to free himself from Kimber’s shadow. Not that he was afraid he would fall under her spell again. That ship had long since sailed. No, he was terrified that the bitterness and anger that had chocked the life out of him for so long would rise again. He was terrified of what it would mean for Kimmie. For so long after Kimber had disappeared from his life, he hadn’t been able to so much as smile at another person but his daughter. He had dropped out of his formerly full social life entirely, focusing on his child and his education, then later his career. His had terrified his parents with the withdrawn, distant man he had become. How could he explain to them that Kimber had taken his heart with her when she left? And as for her rejection of their child, well Holden didn’t think anything could have hurt worse. They had been so in love, or so he had thought until Dr. Knowles, Kimber’s father had shown up on his door holding the newborn as if she was a pile of dung.
“She is starting on Monday,” Dean Whittaker was completely oblivious to the dread engulfing Holden. “She will be in your department. I am counting on you to ensure her smooth transition.”
There is was. As Department Head there was only two things he could do. He could pretend he had no past with this woman and hope like hell she would too, or he could quit. According to this resume, Kimber had made quite a name for herself, receiving her Bachelor’s in three years and her Doctorate in three; and from Harvard no less. She had quite a few widely acclaimed papers under her belt and no less than three textbooks used institutes of higher learning world wide. What would he look like rejecting her? It was a major coup for PacificaUniversity, a small private school nestled in the heart of the Southern California coast, to attract such a rising star. He happened to know for a fact contemporary classic literature was her passion, always had been, and his department was in sore need of a contemporary classics professor.
Then there was that part of Holden that wanted to see her again; that needed to see her. He couldn’t decide if it was to convince himself that she was as heartless as her actions decried, or to see if she regretted any of her actions. Did she hurt as much as he had, or even a fraction as much? Did she really think she could just waltz her way into his daughter’s life? Didn’t she understand the way she gave up their precious baby girl sealed the deal? Never would he allow her within fifty feet of Kimmie! He would not allow one picture, one phone call, and sure as hell no actual physical interactions. Kimmie believed her mother had died in child birth, and damn it, it would stay that way.
So, what was he going to do?
He would not give up the position he worked his ass off to obtain. He was the youngest Associate Dean and Department Head in Pacifica’s history. If he were to leave and go to another school, it would take years to work himself up to the position he now held. Besides that, he was being groomed for the dean’s position. He didn’t want to give that up and start all over again. He had worked his ass off to get were he was.
Then there was Kimmie. This was her home, the only one she had ever known. There was no way he was going to uproot his happy, well adjusted child and thrust her into a position where she knew no one. His mother, who had retired not long after Kimmie was born, took care of her when Holden was working late or away from home. Kimmie’s grandparents were an integral part of his daughter’s life. It would kill his parents to take their only grandchild away from them. It was not something he could ever consider doing. He never could have raised her half as well without their help. Never once did they question the new addition to their family, although his mother, who had once loved Kimber like she was her own daughter, not refused to even utter the name of Kimber Knowles. The normally loving, accepting woman wouldn’t spit on Kimber if she was on fire. There was no way he could tear her granddaughter away from his mother just to run away from the ghosts of his past.
So it was ignore the past then. He could be distant and cool, letting Kimber know on no uncertain terms would he welcome her back into his life or his daughter’s. If she dared to attempt to bring up Kimmie, he would hit with court injunctions and protection orders so hard and so fast she wouldn’t know what happened to her. He was going to have to call his lawyer, maybe get several lawyers, just to be prepared.
Given the dean appropriate lip service, Holden left the older man’s office as soon as he could. He needed to mentally prepare a plan of action. He would make Kimber very sorry she even considered coming here. He would make her life a living hell. Holden gave it six months max before she was putting in her resume elsewhere. The school would just have to take the hit. He couldn’t have here around, fucking with his delicate equilibrium. The first thing he had to do was get Kimmie far away from here. She was currently hanging out in his office, her favorite pastime. Although Kimber wasn’t expected until Monday, he couldn’t take the change of the two meeting. He needed to prepare his parents for what lay ahead.
Taking the stairs two at a time rather than waiting for the elevator, he fairly sprinted to the other side of the massive brick building that made up the English Department. He couldn’t understand his own need for urgency, but he felt to his soul something earth shattering was about to happen. It was kind of like the weird phenomenon that animals had right before a natural disaster. He needed to get his child out of here. A series of events he could not control or stop once they began was fast approaching. He had to stop it before it was too late, before it destroyed them all.
Entering his suite, Holden was brought to a dead stop.
He couldn’t move his feet! There it was - the scene that haunted his nightmares for nine years was unfolding right in front of him. Yet, this was not the way he had envisioned it.
Holden was always imagined a cold, calculating witch dressed in the height of fashion looking gorgeously unattainable. It had been easier to hate her that way. He wasn’t prepared for the soft vulnerability of the woman drinking in the sight of his child; their child. She was just as small and feminine as she had been in high school. Petite yet generously curved, perhaps fuller than she had been. She was swathed in cloth, although it was a fairly warm day. Covered from neck to ankle in shapeless, yet colorful linen with a definitive Bohemian feel, she looked as if she didn’t paid much heed to the way she looked other than to make sure she was passably presentable. It was very much unlike the Kimber he had used to know. Her eyes shone with the shimmer or unshed tears, her hands knotting the fabric of her overly long shirt. He body trembled as she stared, wide eyed and disbelieving at her daughter, a daughter she had never known.
Waves of anguished battered Holden from his stance at the door. This was the Kimber he had known, a little lost and so vulnerable it damn near broke your heart to stare into those brown eyes for to long. He could see the faint tremble of her body as she swallowed down unimaginable pain. He knew it on sight because he had lived it for so very long.
Was she faking it? Was it guilt that made her look as if she would fall apart at any second? There was a woman behind her, hold her elbow in a death grip as she too looked at Kimmie, who was chatting excitedly about having the same name and how her mother had died. The horror that reflected on Kimber’s face was no artifice. When Kimmie started in about her father, Holden wanted to dig a deep hole and hide.
What had he done?
Kimber didn’t have to say a word, her stance and the raw pain on her face said it all. She didn’t know. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she had no idea Kimmie had been here the entire time. Reginald Knowles had lied. Kimber had never given up her child for adoption. He felt like throwing up as he recognized the woman at Kimber’s side. Tawny Manning had been her best friend in high school. He believed Tawny had moved to San Diego after finishing law school.
It hit him that at any time he could have looked Tawny up and discovered the truth, but he hadn’t. Hell he could have asked her back in high school, but he had been so full of his own fury, he hadn’t considered asking any of Kimber’s friends. He had taken his righteous anger and fostered it into something of a rage, hiding his child away from anything having to do with her mother and denying Kimber to her. He had been so set on laying the blame at Kimber’s feet, he never considered an alternative. Knowing her father, the first thing he should have done was question his motives.
While he still had no idea how this had happened, he knew Kimber well enough to recognize when she was hurting, and the pain she was showcasing was all too real. There was a time when he had known her better than anyone else. While he doubted that was true now, he did know he had screwed up badly.
“How could you?”
Holden didn’t want to look up. That voice washed over him, throwing him back in time. A rich alto; smoky and unintentionally sexy, and right now filled with so much pain and betrayal. He had heard that tone so many times before, but never directed at him. How many times had he held her in his arms to chase the pain away? How many times had he tried to move heaven and earth to make it all better? He seriously doubted she would allow it now.
CRACK!
Holden staggered when the palm blazed fire across his cheek. He heard Kimmie’s cry sounding far away.
“Daddy!” His little girl was horrified. Little did she know how much he deserved that slap. But she would all too soon.
How could he tell his baby girl he deserved it?
“Do you have any idea how long I looked for her?”
Kimber’s voice vibrated with the pain and anger he was not sure he was man enough to face. Still, he raised his eye to face her head on, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Her dark russet skin was still clear and unlined, her topaz eyes glittering with pain, anger and confusion. She was so damn beautiful. He had forgotten how fresh and innocent her beauty was.
Damn he wished he could pull her close and make it all better. If he thought he was over her, he had been ten times a fool. He would never be over Kimber. He reached out only to have his hand slapped away. A sharp pain pierced his heart as surely as she had driven a knife straight through its core. He had to make this better; he had to make it right.
“Don’t you ever touch me!” Kimber hissed, her eyes spitting fire. “How could you keep her away from me? Did you hate me that much?”
Yes, he had. But now he knew it was for naught. She wasn’t the one who had betrayed him. Not like he had apparently betrayed her.
He watched helpless as she stormed away, her friend trailing in her wake. She was doing a damn good job of keeping it together; he had to give her that. Kimber wasn’t weak by any means, but she was sensitive. Some people mistook one for the other. She wouldn’t break, but she would hurt like hell. He knew she would cry half the night over things she couldn’t change, piling guilt on her own head when it belong firmly placed on others, like him.
“Daddy, why did she do that? She was so nice to me,” Kimmie had run to him, grasping on to his leg like it was her lifeline. “Why did she slap you?”
He looked down at his little girl who looked so much like her mother, everyone staring in wide eyed fascination at the scene between the new professor and their usually reserved department head could probably put two and two together. Those who couldn’t would no doubt be filled in shortly.
Ah, well. Things would only get messier from here. Why the hell not just get all out there for people to gossip at their heart’s content? He had a feeling this was nothing compared to what was coming. Now that he knew it was him who had been the heartless asshole, he would stop at nothing to win back the only woman he had ever loved. Not so much because he needed to make amends, and he so did. No, seeing Kimber again, the real Kimber and not the witch that had been nothing more than figment of his imagination had opened wounds he though cauterized and healed over. He loved her. He had always loved her. Piling the anger on top of anger had only dulled the underlying truth.
She may be a different person now, but he didn’t care. He had let her slip out of his life once before. Now, knowing what he knew, he would be the worst kind of fool to let her go again. He didn’t give a damn what might have been in his way. Nine cold bitter years had past and what did either of them have to show for it? Pain? Mistrust? Their own stupid notions of right and wrong? He still didn’t know the whole story, but he really didn’t need to. Even if what Kimber had said those horrible things her father had told him and his parents, it wouldn’t have made a difference. As soon as he saw her, every feeling, every emotion came rushing back with a clarity as if it were only yesterday they were stealing kisses between classes or sneaking off to be together at night. He had never stopped loving her. Now he had to prove it and prove his was worthy of her.
“I made her mad sweetheart,” he whispered to his precious child. “And now I have to make it better.
Now there was a time when I was young and I will admit, there where times I wore the uniform. But I knew damn well what I was doing when I put on a tiny top and a skirt that was too short to pants that were too tight.Was it sexy? Well yeah in a one night stand, don't really need to know your name kind of way. But it wasn't sensual, it damn sure wasn't mysterious, and it didn't attract the man I married. I think it is so sad that so few of young women today know the difference between Victoria's Secret and Fredrick's of Hollywood. There is a fine line between erotica and porn. And while the lines can be blurred at times, there are distinct differences. I received far more attention in my military uniform (back in the day) than I ever did in my whore's uniform. And the quality of the attention was as different as day and night. While I would get the touchy grabby kind in the whore uniform, I would get the undivided attention of men who may have wanted me the sexual being, but they also wanted me the person. What are your experiences? And how do you feel about wearing the uniform?
How much is too much when it comes to reading a story? I'm a strong believer that there should be no sex in a story that's unwarranted, and the level of description should also be in line with the story. Sometimes the genre "defines" the amount of sex the story should have--if any.
And then there's the question of contraception. Is it the responsibility of author to be PC and assure the reader that characters are practicing safe sex?
Is there really a reason for all of this or are we--as readers and/or authors--just conditioned to follow the herd and stay within certain boundaries?
