Novels by Miraze

"This past years has been tough after the demise of my father, my mother attempted suicide and it left her retarded which left me taking care of everyone. I had to work after classes so I can pay the bills, paint during my free time, take them to Mrs. Kolosoki's gallery and pray someone buys the painting. Now I am a graduate and my paintings are going places, finally things are starting to play out nice", so I said to myself. Walking about in my room feeling a surge of happiness in me, while I was in my thoughts my phone rang and it was Logan. "Hello Logan" "I have sent the paintings to your office already" but before I could finish my sentence he said "yes, but that's not the reason I called", my heart started beating fast and I don't know why."Layla I would like you to go on a dinner date with me to celebrate your graduation" He says "Please don't say no, it's a harmless date""Okay" "Is that a yes?""Yes, I will go on a date with you""Thank you" I could hear the excitement i

I followed him back into his apartment and we sat on the couch, I told him all that has happened to me and my family and how his father was responsible for all the misfortune and now the only property he have left, the family land which is in my name, he wants it too but I wouldn't give it up because that's the only legacy of my father. He was quiet for a very long time, looking all confused. I guess he might be wondering if his father really did all that I have said and why he was so cruel but then he broke the silence. "My father is such a loving man, he took me as his own son, told me not to change my name to his because I am the only legacy of my father and he wants the name to live on, my life and that of my mother changed because of him, why will he do all that" He said. "He's your father, what did you expect?" I said. "I need to go home now my mom needs me" "Okay let me drop you off" He said. "No need I will take cab". I want out of his apartment took a cab and went home.

He drove his hands in my hair, pulling it free from the pins, tangling his fists in my fiery locks.I clutched at him, digging my fingers into his shoulders allowing him to deepen the kiss.He tasted wonderful and forbidden. He tasted like delicious sin.Kissing him didn't feel good enough, she pushed herself into him, trying to get closer, despite the fact that she was already entwined in his arms.He lifted his head, pulling me closer to him and groaning as I fitted myself against his lower body.Angling his head, he claimed my mouth again.His kiss deepened, it got more savage. Filling me with fire, filling me with heat.He spread his fingers along my hips, cupping my bottom and pressing me more tightly to him." Logan," I gasped. I felt him grow harder at the sound of his name on my lips." I want you," he whispered. His voice was hoarse and gravelly with need." Here. Now. I want you. On the table, on the floor." I don't care." Yes." I whispered.That was all the encouragem

I open my eyes again. Beside each of my paintings is a small red disk. My eyes move from one to the other.There disks in all. Not equivocal half disks.Not this painting is perhaps spoken for.But full flaming red suns.Sold.Follow the bouncing red ball and sing along: sold! Sold! Sold!The song is clanging sweetly in my head in time to the rushing blood in my veins till I hear Marion laughing behind me.Mrs koloski comes lumbering out of her office and says into my ear; " you made a fuckin sale. About time, don't you think.Come." She leads me into her office." His name is Logan Hunter." Mrs koloski lights a cigarette, wheezes into a hanky and wipes her chin. She leans back in her chair. She was once a vouge model. She was the belle dame sans merci of beat poets and abstract expressonists.Now she's two hundred and eighty pounds, tough skinned and nasty when she needs to be.In her shaggy quack of a voice, she tells me." He's some fancy bestselling author from New York, he kno

" I've told you over and over again Justin, You can't play football."" Why not?" He whines." I told you already, We can't afford it."" Mum said I could." He argues." Mum doesn't manage the money in this house, I do." I tell him" But I played baseball last year.""The school gave you the equipment, the football team says you have to buy your own equipment and we can't afford that, right now.I don't know how many times I have to explain this to you, before it gets into your thick skull."He stands there scowling at me for a full minute, before turning and flouncing out of the room, slamming the door behind him.I sigh as I flop down on my bed.I hold my head in my hands and struggle not to push back the tears flooding my eyes.At times like this, I wish there was a way I could go back in time and tell my father not to go into partnership with the evil Jason Stanford.The evilest of men to walk the surface of the earth.A man whom the devil himself would like to take some lessons

" Arrgh." I groan as I tear another piece of parchment paper off the easel, crumple it and throw it across the room, in the general direction of the waste basket." Missed.". Rahman says coming in with a small jug of iced tea and a glass." I don't understand." He says dropping his load on the table." How it can be so hard for you to make a new painty, after all, all you do is dip your brush in paint and spray the paint all over your paper."He finishes.I glare at him." I don't expect a barbarian like you to understand some thing as cosmopolitan as abstract art. The sophisticated members of society are the only ones who can understand and appreciate the beauty of abstract art.""I admire your bravado." He says with a smirk. "It's quite daring of you, to call splashes of color art."I swat him in the arm." You're such a barbarian." I tell him, as I pour myself some iced tea." At least I'm not deluding myself into thinking I'm an artist." He quips.I pick up a brush from the ope