by Tess Dickenson
She sat quietly, wondering at the absence of fear as they drove through the darkened countryside, she and this stranger... this love who would soon be lover. His scent... pure, crisp, warmly enveloping... had first been inhaled mere hours before and yet he had carried her heart for innumerable ages. Now he would possess not only her heart, but her soul... the deepest secrets of a woman strong and fierce... yet now conquered by a mere glance. The shadowy landscape sailed pass the window as she opened her hand in surrender to this unknown... this stranger. Who would she be when it was finished? It mattered not.
Tess Dickenson is just a normal (what is THAT?!) Southern girl who started writing when she was 10 (after being given a blank book as a gift). Decades later, she still writes.