บททั้งหมดของ Fuel Me, Break Me, Love Me: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

RejenaIt has been years since I have been on holiday. It has been never, since I traveled out of my Country. Which is sad, I might add because that has always been my dream. I wanted to travel the world, see what it has to offer. I wanted to learn about different cultures and taste different foods. I wanted to be able to dance around the world, find a man along the way and never stop moving. Well, maybe not never, but I didn’t want to stand still, frozen in one place. Sadly, that had become my life. I found a job right after school to help pay the bills. A shitty job I might add, but one that ensured I had a steady income even if it meant working from dawn to dusk, hardly ever seeing the sunlight, aside from the brief time I decided to take up smoking to cope with my mental health while dealing with difficult clients. At least I thought I was doing it to keep sane, but it was just a distraction from how bad things had gotten. I quickly realized it was not helping my mental health at

RejenaThe Dalon Sorrin has my hand in his, shaking it and pretending to be someone else. Fine, I can play along. Instead of giving him my own name, I give him my pen name. Technically, I am not completely lying about who I am. I am Jane Carter, but only on the cover of books that can only be viewed on apps at the moment, but I am working on getting something on paper, getting it out there for the world to see. That is why I brought my typewriter that I was gifted by someone that always believed in me more than I ever believed in myself, but haven’t truly taken the time to actually write on. I am hoping that if I write on the typewriter, I won’t be able to post the books online again and I can actually take my time to finish the book and try to get it published through a company or go the self-publishing route. I know a typewriter is probably not the ideal way to go about it, but I have found a really cool app that can take scanned documents and turn it into a word document, so that i

RejenaThere is something hard under my head and something else wrapped around my waist. For a moment I wonder if I sleepwalked, but I haven’t done that since I was a child, but then I remember that I was getting up to go for my evening run, but I never made it out my door. I can vaguely remember Dalon coming into my room, but nothing much past that. The thing beneath my head starts to move, and I open my eyes, realizing that I am lying on a body and the thing wrapped around me is an arm. I slowly look up and realize that the body belongs to Dalon, and I am currently lying on his chest, my own body practically wrapped around him like a parasite.Scared that I might wake him up, I slowly start to unravel myself from him, careful not to touch anything that I shouldn’t. How the hell did I end up in this position? It might be a dream come true to be wrapped up in this man’s arms, but I am far too old for him, and he is Formula 1’s number one bachelor. It would be a very big mistake to eve

RejenaThe sun is beating down on my back, reminding me that I didn’t put any sunscreen on, and I will soon be looking like a blood-red tomato in need of a fridge. I haven’t been out in the sun often, as I work in an office from the time the sun comes up until just before it starts to set. I hate that I’ve become a workaholic, but it has gotten me a cozy salary and a stable life. Weekends have been spent studying or writing, and there’s not a lot of that being done outside in the sun. Come to think of it, I can’t even remember the last time I took a swim or had friends over for a braai. I’m constantly stuck with my nose in a book, wishing I could live a life where I was riding dragons, slaying monsters, or where I was courageous and full of wit.My water is finished, and I’ve hiked more than ten kilometers around the mountain. The sun is hot, and if I had to guess, I’d say it’s about midday. Even with the constant stops to take in the sights and to marvel at the beauty of the nature s

RejenaWriting has always been my passion. In high school it was short little poems, then after that, journaling had become my number one go to as I was struggling to talk to people about my thoughts and emotions. Writing as much as reading had been my safe haven and I have lost my passion for writing when work came in the way. The books I had been writing for the past year were books I started writing two years ago and after Collen passed away, I just didn’t feel that passion anymore. For one, I write romance books. How are you supposed to write romance books when every time you even consider getting romantic with someone, you feel like you are cheating on the person that you loved and never learned to unlove?My fingers are flying over the keyboard, the clicking of the typewriter a different kind of music all in its own league. The story I am writing is not one I will ever publish. Not because it isn’t good or worthy of people swooning over it, but because it is private. It is my li