Title: Falling in Love
Genre: Non Fiction
bye this book here: Amazon
About the book:
Sherry Johnson is young, beautiful, bright and athletic. She has everything going for her, except for one thing.
She is addicted to love.
Her life is a vicious circle of nightly trysts and morning regrets.
Her addiction got her kicked out of college, cost her the love of her life and has left her in complete despair.
But still Sherry keeps falling in love.
And falling. And falling.
Finally, as Sherry struggles to pull herself up from a bottomless pit, she realizes that she will have to learn to love the one person she has loathed for most of her life.
Based on the True Story of a
Young Woman’s Battle with Sex Addiction
I remember that I was crying so hard that I couldn’t pack my suitcase. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay in Rosebud for one more minute. But I had nowhere to go. So I decided to go see my mother. The last thing I knew about her, from years before, was that she was living somewhere in Southern California. I had no idea if she was still there but California seemed as good a place to go as anywhere else. Besides, I had a lifetime of questions that I wanted to ask her and I was badly in need of some answers, any answers.
My tears had blurred my vision so much that I had stuffed my suitcase too full of clothes and it wouldn’t close. I grabbed a handful, flung them on the floor and then jammed the case shut. From a bookshelf, I snatched up the only two mementos I had of my mother, a book of poems and an old black-and-white picture. I stuffed them into my purse and then stumbled blindly out of my room, out of that house and out of that town, forever.
My car hadn’t been running that well and I wasn’t sure that it would make it to California but I figured I’d drive it until it died and then decide what to do. I headed south on the county road. I was still crying so hard that I could barely see and rounding a turn I crossed the line and nearly hit a truck head on. My hands were shaking so much that I could barely hold on to the wheel but I was afraid to stop on that deserted road. Somehow, I finally made it to the Interstate and then a strange thing happened. Instead of turning west toward California, I headed east.
My theory was that I didn’t have a clue where my mother was but that I had an address in New York for Elaine, my mother’s childhood friend. I decided that I would go to New York and ask Elaine if she had my mother’s address, and then I wouldn’t have to waste a lot of time looking for her once I got to California. It didn’t occur to me to just turn west and simply call Elaine from the roadside cafe. Maybe I wasn’t yet ready to meet my mother. I didn’t know. I just knew that I wasn’t thinking very clearly.
I was still crying and tried to think of some distraction to make me stop. Could I actually cry my tear ducts dry? How much could someone cry? Pints, quarts, a gallon? I glanced down at my damp dress and wondered if I were to wring it out would there be a puddle? The thought of wringing tears out of a black satin dress that I had worn on what was to have been the greatest night of my life made me cry even harder.
I drove through the night and into the morning. I continued crying sporadically and through my blurred vision, I apparently missed some sign and ended up heading for Albany instead of New York City.
At a rest stop, I stripped off the dress without daring to see if it would wring out, slipped into jeans and a pullover and stood before the restroom mirror, trying to pull myself together. There wasn’t enough eye shadow in the world to accomplish that.
Some truck driver assured me that some highway at a nearby exit would take me straight over to the Interstate that would take me straight down to New York City and that I couldn’t possibly get lost. I proved him wrong several times. I tried to navigate a maze of scenic roads lined with pines or evergreens or other green-tinted landscape that always seemed to narrow into a one-lane road before coming to a dead end. I finally found a wide blacktop road that looked promising and turned to what I hoped was in the direction of New York City.
“My life closed twice before its close,” I whispered. I often recited Emily Dickinson poems when I was depressed and this moment of my life certainly qualified. “It yet remains to see if Immortality unveil a third event to me.”
My car began sputtering. I floored the accelerator, hoping to get over the next hill and coast down into some town. But the car was dying quickly. As if it might help, I began reciting more quickly, “So huge, so hopeless to conceive, as these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell.” The car coasted to a stop as I stared up at an insurmountable hill. I didn’t know whether or not I had proven some scientific experiment but I just couldn’t cry anymore. I literally had no tears left.
about the author:
Stephen Bradlee is the pen name for a Hollywood film executive.
He has ghostwritten celebrity autobiographies and has worked primarily as a script doctor.
He is married and lives with his wife, their daughter
and their dog.
I’m happy that I have chance to be host of this wonderful giveaway. Mr.Stephen Bradlee was generous enough and offered us 3 copies of this great book and that isn’t all. If you participate in this giveaway and don’t win, you can buy this book for $.99 at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/213329 with the Smashwords coupon FC39H. This giveaway is open WW(International).
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