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About the author:
Melinda De Ross is an international author of Romanian origin. She writes in two languages, and her books combine the elegance specific to the European style with the modern appeal of the American culture. She has a Law degree and has been a professional target shooter for over a decade. Her favorite genre to read and write in is Romance, and anytime she prefers to watch a classic movie instead of going to a noisy club. She loves to hear from her readers, and you can find her at:
What inspired you to write your book?
The book was inspired by movies like Memoirs of a Geisha, Leaving Las Vegas, and Pretty Woman, along with some articles I've read about human trafficking. I realized this is a very sensitive subject people try to avoid, and I tried to imagine what the life of a woman who falls victim to human trafficking is. The optimistic scenario, of course, where she gets vengeance and discovers true love.
Here is a short sample from the book:
The stranger’s dark eyes were focused on her, as though he couldn’t look away. But instead of the usual lust she expected, she saw genuine interest, as if he’d somehow looked beyond her body into her soul.
Flustered, she glanced out the window. The man’s cell phone beeped, drawing her gaze back to him, but instead of watching her, he was texting someone.
Taking advantage of his distraction, she studied him. At a guess, she’d put him in his thirties. His hair was as black as hers, matching his eyes and olive skin—probably Italian or Greek. A wisp of hair fell over his forehead as he gazed down at the phone in his hand. He needed a haircut, but the unruly style suited the edgy, masculine lines of his face. He looked elegant and rebellious at the same time. He was probably what most women considered sexy, but since that word had no meaning to her, she could only acknowledge that he was somewhat attractive—for a man.
While there was something hard and tough about his face and demeanor, subtle lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, giving him a quiet air of sophistication and maturity. He was well-built and muscled under the blue jeans and leather jacket he wore.
A leather jacket?
It was early May and she was already too warm in her short-sleeved top, but the man didn’t break a sweat in his black jacket. How strange was that? Beneath the jacket, she glimpsed a simple black T-shirt.
She was startled when he stopped texting and looked up. His eyes were serious until they focused on her again. Then they softened, and his firm, sensual mouth stretched into the hint of a smile.
Yoko’s heart began to pound. Forcing herself to ignore the man, she dropped her gaze to her book once more, but couldn’t concentrate. Why did this stranger keep watching her? Could he have guessed what she was, and was trying to pick her up?