Angela Watkins writes the future but she doesn’t know it. Neither does her husband Richard. Though she’s not literally writing this night. She types with both hands without looking, her face on the monitor as she fills it with words; sentence after sentence.

No doubt she’s flowing. Richard has noticed. But he still calls for her now and again: “babe,” he sounds like he’s about to cry, jokingly so. “come please. Bed is cold without you. Come.”

“I’ll be with you just now,” Angela says. “One more paragraph.”

But one more paragraph would lead to more words…more words turn to more sentences. Another paragraph. It was just so hard for her to get up and leave the laptop.

Angela was in her zone. Four months of working on this novel, she would’ve long finished it if it wasn’t for work and such disturbances of late night sex (though she never saw that as a disturbance but to her work it was.)

Now she’s in the last pages the book, third novel Love Gives, and the creativity couldn’t have been more abundant.

She didn’t pause to think for a sentence or a word; her fingers never stop the rhythmic tap on the keyboard. It’s like the story is writing itself.

“Babe,” Richard calls out again from the sheets. “Come, will you?”

“Yes, dear. Yes,” Angela says. “Just a little bit more. I swear I’m coming.”

She’s typing the part where her main character Bethany Jacobs goes home in acceptance of her husband’s fall out of love with her.

In the book Love Gives Bethany is married to Jason Straub a multi-millionaire who owns a couple of successful businesses around town. Just like most men, Jason wants a son, an heir who’ll carry on the Straub name, a son who’ll takeover the business because Jason’s about to turn 40. A son is needed.