Blurb: Fairy In The
Flesh
Katalina
Leon
Maya
Rousseau’s fantasy vacation in Avignon France heats up when an eccentric
enchantress tricks her into drinking mojo-laced absinthe.
An
unexpected encounter with the green fairy causes Maya’s reality to have a
serious melt down. She travels back in time and wakes up naked in the bed of
her favorite bad boy Bohemian artist, the tall, dark and mysterious André
Bosco. There’s nothing wrong with that except it’s 1903.
For André
it’s love at first sight. He begs Maya to become his cherished model, muse and
lover. The chemistry and shared passion between them is overwhelming. André’s a
generous-hearted dream man but there’s a catch. Every hour they spend together
bonds them tighter and time is running out. The same powers that flung Maya back
to 1903 are preparing to snatch her back.
With a
hundred and ten years separating these soul-bound lovers it’s uncertain if they
can find a happy ending without the help of a little magic and La Fée Verte.
Note: Story contains super hot sex
with an unattainable man, enchanted hallucinatory beverages, mischievous
time-twisters and green fairies.
Excerpt: Fairy In The Flesh.
Maya opened her eyes to a sunny, cluttered
room that carried the distinct scents of male musk, linseed oil and turpentine.
A warm breeze blew through an open window. She rolled onto her side, realizing
she was lying on a rumpled bed—naked.
She gasped in shock, clutched the
well-worn linen sheets close and darted a furtive glance around the room,
wondering where the hell she was.
An ornate, painted Oriental screen blocked
her view of all but the bed, which was surrounded by stacks of books, puddled
candle stubs and bits of interesting things like iridescent peacock feathers, a
scrimshaw pipe and a tortoiseshell comb.
“Miss, are you all right back there?” a
deep male said with caution. “You’ve been lying down a long time. The morning
light is nearly gone. I’d like to get some work accomplished. Will you be able
to model today or not?”
She recognized the voice. It was the same
voice that had coaxed her upstairs. It was André Bosco. She knew he spoke
French but there was none of her usual struggle to comprehend and translate
what was said. It was as if French were her first and only tongue. His words
flowed with ease through her mind.
She leaped to her feet, wrapped the sheet
around her and peeked over the screen. In the corner, a man who looked exactly
like the sketch of André Bosco sat near an open window, furiously shoveling oil
pigments from tiny jars with a blunt knife and daubing them onto a glass
palette.
Her mouth gaped wide.
Bosco glanced toward her. The sunlight lit
his eyes a brilliant shade of golden- green. He grinned. “At least you’re
standing—that’s a good sign.” He returned his attention to the palette. “For a
while I was convinced I’d wasted my money on you.”
“What?” she gasped.
“I paid you in the square. I don’t usually
work with models. They’re a luxury I can seldom afford. You inspired me to try
something different and insisted I give you a day’s pay upfront before coming
here. I admired the unusual coppery glint of your hair so I willingly paid. I
prepared a canvas, got my hopes up and then you simply fell down and passed
out.”
“No I didn’t.” Maya dabbed her forehead
with her palm, exploring for signs of injury. This had to be a delirious
hallucination. A small amount of absinthe couldn’t possibly provoke an effect
this strong. Her heartbeat was steady. The room felt solid and Bosco certainly
felt real. What the hell was going on?
She peered out the window. A horse and
buggy clattered past on the street below. The horse snorted. “The streets are
full of buggies and carts—where are the cars?”
“The what?” Bosco looked puzzled.
“The cars, catering trucks, the hip-hop
dancers grinding on the pavement with their boom-boxes. The streets were full
of television crews, parked vans and people taking pictures with their cell
phones at the summer arts festival. I could barely move down the street. Where
is everyone?”
“What in God’s name is a hip-hop boom-box?
I can’t make sense of such garbled nonsense.” Bosco stared at the colorful
cone-shaped piles of paint heaped on his palette with a look of regret. “I’ve
wasted my paint today, haven’t I?”
He appeared to be stewing in thought. The
steep angle of Bosco’s dark brows lifted and grew stormier by the second. He
suddenly bolted forward, snatched a scant handful of clothing from a tabletop
and pressed the clothes into her arms. “This is why I never paint women from
the square. I should have known better. You’re drunk, aren’t you? I won’t work
with a model who passes out cold or talks nonsense all day. There’s no point. I
thought you were something special but apparently you’re not. Please get
dressed and leave. You can keep the money—just go.”
He looked at her with genuine hurt
simmering in his eyes. “I wanted to paint you. I had several canvases already
planned in my mind. This is a crushing disappointment.”
“I’m not drunk. I promise you. I was
just...” How could she possibly talk herself out of this one? Her idol was
cross with her and it stung. If this was her hallucination why couldn’t it be a
happy one? This gorgeous man was looking at her with reservations, as if she
were a drunken idiot. It was not exactly the stuff of fantasy. She felt her lip
tremble. “Why are you so angry?”
“I have an important salon showing next
week. I’m under a lot of pressure. I don’t have enough completed canvases and I
can’t afford to waste time.” Bosco raked his fingers through his wavy mane of
coffee-black hair. “I hoped for your cooperation. Instead you fell down and
passed out behind the screen. When you awoke I couldn’t make sense of a single
thing you said. I have to assume you’re drunk. This is quite unprofessional.
You have modeled before, haven’t you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why were you standing in models’ square?
You agreed to come here. My paints are laid out, the light is perfect and I
find your type of beauty inspiring.” He paced across the room in agitation.
“What a shame to squander it all. I won’t detain you against your will. If
you’re not prepared to work, please go!”
She had fantasized countless times about
what André Bosco might be like but the man towering in front of her was much
more formidable in the flesh. It surprised her that for a man of his size he
possessed a sleek, feline quality when he moved. He did appear peeved, but she
sensed it was because he genuinely wanted to paint her portrait. That alone was
a heady thought. “Forgive me. I was so nervous I didn’t know what to do. If
you’ll give me a second chance, I’d be honored to model for you.”
“Truly?” Bosco stopped pacing and studied
her face. “Promise me you are not drunk. I refuse to paint a drunken woman.”
“I’m
not drunk.”
“Are you sure? You were acting like a
drunk a short time ago. I smelled a touch of anise on your breath right before
you passed out behind the screen. Did you conceal a flask of absinthe in your
boot?”
“No, I didn’t. I felt faint and had a
moment of confusion. I assure you I’m sober and ready to work.”
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Bosco’s tone
softened. “That was unkind. Perhaps we can start fresh?”
He reached for her hand and stroked her
palm with the pad of his thumb. “You’re shaking. Is it simply nerves or
something else? When did you last eat? Are you hungry—is that why you fainted?”
He motioned to a side table set with a single loaf of bread and a round of
cheese. “It’s not much but I’m happy to share. You don’t have to go without.”
She gazed into Bosco’s warm green eyes and
thought of a slow-flowing river in summer. “A cup of water would be enough.”
He glanced around. “I have only one cup
and I’ve been drinking wine from it.”
“I don’t mind.”
He picked up a ewer, poured water into a
cup and swished it around with vigor before dashing the spent water out the
open window.
A man passing below the window shouted,
“Watch what you’re doing! I’m soaked. Rude souls be damned!”
“Walk under the awning you grouchy old
goat!” Bosco shouted out the window and laughed. “You’re lucky I wasn’t
pissing!” He looked at her and shrugged with a broad smile on face. “Sometimes
it happens.”
Maya clutched the sheet closer, feeling
completely disoriented. Was she really standing in front of the André
Bosco or was this just a fevered hallucination? It didn’t feel dreamlike. André
was far from perfect and there were too many gritty details, such as stains on
the carpet, or a swath of beard stubble Bosco had missed while shaving, for
this to be an idealized fantasy. Was it possible she’d been drawn into some
sort of time vortex?
“When is it?” she said cautiously.
“That’s an odd question to ask. It’s late
morning.” The smile faded from Bosco’s face. He poured water into the cup and
handed it to her. “Maybe you should eat something.”
“I meant what year is it?”
“Oh dear.” The broad arch of Bosco’s
elegant lips slipped downward. “You offered me false hope. For a moment I
thought I might get at least one decent canvas from you and then you snatched
it away by talking like a madwoman again. Today is July 16th 1903. Is there
somewhere else you need to be?”
She shook her head.
“Now that we are clear about what year it
is, before we begin...” André set a large canvas on an easel and secured it
with a clamp. “Do you have any other questions?”
“No.”
“I have a question. Your dialect is
unfamiliar. Where are you from?”
“Thibodaux, Louisiana.”
“Louisiana, America?” His brows shot
skyward. “Why are you so far from home? Do you have family in Avignon?”
“No, I just wanted to come here.”
André looked scandalized. “Alone?”
She took a sip of water and set the cup on
a side table. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I came to see the new art being made
here.”
He laughed. “You are mad, but you’re very
pretty. I can’t wait to paint you. What’s your name?”
“Maya Rousseau.”
“Maya.” Bosco’s eyes fanned at the edges
as he smiled. “It’s a good name and it suits you. My name is André.” He pointed
to a once lovely but now sun-faded Persian carpet in the center of the floor.
“Maya, would you stop clutching that sheet against you and stretch out on that
patch of sunlight on the carpet?”
( Maya and André begin a very eventful day
that will bring them together as lovers and change theirs lives completely.)
Fairy In The Flesh available now!
http://www.ellorascave.com/fairy-in-the-flesh.html
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Fairy-in-the-Flesh-ebook/dp/B00EQ88XJC/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1378856004&sr=1-6
Have a wonderful week.
XXOO Kat
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