Welcome to the blog, Silke
Writing is my passion. I started out
with poetry at an early age, and then moved onto novels. Not a day goes by that
I do not do some form of writing. I have written six fictional novels, and when
time allows, I try to read at least two books per month, thanks to the
convenience of the e-reader, which makes it easy to shop the bookstores from
the comfort of one’s home.
In addition to my love of books is
my love of travel. My career has taken me all over the world, and I have lived
in The Caribbean, Italy, India, Germany, and now make Canada my home. If I were
to leave Canada for another destination, it would be to live in Bali or New
Zealand, because I like the cultures and find the landscapes of both countries
breathtaking. My two other passions are gardening and cooking, and I consider
myself a gourmet cook.
I am relatively new to romance
writing, and have written sixteen romance novels which are all available at
most popular book stores.
Jason Porter is
convinced his lover Gabriel Parker is being unfaithful.
Hypnosis reveals
that in the early 1900’s, Gabriel used to be a priest named Damien Fassnidge,
who due to a sexual indiscretion, was banished to the island of Barbados as
punishment.
Sailing from Cork to
Barbados to take up his new position, Damien meets and befriends a brash, young
Irishman named Nicholas Duffy, who is also on his way to take up the position
as a sugar plantation manager. In Barbados friendship turns to love. Torn
between his love for the church and his love for Nicholas, Damien decides to
leave the priesthood, but before he has a chance to resign, an anonymous letter
is sent to the church and he is dismissed. Defrocked and ashamed, he and
Nicholas plan to leave the island, but a new piece of information comes to
light which puts their relationship in jeopardy.
Will Jason Porter believe
this incredible story about Gabriel Parker?
Read
a STORY EXCERPT
Nicholas
Duffy watched Damien walk away. He liked him. He was not the usual, stuffy, old
priest. He had a sense of humor, he was young, and best of all, he took the
occasional nip of gin. In addition, he was very handsome with his red hair,
green eyes, and a muscular build. He was definitely not the image one conjures
up when thinking of a man of the cloth.
Sitting
with Father Damien had its advantages. He was a deterrent to those mothers
eager to have their spinster daughters married off because they all knew that
there were no eligible young men on the island. As long as he was sitting with
the priest, mothers did not dare approach him on such a delicate subject.
The
two men were as different as night and day. One was renowned as a gentleman and
a man of the cloth, while the other was a man seeking to find his place in
society, and Barbados was just the place to do it in spite of the unscrupulous
reputation of the island. Nicholas`s lifestyle did not quite fit in with his
conservative surroundings in Ireland, and when he saw the advertisement in the
local paper, he jumped at his chance to climb the ladder of success.
* *
* *
“Two
aces trump your kings,” Nicholas declared, holding Damien’s gaze.
“I
think it’s time to call it a night,” Damien said. “I should’ve known you were a
card shark.”
“Grrrr!”
Nicholas shouted, curling his lips and baring his teeth. “I am indeed a card
shark.”
Their
card game had attracted a few of the fellow passengers, and they crowded around
them, making it a tad uncomfortable for Damien. He thought it better to retire
for the evening, before a simple game of cards turned into an Irish brawl.
“Sorry,
but I must call it a night. Tomorrow promises to be another long day on the
stormy waters of the Atlantic.”
“See
you at breakfast then, Father?”
“See
you then. Goodnight, Nick.”
“Goodnight,
Father,” the group of onlookers echoed.
In
his little room, Father Damien got to his knees, and said his nightly prayers
before crawling into bed and pulling the covers over his head. It was the month
of November, and the sea was turbulent. It was the end of the hurricane season,
but that didn’t mean that it was the end of the bad weather. That night the
ocean was not in a particularly good mood. The ship lurched and tilted to one
side, scaring its occupants out of their beds.
Suddenly,
someone was knocking on his door, and when Father Damien opened it, he found
Nicholas standing there, whiter than a sheet, with a towel wrapped around his
waist.
“Let
me in, Damien,” he shouted.
“Yes!
Yes! Come on in,” Damien replied, hanging on to the closet door for stability.
“Come in.”
“I
think I’m going to be sick, Damien,” he shouted.
Damien
just had enough time to direct him to the small sink in the bathroom, where he
emptied his stomach. Damien cleaned his face with a cool cloth, and the young
man stumbled onto his bed, still retching and gagging, until the towel fell
away from his body, exposing a stalwart erection. He groaned for a few moments,
and then was suddenly quiet. Damien’s eyes opened wider than saucers, as he
stared down at the massive rod of thick flesh. His mouth dropped open, his
shaft stirred in his pajamas, and he clenched his fists at his side, staring,
unable to look away. Not knowing what else to do, he threw the towel over
Nicholas’s lower body, but it wasn’t enough. The damage had already been done,
and a tent appeared where he had thrown the towel. Finally turning away, Damien
stared up at the ceiling, while his unwanted guest sprawled across his bed and
continued to moan and groan.
Read an ADULT EXCERPT
The
moment the man saw Father Damien dressed in his vestment, he made a sign of the
cross.
“I’m
looking for Mr. Duffy,” Damien said.
The
man pointed to someone in the distance, riding around on a horse.
“He’s
over there,” the man said.
He
recognized him as an Irishman by his heavy Irish brogue.
“I
would like to speak to him. Would you get him for me?”
The
man walked away and spoke to Nicholas, who turned around, raised an arm above
his eyes to block out the sunlight, and stared at him. The horse started a slow
trot in Damien’s direction.
“Father
Damien, where were you all this time? I thought you had returned to Ireland.”
“I
can say the same thing about you. You promised to come by and see me at the
parish church.”
“Well,
Father,” he said, dismounting his horse, “I was thinking about it, and I
thought it would be better if I left well enough alone.”
Damien
was confused by the remark, but did not immediately acknowledge it. He gazed at
Nicholas. Barbados seemed to agree with Nicholas. He looked healthy, handsome,
and as brown as butter. Riding around all day on his horse certainly seemed to
have its advantages.
“What
are you saying, Nick? I thought we were friends.”
“Of
course we’re friends. Because we haven’t seen each other doesn’t mean we’re no
longer friends. You were always in my thoughts.”
He
handed the reins to the field hand, and with a gesture of the head, directed
Damien into the plantation home.
“You’re
living in the lap of luxury,” Damien said, taking in the antique furniture that
adorned the home.
His
host poured two shots of rum and handed one to him.
“The
best stuff there is,” he said, lifting his glass.
“In heaven there is no beer.
That’s why we drink ours down here.”
Damien
nodded, acknowledging the Irish ditty.
“Cheers,”
he said, knocking his glass against Damien’s. “So how is hell treating you?”
“Cheers!
Just like it’s treating everyone else,” Nicholas replied, before throwing his
head back and gulping down the smooth, sweet liquor. “Had lunch?”
“No,
but I’m hoping you would ask me.”
Nicholas
laughed, poured two more drinks, and led Damien out to the veranda.
“I
can see that Father Kelly has taught you well.”
“You’ve
never met him.”
“Ah,
but this is a small island, my boy. His reputation has preceded him.”
“Well
then, I must be more careful.”
Half
an hour later, a woman showed up on the veranda to say that lunch was ready.
Damien’s eyes bulged as he stared at the amount of food she had laid out. There
was enough on the table to feed an army.
“Let’s
eat,” Nicholas announced.
Father
Damien closed his eyes in a silent prayer. Nicholas gazed at him, his long
eyelashes fluttering over his piercing, blue eyes. When Damien opened his
eyes, they stared at each other,
unblinking.
“So
what have we here?” a hungry Father Damien asked, looking from one dish to the
other.
“I
don’t know. As long as it looks delicious, I eat whatever Mabel puts on the
table in front of me.”
Damien
spooned some rice onto his plate, and added some stew and vegetables.
“You’re
right, Nick. Whatever it is, it’s really delicious.”
His
eyes still riveted on Damien, Nicholas couldn’t seem to look away, especially
when he served himself another helping. He thought Damien looked different. The
sun had given him a healthy glow, and he seemed even more handsome than he was
on board the ship. He couldn’t take his eyes off him.
“You’re
gawking at me,” Damien remarked.
“I
like looking at you. I was thinking how much more handsome you’ve become. It
must be the Barbadian sunshine and fresh air.”
Damien
put his cutlery down, and their eyes met.
“If
I didn’t know you better, I would swear that you’re coming on to me.”
Nicholas
did not reply, but kept on gazing at Damien.
“Tell
me, Damien. Why did you become a priest?”
“Just
as you wanted to be a plantation manager here on this island, is the same
reason why I became a priest.”
“I
had always thought that it had to be a calling. Why do I think yours wasn’t a
calling?” he asked, getting up and standing behind Damien’s chair.
“That’s
a misconception, Nick. It was a calling,” Damien said, reaching for his glass
and swallowing back the rum in one gulp.
“Am
I making you uncomfortable, Father?”
“What
makes you think that?”
“You
seem nervous,” Nicholas said, returning to his seat and continuing his lunch.
“Do you remember that night when I came to your room? I was distressed and in
need of comfort, and you comforted me.”
“That’s
part of my vocation. I’m here to console those in distress.”
“Father,
you are playing with me. You know what I’m saying, and if you don’t know, I’ll
spell it out for yer.”
“It’s
getting late. Perhaps I should be going.”
“So
you do understand what I’m talking about?”
Nicholas
stood up and moved close to Damien, so close he could smell the rum on his
breath. Damien was nervous, and it showed. His eyelashes fluttered like a moth
attracted to light, and he headed for the kitchen door, mistaking it for the
entrance door.
“Can
I get you something?” the wide-eyed housekeeper asked, unaccustomed to seeing
house guests in the kitchen.
“I
was on my way out, but I opened the wrong door.”
“I’ll
show you the way out, Father.”
Nicholas
was waiting by the car when he ran down the stairs.
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