Business Communication Report Writing Report Writing Gurudutt R ...
247 pages

Business Communication Report Writing Report Writing Gurudutt R ...

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Business Communication Report Writing Gurudutt R. Kamath
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Publié par
Nombre de lectures 17
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 13 Mo


Chasing Her
Terri Friedlander
Black Rose Writing
© 2011 by Terri Friedlander
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without
the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer
who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a
newspaper, magazine or journal.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
First printing
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-61296-076-0
Printed in the United States of America
Chasing Her Destiny is printed in Garamond Premier ProPROOF
This book is dedicated to all the
brave birth mothers in the world
To all the innocent people who lost
their lives in the 9/11 Terror AttacksPROOF
I would like to thank several people who helped make this book a
reality: my editor, Mary Linn Roby, who spent so much time
improving, creating, polishing and embellishing dialogue and who
served as my fantastic critique partner, and to Reagan Rothe, who
took a chance on me.
Thanks, also, to my terrific husband, for making me laugh with his
quick wit, especially when I needed it most; to my devoted mom for
always believing in me; to my beloved brother who I miss dearly
every day; and to my treasured daughter for filling my life with
immeasurable joy. I love you more than any words can say.
Chasing Her
Chasing Her Destiny
Standing in the cold bathroom at five o’clock in the morning, the
ovulation test stick in her hand, Sherri felt her pulse rush. At the end
of an anxious two-minute wait, she grabbed the box again to verify
the color coding of her results. Yep. Positive! Ovulation day has come.
“Honey, give me some of that steamy body heat. It’s time to make
a baby,” she whispered to her sleeping husband after flailing her
flannel pajamas on the bedroom floor. She slid back into bed, his
well-toned body hot as a furnace against her frosty nakedness, and
kissed his back, trying to ignore the alarm clock on snooze.
“You’re never this frisky on a weekday,” he complained in eager
surrender to her leg rubbing his under the blankets. “Ovulation
should happen more often.”
“You get it everyday,” she teased as she started to pull off his
boxers with her teeth.
“In my dreams, you mean,” he corrected with his winning grin
and blue eyes sparkling in enjoyment of her unexpected morning
“So you like me aggressive like this?” Sherri demanded, slipping
under his powerful body, and feeling his proud morning stiffness as
she added a silent little prayer to the fertility god. Please let this be the
moment that conception finally works its magic for us!
They caressed and devoured each other with the same intense
passion she remembered from their honeymoon four years earlier,
Terri Friedlander
memories that had been fading slowly with each passing year, as sci-
entifically timed sex had given their love making a mechanical regu-
larity. And still no pregnancy.
After they had climaxed, Sherri threw her long, shapely legs up
in the air like she was about to begin some Jane Fonda yoga moves.
Warm air, smelling like fresh toast, rose from the baseboard heating,
and began to fill the room as the sun climbed into view of the ceiling
Kent chuckled at the sight of her holding her bare butt up off the
bed. She turned carefully towards the freshly painted, peach colored
wall and rested her ankles above the carved headboard, her blonde
hair twisted on the richly patterned pillow.
“What are you doing now, Denise Richards?” he demanded,
smiling with his perfect teeth and strong cheekbones, now more vis-
ible from the morning sunrise peaking through the curtains.
“I read somewhere that elevating my legs could help speed those
millions of baby makers to the ovaries so they don’t have so much
swimming upstream,” she told him. “I’m sure there’s some medical
jargon for it, but you get the picture.”
Lying down next to her upside down torso, Kent pulled the
warm covers back over himself, his thick, salt-and-pepper hair tousled
from the romp.
“I’d love to take a picture of this pose you’re in now as evidence
for how romantic you’ve become,” he said, grinning. “We don’t even
get to snuggle anymore.”
“I know it’s crazy,” she admitted, “but I’m getting desperate to
find out why we haven’t been able to make a baby after four years,
hundreds of dollars on ovulation kits, high powered fertility drugs
and still no luck. It’s no secret that this year I’ll be flirting with forty.
With Christmas only three weeks away, this success would be just

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