Heather
I am a voracious reader, sometimes, at the expense of my daily life. It's always very exciting to find an author that I "fall in love with". I'm kind of a snob when it comes to how an author writes. I can be objective and appreciate a well written book. It takes a lot to surprise me, I guess is what I'm trying to say. That being said, I've found one!
Heather McVea
She writes really well and I love the dash of paranormal thrown into the mix. Just up my alley. I think I've caught her near the beginning of her career which is awesome. On the downside, there isn't tons of stuff to read. Love it though.
Heather McVea
She writes really well and I love the dash of paranormal thrown into the mix. Just up my alley. I think I've caught her near the beginning of her career which is awesome. On the downside, there isn't tons of stuff to read. Love it though.
Therapy 111
Evan barely registered Greg's departure and subsequent mutterings. Her gaze was fixed on Ryelle. Something felt different.
The woman in the hall opened the door to the conference room and walked to the table. She didn't make eye contact with Evan, just placed her palms flat on the the surface of the table. It was almost as if she was looking for balance. Evan made no verbal acknowledgement of the woman's existence, she merely stared.
The doctor took a deep breath to steady herself and cleared her throat. No words came. What she was about to do, what she was doing, was going against every moral code that she clung to. Her nights had been dedicated to finding another solution, to doing anything except what she was currently doing. There was no other choice. If she didn't get the information those goons wanted, then they would not only terminate her project, they would terminate the gorgeous woman sitting at this table.
Evan's mouth was dry. Her mind wouldn't focus. It was as if the air was thicker, gravity stronger, somehow. Every other interaction with this woman had been fleeting, yet here she stood, unmoving.
She could feel a sarcastic smirk play at the edges of her lips. Evan stood up, the chair screeching across the wood floor and crossed her arms. She walked around the table and leaned her hip against the edge in what she hoped was a casual fashion.
Ryelle kept her hands flat on the table and bit her lip. She wasn't sure how to proceed. The internal war was still raging within her mind and heart. She mentally berated herself for not having a plan. She was a person that planned her grocery shopping with a list, and followed it without deviation.
"So, you have my attention." Evan decided to strike first.
"I mean, I suppose.... that's what you're after right? You just show up whenever you want. Disappear as it suits you. I feel like I'm living inside of a bad television show and last time I checked, my name wasn't Jennifer Love Hewitt. I'm not fucking whispering to ghosts! So, if you are some part of my subconscious trying to tell me something, get on with it! What the fuck do you want from me?" Evan had lost all semblance of casual and went straight to being angry and frustrated.
Ryelle couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips at Evan's angry comparison to a show that hadn't been on in years. "You ah, you don't watch t.v. much do you?" Ryelle smirked and stood up to face Evan.
The woman in the hall opened the door to the conference room and walked to the table. She didn't make eye contact with Evan, just placed her palms flat on the the surface of the table. It was almost as if she was looking for balance. Evan made no verbal acknowledgement of the woman's existence, she merely stared.
The doctor took a deep breath to steady herself and cleared her throat. No words came. What she was about to do, what she was doing, was going against every moral code that she clung to. Her nights had been dedicated to finding another solution, to doing anything except what she was currently doing. There was no other choice. If she didn't get the information those goons wanted, then they would not only terminate her project, they would terminate the gorgeous woman sitting at this table.
Evan's mouth was dry. Her mind wouldn't focus. It was as if the air was thicker, gravity stronger, somehow. Every other interaction with this woman had been fleeting, yet here she stood, unmoving.
She could feel a sarcastic smirk play at the edges of her lips. Evan stood up, the chair screeching across the wood floor and crossed her arms. She walked around the table and leaned her hip against the edge in what she hoped was a casual fashion.
Ryelle kept her hands flat on the table and bit her lip. She wasn't sure how to proceed. The internal war was still raging within her mind and heart. She mentally berated herself for not having a plan. She was a person that planned her grocery shopping with a list, and followed it without deviation.
"So, you have my attention." Evan decided to strike first.
"I mean, I suppose.... that's what you're after right? You just show up whenever you want. Disappear as it suits you. I feel like I'm living inside of a bad television show and last time I checked, my name wasn't Jennifer Love Hewitt. I'm not fucking whispering to ghosts! So, if you are some part of my subconscious trying to tell me something, get on with it! What the fuck do you want from me?" Evan had lost all semblance of casual and went straight to being angry and frustrated.
Ryelle couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips at Evan's angry comparison to a show that hadn't been on in years. "You ah, you don't watch t.v. much do you?" Ryelle smirked and stood up to face Evan.