Lea Love

Please understand that "The Nature Of Woman" is the only full-length novel I have completed and the the rest of the excerpts are from my second novel entitled "Gem Chronicles" which consists of several short stories. All of these in the full version can be ordered by contacting me.

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Acceptance is a gift we are given at conception. Most of us chose to suppress it and let

our arrogance and prejudices cloud our judgment while a small majority live by a higher standard of

awarenss. All of my life I have been told that you can't love someone until you love youself. That is

true; but there is another thing you must do before you can give your heart away, you must be true

to yourself and the easiest person that you can lie to is yourself.

When it came time for me to face that demon called me, I didn't know what I was going to

do or how I would make it through. I guess it's obvious that I made it out alive and am here to reveal

this twisted tale. I am Lilly French and I am one of a kind. I want to walk you through this. I want

you to understand what it's like to be me. What it's like to live a lie and wake every morning know-

ing there is no way out. When there is no one to talk to and no place to hide and the one person

you should depend on is the one you fear the most. I am doomed to be what I am until the end.

It's hard for me to remember when my life took it's fierce revolution. I don't know what

persuaded me to make all of my qeustionable decisions. Maybe it was his mysterious intense

brown eyes or his dark wavy hair, but when I saw him the first time I knew he was the one. I knew

just his presence in my life would cause turmoil and greif of astronomical preportions. Nonetheless,

I loved him at first sight. It would take me time to see past his flawless good looks and see him for

what he really was and what he had made me become. He was so magnificant and alluring. It was

impossible for me to resist him.

It's astounding how just a singular incident in time can alter someone's perception on life and make them do things they wouldn't normally do. It's those moments that either grants a person prospect or dooms their days forever. After an incident that has this affect on a person, things seem to plunge up or down and always there is no way to oppress fate.

Take a walk on the mad side with Breanna Jones and Marilyn Cooper as they learn lessons about the distinction between fact and legend. They will face perils that will test not only their will power and mortality but also their friendship. The two women seek a justice that is seized by an outside and unknown force in a house that should never possess secrets from the grave.

The Martin Mansion, a place where things come alive and the past still dwells, lives up to its legend and discloses it lives from its past. It keeps them on the edge every moment and leaves them wandering what or who will come up missing next.

The fears and confusion they face will only draw them in more as they journey through this one week of their life.

Mrs. Bailey was a petite gentle woman and her age was revealed in the rainbow of wrinkles that uniquely embraced her kind smiling face. She was a nice woman and it seemed she could never tell a lie. In her smile answers of true honesty existed.

When I first started attending the First Baptist Church of Gem, I could feel something different dwelled in the hearts of the lambs. No doubt it was a positive force, but it was more than evident. I trusted them and at the same time, I didn't. I believed in my God and they seemed to as well. Every prayer ended with a solemn Amen, the choir performed Amazing Grace at least once a month and the Lord's Supper was observed on a regular schedule.

Everyone who attended the church had the same success in everything and they all seemed to be quite prosperous. My grandparents relocated to Gem about two years prior and soon after they were welcomed to the church with open arms. Six months later the lawsuit that my grandfather had been fighting for years was settled and he retired. My mother told me he had more money than God, but really what does that mean.

"Good morning, Sir. How can I help you?" She said as she smiled and winked at him.

He returned her kindness with, "Great and you?" he thought she had a pretty smile and mystifying eyes. Her black hair was cut shoulder length and it looked like it was pure silk. He just knew that the man that cuddled up to that every night must know how lucky he really was. "I'm here to see Mr. Sanders."

"Your name, sir?" She inquired.

"Marshall, Marshall Beggings. I don't have an appointment. I'm here last minute. Just passing through and all." He replied with a reassuring voice.

"Okay, sit and I will let him know you are here."

While Marshall sat waiting patiently, he had no idea that the man he was about to meet would change his whole outlook on reality. He had just finished thumbing through an issue of Reader's Digest when the black haired beauty called his name.

"He will see you now, Mr. Beggings."

Marshall rose to his feet and walked toward the office door. Upon hid entrance to the room, he could see a dark figure facing the opposite side of him.

"I know why you are here." He said in a low muffled voice.

Marshall stepped forward and replied inquisitively, "Yes?"

A calm, yet hesitant voice replied, "You came here to kill me, didn't you?"

Marshall laughed as he leaned down over the desk. "How'd you peg me like that? Do I really look like a killer?" He smiled.

The solemn man behind the desk swiveled around in his chair and glared at him. "You don't have to look like one to be one." He said as he ascended to his feet.

Marshall noted that he was about five feet and seven inches with a solid build and thinning gray hair. His eyes were sunk deep into his face and the large number of wrinkles that covered it allowed Marshall to see his age.

Sometimes up at the point it seemed that time just passed her by. She knew that this time, though, the rains would not miss her. She would only be allowed a few more moments before having to rush in out of the storm. Her car would then allow her the further solitude that she so desired, but to her it was never the same. In the car she couldn't feel the wind on her face or feel that dense dew as it covered her skin and caused chill bumps.

Margaret called the point her "thinking spot" and many hours of her free time had been spent there. Once when Bryan broke up with her and her cocaine addiction was revealed to her parents, she came to the thinking spot. She stood for a long time contemplating her next breath, but for some reason she never stepped forward.