Saturday, March 15, 2014


Stephanie fights reality every day. The voices inside, the ones declaring her worth, deem her broken, used and dirty. She is an object. A toy. Something to be tossed aside when bored. Who will believe her if she whispers the truth about her wrecking ball of a family? 
Eventually, her secret explodes and the person who means the most to her knows just how shattered she is and why she's so afraid. But rescue is closer than she realizes. Hidden in plain sight, her horror hasn’t been ignored by everyone. Racing against the truth of what she faces, forces are joining together and developing a plan to free her from the hell in her own backyard. And while she’s at her lowest point, she’s hit with the beauty of love at any cost - redemption in the face of ruin. Will it be enough?

*Warning: Contains mature content that may not be suitable for younger audiences*

A little tease---
The hint of a smile forms on his lips and he catches me staring. The smile spreads across his face and he moves his hand right under my face, pulling me closer.
You know you can kiss me any time you want to, right?
I swallow.
He steps even closer and brushes his lips with mine, and I swear. The wind picks up around us and blows my hair up and out and he pulls me in even closer and I cant breathe but hes kissing my neck, my throat, and oh god those lips.
Ive kissed people before. This is something different. This is a cold rush of wind and the warmth of summer. This is the crash of an ocean wave. I gasp when he nibbles my lower lip. My hands run through his hair, tugging on strands before moving down his arms and around his waist. I want him closer. Ive never wanted anyone close but damn. I want him close. I want to feel every inch of him.
Pathetic fallacy. Mrs. Peabody told us about it in literature. Sometimes, the atmosphere mirrors that of the characters. Its the gloomy weather and pointed description of the castle in Wuthering Heights. Its picnics on sunny days with someone you love.
Its the electric feel of Kevins hands reaching places theyve never explored while the storm inches closer and closer.
Its more than I can handle. I pull away, slowly, and rest my head against his chest. The tears are flowing and Im trying to keep them as silent as possible but it doesnt work. He tucks his finger underneath my chin and lifts my head gently.
I place my hands on his chest where my head rested and avoid his gaze. I just..I just need a minute.
He wraps his arms around me and my head falls right underneath his chin.
Its just so different,I whisper.
He says nothing, just kisses the top of my head and briefly tightens his hold before releasing me. Come on. We still have a little while before the storm hits.He helps me walk up the soggy embankment to the tracks.

Elora Ramirez Bio:

Elora Ramirez lives in Austin, Texas with her chef-husband. At the age of four, she taught herself how to read and write, cutting her teeth on books like Dr. Seuss and writing anywhere she could find the space--including her Fisher Price kitchen set, the pages of picture books and Highlights Magazine. Since then, she's grown to love the way words feel as they swell within her bones. Writing holy and broken is her calling, and pushing back the darkness and pursuing beauty through story is her purpose. She embraces the power of story and teaches women from all parts of the world how to embrace theirs. She has a knack of calling things out , the truth and the detail, the subversive threads that make a life a story. She loves hip-hop, wishes she lived by the beach and cannot write without copious amounts of coffee, chocolate, music, and her husband's lavender liqueur. 
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