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Monthly Archives: May 2014

Happy Birthday Jake

CL Gillmore
Excerpt from the novel, “A Friend Request,” by C L Gillmore.

Jake finds and reads a letter Rose wrote to him years before…

“November 24, 1979 – Happy Birthday, Jake. This year, I had a little baby boy, Joey. He’s perfect in every way… blond hair and green eyes… dimples in each cheek. I’m overcome with the responsibility of another person. I’m not sure I know how to be a mother, not sure what a mother does. Trying my best to get this right. I feel overwhelmed, afraid and depressed, but I know how to hide this. I stay focused on my role and do the best I can. Do you have children, Jake? Does someone, a little girl, call you Daddy? The thought brings tears to my eyes. You and I are distant now and I know I must leave you in the past. But a part of me always searches. My heart never forgets.”

CL GILLMORE

I walked into the story

CL Gillmore
Excerpt from the novel, “A Friend Request,” by C L GillmoreKathryn observes from a distance in the hospital room…

“For the next two hours, Jake continued his one-sided conversation. Now and then, pressing a kiss against her cheek, her temple, or trailing his fingers through her hair.

I sat quietly in the corner… mesmerized… as if a romance novel opened in front of me. I walked into the story, sat down on the wordless border of the book—feet dangling over the edge—and watched a beautiful love scene unfold on the pages.

Jake Richardson.

He wasn’t a tall, dark, handsome Hollywood lead, nor a corporate power broker. Just an ordinary man—a farmer, a bus driver, someone’s dad—living out his life on a farm in Illinois.

Yet, I knew from conversing with Rose—from reading her words—how extraordinary he was. She wrote a romance novel, created a lead character, based on him.

His love, passion, and desire for her, kindled a love affair that smoldered over a lifetime. He made love to her so intensely, she remembered it nearly forty years later. He kept her safe at his side through campus riots, drove through a blizzard to bring her home to his family, and danced for her—across a sea of faces at a rock concert—one hot, summer long ago. He quoted Keats to her. Whispered words of love in the night, most women only dream of hearing… and made love to her in ways most women only read about in romance novels.”

CL GILLMORE