Flashy Fiction 2: Rejected Prose Poem

1 NOVEMBER, CAMDEN, NJ 1:22 AM

He held her face between his hands and whispered, “I love you, I always will,” not waiting for an answer, tucking her against him. Then, with his hand on her hip, his breath warm against her neck, he fell asleep, deeply and soundly. And when she kissed the hollow at the bend of his arm, she realized this was the only part of him she didn’t know intimately, as unlike her, even with his kisses over every inch of her naked body, he still knew nothing, as what we wish to bare is in reality, subjective.

© Copyright Gwen Jones 2017

Advertisements

Five of the best Book Blogs According to Feedspot

1

 

Book Riot

Book Riot

bookriot.com

Brooklyn

About Blog – Book Riot is a blog covering book-related news, reviews, commentary, advice and information along with the latest in book-reading technology. Always books. Never boring.
Frequency – about 84 posts per week

2

Kirkus Reviews

Kirkus Reviews

kirkusreviews.com

NY, USA

About Blog – Book reviews and recommendations from the most trusted voice in book discovery.
Frequency – about 84 posts per week

3

Omnivoracious

Omnivoracious

omnivoracious.com

About Blog – An Amazon.com Books Blog featuring news, reviews, interviews, and guest author blogs.
Frequency – about 12 posts per week

4

Aestas Book Blog -Romance book reviews.

Aestas Book Blog -Romance book reviews.

aestasbookblog.com

About Blog – Aestas Book Blog gives Reviews of books that make my heart race, have a beautiful love story, and a happy ending.
Frequency – about 2 posts per week

5

Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

smartbitchestrashybooks.com

About Blog – Smart Bitches, Trashy Books is a community of romance readers eager to talk about which romance novels rocked their worlds, and which ones made them throw the book. Also interested are the folks who are curious about all those fuchsia books with the tangerine skies and turquoise ruffles they used to see in the drug stores.
Frequency – about 21 posts per week

 OR  Subscribe using

2

You don’t have to go just because I’m the Veep, you know…

Want to Write? Love to Read?

Mark Your Calendar for the 9th Annual Liberty States Fiction Writers Conference!

Saturday, March 24 thru Sunday, March 25, 2018
at the Renaissance Woodbridge Hotel in Iselin, NJ

Whether you’re indie published, traditionally published, not quite published, or simply love to read, we have something for you. Join us for this exciting, fun, and informative event!

The Liberty States Fiction Writers Conference features a line up of more then 20 authors and industry professionals who will share their expertise and experience. Located a in New Jersey, just a short train ride from New York City, we offer a weekend of education, networking, and fun in a relaxed setting.

Registration is now open. Go here for more information on workshops, editor/agent appointments, and guests.

 

Flashy fiction – 333 Words

Is This Seat Taken?

“Is this seat taken?”

I swivel in my barstool, turning from my cold Armadale gimlet to the man leaning into my airspace. He’s exquisite for sure, tall and sleek, his hair like black silk, his voice a tinge Teutonic, the fine threads of his bespoke suit a portend not only of black AMEXs, Porsche Carreras, and Dom Perignon, but of rumpled sheets and lengthy sighs, all tied up in one ergonomically-designed package.

He smiles and lights the room, a shiver radiating through me as I imagine a fevered night followed by a glistening morning after, lingering over coffee and torte as he tells me of his childhood in Bern, his estate in Bordeaux, of how very good the world of finance can be, though how very lonely it’s left him. A yet unscathed corner of my heart squeezes as I reach for him across the breakfast table, our caress a weave of bone and flesh and sentiment, his face an odd mix of gratitude and longing as he brings my hand to his lips, kissing it.

I imagine many more nights and dazzling days, the heat steaming off his skin, lime-scented and dizzying as ether. Then he reaches to the rail and half-cages me, his muscled chest straining the confines of its cotton casing, and all at once I feel protected and safe, and ferociously, shamelessly aroused. In that split second, in that moment when I finally decide to answer his question he beckons to the barkeep as his gaze latches onto mine. Suddenly I’m struck by the fact his eyes are as green as the C-note pinched between his fingers, fingers long and slim and fashionably tanned, except for a white indentation on the fourth-finger of his left hand, freshly-liberated from an inconvenience so unsuitable to our purposes.

Well, maybe only to his, when again he asks me, “Is this seat taken?”

I smile most graciously as I get up, and sweeping my hand over my now empty seat, say, “Not anymore.”

© Copyright Gwen Jones 2017