Feels Like Sunshine: Feels Like Romance, #4

By Roberta Ann Roque

Novella #4 in the Feels Like Romance series.

Fools rush in...

Maggie is anxious... about everything, everyday.  She works hard to seem normal but every social situation is a trial for her.  She would love to have friendships or a relationship but the thought is so impossible that she doesn't even entertain it.  Then she meets Kiran and begins to feel like a new person - a normal person.  But when unexpected circumstances try to tear them apart, Maggie goes back into her safe little shell of loneliness.  If she lets this chance pass her by, though, she will be alone for the rest of her life.

Kiran is a good guy who got himself into a bad situation.  With jail time staring him in the face, he gladly takes the community service at a yoga retreat that is the only alternative.  But he doesn't have to like it.   When he meets Maggie, she takes him on a roller coaster ride of emotion that makes him feel more alive than he has in a long time.  She's honest, genuine, and doesn't even realize that there's a difference in their skin color.  But when a surprise revelation changes everything about their relationship, Kiran instinctively retreats, trying to protect himself from his feelings of betrayal and hurt.  In the process, though, he may lose the love of his life.

Maggie and Kiran have to make a choice - come back from the circumstances that are tearing them apart, or be seperated forever.

 

Please note: This is a short, contemporary romance, stand-alone novella for adults 18 and over.  In this novella, just like in life, sometimes things get a little hot and steamy, if you don't like that, then you might want to try a different story.  And don’t worry, we hate cliffhangers as much as you do - this novella is guaranteed to come to a satisfying HEA conclusion.

approximately 28 000 words (80+ pages)

 

An Excerpt from Feels Like Love

“How do you feel now?” she said, picking up on the fact that I had switched the verb from thought to felt.  She swam across the pool until she was floating in front of me.

“Like you’re a goddess.  Like you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.  Like I don’t think I can keep my hands off of you.”  She blinked.

“Kiran?”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing.

“We’re getting in over our heads,” she said.

“I know.”

“Just so that’s clear."  She knelt beside me on the bench I was sitting on. 

Then she kissed me senseless in the steaming hot water.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roberta Ann Roque
• Release date: May 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781502277039

Book preview

Author's Note

With each of the books in the Feels Like Romance series, I deliberately chose songs to inspire the story.  I picked songs that went with the theme, with what the characters were going through, or that evoked a certain feeling.  When writing certain parts I would sometimes put the song on repeat and listen to it over and over.

This is an inherent part of these books and is integral to the stories.  You will find as you continue through the series that there are many references to songs and music.  It's supposed to be like that.  That's how the series was designed.

If you are a musician or enjoy music - the way I am and do - you'll know that songs evoke emotions in a way that words never can.  So, I've listed them here, if you'd like to surround yourself with these songs as you read or when you come to the part where they are mentioned in the story.

I've linked to the YouTube videos of the songs so that you can listen to them for free.

Enjoy!

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Brave by Sara Bareilles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4

Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by The Fifth Dimension

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06X5HYynP5E

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Happily ever after is alive and well!

Sincerely,

Bobbi (writing as Roberta Ann Roque)

CHAPTER ONE

Typical Day

Maggie

I woke up with a feeling of dread.

But that was normal. 

I lived with this feeling of anxiety and discomfort every minute of every day, but most of the time I didn’t notice it because I was distracted by life.  But it was hard not to notice it in the morning when I had just awoken. 

I knew I needed to get up.  I had things to do — a job to work at, my place to clean, other errands to run.  But the heavy stone in my chest made it difficult to move.  And what good could possibly come from this day anyhow?  Better to stay under the covers.  I wished for sleep and oblivion.  That was the only time I didn’t feel unhappy.

But then I remembered that I was going for lunch with my favorite cousin, Laila, and I cheered up a little.  She was the best person in my life — one of the only people who saw the real me.  To everyone else, I was just a ghost — the invisible woman.  Never seen.  Never heard.  A nobody.

It hadn’t always been this way.  As a child, I had been outgoing, happy, a leader even.  But one year in school, a bully had made me her target, and bit by bit I shut down until I was just a shell of my former self — disconnected, isolated, and desperate.

As an example of my life’s struggle, let’s take high school.  Sometimes, I would go the entire day and never say a word to anyone.  Not one word.  Don’t think that was even possible?  Trust me, it was.  I became an expert in blending into the background and being unseen — like a ninja but much lonelier.

By the time I got to college, I could see that I was dysfunctional socially.  I had to retrain myself to do normal things like say hi to people in the hall and make small talk.  I particularly remember one time that I passed an old classmate from high school in the hall, and she said, Hi, Maggie.  How are you?  I answered back, Fine, Nicole.  How are you?  But she was already gone.

I had to make a mental note to myself that if there was only time to answer the question, then you didn’t ask how they were doing as you would in a usual conversation.  You would just answer the question and keep going.  These were the kinds of things I had to teach myself. 

Crazy.  I know.  It was a long painful process to just get myself back up to an ordinary functioning human being able to interact with other people somewhat naturally.

And I was still a work in progress.  At this point, the unhappiness wasn’t so bad that it was completely suffocating me.  But it was always there underneath everything.  Even when I was happy and enjoying something, somewhere deep down I knew that I was still unhappy below the surface.

And I was still a complete loser when it came to social situations.  Take Laila’s friends for example.  I had never been able to connect with them.  When I first met them, they couldn’t even remember my name.  It was embarrassing but inevitable.  I am a very forgettable person.

There I go again with self-deprecating remarks.  I still did the mirror exercise that I had taught my cousin Laila, and that helped her accept herself.  Once she had,, that led to her losing the extra weight she had carried and getting together with her dream guy, Mark. 

I was better from the exercise but not totally healed.  It sounds weird to be looking in the mirror and telling yourself that you love you (and it kind of is), but it really works.  Most of the time, I feel uncomfortable doing it, but I can feel how my self-hatred is lifting, so it’s worth it.

I sighed and got up.  No use avoiding the day any longer.

***

Two hours later, I walked into my office and with my heart pounding, said hello to the receptionist.  She smiled and responded.  I thought that I had given a suitable response, but I wasn’t sure since my blood was pounding in my ears and I couldn’t quite focus on what she was saying. 

This was usual.

My retraining had only touched the surface of my social problems.  I was like a puppet.  I could act and speak appropriately in each situation that I was in, but I wasn’t really there because I was so worried about what I was doing and what they were thinking of me. 

I felt a wave of despair wash over me. Is this how life is supposed to be?  For an instant, I felt that there ought to be something more than this.  The darkness.  The fear and anxiety.  The underlying misery that poisoned everything I touched. 

But I was pretty sure there wasn’t.  I should just give up now.  I never thought about suicide, but I had thought about giving up the pretense of being a regular functional human being — I thought about that a lot. 

My parents would support me financially.  I could just sit at home and read all day long.  Sure, I would be an outcast.  No friends or real love.  But I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore.  I wouldn’t have to attempt to be something I clearly was not — a happy person.

I was sitting at my desk at work and wishing I was anywhere but here. After I finished my bachelor’s degree and then my master’s, I’d tried to get a job in my field - English literature.  I know, I know.  Did I really think I could get a job in English lit?  Yeah, well, I couldn’t.  So, I had ended up in this cubicle.

As I sat there, I could feel my body starting to cramp up from my position.  I needed to move.  I had no idea why someone as active as me decided to work at a desk job for a corporation, but there you have it.  It was like I was searching out the thing that would make me the least happy.  And I was stuck.  I knew that no one else would hire me.  I would have felt frustrated if I could have worked up enough energy.

Listlessly, I finished my current task and got up to go for a walk and fill my water bottle.  When I reached the water cooler, I saw Jessica standing there, filling her water bottle.

Hey, Maggie, she said, her eyes filled with something foreign that I hardly recognized.  Oh, yeah.  That’s happiness and kindness.  She was really glad to see me.  I had no idea why.

Hi, Jessica, I said, waiting patiently while she finished filling her bottle.  I watched as she screwed the cap on and then felt a wave of unease wash over me as she continued to stand there — prepared to chat — while I filled mine.  Shit.

I felt the block rise up to my throat and stifle my voice.  This always happened with people who weren’t my family.  There was something actually stopping me from speaking.  It felt almost physical.  When it was there in my throat, I either couldn’t speak at all, or I could barely communicate.  My parents had taken me to see a doctor, and he had said there was nothing physical, but the block stopped me from talking anyway, whether the doctor could find it or not.

How are you, Maggie?  Still feeling anxious? she said, a concerned look in her eye.  In a fit of madness at a staff training session, I had told her that I felt anxious sometimes.  Jessica is a yoga instructor and gave me what I’m sure was