As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"

Historical Romance Kiss

Excerpt from Daughters of Jared by H.B. Moore, published by Covenant Communications, 2012

Levi moved closer until I could look nowhere else but into his eyes. “I told you how I feel about you.”

“You asked me to marry you.” I tried to keep my voice steady, despite his nearness and despite my erratic pulse. “Then you asked me to give up my gods.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “You never told me how you felt.”

Both his hands cradled my face.

He closed the distance before I could take a breath. His lips pressed against mine lightly, hesitantly. My hands went to his chest; warmth radiated from his skin through his shirt. My touch encouraged him, and his kiss became more possessive as he pulled me into his arms, wrapping me in his security. For a moment, I believed that nothing could touch us, nothing could harm either of us. He slowly kissed my cheek, my eyelids, my neck. A torture of a new kind.

Then he pulled away, his hands resting on my shoulders. He stared at me with an intensity I’d not seen before. “I love you, Naiva. You must know you’re in my every thought, my every breath.”

It took everything I had to not fall into his arms and be swept away into our own world. I tentatively ran my hands along his chest, down his arms, absorbing his words.

I wanted to tell him the same thing—to confess my heart—but I was afraid I wasn’t who he thought I was. Nor could I ever be.

“If your brother finds out, he’ll kill both of us.”


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