Writing Letters to my Ex.. Part II

Just an update… and another juicy little sneak peek.

The book is done. I feel like there is something missing from it. You know like a story I forgot to tell… anyways, it is going out for a test read this weekend with a third-party. Formatting for e-book and paper purchases is underway and once final edits are done, I will publish it.

OMG… I just got butterflies in my belly and teary eyes when I typed those last four words.. “I will publish it”

In any case, there is still a little ways to go but it’s almost time!!! I suppose I should probably start thinking about how I will celebrate the release. Or maybe its to soon for that?

I will say, it is a small collection. It was not meant to be an epic novel but a collection of my journey from there to here.

I have already been working on my next project which is a fictional love triangle. A modern-day romance. What I have right now is already out for test reads. It doesn’t have a title yet… I can’t seem to figure this one out. But without further delay……

Here is another little sneak peek at Letter to my Ex: With all my love ~ a

 

May 28, 2017 

I went to a singles dance tonight. I so desperately wanted to have fun. It wasn’t terrible but it felt like I was pimping myself out to all of the “available” men in my geographical area all at one time without the monetary compensation that a prostitute would get. 

I hate you for making me consider and even actually trying something like this. I am blaming this entirely on you and your inability to be a fucking man who knows what he fucking wants and does what he has to fucking do to keep it. Fuck you asshole. I danced with one grimy sleaze ball after another trying to find some sort of decent prospect who wasn’t twenty years older than me, wearing a suit from the nineteen sixties and who could at least pronounce my name correctly. I mean really, my name isn’t even that difficult to pronounce; Ah- Nee- Tah…. simple. 

I had to come home immediately after and scour my myself clean of what I had just done. Yes I know I sound a little over dramatic but you weren’t there to witness this disaster of a moment for yourself. The only reason I didn’t burn my favorite dress was because the dry cleaner pinkie promised that he could steam clean away all of my horrid memories. To bad he’s married. He’s good-looking and a sweetheart. My skin hurt from the scalding hot water I used in the shower. My skin was pink for an hour after. It felt wonderful. It almost felt like I had cleansed my self of you in a way except I apparently didn’t since here I sit, typing you this fucking letter. Fuck you. I hate you.

~ a

 

When, after two years, your boyfriend and his kids still refer to you as “the new girlfriend in daddies life”

Or when he tells you that he reassured his kids that we wont be living together anytime soon.

 

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