Make Her Dreams Come True
by Joey W. Hill
Ellora's Cave
Contemporary Romance: Sensual, Sensual: Erotica, Sensual: Contemporary
December 4, 2002
ISBN-13: 184360325X
Available in: e-Book (reprint)
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Make Her Dreams Come True
by Joey W. Hill
In today's demanding world, the idea of relinquishing control to another has a dangerous appeal. Self-control becomes unnecessary, but so does free will. Can a stranger's condition of submission be the key to one woman finding her wings again? A fragile woman ventures forth into a mall one day to buy a card and stops to admire a dress. A sensual stranger convinces her to try it on... So begins a game of full seduction through the loss of free will. One afternoon in the life of Meg, a woman whose heart is so raw, she believes she can never heal. Until she meets Daniel, a man who not only believes he can ease the pain of her past, but that Meg can live again if she can only learn to let go. A story of sensuality so rich, sexuality so primal, Make Her Dreams Come True tells the tale of a woman who learns to fly by allowing one man to chain her.
Other Books by Joey W. Hill
Joey W. Hill's Bio
I've always had an aversion to reading, watching or hearing interviews of favorite actors, authors, musicians, etc. because so often the real person doesn't measure up to the beauty of the art they produce. Their politics or religion are distasteful, or they're shallow and self-absorbed, a vacuous mop-head without a lick of sense. From then on, though I may appreciate their craft or art, it has somehow been tarnished. Therefore, whenever I'm asked to provide personal information about myself for readers, a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach as I think: "Okay, the next couple of paragraphs can change forever the way someone views my stories." Why on earth does a reader want to know about me? It's the story that's important.
So here it is. I've been given more blessings in my life than any one person has a right to have. Despite that, I'm a Type A, borderline obsessive-compulsive paranoiac who worries I will never live up to expectations. I've got more phobias than anyone (including myself) has patience to read about. I can't stand talking on the phone, I dread social commitments, and the idea of living in monastic solitude with my husband and animals, books and writing is as close an idea to paradise as I can imagine. I love chocolate, but with that deeply ingrained, irrational female belief that weight equals worth, I manage to keep it down to a minor addiction. I adore good movies. I'm told I work too much. Every day is spent trying to get through the never ending "to do" list to snatch a few minutes to write.
Despite all these mediocre and typical qualities, for some miraculous reason, these wonderful characters well up out of my soul with stories to tell. When I manage to find enough time to write, sufficient enough that the precious "stillness" required rises up and calms all the competing voices in my head, I can step into their lives, hear what they are saying, what they're feeling, and put it down on paper. It's a magic beyond description, akin to truly believing my husband loves me, winning the trust of an animal who has known only fear or apathy, making a true connection with someone, or knowing for certain I've given a reader a moment of magic through those written words. It's a magic that reassures me there is Someone, far wiser than myself, who knows the permanent path to that garden of stillness, where there is only love, acceptance and a pen waiting for hours and hours of uninterrupted, blissful use.
If only I could finish that darned "to do" list.
I welcome feedback from readers—actually, I thrive on it like a vampire, whether it's good or bad. So feel free to visit me through my website.