Saturday, January 25, 2014

Self's Blossom

Weekenders Romance Watch

Self's Blossom
Author: David Russell
Genre: Mainstream Romance
Buy: Amazon

This is about a young woman's self-discovery. Selene is a 'success story', a top journalist, who has retaining her dazzling looks. However, she has had unhappy relationships, and has missed out on hedonistic fun. This she obtains, with a young stranger, and later with enigmatic Hudson: tryst is preceded by cultural tourism, and sizing up of minds.

While on holiday, Selene's mind rambles around her chequered past. Flashback blurs into the present, interior monologue into direct observation. The dialogue is sparse. Selene is an introspective type –reflection and analysis outweigh action.

Selene is super-confident or is she deeply insecure?

Enchanting Excerpt:
Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.

At first she lay in the tide's path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss – then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed.


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