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Blurb:
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold ad the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?
The Artist and the Director
Derica Meadows, the conservative Director of Accounting at a large San Francisco firm, sees the most beautiful dress imaginable in a shop window. So different from her usual genderless pant suits, she’s swept into acquiring the gown for a formal business affair the next night. But a funny thing happens on the way to her party, in the form of a compelling man and a photo shoot. Suddenly, the normally logical Derica finds herself swimming in a sea of romance and sexual freedom she’d never before considered. The hunk of an artist can satisfy her fantasies, but what will happen to her climb up the corporate ladder in the process? And to her heart?
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Excerpt:
Your Desire. The name was painted on the door in simple block print. She pulled the handle and stepped into the cramped store, where she came face to face with an older, prim man in a well-worn suit. Gray touched his temples but not his thin moustache. His dark brown eyes warmed her to her core, and she felt immediate trust in him.
The shop didn’t inspire such trust, however. It was on the shabby side of shabby-chic, and like the man’s suit, had seen better days. That explained why she hadn’t noticed the place before—it wasn’t the sort of establishment in which she usually shopped.
“May I help you?” the man asked.
She turned toward the window display. What the hell! The effect remained the same. The satin seemed to change shades of purple depending on her position. One way she noticed the beads, another she saw the pearls. Now she saw barely visible lines of sequins between folds of the skirt. Although there was no breeze, the skirt seemed to shift, and tiny shards of light shot from the sequins otherwise hidden in the yards of material.
“Yes, that dress in the window, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It is unique, part of our special collection.” He sounded proud. “May we make one like it for you?”
“Make one?” She stepped forward and reached out. The touch of her fingers caused swirls of violet to run through the fabric from waist to hem, and she gasped as she jerked her hand away. “No, I need the dress for tomorrow night.” Curious, she faced the man. “I can’t believe you made this. It’s wonderful!”
He closed his eyes and graciously nodded his acknowledgement.
The mannequin in the window drew her attention again. She’d never owned anything so soft and feminine. Suddenly her black pantsuits seemed totally unsuitable for the office party, dull and lifeless, even when she imagined them paired with a bright scarf or lacy camisole.
“How much for this dress?” Damn! She’d failed to keep intense interest from her voice. If she were the salesperson, she’d immediately jack up the price.
“Oh, you don’t want that. It’s only for display and very old. I can’t guarantee your satisfaction.”
Slowly Derica turned to the man, her mind turning over possibilities of why he wouldn’t want to take advantage of a sale. Did he think to haggle and increase the price, now that she’d shown her excitement? Well, if that was his game, she could play, too.
“Perhaps you’re right. I have a formal affair tomorrow night. Do you have anything else?” Casting a glance at the drab interior, she carefully kept her expression neutral. “I’m a size eight,” she offered, seeing him give her an appraising look.
He nodded. “That’s exactly what I would have said. If you’ll follow me, I think we have just what you’re looking for.”
They walked to the back of the store and through a curtained doorway. There she found a softly lighted alcove with two stuffed chairs on either side of a dark-stained piecrust table. A cup of steaming tea and a plate of shortbread were on a tray. She examined the room in amazement, not having expected a showroom. In fact, she’d barely expected curtains on the dressing rooms, based on the appearance of the shop.
“Just make yourself comfortable, and we’ll see what we have, shall we?” He waved her into one of the chairs then turned toward another, smaller doorway to her side. “Edwina, we’re ready.”
A young woman dramatically swept aside the material covering the entryway and emerged wearing a pink chiffon formal with a fitted bodice and long sleeves. What caught Derica’s attention however, was the woman’s shape. She could have been Derica’s body double with her long legs, narrow, rounded hips, and tiny waist. The woman’s breasts would have nicely filled out Derica’s own B-cup bra. The difference came in her beautiful violet eyes and heart shaped, Kewpie doll lips, painted bright red.
And also in her short spiked hair that was a most interesting shade of yellow. Derica was so taken with their similarities in shape, it didn’t occur to her to wonder why the woman was poised and ready to model formal gowns.
“This is my granddaughter, Edwina.” The man beamed at Edwina then turned his warm smile on Derica. “And I’m Nigel Brown.”
“I’m Derica Meadows. That’s a lovely gown, Mr. Brown,” she said, as the woman twirled to show off the flow of the skirt. “But it looks like something for a prom.”
His smile fell ever so slightly. “Oh, dear. Well, Edwina…” He shooed her behind the curtain.
After what felt like only seconds, Edwina came out again, wearing a lime green skirt and white ruffled blouse.
“No, that’s not right at all. I need something for a company dinner, and I want a gown that will knock everyone back on their heels.”
She’d barely taken a sip of tea before Edwina left and came back, this time in a sleek black sheath that displayed too much leg on one end and far too much cleavage on the other. Derica cringed then smiled, thinking of the reactions of The Wives if she wore this dress to the party. But a sexy little number wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted mystery underlying a thoroughly feminine sophistication.
She wanted the dress in the window.
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Augustina Van Hoven was born in The Netherlands and currently resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, dog and two cats. She is an avid reader of romance, science fiction and fantasy. When she’s not writing she likes to work in her garden or in the winter months crochet and knit on her knitting machines.
Ah! Winning the lottery Who doesn’t dream of this happening? I’ve dreamed of it so often, for years I considered it my Retirement Plan. No. Really.
show it off to Jack. Scotland is one of my favorite places on earth.
I recently received a 5-star Recommended Read from Coffee Pot Book Club for Burning Bridges! I’m so excited and grateful!
Excerpt:
Lyrical Embrace, Book 4 of the Deerbourne Inn series
Amber Daulton is the author of the romantic-suspense series Arresting Onyx and several standalone novellas. Her books are published through The Wild Rose Press and Books to Go Now, and are available in ebook, print on demand, audio, and foreign language formats.
While Australia is no stranger to bushfires, this season was unprecedented with out of control fires in every state and territory from September 2019 to February 2020. When our fireys were stretched to the limit, their brothers-in-arms from America, Canada, Singapore and New Zealand arrived to help. We were overwhelmed by the support, donations and prayers from around the world but what we needed was rain. And we got it when Mother Nature decided to turn on all her taps. Some drought-stricken areas received more rain in a few days than they’d had in two years. Sydney had flash flooding after weeks of being shrouded in smoke.
some other places received. The huge Warragamba Dam which supplies 5.2 million people in the Greater Sydney Area rose from just 43% to over 60% in 24 hours, and the rain didn’t stop. We watched the news showing ecstatic farmers splashing in water streaming through their properties and the faces of little children who’d never seen puddles. A man holding a glass under his overflowing water tank and gleefully drinking the contents with, “bloody good, mate.”
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.
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Cynthia Terelst is a project officer by day and a writer by night. She is a contemporary romance writer who likes to share a little bit of history, some Australian scenery and a whole lotta love. Cynthia does not shy away from difficult topics, as she feels that they should not be ignored.
