Plot Monkeys

The winners of Janelle’s WILD FOR HIM contest yesterday are:
#53 Amy Wig
#114 Nicole Price
Congrats to both of you! Please contact me at janelledenison @ sbcglobal.net with your snail mail addresses so I can get out the Advanced Reading Copies of WILD FOR HIM to you!

Wahoo! Contest day! At the end of an entire contest week…the pressure is on to make this REALLY good…so here we go.

First, there will be two winners.

The first winner will receive FOUR NEW BOOKS by the Plotmonkeys, delivered by Amazon. Here’s the deal…the winner can pick ANY FOUR Plotmonkey books from Amazon…provided the book is available NEW from Amazon and not a third party seller. The winner can PRE-ORDER any of the books (or all of them, for that matter!) and will receive them from Amazon as available. So, let’s say you want Janelle’s WILD FOR HIM, Leslie’s SLOW HANDS, Carly’s HOT PROPERTY and my PHANTOM TOUCH (which you’d really only need if you’ve already got PHANTOM PLEASURES…I know, I’m shameless) that is okay!

The books will not be signed, because Amazon is shipping them directly. However, I happen to have handy dandy bookplates signed by all the monkeys that I will send to you!

The second winner will receive a box of books. I cleaned out my bookshelf again and I can guarantee you’ll receive at least 15 books, some brand new, some gently used, some signed to me, some by Plotmonkeys (I have a bad habit of buying more than one copy of Plotmonkey books)…it’s a mish-mash. Historical, paranormal, romantic suspense, straight romance. It’ll be a smorgasboard, I promise!

The winners must be US residents and must come back and see if they won on Sunday (or Monday). Just leave a comment!

What a great anniversary week…thank you ALL for sharing this milestone with us!

UPDATED TO ADD: If you would like to hear how I sold my first book, please stop by the blog site, Dear Author today.

Before I get started, Carly and Leslie asked me to post the winners of their Monday & Tuesday contests.

So, without any more delay (drumroll… )

The winners of Carly’s HOT PROPERTY ARCs from Monday are:

# 7, Kim W
# 46, Maureen

Please email carlyphillips @ mac . com (without spaces) and send your full names and mailing addresses.
CONGRATULATIONS And thanks for visiting the jungle!

And the winners of Leslie’s SLOW HANDS and an ARC of HEATED RUSH from Tuesday are:

# 77, ERIN
# 41, COLLEEN

Please email Leslie at author @ lesliekelly . com with your full name and mailing addresses. And CONGRATULATIONS!

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I think it’s pretty obvious, if you’ve been following the blogs, that we Plotmonkeys love a good party. Surprisingly, we’re all introverts (well, maybe not Leslie :smile, who just like getting out every once and a while and having a good time. Truth of the matter is, writing is very solitary. It’s pretty much just you and your keyboard and your make-believe characters for most of the day. Yes, there are children and car lines and garbage men (ha!) and contractors from time to time, but all in all, writing is very lonely.

Enjoy!
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Damon knew he shouldn’t laugh at her, but to survive the excruciating agony of having his shoulder dislodged, he’d take what jollies he could. A thousand colors swirled in his eyes, each more sickeningly bright than the last. His skin burned. The act of breathing scorched the inside of his lungs.

Unfortunately, laughter hurt nearly as much as being thrown fifty feet by a wild bolt of lightning. He remained conscious by focusing on how Alexa had been so sure of herself, issuing threats as if her paper deed to this castle somehow gave her true ownership. She would learn. The rights and title of this structure belonged only to Lord Rogan and his evil magic.

He’d learned that the hard way himself, hadn’t he?

“Shut up,” Alexa ordered, the strange, wide-barreled gun aimed accurately at his midsection.

Perhaps she should shoot him. Maybe with a gaping hole in his belly, he could forget about the torturous separation of his shoulder from its socket.

(more…

As you all know, my book, PHANTOM PLEASURES, is out this month. Signet Eclipse releases two books every month and my shelf partner is none other than author, Karen Kendall, who also writes for Blaze! I’m really excited about sharing shelf space with her and wanted to give the Plotmonkey audience a chance to know this hilariously funny, incredibly talented writer. So please meet Karen Kendall!
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Yesterday my thighs and I had an ugly confrontation. I was doing a book-signing party at my athletic club and I’d planned to wear a cute little sundress, since we live in south Florida. The only issue was that my skin was pale as a catfish belly.

Kate Moss can get away with the heroin-waif-stuffed-in-a-cave-for-six-months look. I cannot.

So I peeled my brand-new $19.99 Costco bathing suit off of its clear plastic dummy, ripped the tags free and went out to get reacquainted with the pool for an hour, not initially noticing that my dogs covered their eyes with their paws as I stepped out the back door.

Two yards over, the guy with the weed-whacker clutched his belly and ran inside.

Overhead the blue-jay who nests in our tree (and bullies anything else with wings) flew away in distress.
I settled into a chair and made the mistake of looking down. Holy Mother of God! Were those oblong, quivering, pocked nightmares my THIGHS? The horror! The horror!

Once I’d stopped hyperventilating, I determined–through the scientific process of pinching them and looking again–that the items in question were, indeed, attached to my body and there was no way to cut them off and still be able to walk.

Are you ready for the moral of this story? It’s deep: making a living as a writer is threatening to the thighs. (And backside, but we are just not going to go there. God made women unable to see it without a mirror for a reason! He knew that our thighs would cause trauma enough.)

Now, if only I had not held the book signing party at my athletic club, the blog could end here. But no. I get these really bright ideas sometimes. Which is why five hours later I was standing in the breezeway of the place in what is kindly called a body-shaper under some icky expand-a-pants and a top that did nothing to hide the twin atrocities that have become my arms.

You see, that cute little sundress I’d planned to wear? It didn’t fit.

A friend of mine zoomed in, took one look at me and said, “Is that a rash all over your chest?”

Um. No. That would be the very unattractive sunburn I got, made blotchy by the poorly applied sunscreen.

Then the club’s manager came out to say hi and introduced me to a couple of people. They said, “Are you a member here? We’ve never seen you before.”

Sheepishly I murmured something about multiple book deadlines.

They nodded skeptically.

Suffocating inside the “body shaper,” my thighs defended themselves. “Right, beeyotch! We wouldn’t look this way if you’d just show up to the gym sometimes.”

I poured a hefty glass of wine at this point, because even though, as an author, I do play with my imaginary friends all day long, I get a little concerned when I start holding conversations with body parts and they answer back.

I’d taken one sip when another adorable friend (size four with thighs like rocks) dragged me over to meet one of the instructors who’d stopped by. “Hi, Karen,” the woman (size three with thighs like rocks) said warmly. “I didn’t know you were a member here.”

Sheepishly I mumbled something about having two greyhounds and walking them a lot lately.

Her eagle eyes swiftly noted the ridge that showed underneath my icky expand-a-pants, a good indication that I had on a body-shaper under them. She nodded skeptically. Clearly she was thinking that I walked my greyhounds all the way from the couch to the back door.

I shot her a toothy smile and inhaled half the glass of wine. I couldn’t run away, because I was hoping to sell books to all these nice hard-bodied people.

The body shaper was hot and uncomfortable as I moved around the patio and greeted people. Under my breath I told my thighs that they were a disgrace. “I never used to have to maintain you,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” they said. “That was before you started sitting on us nine hours a day to craft the Great American Romance Novel. You used to stand up and give tours in museums. You used to walk around when you worked retail. You used to–” they snorted, “—have discipline about what you ate.”

And, let’s face it. I used to be eighteen.

We’re coming to the point of this blog entry. The size three instructor didn’t let me get away that easily. She said, “Come to my class on Tuesday.”

I gulped. “Well, but . . . I’m not one of those coordinated people. I can do either arm movements or leg movements, but not both together and definitely not in time to music.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll help you. You be there Tuesday.”

I’ll be there Tuesday.

Worse, I have been talked into doing the Tennis in No Time program.

Even more horrible than that, I have promised to hit the cardio and weight rooms on a regular basis again, starting on Monday.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are happy being a lazy slob who has conversations with your thighs, do not hold a book-signing at your athletic club. You will regret it!

Karen Kendall is the award-winning author of many disasters and seventeen novels. Her latest, TAKE ME IF YOU CAN, is her debut in adventure/suspense. It’s the first in a new series about an agency that recovers stolen art.

Here’s the super hot trailer!

For excerpts, make sure to visit her website!

No, I’m not blogging about Harry Potter (and only those of you hip to the Pottster will understand the title of this blog). But I am going to talk about time.

Not how to manage it…God knows I know zip about that.

But about time periods.

I’ve been reading a lot of historical romances lately, going back a bit to my roots. Now, by a lot…I mean like three or four in the last year. It takes me quite some time to read a book and I don’t go through that many. I told you last week about the Elizabeth Hoyt book that I read and enjoyed and previously, I’ve crowed about Betina Krahn and Jo Beverly and Virginia Henley. Yet as I was thumbing through my monstrous TBR pile today, trying to decide which book was next up in the queue, I wondered if I had to go back in time and live in a period of history before my birth, what time period would I choose?

I love the Victorian time period. Not in England, though. I mean, I know the period was named for them, but the British were a tad too stuffy for me during the reign of Queen Victoria. I wouldn’t, however, have minded living in that era here in America, especially at the turn of the century when so many things were changing and progressing.

Still, they wore corsets.

And there was no air conditioning.

And sweat shops. There’s just nothing good about sweat shops.

Then I’ve dreamt of medieval times. Knights and ladies and chivalry and jousts. Though, honestly, I’ve read about jousts and they were very bloody and gory and I’m quite certain I never would have wanted to see one. And they had plagues. Lots of plagues. And no one bathed regularly. And women were chattel. Maybe not.

I have a soft spot in my heart for the Colonial period in America. It was, on one hand, genteel and progressive and exciting, but on the other hand, bloody and repressive. And women were still chattel, though they dressed it up a bit better. I miss reading historicals in the Colonial period. Anyone other than me and Leslie remember Cynthia Wright?

The fact of the matter is that I’m spoiled. I like air conditioning. I like modern medicine. I like being able to own my own property and vote and you know, be free. Jumping up in time to after things like penicillin and suffrage, you get into sticky wickets of time…the Roaring Twenties, for instance, just before the Great Depression and the Fifties…when there were no civil rights for so many Americans.

I’ve decided on the Regency.

Okay, women couldn’t vote and there was no modern medicine as we know it, but if I have to pick, I think I’ll go with the period of Empire-waisted dresses and no corsets and gay parties and simple, country life. Yes, I’m talking the Jane Austen version…because really…

Doesn’t he just say it all?

So, if you had to pick another time period to live in, which one would you choose?

(BTW, I’m probably not going to be around a lot today. I needed a Disney day. I’ll be back tomorrow after the land of the Mouse has unfrazzled my nerves and swept me away into fantasy and I’ve eaten a churro in Mexico. Or better yet, imbibed one of those pretty three-layer Mango, Lime and Strawberry Margaritas in Mexico. Of course, we’re headed to EPCOT. See you all in the real world on Thursday!)

Please welcome fellow Blaze babe, Hope Tarr, to the jungle today! Hope has already made quite a name for herself writing super-sexy historical romances. I remember the first time I saw one of her books–the cover was so gorgeous, I had to pick it up. I’m super excited that she has written the very FIRST historical Blaze, which will be coming out this summer. (Check out the cover below…unbelievably stupendous!) And today, she’s here to talk to us about misbehaving…is there ANY more perfect topic for Plotmonkeys?

Welcome Hope!
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Ain’t no misbehaving…or is there? What to do when your characters just don’t see it your way.

To borrow—okay, steal—the signature line from actor Mike Myers character, hipster secret agent Austin Powers, “Beeee-have!”

Only my fictional characters rarely do and with each book I’m getting more and more okay with that. You might say I’m the writerly equivalent of a permissive parent. Sure, I start out with a detailed synopsis mapping out the paths my main characters will take in the course of the story—my story. But like bratty teens, at some point those very same characters start flexing their muscle and trying to take over the book big time.

Did I mention they usually succeed?

To be fair, I don’t let them take over completely. There is that whole editing thing where yes, my editor and I invoke veto power, the final say. But like a parent doling out privileges and responsibilities to build adolescent character, I’ve also learned to recognize when it’s time to loosen the reins of control if not turn them over completely. Because when my characters don’t want to stay on that preset path, when they spit out the words I’ve put in their mouth and say something completely different, often there’s a really good reason. The book is about to take one of those so-called “plot twists” that we as writers like readers and yes, reviewers to think is part and parcel of our stellar plotting abilities but in reality is often the result of serendipity, an overactive subconscious, or yes, blind luck. Blind luck, my preferred plotting method, usually comes in the form of some odd factoid or occurrence I’ve spotted in a newspaper or magazine, an off-the-wall conversation had with a friend or sometimes a stranger (I do live in Manhattan, after all), or yes, a dream. (Note the importance of taking “artist days,” a topic for a separate blog).

But the cool thing is that when I let my characters take the proverbial ball and run with it, crazy, wonderful things often happen, adding deeper layers to not only my characters but the book as a whole. Sometimes, lots of times, whole new characters are born.

In BOUND TO PLEASE, my historical for Harlequin’s Blaze line, a fairly straightforward abduction plot became a lot more complex—and interesting (I hope) thanks to the emergence of two completely unplanned secondary characters. To bring my laird heroine together with the hero she’s just had kidnapped, I wrote a Medieval court day scene. That scene was supposed to be just set-up, fictional wallpaper, but suddenly other personalities began emerging from that noisy, boisterous, crowded great hall. The next thing I knew, a young former prostitute pushed her way to the forefront of the crowd and clatter, not taking over the story but adding to it. Suddenly my heroine had not only a best friend but also a mentor in shall we say the art of love—very um…handy when it comes time to set about seducing the reluctant hero.

Likewise in UNTAMED, the finale to my “Men of Roxbury House” trilogy with Medallion Press, the hero’s “gentleman’s gentleman” and former partner-in-crime, Ralph, refused to stay in the background. Instead of serving up the day’s post on the requisite silver salver and making sure the daily newspaper was ironed, he started using his scalawag ways to help his employer “tame” his shrewish wife—and taking a fancy to her pretty if prickly younger sister. Now it looks as though Ralph may be getting a book of his own. So much for that “trilogy” concept, hmm?

A writer’s process is as individual as a fingerprint, including how we approach characterization. I’ve tried doing character sketches, creating “bibles” for my connected books, all those writer tools Conventional Wisdom dictates we use. If that approach works for you, and it does for many people, then more power to you. Stick with it. For me, the first draft of a book is my characters’ personal playground. If and when I need to pull in the reins, I do. It’s called editing.

What are your experiences of letting your characters detour off the so-called beaten path? Ever thumb your nose at conventional wisdom—and found yourself thanking the Universe you did?

Hope Tarr is the award-winning author of more than ten historical and contemporary romance novels for multiple publishers. To enter her more-than-monthly contest or check out her semi-blog, visit her online at www.hopetarr.com.

Okay, that’s a silly title, but it’s what popped into my head. I spent the entire week last week pimping my book and MAN am I tired. Today, I’m actually not around…I’m driving three hours northeast to appear at the Lake County Reading Festival with Roxanne St. Claire and CL Wilson. I’m very excited to be there with such formidable and fabulous authors.

And other authors…authors with books out that I can pimp beyond my own!

I wrote a blog that I posted over at the Writers at Play blog on Monday about the importance of word of mouth, which was an offshoot of the blog I wrote last week at Alison Kent’s blog about why I did the Week of Excerpts Experiment here at Plotmonkeys.

Now it’s time for me to put my money where my mouth is…and pimp me some books.

I just finished FIRST YOU RUN by Roxanne St. Claire yesterday (when I should have been putting the finishing touches on my revisions of PHANTOM’S TOUCH.) The book was excellent. The hero is an Aussie Bullet Catcher (ie, bodyguard) named Adrien Fletcher…and well, he’s like butter. Sweet, smooth, tastes good on everything. My word! And her heroine, Miranda Lang, is the kind of woman I adore–resourceful, smart, very aware of what she wants in the bedroom. Her character arc in the book is significant. The other elements of the book, the focus on Maya culture and illegal adoptions, were unique and fresh. The violence in the book (this is, after all, romantic suspense) was not gory. I highly recommend this book.

Last week, I read LEOPARD PRINCE by Elizabeth Hoyt, which is up for a RITA award. Another refreshing book, set in the increasingly popular Georgian period (ie, same period my heroes are from in the Phantom books!) features a hero that is below the heroine’s station, and that doesn’t seem to stop her. The heroine, Lady Georgina, is an emancipated single woman thanks to the fortune she’s inherited from an aunt. The hero is Harry Pye, her land steward, who is suspected of murder. The villain was over the top, but balanced by the characters of his sons. The story was very twisty and very satisfying and the love scenes? Very nice. Excellent book and I will be reading more of her books. She has a new book out in May, TO TASTE TEMPTATION, and I’m sure I’ll be buying it!

The last book I’m going to pimp today is one I haven’t read…yet. You see, the author, Gena Showalter, is just about the most generous woman on the planet. She agreed to give me a cover quote for PHANTOM PLEASURES and has gone to great lengths to talk about my book on her blog–and to even give me a shout-out in her latest Author Talk video, which are absolutely hi-lar-i-ous. (Check it out here.) Since I’m a huge fan of her work, I can easily recommend her LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD series that has just launched! Check out the website she has devoted to the series. And those covers…oh, my, word. Give me a fan! The first book, THE DARKEST NIGHT, is available exclusively as an ebook, but from what Gena has said, you can read the series without this one if ebooks aren’t your thing. Personally, I’m considering buying a Kindle.

That’s my book report for this week! Have you read any of the above books? Do you intend to? And by above books, I mean PHANTOM PLEASURES. No, I don’t just mean that…I mean the others, too. I guess I’m still in pimp mode.

See you all when I get back!

This is it. The last day! But NOT the last excerpt. See the bottom of this post for more information.

But the burning question has to be…where do I buy this book? (I hope that’s the burning question or else my experiment in posting all these excerpts has not worked, LOL!) The book will be at Barnes & Noble and Borders for sure. In fact, I’ve gotten reports that Borders has started selling the book in earnest yesterday. As for Walmart and Target…I don’t think you’ll be able to find it there, unfortunately. If those are your go-to places for book buying, you might want to order from one of the online stores like Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

This is the last day to enter the contest for the $20 Amazon gift card. Just post a comment! The winner will be posted tomorrow with Carly’s blog.

-6-

Alexa hardly knew what had come over her.

Okay, that was a bald-faced lie. Lust had come over her. Years and years of fantasizing about a mysterious, ghostly stranger fading into her room late at night and introducing her to decadent pleasures of the flesh. Hot dreams. Wet dreams. Dreams that had haunted her with particular vigor since her month long stay in the hospital, when she’d had little to do but sleep and surrender to the medications coursing through her body.

But now, she was healthy. She could have exactly what she wanted with a lover who wasn’t completely real–if only she took the leap.

The room darkened around her. She leaned away from Damon and watched candles and torches in iron sconces and elaborate candelabras materialize all around them. Silk draperies and tapestries unfurled from the stones on the wall. In seconds, the landing was transformed into a sensual hideaway, with the cushioned chaise as the centerpiece.

“You’re getting the hang of using the magic,” she whispered, awed by the finery glowing around her.

“Wondrous what a man can do when properly motivated,” he replied.

Before you click…please realize that the rest of this chapter is rated R. You have been warned!

(more…

Hello, everyone! If you haven’t been visiting Plotmonkeys this week, you might not know that I’ve been running a series of excerpts from my book, PHANTOM PLEASURES, which will be released on TUESDAY, APRIL 1. If this is your first visit, you can catch up by reading here.

Enjoy today’s excerpt. I have a special treat at the bottom of this post, along with the winner of yesterday’s contest. Don’t forget to click the cover if you want to preorder from Amazon!
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-5-

“Clearly, you’re a man who likes a challenge,” she assessed. “Should make life in this little dream world of yours very interesting.”

His chuckle echoed off the bare stone all around them, then injected directly under her skin. The sound skirted the edge between sinister and genuine mirth. Perhaps she should have heeded both Cat and Jacob’s warnings for caution. Maybe–just maybe–for the first time in her life, she was in over her head.

“I assure you, Miss Chandler–”

“–Alexa,” she corrected, ignoring the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat.

“Yes, of course. Alexa.”

He exploited every vowel, his accent emphasizing the keen feminine sound of her name even as he stepped an inch or so closer. Her instincts battled between running like hell and leaning in those last few inches, to see if his skin was indeed as warm and his muscles as hard as she imagined.

“I assure you that this dream world, as you call it, can be very real if you so wish.”

She locked her feet in place, determined to remain unaffected by his proximity. And yet, anticipation thrilled through her, electrifying the space between them with a raw, natural magic that she understood very, very well–even if she hadn’t experienced it firsthand for a long time.

To cover her attraction, she eyed him with as much skepticism as she could muster. “A moment ago you told me you didn’t know how the magic worked here.”

“’Tis true,” he said, “but I did not say I would not attempt to manipulate the magic to my advantage.”

(more…

Welcome back! to anyone who is here for the first time, welcome! Normally, on Jungle Madness Friday, one of the Plotmonkeys posts a fabulous contest. This week, however, I’m continuing my series of excerpts from my upcoming paranormal romance, Phantom Pleasures and today, we’re on Chapter Four! If you’d like to start from the beginning, click here!

But there’s still a contest! If you post a comment, you’re eligible to win a $20 gift card from Amazon.com. The winner from yesterday is posted at the end of this chapter. Enjoy!

-4-

This time, the awakening came slowly.

No rush of air.

No blinding light.

Just the gradual saturation of life into his body, the gentle peeling of his skin away from the moist oil and canvas that had held him captive for what he guessed must have been centuries. The moment his boot hit stone, his vision cleared. The red-headed woman was sprawled on the ground at his feet.

He hoped she wasn’t dead. Pity if such an enchanting female perished only to initiate his freedom.

On bended knee, he reached to touch her, but stopped before his fingers made contact with her alabaster cheek. Her auburn hair, pulled back tightly from her face, gave him pause. How many centuries had elapsed since the gypsy woman had warned him that a woman with flames in her hair would be the instrument of his destiny? Her predictions, thus far, had proved ominous. He’d married his wife, Anne, partially because of her station and dowry, and partially because her burnished tresses garnered renown among the whole of King George’s court. He’d been so curious if the gypsy’s prediction would prove true, he’d sacrificed his bachelorhood.

Yet despite the fire in her hair, Anne had proved cold as the Thames in winter. He’d then found himself with Renata, his mistress, drawn by her passionate mien and crimson curls. Too late he’d learned she used henna the first night they’d met and changed her hair color on whims of fancy. Sweet-natured and warm, Renata had been a welcome distraction during his sojourns to London, but she had not affected his destiny in any way.

Except on the night of his imprisonment, when he’d thought–for a brief, insane instant–that Rogan had trapped her in a painting.

He glanced from the woman on the floor to the portrait on the wall, now devoid of a subject. On the night of his sister’s disappearance, there had been a redhead in the portrait. In a corner shadow. In a doorway that did not exist. She’d lured him and therefore, had yanked him out of his time and in to this new world where machines flew in the sky and women, like the one now crumbled on the floor, ordered men in uniform about as if she were queen.

At that thought, he touched her. A lock of hair had escaped the severe queue she’d tied at the nape of her shapely neck, so he merely brushed the hair aside. She moved, made a sound quite like a cat’s mewling.

(more…

Okay, now we’re getting down to business. I loved yesterday’s chapter because so much happened…but today’s is crucial to the story arc in so many ways. Enjoy!

If you’re just joining us…welcome! The excerpts started on Monday, so if you click here, you’ll be able to start from the beginning and work your way back here for the latest installment. And don’t forget to comment in today’s thread for your chance to win a $20 gift card from Amazon.com!

-3-

“There’s no one here, ma’am.”

Alexa glanced over her shoulder, her lips pursed and her jaw tight as the Coast Guard seaman shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with breaking the news. The discovery wasn’t unexpected. The minute she’d squeezed through a crack in the wall, broken through the sixty-year-old padlock on the front door and witnessed six decades worth of dust and sand on the cracked, stone floors of the castle, Alexa had known no one had been inside.

No one corporeal, at least.

At Jacob’s insistence, she’d allowed the crew of the closest Coast Guard UTB to escort the boat they’d chartered to the island and search for possible trespassers. Now that they’d completed their mission, she wanted them gone. She had exploring of her own to do, starting with the lone furnishing–a painting hanging alone on the landing above the grand staircase.

A painting that had captured her interest as if the man in the portrait had reached out from the canvas and was even now, curling his fingers in a silent, rhythmic beckoning.

She gave the seaman a curt nod and returned her gaze to the portrait. Despite the dust and the cobwebs, the man in the oil on canvas was nothing short of magnificent. Piercing eyes the color of a storm-tossed ocean–a swirling mix of green and gray–stared straight into her. His hair, long and deep chocolate brown, seemed to have caught an unexplainable wind in a drawing room decorated with candle and torchlight. As if wet, his stark white shirt and scarlet waistcoat molded to his skin. A single droplet of water slid down his square jaw, threatening to splash down at any moment.

The artist’s realism stunned her. The plush face of the cat on his lap. The velvety folds of the cloak tossed carelessly across the back of an ornate chair. Even the fired tips of the candles in the sconces blurred as if photographed rather than painted. The fact that the portrait was the only furnishing in the castle further piqued her interest. Had the mysterious builder in the forties reconstruct the abandoned German castle simply to house a single piece of artwork that no one would see?

“Time to go, Alexa,” Jacob announced after the rest of the Coast Guard contingent congregated in the foyer.

“No,” she said.
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