If you are looking for a romance novel for Saint Valentine’s Day, I recommend that you read the book titled Silver Fox, by Misha Elliott. That is a compelling love story I talked about, in the previous months, during the pre-order stage. Today, I am very happy to announce that the book, launched this month, already gained 23 reader reviews. Well, if you are annoyed to read the usual, repetitive stories like Fifty Shades of Grey, you must absolutely turn your attention to Misha Elliott’s novel. To know more about this passionate and unconventional romance novel , read the book description and the excerpt published in this new literary post.
There are at least fourteen reasons why we shouldn’t be together.
I’m single again at forty and plan to keep it that way.
Jillian is the one person who makes me rethink my decision. I’m drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Fate keeps putting us into each other’s path. But I’ll be damned if I end up letting someone hurt me again.
Little did I know that after one kiss, I’d be unable to resist her.
The only thing I have left is my brother. He means the world to me. The scars from my past haunt me and make it hard to move on.
Until I see Richard at a bar…
I want to break down his walls and find the way to his heart. Richard offers me something that I’ve been missing in my life. He loves me like no one else has.
But age is irrelevant when love enters the heart.
“Fear immobilizes the mind; holds the heart hostage in a single moment of time. It is not until we learn that our fears are ordinary that they lose their power.”
LUST VS. LOVE. Most people don’t know the difference. Falling in lust is easy, there’s not much to it. All it requires is an initial physical attraction to someone else. Eyes lock—then something else takes over. The mind convinces itself to let emotions take the reins. Bliss is an incredible feeling that demands to be celebrated. After all, everyone wants someone who makes them feel good. The trouble starts when they have broken through all the barriers and the heart concludes she is the one. Now, the line between the two has become so intricately intertwined, it may be impossible to differentiate between them. Add in the temptation of forbidden fruit, and it’s game over. Marking something as forbidden makes it all the more appealing. Forbidden fruit has gotten man into trouble since the beginning of time. Just look at Eve. She did not like the fruit. Hell, she probably hated the very sight of it, but knowing it was there day in and day out, taunting her, made her want it all the more. That is what Jillian Caldwell was for me: the piece of forbidden fruit every ounce of my being craved. It all started the night I saw her at a bar. Here I am getting ahead of myself. To understand my uncoventional story of how one chance meeting changed everything in my life, I need to start at the beginning.
” How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours”… Wayne Dyer
LOVE NOW IS not the same as it was when I was a teenager.
For example, I remembered a time when I could not stand the thought of not being around my soon-to-be ex-wife. Just the sight of her made my heart melt like butter. I loved being around her, loved touching her, holding her, smelling her. I tried to breathe through my mouth. My nostrils filled with the putrid scent of her perfume, causing it to run. I wiped it, half expecting to see blood. I never noticed it before now. But sitting across from her, I was overwhelmed with her presence. I could not stand it. I could not stand her. She had on one of her few pantsuits, this one purple and tailored specifically to her body. Not that she ever used it for anything professional. Once we got married, she quit her job and insisted on being a stay-at-home mother. We had one daughter, the best thing to come out of our relationship. I think we both prolonged the inevitable for her. We might not have the best opinion of each other, but I know, without a doubt, Sheila did not care about anyone, or anything, more than she cared about Louisa. It was probably the one and only thing we agreed on. I shook my head, looking down at the papers in front of me. The table was a dark oak, smooth and tidy. Not a speck of dust or food, not a drop of coffee or any other liquid, littered the surface of the table.
My attorney sat on my left, across from Sheila’s own attorney, one she would more than likely try and have me pay for at the end of all of this. I was close to considering it, just to get this whole thing over with. Just to make her go away. She blindsided me over a year ago when she suggested a divorce. One of the last real conversations we had, she told me nothing would fix us, and I should grieve us and move on. Bullshit. Fourteen months later, and it’s still not finished. I don’t want to appear like an utter dick, but this is ridiculous and the process needs to move forward and finish. To end this, after eighteen long years of trying to make it work, calling it off, changing our minds. I was tired of the games, tired of running around in never-ending circles. I never thought I would say this, but I was too old for this shit and I was only forty, or would be in a matter of days. Sheila had her hands pressed flat on either side of her copy of the divorce settlement, a navy blue fountain pen within distance of her newly manicured hands. Her nails were red now. It shouldn’t go with her purple suit, but somehow, it did. Her red lips were curled into a small, subtle smile, and I could not tell if she was smirking or if she was simply smiling. That was part of the problem, I supposed. I was not able to read her anymore. Not like I had when we were first married. I could read her like a book, every little facial inflection, every sound she made, every sigh, every laugh, I knew. Now, she was a stranger.
I recognized her. She was my age, still pretty, aging well without any unnatural enhancements. Her face was made-up, perhaps too heavily, as though she was insecure about this new life we were both about to enter into: being alone. Being single. But she was not someone I knew anymore. Before, yes, but not anymore. Her brown hair went just past her shoulders. It seemed off to me but I didn’t know why. We were still living in the same house, but she was on the way out, once she found her own place. She had a few meetings set up with different realtors to look at some trendy condos in the city, expensive ones, as Sheila preferred to live in town around people in the up and coming neighborhoods. Luckily, worrying about where and how she lived was no longer my concern. I could make my own decisions without consulting anyone anymore. A silver lining in the black clouds hanging overhead. But Sheila’s hair, I could not remember if it was usually worn shorter and she was growing it out, or if it was usually longer and she had cut it shorter. I could not remember, and the loss of the memory floored me. I didn’t understand it. I lived with her for seventeen years, dated her for three years before, and I didn’t know how she wore her hair. I blinked, my eyes staring at the finely printed words in front of me—on crisp heavy legal paper—priced more than a cup of coffee for each individual sheet. I had already read this through, but as I stared at the words now, everything looked foreign to me. “… find all if this amendable to you, Mr. Sisk?” I blinked. “Richard?” Sheila said in a hushed voice.
She clenched her jaw and said my name one more time. It was clear she was trying to keep her voice down, which did not make much sense to me, considering we were in the same room, just the two of us. The only other people who were here were our attorneys, and we were paying them to sit next to us and watch us sign paperwork. Let me correct myself, I was paying them. “I’m sorry?” I asked, turning my attention back to Sheila’s attorney. Her attorney rolled her eyes behind her thin-rimmed spectacles, and I clenched my jaw together to keep from making an inappropriate retort. From experience, I knew how much appearances mattered. In business situations, a polished professional wardrobe was a key tool to command respect or win the trust of a client. From the pricey Italian shoes to the expensive double-breasted tan suit, everything about this woman’s appearance screamed high profile. I was not impressed. The color clashed with her olive-colored skin tone, and with the warm red in her hair. Hair with too much hairspray in it, causing it to appear crunchy and edged. Her dark makeup was harsh and made her look older than she was. “Is there anything you want to amend?” she asked again, a tone to her words suggested she hadreached her patience with me, even though we had only met twice before.
“Or is this good to sign, Mr. Sisk?” “My client has made it clear from the get-go he wants this over and done with as quickly as possible,” my attorney said. Even though I had no problem speaking for myself, I appreciated the fact that I did not have to talk. It was nice when I didn’t have to worry about thinking and speaking and saying the right things, worrying about messing things up. There was a time when Sheila and I would talk for hours about nothing. Now, every conversation I had with her left me flustered. It annoyed me how she could twist my words and the tension left my stomach curled in knots. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a flicker of sadness in Sheila’s blue eyes. I felt a swarm of guilt flood my system before it disappeared, just as quickly as it came. I didn’t understand what she was so upset about. She had to feel the same way. Hell, she’s the one who wanted it in the first place. To be honest, this was not the first time she threatened a divorce. I should have ended it long ago. I hesitated at the thought. Start over. Two words I felt supremely uncomfortable with. The only reason I had initially proposed to Sheila in the first place was because of Louisa. I had gotten her pregnant when we were both two dumb, stupid college kids, who gave into temptation and made a stupid decision. Not that I regretted Louisa, but we should have used protection. I hoped when it came to our daughter, her mom was not romanticizing our relationship because it was not all romantic.
We met in high school, and continued our casual hookups through college. She got pregnant right before graduation, and I had stuck with her ever since because it was the right thing to do. For all the dark times when Sheila bemoaned how she wanted more out of life and for herself, now she had her chance. But now, looking back at all the time we both wasted, trying to keep something together fated to fall apart, I did not know what I wanted anymore. Except I wanted this to be over. For my sake. For Louisa’s sake. Hell, even for Sheila’s sake. “We’ve gone over the document numerous times and we feel, this agreement in its current state, represents what we want and what we are willing to give in hopes to finally achieve some closure,” Harry concluded, looking at Sheila’s attorney rather than at Sheila. Even though I was an educated man, who had numerous business dealings, I did not understand why lawyers did this: why they spoke to each other rather than to the people who were directly involved. I knew it had to do with the fact she was representing Sheila, and Sheila did not want to have to speak at all, which was why she was paying someone else to do it, but ultimately, Sheila could still change her mind. Sheila was still the one with the power, just like I was. “My client wants the same,” her attorney responded, looking at Harry as if she did not have the time of day. “There is just one thing in this document that still has not been resolved and needs to be
addressed: the matter of residence.” My eyes snapped to Sheila’s, my entire body going tense. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I said before I could stop myself. I heard Harry try to subtly clear his throat but I ignored him. There was no way Sheila was trying to do what I thought she was trying to do, was she? There was no way she was trying to get me out of the house I paid for, when her parents owned their own company and had a vacation home in Galveston she could go live in right now if she batted her eyelashes at dear, old daddy. I had one more year on the mortgage and then that house was mine. There was no way I was going to give it all to her. I thought she was going to let me buy her out, per our previous discussion. “Richard,” Sheila murmured, looking down. It was her go-to look when I was embarrassing her. It pissed me off. Once again, she acted as if I was overreacting because she did not expect my response. “Don’t you dare Richard me,” I snapped. “You know you agreed to let me buy you out. You said you could live with your parents, for the time being, while you found another place to live. That house—” “Is ours,” she snapped. Sheila could be insistent when she wanted something, to the point where I did not want to deal with her nagging and complaining, so I just gave in. Yes, it was my stupid fault for letting her dictate these decisions. It basically rewarded her for acting childish, petty, and kind of a bitch. But after a long day at work, I just did not have time to deal…
To read the entire book, buy it on Amazon.