Okay so I'm writing a novel. It's going to be a lesbian vampire romance. This is just a piece and is still in the works. The story line goes something like this. Girl in 1800's meets her soulmate they go to america to start a life together. one turns into a vamp and the other one dies. But when she dies she's reincarnated. So basically it's a story about them just barely missing each other or crossing paths without knowing during a couple of life times. I really need help brain storming so if you have ANY IDEAS or COMMENTS I would REALLY love to hear them. Thanks

I walk down the halls of a great house, in my hands I carry a thick book that feels very familiar in my fingers. I rub my thumb back and forth over the soft, worn leather that binds the parchment together. I reach a room that has a writing desk placed under a window. I take a seat and pull open the top draw to remove an ink bottle, and a pen. I open the book to the next open page and date the corner. I look up to see the sun setting and the shadows created by the trees make a beautiful pattern across the lawn. I lose myself in thought as I make patterns and pictures with the shadows. I see her in everything. I pull myself from thought and look down at the blank page in front of me.
'I wish I had someone to talk too. I wish I knew why my thoughts turn to her every second of every day. Why have I fallen in love with someone that is wrong in every way. It is not normal to feel the feelings that consumed me night and day. I guess I have written this a hundred times, and nothing has changed. Well I shall not say nothing. Everything has changed for I am now almost certain that she is battling with the same desires and feelings that have my mind about to explode with confusion.
'I shall tell you about today, I wish you, my journal had a way to write answers to all my questions, for you are the only thing that I trust to hold my secrets.
'Today our lesson was held in the library. I had her read and script from a fictional book. Her script has become much better, but her reading was what started all that happened this afternoon. We sat across from one another and she started reading aloud. The words came from her in a melody; each word weaved with a feeling of passion and lust. I could not look away from her as she played with the silky words across her tongue, and soft, wet lips. I almost didn't notice that she had crossed a word she did not know, I was that lost in the movements of her mouth. But then I looked up from her mouth to meet her eyes. She told me she did not know the next word. I thought she would spell the letters to me, but instead she rose from her seat, and walked the short distance to me. She bent beside me to show me the word in the book. Our hands briefly touched as I steadied the book in her hands. Her hand was soft and warm, and I wished to hold it in mine. I read the word to her and explained the pronunciation of the letters. She repeated the word and it felt like she was saying something that ought not be said except in the privacy of a bedroom, even though it meant nothing of the sort. It seemed then that we stared at each other for a long time but it must have only been a moment.
She asked me to share the chair with her so that if there were another word she did not know she would not have to stand and cross the room. The other chair was but only a few feet away but I slid over and she sat. The whole length of our arms and legs touched. Her body was giving off a warmth better than any quilt blanket. Her skin softer than any well worn cloth, I almost raised my hand to slide it across her arms, but I did not. I’m terrified of every feeling running through me. Will she see the lust? Does she feel it too? She started wiggling about, trying to find a comfortable way to share the chair and hold the book easily. Then she draped her arm around my shoulders to hold the book angled towards her so that we were both able to see the words on the pages. Then I knew that I shouldn’t fear it because she didn’t. She read a few lines and not long after I found myself wiggling down, in a slouch, so that my head rested in the crook of her arm and chest. Her arm draped easily over my shoulders. It reminded me of a child being held by a loving mother or maid, as they heard yet another bedtime story.
She read aloud, never once stumbling over another word, I realized her body held a lot of my weight and was probably growing tingly. But still she read. The words wrapped around me like an invisible blanket, keeping me snug to her body and her warmth, and a desire for more grew intense deep inside my body, warming me from the inside out. And then the bell for super chimed and we both gave a jump as the outside world came crashing down around us. She pulled her arm away quickly and stood. I stood almost as fast as she. I told her she read wonderfully and that our next lesson would focus more on her script. I could not seem to hold her eyes, and stared more at the book she held loosely from her hand. Now I cannot think what book I had had her read, or any of the words she said, was she even reading at all? All I can remember from just hours ago is the way she felt wrapped around me, holding me. ‘How do I lock these feeling deep inside as to not let them escape me?'