tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541260496276835412024-02-06T21:33:27.665-08:00Ellie BravoNot just the story of love between two women - Passion, Resentment and PrejudiceAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426448439347273290noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54126049627683541.post-9425689735090323452014-12-04T05:16:00.002-08:002014-12-04T05:16:35.546-08:00Now available to download on your Kindle ...<div class="p1">
Kindle UK link Amazon.co.uk: <a href="http://amzn.to/1ypHoda">http://amzn.to/1ypHoda</a></div>
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Kindle USA link: Amazon.com: <a href="http://amzn.to/128OBUj">http://amzn.to/128OBUj</a></div>
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Kindle Australia link: <a href="http://bit.ly/1yDde7A">http://bit.ly/1yDde7A</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426448439347273290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54126049627683541.post-54463515929860893852014-11-24T10:34:00.003-08:002014-11-24T10:34:57.508-08:00Ellie Bravo - An excerpt from the novel....<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">On Sunday afternoon rain is lashing against the lounge window. The morning sunshine has been replaced by dark thundering clouds and a sea mist. It obliterates my view of the church spire across the Lough dashing any hope of riding the Harley down winding roads with wild irresponsible speed.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The fire is roaring and the Sunday papers are strewn across the floor.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I pace restlessly as I have paced since Maria left on Friday night. Our conversation has been replayed over and over inside my head, tumbling and mixing so quickly that I do not remember the truth of our conversation only the shape of her jaw, the laughter in her voice, her brown speckled eyes, and the way she self-consciously touched her hair, tilted her head and gazed at me.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Had she been flirting?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The storm rages outside and I stand spreadeagled pressing the palms of my hands against the floor to ceiling window.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am hot, cold, energised and exhausted, leaning in supplication of the powerful electrical surge that seems to ripple through my body as cracking thunder splits the billowing black sky and driving wind rattles the pane.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">My forehead rests against the cold glass until the storm subsides and the clouds break apart then I pull away from my trance-like state and begin pacing the room like a caged tiger - backwards and forwards.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The doorbell rings.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I move with stealth, tiger-like paces. My body is taut and lithe.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Maria stands on the step. Her hair wet from the rain.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Can I come in?”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I stand aside.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">She walks past me and into the lounge. She stands at the window.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Are you okay?” I ask.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“Looking across the Lough is like looking at life from a different perspective. I have just been standing on the other side looking over here. From here everything is so easy and uncomplicated. I could be selfish and independent. Yet when I am on the other side looking over here I am confused and claustrophobic.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I pass her a towel and stand beside her at the window.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“I had to get out.” She rubs her hair. A tang of <i>Channel</i> from her wrists reaches my nose and I inhale deeply.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Her voice is soft and thoughtful. “Looking across the Lough you never know what people’s lives are like on the other side. How different we all are. All the things we hide. The feelings we try not to have. The yearnings we suppress.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Her warm breath leaves a cloudy mist on the window where I stood a few minutes ago stretched against the glass.....</span></div>
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