“I once read the sentence: Destiny takes care of who enters your life, but you can decide who stays…That’s stupid! I definitely feel like destiny has been playing an evil game with me since my childhood. When the Hailey-twins burst into my life, they turned it completely upside down. They lifted me up to heaven, only to then throw me into the deepest chasm. While River is an adorable, sexy anthropologist, and a born-charmer, Jamie is a computer-genius with Asperger-syndrome, eccentric, and difficulty blending into society. There are no two men more different than they are, but they’re still my fate. They are the source of euphoria and despondency, of happiness and sadness in me.
I’m Hannah Logan. The girl who has loved twice in her life and who stands in front of an unsolvable dilemma.
Split is a modern, passionate, erotic novel, the third book from Renata W. Müller
Targeted Age Group:: 17+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I am inspired by everything, my environment, nature by the people who surround me. I am inspired by books, autobiographies, but the very source of my ideas is my own imagination. I was born in Budapest, Hungary and have been living in Switzerland for a long time now. English is not my native language. I write in Hungarian and my novel Split is the work of a talented bilingual translator and proofreader.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I read a very interesting resume about a man with asperger syndrome and it moved my imagination.
As I turn to the next aisle, the handle of the shopping cart rams into my stomach. Owww! Fuck me! I almost fall down from the collision, and, grabbing my throbbing stomach, prepare to either 1. Apologise if the other person is older than me, or 2. Send the bloody motherfucker to hell for not paying more attention, if he is younger, or a man. I look up to assess the situation, but my jaw immediately drops out of surprise. My breath catches in my chest, and my heart suddenly starts to beat double-time. I have to abandon both options, and a third one doesn’t come to mind. My brain is slowly processing the information sent by my eyes. For a single fleeting moment, I think it’s him standing in front of me. River. But no. It's definitely not him, but his twin brother, Jamie. Or, at least, a more grown up, wide-shouldered, taller, and more manly version of the Jamie who lives in my memories. I scan him thoroughly from head to toe, and I can't take my eyes off him. He's wearing black work boots with dark blue loose-fitting jeans, and a black hooded pullover. His chin is a bit bristly, but just so much that… ohhh! His short-cut dark brown hair is a bit dishevelled, and his eyes… his eyes are still that pervasive chocolate brown colour, which he always made use of for his penetrating stares. I haven't forgotten I was the only one whom he, as an Asperger's kid, made eye contact. Not only that, but he always stared at me so unscrupulously and ostentatiously that what I wanted most of all was to sink under the earth. He's changed. He doesn't give off the impression of an eccentric, misunderstood little boy anymore, nor the fearful just black-wearing teenager he once was. A confident, powerful, knee-shaking attractive man stands before me, whom women admire without fail. The only thing that hasn't changed is how he examines me. He looks me over just as I do him. The silence between us starts to feel awkward, and I'm just trying to squeeze out something sane from my mouth when he says:
His voice is deep and purring. No one ever called me this except him.
“Hello, Jamie.” – I moan, finally, and I am immediately overcome with emotion.
Watching him, I'm flooded with memories like a tidal wave. He's so similar to him, but he's still different from River. Pictures appear in front of me of being in school when Riv supported and defended Jamie against everyone. We were an unbeatable team, the three of us. And then soon after Jamie started on his own way, which I couldn't handle. Since Ian threw him out of the house, maybe he didn't have any choice. But for me, River always meant security, and love: my rock. River was the connection, the positive power that held together the anorexic girl wrestling with self-worth disorder, and the too-late diagnosed Asperger's boy. When he died, our alliance fell apart. Or maybe even earlier. Who knows? I shake my head to get free from the torturing memories.
“I haven’t seen you in a long, long time.”
“Four years” – the precise answer comes.
“You've changed. Somehow… you grew up.” – I stutter because I'm not sure how to describe this dangerously attractive man the weird teenage boy had changed into.
“But you haven’t changed. You’re thin. Too thin. Are you eating properly?”
What? Am I eating properly? My mind is blown. I can’t believe this is the only thing he can say to me after four years. That means there are things that never change. He’s always known how to make a direct hit so insensitively.
“Are you serious?” – I ask, tilting my head, – “After everything that’s happened, and after we haven’t seen each other for four fucking years, that’s the only thing you can say to me? Am I eating properly?”
I fight against it vainly, raising my voice to an even more hysterical pitch.
“It’s important to take care of yourself. There are a lot of calories in pasta. You should eat spaghetti or lasagna.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” – I ask, raising my hands, and a hysterical laugh bursts out of me.
“Let me cook for you, Honey!”
“Man, you’re not sane.”
“Let me cook you something!”
I feel a bit of puzzlement and begging in his voice, but I’m immune to it. What he is saying is so absurd and so out of context that I’m overwhelmed by nerves. I start yelling at him, shaking:
“Fuck your diagnosis, Jamie Hailey! If it’s escaped your notice, my husband died, who was, by the way, your brother, too. Do I look like shit? Well, fuck, this is it. Let me just tell you what to do with your fucking spaghetti.”
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