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Quote by Christina Engela

“Literary Agent: “I meant manuscript wise.” Tina: “Ohh. Um, yes. I’ve brought a few with me, just some rough drafts. (shuffle, shuffle) You might say something of an experiment.”

Quote by Christina Engela

Book:Innocent Minds
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Innocent Minds

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Christina Engela

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“First they told me: “build a following and the industry will follow.” So I spent my entire 20s building a following on zero budget, getting by on donations. Then they told me: “You need a literary agent. But a literary agent wants to see you have a following and something big going on.” So I started my own small press and self published 5 books and spent day and night connecting with my people until I’d sold over 35,000 copies in 35 different countries and now they tell me: “no agent wants to work with a self published author.” Sometimes I feel like I was doomed from the very start, the very day I sat my food on that plane to London 12 years ago. Like the whole world keeps saying “you can fight all you want but we won’t let you in.” But I do have freedom and I do have my following and I have vulnerable souls writing to me on Friday nights, about loss and hope and how my books or music or words played a small part in something they went through and sometimes I think I would throw all that away just to have a literary agent and a management and the contracts and headlines… because I’m tired.. of always fighting uphill.. but then I get that message, on a Monday night, and I take my computer to a bar close to where I live in Berlin, high above the city, and I write like never before because I have my people and vulnerable souls to find and I have so many books in me and time is not endless, time is crucial, and lately I’ve felt it running out, some nights, so I’m writing another book that won’t be noticed by the agents but I have my people and that’s all I will care about from now on. My people and my freedom, with time running out. That’s what I will focus on.”

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“I sit at my desk at 2 in the morning, desperately trying to remind myself that Miss Greenberg is a lady. A lady whose beauty far surpasses what I noticed when we first met. A lady with lovely curves, delightful freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, and a mouth that will now haunt my dreams--- but a lady nonetheless. It would appear that I must also remind a certain traitorous part of my anatomy--- one that has not responded thusly to a woman in over one hundred years--- of this fact as well.”

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“By the time he returned, she'd positioned herself on her mattress wearing only a Marvel Universe T-shirt featuring all her favorite Avengers. Liam collapsed on the bed beside her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had nothing on underneath. "What's wrong?" She snuggled against him, head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. "I can't move." He groaned again as he pulled her into his side. "Everything hurts. My hands are covered in cuts. I have thorns in places thorns shouldn't be, and bruises in places I don't want to think about." "That's too bad." Daisy took his hand and placed fit on her bare bottom. "No Avengers protectors down here today. I guess you won't be able to take advantage." He squeezed her ass, a low, contented rumble vibrating in his chest. "I'm starting to feel better.”

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“His cock was throbbing, the crown oozing with his sexual juice. He stabilized her and partook of an unhurried flex against her cleft. As though she'd been poked with a pin, she jerked upright. "Why do you keep doing that?" "Doing what?" He pretended innocence, flattening her against his erection, and feasting with another leisurely flex. "That thrusting motion. It just feels so... so..." "Extraordinary?" "Yes. But naughty, too. And forbidden." She wedged herself more fully along the crest of his phallus. "My body seems to fathom what you propose, when I've no notion myself." "Absolutely." His wanton fingers slipped under the hem of her chemise and petted the smooth skin of her thighs.”

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“Looking angry and alive, the attachment was red and distended, with a bulbous head and purple, ropy veins. It protruded from a nest of his dark hair, two sacs dangling beneath, and her visual assessment made it extend out toward her in entreaty. She hazarded a glance at him, and he lay silent and still, studying her with an impersonal, glacial intensity. Had he planned to shock her? To have her tearful and swooning? To send her stumbling from the room in offense and alarm? He was motivated by deep, unfathomable issues that she couldn't hope to understand. The chances were great that he'd merely instigated this as a bizarre diversion in order to gain a response from her, but if the man thought she was some prim, squeamish miss, he obviously didn't know her very well. She was fascinated, enthralled, and ardent to explore. "It's larger than I supposed." "I'm aroused." "It changes size?" Her eyes widened with astonishment, and he chuckled at her naïveté. "Usually, it's flaccid and harmless." Tensing his stomach muscles, the extraordinary appendage inflated even more. "But not when I'm here with you like this. I'm so hard for you. I ache with my desire." There was a husky tone in his voice, a desperation that plucked at her common sense, leaving her reckless and rash, and just then, she'd have performed any impulsive feat he requested.”

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