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Sue Gibson
Category:
Romance
Publisher: Montlake Romance
ISBN-10: 1577815619
Pages: 186
Copyright: 2008
ISBN-13: 9781477815618
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
I live with my husband and two children in Ontario, Canada. I write what I know, traditional contemporary romance with happy endings.
Frustrated landscape painter, Delaney Forbes, finally quits her day job and is free to escape her stifling home town, Buttermilk Falls, Ontario. Nothing can stand in the way of her dream of a year spent painting in Paris—nothing except an inopportune fire that temporarily compromises her finances, followed by an offer of a lucrative month-long job from the handsome hotelier and absolutely confirmed bachelor Trey Sullivan.
While living in adjacent penthouse suites, Delaney’s dreams of painting in Paris, and Trey’s determination to avoid the career-killing ties of love and marriage, are immediately jeopardized by their mutual attraction. No problem, they decide. A pact! They agree to a no-strings romance and promise to never stand in the way of one another’s goals.
But who said commitment stifled creativity and ambition anyway?
Excerpt
Eventually, his eyes dropped from her face to the paintings leaning against wall next to her chair. His hand settled on the dusty stack, and he split the pile open with his fingers. An abstract landscape done in primary colors blazed through the veil of dust particles. He bent eagerly to the signature at the bottom. “Now this is more like it!”
“No. Please don’t.” Heat rushed to her face and she snapped closed the gap. She’d painted them years ago while still in art school and had stored them the humidity-controlled environment of the studio rather than in her home. There was no way Ken-Doll was going to get a look at work. Judge it. Find it lacking. Or worse, toss out throw-away compliments, all the while thinking her a hack.
She slid from the stool and, like a mother bear protecting her cubs from danger, inserted her body between his and the canvases. “Don’t touch those! Only the pieces out front are for sale. This area is private.” She flung her arm up and back, indicating the tiny space in which they stood.
He stepped back and raised his hands, flat-palmed, above his shoulders. “Okay. Calm down. I take it they’re your work? Sorry.”
Delaney waited for the pounding in her chest to slow before answering. “Er… yes, they’re mine.”
She resettled on the stool, crossed her legs and folded her arms vice-like across her chest. A glance to his face confirmed he wasn’t likely to push the issue any farther.
If possible he looked even better chastised. Had she been too hard on him? Probably. But nobody got a crack at critiquing her paintings anymore. At least not until after Paris.
Suddenly she wished he’d go back to the sale. And take his good looks, good smells and gobs of money with him. The very things that had other women falling at his Gucci-clad feet had the little voice in her head screaming foul. Nobody worth knowing could possibly be that perfect.
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