Bring It Back(list) post: A Sight to Dream Of by PG Forte

 

It's Fig Season!  And that can only mean that it's time to post the Fig scene from A Sight to Dream Of (which, as it happens, I AM bringing back--this coming Tuesday!). 

Outside in the garden her rooster was crowing. Lucy listened to the chorus of answering calls from the neighboring yards and snuggled deeper into the sheets, enjoying the warmth, the peace, the blissful luxury of sleeping in. The French doors that led from her bedroom out into the garden opened quietly, and then closed again, and she heard the soft, muffled sounds of someone moving through the room. She felt the bed sag as Dan came to sit beside her and then something cool and firm was brushed, lightly, repeatedly, across her lips.

“Wake up,” he whispered in her ear. “I brought you breakfast.”

She looked up into a pair of wicked blue eyes and felt desire stir. “Mmm. That’s sweet of you. What is it?” she asked, drowsily hopeful. She didn’t smell coffee, and there was something in his voice, and in his eyes that made her think food wasn’t all he was interested in giving her.  

“Figs.” Dan’s voice was low and gravelly. He settled himself more comfortably against the pillows. “I’ve been plundering your garden. See?” He held up a handful of the plump, bluish-purple fruit. “Just like the D H Lawrence poem. There was a flower that flowered inward, wombward: now there is a fruit like a ripe womb. C’mon...take a bite.”  

He held one out to her as he took another one, himself. Eating slowly, sensuously, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt a delicious warmth steal over her, but she couldn’t help teasing him just a little. 

“Poetry before breakfast, Dan? I don’t know about this. Are they even ripe?”  

“Hell, yes, they’re ripe.” He cocked his head at her and smiled. “Don’t you think I know a ripe fig when I see one? And just what do you have against poetry all of a sudden, woman?” He popped the last of the fig he was eating into his mouth and leaned closer, whispering against her ear as he recited, “The fig is a very secretive fruit...folded upon itself and secret unutterable...And milky sapped...sap that tastes strange on your fingers.”  His voice sent shivers running through her. 

“These are very ripe,” he continued. “And you know what the poem had to say about that, right?”

Lucy snorted. Oh, yeah. Sure, I do. She hadn’t a clue, and he knew it. She stretched invitingly and smiled. “You’re such a showoff, Cavanaugh. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Oh, well, since you asked so nicely.” He put the figs down on the nightstand and stretched out beside her. His hand drifted slowly down the front of her nightgown.  “Honey-white figs of the north,” he recited as his fingers grazed across her breasts, she felt her nipples harden.  

“Black figs with scarlet inside, of the south,” His voice sank to the barest of whispers, a tremor ran through her as his hand traveled slowly down her stomach. She swallowed hard to keep from moaning.  

“Ripe figs won’t keep, won’t keep in any clime.” He smiled at her and she caught her breath as his hand slid over her hip, his fingers reaching for the hem of the gown.  Then she felt his hand sliding slowly back up her bare thigh, and he pulled her closer to him.  “So, you see Lucy, it’s important that we eat these...right now.”

He reached behind him to pluck one of the figs from the nightstand, and then turned back to press the ripe fruit against her lips. She let her head fall back and her eyes fall closed as she contemplated the thing with her mouth.  

First the skin. Firm and smooth and rounded, almost like the smooth, firm skin of his shoulder. She felt her breathing quicken. It was, just a little, like opening her mouth on the curve of his shoulder as he thrust himself into her. She explored the shape and the firmness of it with her tongue, her teeth just testing the surface. They pressed harder and the fig gave way beneath their pressure. The flesh inside was sweet, but not cloyingly so.  Fresh and cool.  

She felt him turn the fruit in his fingers, inviting her to explore more of it. She smiled as his hand lightly grazed her cheek. She delved deeper with her tongue, tasting the sweet juiciness of it. Almost as if she were taking his mouth with hers—but wetter even than that.  Like kissing him in the shower. Cool water mingling with the hot wetness of his mouth. Her tongue pressed further into the soft flesh, savoring the feel and the flavor of it. At last, she took the whole fruit with her mouth, eager for all of it, the sweet, juicy succulence of it bursting in her mouth. And when at last her tongue found his fingers, they were sweet with juice, sticky and dripping with it. She licked them slowly, licked them clean of the sticky juice, then let her mouth close around his thumb; sucking at it gently as she opened her eyes and stared into his. Lids heavy with desire, flames flickering in their dark depths.  

His finger slid from her mouth. His hand traveled up across her cheek, behind her ear, through her hair to grasp the back of her head. She lifted her face to him at the same time that he bent his to her; their mouths met and she licked into him, searching with her tongue for more of the taste of him and of the fruit they’d been eating.   

The bible had gotten it all wrong, as usual, she thought, faintly dizzy. What was an apple, anyway? 

This is Lucy and Dan in someone else's story. Can you imagine how they behave in their own story?  

For another teaser, download their pre-quel novella, Such Fleeting Pleasures:

Love wasn't always strawberries and cream for Lucy and Dan Cavanaugh...or was it?

In this Oberon prequel, we travel back in time to see how it all began.

Most of the material in this prequel novella (which is set some eighteen years before the series begins) also appears as flashback scenes in A Taste of Honey.

Download here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/5xxljdbblb

​ ​ 

A Sight to Dream Of

Sam Sterling is a man with problems. Including a partner who is trying to kill him, and a nosy reporter, who's just turned up dead! It's going to take a miracle to save him. Or, better yet, an angel. ​

Marsha Quinn is used to being called a witch. After all, her abilities as a psychic make a lot of people uncomfortable. But no one has ever called her an angel before!

Falling in love was not a possibility she'd ever envisioned, until Sam the skeptic arrives in Oberon, and teaches her to see past the scars she carries, and the lies he's told her, to the love that lies within their hearts and minds.

Pre-Order now at: https://Books2Read.com/SightDream

Bring It Back(list) ~ A Sight to Dream Of by PG Forte

 A Sight to Dream Of was the second book I ever finished writing. The question uppermost in my mind the entire time I was working on it was, "I did this once, but can I really do it again?" Spoiler alert: I could. 

This title is scheduled for re-release in October. In the meantime, check out book one in the series, Scent of the Roses, which is available for pre-order now.  https://books2read.com/u/4EpR5Y

A Sight To Dream Of
Oberon Book 2.0

Sam Sterling is a man with problems.  Including a partner who is trying to kill him, and a nosy reporter, who's just turned up dead! It's going to take a miracle to save him.  Or, better yet, an angel.

Marsha Quinn is used to being called a witch.  After all, her abilities as a psychic make a lot of people uncomfortable.  But no one has ever called her an angel before!

Falling in love was not a possibility she'd ever envisioned, until Sam the skeptic arrives in Oberon, and teaches her to see past the scars she carries, and the lies he's told her, to the love that lies within their hearts and minds.

Excerpt:  

Her conversation with Nick weighed heavy on Marsha’s mind as she drove out to Hidden Canyon later that afternoon.  The closer she got to Celeste’s cabin the worse she felt.  These trips out here always made her melancholy now.  Celeste’s cabin.  She really couldn’t think of it in any other way.  She had only been there a handful of times in the last few months.  She felt bad about that, but it was just too painful to come any more often than that.  Celeste would understand how it was.  At least, she hoped she would.

The heat wave that had been predicted for days, had finally materialized.  Bright September sunlight poured down into the canyon, filtering through the branches of the tall trees that surrounded the cabin to gild the glade with its warm, golden glow.  The grass of the lawn, and the cedar shake roof blazed with light.  In between the trees to the rear of the clearing, she could see even more light reflected on the rippled surface of the creek, and glancing off the white granite boulders.  Dragonflies danced in the air around her, their wings iridescent flashes of brightness surrounding the brilliant reds, blues and greens of their bodies.

Guilt stung her anew when she saw how overgrown everything had become.  She really should have come out here more often.  She should have sent someone out, if she couldn’t have come herself, to at least cut the grass!  As it was, she’d let Celeste’s gift to her lie empty and neglected.  

Oh, God.  Celeste, I am so sorry.  So very sorry.  

She was so wrapped up in her mournful thoughts, she was almost on top of Sam before she noticed him.  He’d been crouched on the lawn, examining something there.  He got to his feet when he saw her; rising up out of the sun-gilded grass in one swift, graceful motion, his very presence an assault on all her senses.  

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this attracted to a man.  Had she ever been?  He was wearing black again she noticed, absorbing every detail in a single, greedy glance.  Black chinos, a black and silver belt, and the same silver and turquoise jewelry he’d worn yesterday.  The first two buttons of his collarless shirt were open, and the sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows.  His hair was loose today, falling in smooth silver waves to lie about his shoulders.  He looked more like a wizard than ever, she thought, except that his eyes had lost a little of the guarded, inscrutable look she had noticed from time to time the day before.  The eagerness that glowed in them today made him even more attractive.

“This place is incredible,” he announced without preamble.  “I hadn’t even noticed the other day, but...there are flowers in the grass.  Look.”  He held out his hand, and she moved closer, disarmed by his enthusiasm.  

“It’s a violet,” she said after she’d examined the little yellow blossom.  “Kind of unusual, for this time of year, I guess.  But there must be lots of them, they spread pretty aggressively.  They’ll probably take over the whole lawn eventually, if I let them.”

“And this is a bad thing?” he asked, with a disbelieving smile.  “I mean, why wouldn’t you want them to?  They’re so pretty.”  He looked around, in wonder.  “What is it that smells so good?”

“Probably the incense cedars,” she answered, returning his smile.  “Those big trees there and there and over there...” She felt another pang of loss, as she pointed out the trees that Celeste had always referred to as the guardians of the property. 

“What about that one?” he asked, indicating the largest tree in the glade. 

“That’s a Jeffrey Pine.  We don’t really know how it got here.  It normally only grows in the Sierras.  Its bark smells like vanilla.”

He looked around startled.  “A vanilla scented pine tree?” he asked, bemused.  “Can there really be such a thing?”

“See for yourself,” she suggested, enjoying his reaction.  He stood hesitant for a moment then turned and stalked quickly across the lawn.  She followed more slowly, picking her way among the clover and the violets and the delicate patches of phlox, chamomile and thyme that laced the lawn.  She stopped a few feet away, mesmerized by the sight of him.  His face, held only inches from the trunk of the pine tree, was taut with concentration, his eyes were closed, and his hands clutched at the tree as though he would divine all its secrets in that single touch.  He looked like Prospero, attempting the spell that would free Ariel. 

He stood so a long moment, and then his eyes opened and he turned his face to her.  “You’re right.  It does.”   

He left the tree and came to stand directly in front of her.  “Do you know all these plants?” he all but demanded.

“No, not all.  But a lot of them, I do.  My father was always very big on nature walks when my sisters and I were kids.  He loved introducing us to new plants.  And, of course, I was here when Celeste planted most of these, so that helped, too.”  She pointed out the scarlet lobelia, the fireweed, the blue-eyed grass.  “It’s really beautiful in the springtime,” she told him.  “When the redbud and the bitter cherry and the ceonothus are all in bloom.”

“Hell, it’s beautiful right now.  I had no idea there could be so many things flowering in September.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, growing up around here.  I’ve never seen anything like this place.”  

His eyes refocused on her then, his face suddenly as intent as it had been a moment before with the tree, and the look he gave her caused everything inside her to go still.  She held her breath and waited, as though for some sort of judgement.  

“It suits you,” he said at last.  “It really does.  You fit right in with the rest of it, somehow.  Unexpected.  Lovely.  Maybe just a little bit unreal.”    

Marsha felt herself blushing.  She didn’t know how to respond to such an assessment.  She seized on one of his words in an attempt to change the subject.  “But you were expecting me, right?  I thought we’d agreed last night that I’d come out here today?”  

He smiled at that, his eyes gleaming with amusement, and she felt a small glimmer of annoyance.  Damn it, she was the one who was supposed to be able to read minds.  Yet, he seemed to be doing a pretty fair job of reading hers.

“Right,” he answered, and then added unnecessarily.  “Not what I meant, of course.”

Scent of the Roses
Oberon Book 1.0

For years, Scout Patterson has tried to run from the mistakes in her past.  Now, she's coming home--to face the ghosts she's never laid to rest, and the love she thought she'd lost forever.

Reawakening that love would be a dream come true.  Unfortunately, love is not the only emotion that can last forever.

Memories and dreams are the only things that have gotten Nick Greco through the past twenty years.  Memories of the girl he loved and lost, and dreams of what his life would be like, if he could only find her again.   And if he can bring himself to believe that anything she tells him is true.

Can the star-crossed lovers put aside the hurt and distrust they still harbor toward each other?  Or will the evil which already nearly destroyed them once, triumph yet again?

Pre-Order now at:  https://books2read.com/u/4EpR5Y

Wedding Week ~ A Sight to Dream Of

I went to a lovely wedding last week. My editor got married and I was able to attend without ever even leaving my desk. A factor I’m sure we both appreciated, given the deadline I’m currently working under. But, before you decide I'm crazy, let me to explain how it happened.

The wedding took place in Las Vegas where, apparently, some chapels now broadcast live feeds of the events held there. As you might imagine, my technophilic heart was in ecstasy when I found out about that! All you need is to know the date, time and location of the ceremony and you can tune in. I imagine you could tune in at random, if you wanted to, and view the weddings of complete strangers as well.  Although, why you’d want to do something like that I…uh…hmm.

Ahem . Yeah. Sorry about all those plot bunnies I just unleashed. 

Anyway, I just thought that story, combining real life romance with technology, merging virtual and literal realities, as it did, was perfect to share on this first day of wedding week, since all week long we'll be sharing wedding related posts and wedding excerpts from our books.

This scene, which comes from A Sight to Dream Of (Oberon series, book 2), is part of the first wedding I ever wrote. 

....

The garden looked lovely, Lucy was pleased to notice, as she followed Kate and Mandy through the trellised arches she’d had set up along the processional path.  Not as lovely as it would have looked in  May, of course, but all in all, not too shabby, if she did say so herself. 

The freshly cut grass, the roses and the geraniums which were still in bloom, and the ancient bay laurel trees at the foot of the garden all provided for an intoxicating blend of fragrances.  The sun was warm, the air was still and the faint golden glow to the leaves of the Japanese maples that stood at either side of the gazebo’s entrance were in perfect harmony with the pale yellow of Scout’s dress.

She was relieved to see only smiles on the faces of the guests--even her parents.  Still, she wasn’t at all sorry that she’d had that little talk with the officiating minister.  There would be no asking if anyone knew of a reason why this couple should not be wed. 

She figured there had been enough of that, already.  

But as they entered the gazebo, and she caught sight of Nick’s face, she had to wonder if she’d had any real cause for worry.  Surely no one could observe the look that passed between her cousin and Scout and still doubt they were in love.  She was only sorry they’d had to waste so much time apart. 

Twenty years!  Longer even than she and Dan had known one another.  What would it be like, she couldn’t help but wonder, if they had been separated for all that time?  The thought was like taking a hammer blow to her lungs, and her gaze flew to her husband’s face.  She wouldn’t have traded all the fancy weddings in the world for one instant of their marriage.  She couldn’t wait to get him alone again, so she could tell him just that.

She started to smile, but the look on his face as he stared back at her was so intensely intimate that she felt her breath stutter to a halt again.  She was recalled only by a sharp pinch on her arm. 

“Stop it!”  Marsha edged closer to whisper in her ear, “Get a room, if you two are gonna carry on like that!”

Lucy was so relieved to see the tiny spark of humor in her friend’s eyes that she almost didn’t mind the warm tide of blood flooding into her cheeks.  “You better start being nicer to me,” she whispered right back.  “Or there’ll be no dessert for you!”

....

Dan had watched as Lucy crossed the lawn in her shimmery, rose colored dress.  Regal as a queen, eyes shifting here and there to check on every detail, making sure that everything was as it should be.  And so damn lovely it made his chest hurt.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.  But as the ceremony went forward, and her expression gradually shifted from satisfied to wistful to bleak, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was regretting not having had a wedding like this herself. 

For the first time in sixteen years, he found himself second-guessing some of the decisions he had made back then.  Decisions which had determined the course of both their lives. 

He had been desperate.  And he had been selfish.  And if the same set of circumstances were to arise again tomorrow, he knew he’d probably make the same decisions all over again.

She looked over at him then, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips; but still more of a smile than he could manage as he wondered if she would still be able to smile at him if she knew the whole truth.  When she knew the whole truth, he thought bleakly.  Because it was suddenly clear to him that he’d been fooling himself all these years.  Nothing stayed hidden forever.  Sooner or later the truth would come out.  And then where would they be?

He was almost relieved when she started and colored and her eyes slid away from his face, as she and Marsha exchanged brief whispers.  He tore his own eyes away from her then, putting aside his own worries, for the time being, and concentrating instead, on the wedding that was taking place.


....

No more waiting.  It was the only thought in Nick’s head, clearer and more compelling than any of the words being spoken.  As he gazed into Scout’s eyes, ready to speak the words that would bind her to him legally, he found himself growing more and more impatient with the pace of the proceedings.  It was only a formality, after all.  In his heart, he’d been bound to her for twenty years.  Now, standing there with her hands in his, he didn’t want to wait another second.

Just a few more seconds, Scout repeated to herself, trying to get a grip on the nervousness that had seized her.  A lifetime of rejection and loss had not prepared her for having her dreams come true, and she was horribly certain that something would occur--any second, now--to intervene.  She stared into Nick’s eyes, her mind gone blank with panic, waiting for disaster to strike.  But then he began to speak, reciting the words they’d rehearsed only yesterday, in a voice that was sure and steady and she suddenly found that she could breathe again.

And then it was her turn.

She knew the garden--her garden.  No, their garden, now--was filled with all the people they cared about, but she was aware of only Nick.  Nick’s eyes.  Nick’s smile.  Nick’s hands holding hers so tightly.  She returned his smile, stumbling a little over her words as she did.

It was as if the past and the present were finally merging, to create a base for her future.  A future full of love and happiness and Nick.  Deep within her belly she felt their baby move again, and her breath caught as she blinked in surprise.  She watched Nick’s smile widen into a knowing grin, and found herself grinning back at him. 

As he took her into his arms at last, she knew that she was embracing more than just her new husband, or the new family they were creating together.  She was embracing the future. 

For the first time in as long as Scout could remember, she actually had a future to embrace.


....

I’m currently offering a free download of the series prequel, Such Fleeting Pleasures, to anyone who joins my Facebook Group, The Crone’s Nest.  https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheCronesNest