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Posts Tagged With: romance

Introducing snippets of African romance

In my last post, I introduced some dangerously delicious desserts to accompany your reading of African romance.  Today, I’m introducing a new segment to my blog titled “Snippets of African Romance” where I’ll be sharing some engagingly sweet reads that I’ve read from purely African romance authors. Some of these authors I’ve talked about here… and you may already know them, even more than I do. That said, I still have to brag somewhat that I’m privileged to peek into their upcoming work that you may, or may not be opportuned to read, until the book comes out of course. Anyway, to cut a long story short,  I’ve been granted permission by these writers (both published and soon-to-be-published) to share their work here. Yes! You heard that right….right here on Lara Daniels Writes. LIVE!

So catch up with me in the next couple of weeks (or days you never know, it could be that soon) to read your African romance snippets. It’s free to read…the only condition is that you must have some chocolate inspired dessert by your side (lol).  Have a great Sunday and a new week full of much love!!!

 

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Categories: Blog | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Love at Dawn starting off the year with a BANG!

Love at Dawn, my second novel has recently been given another “thumbs-up” by African goddess Online.  I’m excited, as I should be because it is a good way for a writer (like me) to start off the new year. Below is the review in full 🙂

Growing up, I remember reading romance novels written by Western authors like Danielle Steele, Elizabeth Lowell and Amanda Quick. There were also the Mills and Boon and Harlequin Romance novels that largely shaped my young romantic mind. I fell in love with the fantasies these books provided, and so did many women of my generation who grew up on these same novels. In our minds, as young black girls growing up on a continent where the men looked nothing like the men we read about in these novels, many of us still fantasized about a man with rippled muscles and white skin. Sometimes, there were visions of white castles and white horses too. If we learned anything from these books, it was that romance was to be found with white men and not with our own. It is no wonder that many of these girls, who themselves grew up to be romance novel writers, are writing what they themselves missed out on – romance stories with black African characters. It is such a fresh perspective that could have come a little sooner for most of us.

In Love at Dawn, Lara Daniels is sensual and captivating. There is not a single dull moment. Just when you think you have her figured out, she turns it up on you. The pages flip very easily and each plot has been designed to keep the reader wondering what happens next. I can only hope that Ms. Daniels seriously considers having her books translated into film.

Love at Dawn is a tale of love, power, danger and friendship that tests the bounds of the African romantic experience and questions the authenticity of its characters. For staunch African literary readers without an imagination outside the confines of the typical African experience, this might not go over well with them. Tory Da-Silva is a spoiled, rich teenage girl with a crush on Rashad Macaulay, a man who is also her oldest brother’s best friend and the Da-Silva Corporation’s attorney. Rashad is as brusque and rude as they come, and yet Tory sees something in him that keeps drawing her closer to him even as he tries harder to distance himself from her. Rashad believes he is protecting Tory from potential hurt. Tory sees no reason why they cannot act on their attraction to each other. Between the two of them, they share a love-hate relationship that gets tiring and frustrating at times.

Rashad’s reasons for wanting to distance himself from Tory often times seem valid. She is young and innocent, and she could potentially get hurt if her heart got too involved with a man who had not so much to give in return. If only she knew that she and Rashad were of a different breed, maybe she would understand him. Or would she? The Da-Silvas are one of the wealthiest families in the African nation of Zamzuda. The Macaulay family is the complete opposite. Rashad’s father was a thief and a liar, his mother a prostitute. In a country where the rich and poor don’t mix, Tory’s crush on Rashad would seem forbidden, except that Rashad has done well for himself and hidden his past deep inside him – a past that threatens to destroy him and the one he loves. But, Rashad is not the only one hiding a past!

When Tory’s brother Tony gets married, strange things begin to happen. First, Tory meets a young self-righteous missionary at the wedding and suspects nothing of him besides the fact that he thinks he has been called by God to judge the unrighteous. She would soon find out that he had an agenda that was more insane than she could ever have imagined. Then, Tory is almost run off the road by a crazed driver intent on killing her. She escapes unharmed only for Rashad to find a note in her bedroom and a dead carcass on her bed – he hides this from her. All these events lead up to one thing – Tory’s life is in danger, and she needs someone to protect her. The problem is there is no one better suited to do that than Rashad Macaulay whether he wants to or not.

Love at Dawn is Lara Daniels’ second novel. With a story line that is so dramatic and powerful, Love at Dawn is a page-turner and that’s not to be disputed. Lara Daniels is obviously a writer with an imagination that wows. Her narrative skill is flawless. With little tweaks to her prose, she could very easily become the Danielle Steele of African suspense/romance writing. For, hers are not simple tales of love. With Lara Daniels, you get a suspense thriller and romance novel all wrapped up in one spectacular read! 

Categories: Books, Love at Dawn, News, Notes, reviews, Romance | Tags: , , , , | 21 Comments

For Wale Taylor, my first love (Part 1)

Call me crazy, but I was a child when I met my first love.

I was the spunky, tomboyish girl who lived next door. He was the quiet handsome kid with a quirky laugh. I noticed him immediately. He wasn’t like my older brothers –spoiled teenagers who harassed each other with boasts of manly exploits that was at best a figment of their imagination. Rather, he was a boy who seemed emotionally secure, in spite of his ineptness at making conversation with younger girls like me.

Wale Taylor was cute. He was new in Fountain Estates – an uptown neighborhood in Lagos, and new to my school. His peculiar laughter – the way rabbits would laugh, if they ever laughed – left me weak in my knees. I was barely twelve. He was fourteen and Queen Puberty had spared him of her curse, for he had the body-build of a young wrestler. He was my immediate older brother’s classmate, had had to repeat classes because of a technicality: Fountain High was a private school for the affluent. It didn’t take to new transfers easily, making students repeat classes, regardless of high academic standing.

As neighbors, I rarely saw Wale Taylor, but at school, I got to know him more. The boy had no airs about him. His odd manner of laughing to everything that was both funny and not, was so full of life so that it became his signature mark. The grown-ups loved him. Infact, my mother often said she would have him teach me good manners, as I was a temperamental child.

At twelve, I was awkward with my pimple-filled face. I hated my angular build and my wide lips and wished to be like the petite belles in my class. The only thing I had going for me was my sharp-witted tongue. My classmates were beginning to experiment with playing boyfriend-girlfriend roles, and for some reason, the idea irked me. Becoming a girlfriend – romance, flowers, and love poems – irritated me to no end. Why become a girlfriend, shackled to some brainless guy when I could live an independent life, free to roam and explore the world without anyone telling me how to live, how to eat and how to talk?

Then I met Wale and knew what a crush felt like. The need to get close to him became an obsession. Girls in his class milled around him, for he had an attentive look that could make any girl feel special. Dopey-eyed, I too followed him all around school. When I knew I had competition from other girls, I began to stalk him at every opportunity I got so he would know of my existence. Even then, I doubt if he ever really noticed me. At best, he tolerated me like a bothersome little fly that he didn’t know what to do with. The only time I truly caught his attention was when I told him about my plans to become a journalist and report breaking news from all over the world.

Soon, my brothers began to tease me about my crush. “Wale Taylor’s girlfriend,” they’d say, hoping to irritate me with the G-word. But really, I could care less. Although he was fluent in his conversation with everyone else, Wale Taylor never really spoke to me during my private moments with him. I did all the talking, while he listened distractedly, writing short stories and crumpling up pieces of paper with a furious passion that left me breathless.

Two years passed and I was fourteen. If I hated my figure at age twelve, I really had a concrete reason to hate it at age fourteen. Puberty had decided to curse me with a head that was too big for my slim body, and she had given me more pimples, they trailed to the back of my neck. Every acne treatment in the world visited that face, to no avail. The pimples persisted, like little puff-puffs that had finally found home.

My fourteenth year brought a series of firsts for me. Although Wale never initiated a conversation with me, he had gotten used to having me around. One hot afternoon after school, he confided that he was going to defy his parents’ wishes to become a medical doctor. He was going to be a Writer, he had told me. He would be the Wole Soyinka of our generation. I stood there gaping at him with admiration. The whole idea of rebelling against one’s parents was just what a headstrong girl like me needed to hear to have my feminist hormones going. Then Wale did something right after that that sealed my heart to his. He kissed me – an accidental brush of his lips against mine as he seemed to bump accidentally into me. Then he said, “I love you” while I stuttered, “I love you too” in dazed confusion.

From that point onwards, I was determined to become Mrs. Wale Taylor when I grew up. Nothing in hell… or heaven would stop me, I vowed.

Then something unexpected happened. And with it, my world … and my dreams came crashing down.

Categories: My Stories | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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