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Martee is ghosted for a date. Banelle is crying in her dish soap. They shouldn't have anything to fight about today. There is a secret casting a magnificent shadow. Martee murmurs the spell for happily-ever-after, yet prepares to have her heart broken. Volley magnificent shadows grabbing circling releasing tangled in hurt and happiness Goddess Perfume Only magnificent lights cast magnificent shadows. Martee knew what strengths were in the shadows cast by her capacity to love. Friday, late morning Sun rising high. She felt let down again by the most recent man, and continued to yearn for the…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
Martee is ghosted for a date. Banelle is crying in her dish soap. They shouldn't have anything to fight about today. There is a secret casting a magnificent shadow. Martee murmurs the spell for happily-ever-after, yet prepares to have her heart broken. Volley magnificent shadows grabbing circling releasing tangled in hurt and happiness Goddess Perfume Only magnificent lights cast magnificent shadows. Martee knew what strengths were in the shadows cast by her capacity to love. Friday, late morning Sun rising high. She felt let down again by the most recent man, and continued to yearn for the Sky God's collection of subterranean treasures. Martee's heart had reached a final place of resolve in her grieving. She needed to find a solution, even if it would break her heart to lose someone else close in making the change. Something just had to give... Banelle regarded him with her eyes upon him for a long time while her hands moved nearly automatically, grabbing, circling, releasing, plunging like a favorite sunny memory into the warm soapy water, grasping and lifting, working the cotton wash cloth in circles. Turn, massage again in circles, move the plate to the other sink bowl. The remembering was soothing, and the Sun outside combined with the tinted glass of her kitchen's window likely meant he could not see her. He hadn't looked toward her house at all... Dollar wondered if the doorbell even worked. Should he knock? He appreciated the solidly mortared pink-hued brick of the home, liked the color. The generous shady cedar canopy subtly teased the nose and likely explained why there was no glass weather door protecting the heavy, mellow-finished oak door, keeping Sun and rain away from the doorstep. He did not like the cement he stood on though, the falsity of the material, he would have used stone for his dream home. He noted again the soon-blooming rose bushes along the walls of the front of the house needed trimming, fertilizing, a box of ladybugs added, and the lawn was improperly mowed, stressing the grass. He decided to knock loudly. He heard a muted shriek, then heard the doorknob spin and rattle... Chocolate Urban Fantasy. Sapiophiles, heroines, spells, magick, martial arts, knives, weaponized bras, fairy tales, dynasties, time loops, intellectual earthquakes, and intimacies. Get your own Goddess Perfume to read now!
Autorenporträt
What does it take to be the preternatural Author of Certain Books? Many otherwise inexplicable phenomena; a dash of Romance; compassion seasoned with sensuality; the vivid memory of a fingertip petting a busy vibrating bumblebee - and the surprise of her bite when she needed to move on to the next flower. Plus, the Author must have a preternatural Editor - a multidisciplinary, quad-degreed Doctor of Philosophy - to help polish the storytelling. And the help of the sexiest coffee mug in the world as the Author's Familiar; then stop drinking coffee for dramatic tension. Maurllan retired from the military, retired from Information Technology, and has since increasingly involved himself in the career he knew he would have since a moment of clarity in a high school English essay class. Now he reads more books than he writes, plays 6-string acoustic guitars, and considers powerlifting and cycling to be essential for becoming the Strongest Romance Author in the English Language. He also welcomes encouragement.