Rebellion

Black Rose

Guys, guess what???

I have a full length novel for y'all to read!!!

It's not here on Wattpad tho. It's out on a platform called Swoon Reads_ owned by Macmillan. I really need you guys to go there and show me love on the book so I can stand a chance to win a publishing contract. The book is titled Black Rose and its a Young Adult, contemporary, romance fan fiction book that's quite enthralling. I know you're waiting for Resurgence which won't come until Dec 7 of course, so you should deffs cop this to keep you company till then.

Once again, I'd reiterate. The full novel is out on Swoon Reads.

Here is the blurb;

“Auspiciously talented singer and teen female fantasy idol, Ames Amell has arrived at the defining point of his career that is highly volatile and delicate, much to his dismay. For the first time in three years since stepping into the spotlight, he feels caged and overwhelmed as a result of the constraints attached to the famed lifestyle.

Free spirited Nigerian belle, Teniola Olaide who is spending the summer with relatives in New York after crossing the fazing hurdle of highschool has never felt more liberated in her entire life. Her sole intent is to have a magnificent holiday void of all forms of hormonal complications but things spiral out of control when she permits a decision of apparent irrelevance.

The resulting consequence is the collision of two distinct worlds of high contrast and difference. Initially, Ames and Teniola loathe this quandary but their distaste eventually sublimes  into strong intense feelings.

Somewhere along the path of their emotional fueled journey, they'd discover their strong feelings in play is nothing but acrid poison that is very hazardous to their respective lives.”

So go to Swoon Reads, register an account on the site and read or you could download the app on play store also. Its also 'Swoon Reads' on there.

If you need the link, I'd be posting it on my wall also so you could access it there. Here is an excerpt from the first chapter;

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“Christ! It smells like dead ghosts in here.”

Ames couldn’t help but watch in rueful amusement from the corner of his left eye, as Scarlett waved her hands in a haphazard motion over the bridge of her nose in a bid to ward off the damp, dense air that was gradually wafting into her nostrils and although he knew that she thought in her head that the action was efficient like garlic in driving off vampires on an attacking spree, it still seemed futile from his point of view like a crooked, broken car wiper—swinging back and forth, unable to pace the full length of the car’s windshield to wipe off splattering droplets of rain.

It was his suggestion that they come here today, or rather his order as she and no one else had little to no say over this demand. Ever since his life on the fast lane had been initiated—his control and power over matters related to his life had started to deteriorate inexplicably, like the dimming light of an electric lamp that hadn’t been charged for ages. Decisions, both public affiliated and personally compartmentalized ones were deliberated on by people who rarely brought him into the fold. Sometimes, he wondered if he truly owned his life or his panel of managers and studio executives were immortal deities clad in the skin of humans as a result of a fashion choice—who he inevitable owed his existence to.

Ames’s current charade of a publicity stunt dictated that he was in an emotional turmoil, as broken and wounded like the lone survivor of an apocalypse trying to find essence within to keep on living as all life and matter around him had gone extinct. At least that was what the studio wanted the public to believe, and judging by their overtly sympathetic and exaggerated empathy gestures that had been extended to him both online and offline, he had come to the realization that they might have bought it after all.

It had been three years, since he had had a normal life and on some days, he had to struggle hard and put his mind through great strain to remember what normalcy felt like. And now, being complicit in this staged play didn’t do much in assuring him that the life he was living at the moment wasn’t surreal. None of it felt real, as it was mostly lies. The current lie being the fact that he was heartbroken as a result of his last tumultuous relationship which’s spark exploded and sizzled out as a result of infidelity on the part of his partner. Breanne Miller, was the name of the high profile, propitious, young model he had become entangled with as a result of the superimposing of their emotional waves at a public function about a year ago now.

The expensive stunt was of course plotted and executed by both of their conniving agencies. Although he didn’t think a word of an implicative nature like ‘conniving’ was befitting to ascribe the nature of the ongoing dramatic sequence since such conspiracy passed as normalcy in their world. Still, that didn’t make it right. As a result of the ensuing toll the split doused on his emotions, he was set up to return in an all rogue, raging sandstorm capacity addressing his apparent fractured emotional state on his sophomore album. That was no problem since as a creative, he had the talent to simulate whatever feeling he wished—but it was the fallacy it connoted that irked him. The glaring lie and also how he didn’t have creative control over his content at the moment.

Now, he saw things clearer. Before, when he was still living in the confinements of a regular life, trying to comprehend the lives celebrities existed in was like trying to make out the other room on the end of a one-way glass. But now that he was peering from the other end of the room, everything made sense. How overdramatic and subtly immature celebrities were most times. It never occurred to him that they were nothing more than the pencils drawing their public image. They weren’t the wielder of the pencil, nor the brain behind the graphical illustration. Only the instrument in accomplishing the guileful deed.

“I’m pretty sure that a figure of speech like that doesn’t exist.” He replied Scarlett finally, as they proceeded into the living room—stepping off the front terrace.