Amaka Azie's Blog, page 9

Starting over Again

Onome told Nnamdi where they were headed and he drove smoothly through the traffic. He put on the radio and the sounds of Bob Marley’s, no woman, no cry, floated in the air. Onome wondered if this was the song he whistled in his office. She turned to ask him about his music taste when he spoke.
“What type of music do you like, Onome?”
“I was just going to ask you the same question.”
“Really?” He looked amused. “Well, you know what they say about great minds.” He cast her a sideways glance, his face relaxed, looking more handsome than ever. “So, what kind of music do you like?” He repeated his question, seemingly keen for her response.
“Afrojuju and Fuji music,” Onome replied, her face warm with embarrassment.
“What?” Amusement glistened in his brown eyes.
“No joking. Sir Shina Peters, Pasuma Wonder, King Sunny Ade. I’m into all of them. I have all their CDs.”
Nnamdi burst into laughter. The sound was so rich and satisfying that it tugged on Onome’s heart. “Yes, I was part of that shinamania craze. I used to play that album from Sir Shina Peters every day in University, shaking my behind to Fuji music. My roommate tried to hide that CD from me many times to keep me from playing it.”
“I can almost imagine you dancing to afrojuju beats.” His tone was still shaky from laughter.

Congratulations!!!

Congrats to Kim and Ds=> winners of the signed copies of Melodies of Love!!!

Hope you enjoy it!
Have a wonderful 2017

Melodies of Love

Thorns and Roses: Excerpt

“I want to take you out this Saturday,” Chuma broke the silence again. Ifeoma held her breath, waiting for him to continue.
“I have a boat in Lagos Marina. I love to sail on Saturday sometimes.” Still speechless, Ifeoma dared not say anything, dared not move.
“The weather appears promising, no rain. We can have—”
“I have to work on Saturday … I work on Saturdays, remember?” Her voice suddenly returned, cutting him off. She could not allow him to continue, to paint a picture in her mind. It was hard enough not to reach out across the table and touch him. Keeping her desire for him in check was torture. She did not need him painting this perfect fairy-tale picture in her head. Especially when it was obvious that he wasn’t attracted to her. She was just a hobby to him. A problem to fix. Something interesting to occupy his bored rich mind. No, she won’t encourage this.
Chuma’s dark eyes flashed with anger. He took in a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. He didn’t succeed.
“I know you work Saturdays, damn it!” His voice came out harshly. “I know you worked last Saturday, and the Saturday before that and Sundays too!”
Taking a gulp of water as if he needed that to finally calm down, he swallowed slowly. “I just want you to have one Saturday off! Just one! And relax! Stop fighting the world!”
Ifeoma’s pulse jerked at the intensity she saw in his eyes. This was all too much. She felt like she was drowning. To spend a whole Saturday relaxing on a boat with him? How could she do that and not fall at his feet? Or beg him never to leave her? No, she couldn’t. He made her weak, she had to fight him, preserve herself. I am not my mother; I am a strong woman.

Mushy romantic excerpt ...I am writing

“Can I come in?” Nnamdi questioned, reclining on the door frame. Onome stepped away from the door, holding her breath as his tall powerful frame strutted into her hotel room.
“Did we get the account?” Onome asked nervously. She scrubbed her sweaty palms over her bright green cotton shorts. He hesitated, his facial expression serious. Onome’s heart sank. She had let him down, let the bank down. Her stomach knotted with trepidation.
“We… we didn’t get it?” she mumbled hesitantly. His lips twitched momentarily, then cracked into a disarming smile.
“Congrats Onome, you have brought in your first account.”
“Oh, my God!” Onome exclaimed, jumping in delight. “I have been so anxious, Oh, my God!” Nnamdi opened his arms. Without a thought, she ran into his outstretched arms, wrapping her arms around him. He lifted her, twirled her around briefly before dropping her.
“I’m so proud of you, Onome.” His deep baritone, resonated within her.
“Thank you for letting me do this. I have actually missed doing this, hustling for accounts.”
They stood that way, locked in each other’s arms as moments ticked by, neither of them making any move to break the connection. Slowly, the atmosphere between then shifted from elation to sensual awareness. Their eyes locked. His brown eyes, darkened now, dipped to her lips.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured. He sounded as if he was warning her, giving her a chance to back away from him. Onome had no such desire. She had dreamt of kissing him countless times, been consumed with the desire to feel his full lips glide over hers, spent nights wondering if he kissed softly and sweetly or if he plunged in, hard and rough, taking, demanding⎯
Before she could complete that trend of thought, his mouth descended on hers.

Thorns and Roses: Fathers and daughters

Hello everyone

I am working on another book titled, Thorns and Roses. It a contemporary romance fiction set in Nigeria, West Africa. Spanning between Eastern Nigeria and Lagos, Western Nigeria.

It is about Ifeoma a hardworking chef who escaped from an emotionally abusive father. Her relationship with her father made her doubt herself a lot. She lacked confidence in herself although she fought hard to mask it.

Writing this book made me think about my father. He is one of the reasons for my self confidence. He was always there for me, cheering me on, encouraging me. He repeatedly told me I was beautiful and deserved the best, so I grew up striving for the best.

How much does a girl's relationship with her father shape her own confidence and future relationships?

Ifeoma has been an interesting character to create...I can't wait to share her love story with you...