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) Sound of a Voice That is Still by PG Forte

 I saw a photo online recently of a hallway strewn with red rose petals, and a caption that said something like, "Just once I wish someone would do something this romantic for me." To which someone else had replied, "I thought those were bloodstains." And someone else had quipped, "There are two types of people."

I don't know...maybe you had to be there?  I thought it was hilarious. But, even funnier, is the fact that everyone I know of who's seen the picture also thought they were viewing a crime scene. And that got me thinking that I'd like to write a scene like that. And THAT reminded me that I already had ! Or, at least, I'd written a scattered rose petal scene. 

Sound of a Voice That is Still is book three in my Oberon series--which is not currently available. I'm hoping to bring it back this year. Fingers crossed. I do have an Oberon /LA Love Lessons crossover novella available (and possibly another one coming before the end of the year--more crossed fingers!). But you're curious about Lucy and Danan, you can read more about them right now, simply by joining my FB Reader's Group, The Crone's Nest. 

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheCronesNest  

Members have access to the Oberon prequel, Such Fleeting Pleasures, which tells the story of how Lucy and Dan first met--and includes the famous indoor picnic scene that Lucy is attempting to replicate in the excerpt below:

Lucy took a long last look around the bedroom. It was perfect. Rose scented candles stood ready on each of the nightstands, and in their bathroom a bottle of vanilla flavored massage oil steamed peacefully in the bottle warmer. A picnic basket containing most of the ingredients for the meal she’d planned sat ready on the bed. Olives and oysters and double cream Brie. And cherry tomatoes—out of season, of course, and not nearly as good as the ones they’d get later in the year, but that could not be helped. She’d fared better with the avocados and the artichokes. Two weeks of searching had turned up several bottles of a nice Cabernet that was a near match for the wine they had shared all those years ago. She’d struck out when it came to the fresh strawberries, however. To compensate she’d bought a box of marzipan fruit and two cans of whipped cream. She was ready. 

 Closing the door behind her, she headed down the hallway toward her kitchen to check on the rest of the meal. She glanced at her smartwatch to see how much time she had, and felt a momentary tightness in her chest when she saw how late it was. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t be late tonight? Not that there was any hurry, of course. They had all night to eat and talk, and to love each other. To remember the way things used to be. Could still be. Were. 

 She could hear Mandy and Kate giggling in the family room as they watched one of the videos that she’d rented for them. She thought of Scout and her cousin, probably already checked in at the spa—already in bed, perhaps. And Marsha, out to dinner with Sam. She tried to rein in the jealousy which for weeks had threatened to overwhelm her. 

 She’d had a whole lifetime of loving and being loved, after all. It was petty of her to begrudge her two best friends a little of the same happiness she had, wasn’t it? But she did, all the same. 

 As she checked on the artichokes, wiggling a couple of the outer leaves to see how loose they were, she imagined how it would feel to slide one of them into his mouth, to feel the touch of his lips as they brushed against the tips of her fingers. The faint tug as she pulled the leaf out again, and his teeth clamped down on it, resisting her. She imagined the taste of and the feel of melted butter as it dripped down her chin. The sweet aftertaste in both their mouths as he licked the butter away and then kissed her. The artichokes were ready she decided, turning off the heat beneath the pot. And so am I. 

She was ready to break down the wall that had sprung up between her and Dan. Ready to break through the silence that threatened to suffocate them both. Ready to reclaim her marriage. And reclaim her husband, too, from whatever it was that had stolen so much of his attention recently. She had everything she needed to accomplish her task, except for one little thin: Dan still wasn’t home. 

 She resisted the urge to check the time again and uncorked one of the bottles of wine. It was just as well that he was late. It was a fairly young vintage, after all. It could use a few minutes to breathe. She poured herself a glass of it, anyway, admiring the deep, clear color of the wine. Three drops, red as heart’s blood fell on the white tile counter. She wiped them up and licked her finger, and then turned at the sound of the door opening, her chest tight again. 

 “Hey babe. Sorry I’m late,” Dan said, smiling as he came toward her. He was carrying a bouquet of roses and a small, insulated paper bag. 

 Lucy could hear her heart thudding in her ears. “Hey, yourself,” she murmured, putting her glass down, and leaning back against the counter. She cocked her head to the side. “What’s in the bag?” 

 He put the roses on the counter and leaned in close. “Your Valentine’s present.” He pushed her hair back behind her ear and nuzzled her neck. His voice was a warm whisper. “Part of it, anyway. I thought maybe we could take this back to our bedroom with us later, maybe have our dessert in there tonight?” 

 He brushed a brief kiss against her lips and then pulled away and handed her the bag. “Here. Take a look.” He rested his hands on the counter, one on either side of her, and watched as she opened the bag. 

 “Lavender ice cream?” Her favorite. She stared at him in wonder. There was only one place in town that made it, and then only during the summer. “How’d you get it?” 

 He flashed her his most mischievous grin. “It was easy. I just called and asked if they’d make up a batch of it special for me. Told them I’d give them a real good deal on the lavender this year, if they did. That’s why I’m late tonight, I had to stop downtown and pick it up.” 

 Lucy clutched the pint container against her chest, mindless of the chill, as she thought about the velvety smoothness of the ice cream, the sweet taste of lavender, the way it would feel later tonight, as it melted on her skin. 

 Dan’s eyes gleamed as he watched her. “Well? Don’t you have anything for me?” 

 She nodded and reached for his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you. Bring the roses,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. She’d been foolish to be so worried, she thought, as she led him down the hallway towards their bedroom. 

 Nothing had changed between them. They were still on the same wavelength, still in sync. Still in love. 

 She dropped his hand as they entered the bedroom. Crossing to the bed, she pulled down a corner of the bedspread, so he could see the rose petals she’d layered between the sheets: red and white, just like the ones he’d brought her. 

 He smiled at her from across their bed. “The red rose is a falcon and the white rose is a dove,” he recited softly. “The red rose whispers passion and the white rose breathes of love. Looks like we might have been thinking along similar lines today.” 

 “Hmmm.” She returned his smile. “Looks like.” 

 He frowned suddenly. “Except...I think I may have reversed the order of those verses.” 

 She shrugged and rested one knee on the bed. “Does it really matter?” 

 “No.” His glance sizzled as it wandered slowly over her. “Not at all. So, what are you tonight? A falcon, or a dove?” 

 “I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “I haven’t decided, yet. Maybe neither.” 

 “Neither, huh?” He looked amused. “Why don’t you come over here and let me change your mind about that.” 

 She peered up at him teasingly, “What’s your hurry, Cavanaugh? You got places to go?” 

 “Just one,” he said. His glance went briefly to the basket on the bed between them. “Are we having a picnic?” 

 She nodded. “Take a look.” She held her breath and watched as he lifted the lid and looked inside; watched the smile that slowly crept across his face, watched his throat work as he swallowed. He remembers. Her heart soared at the look in his eyes when he looked at her again; at the heat and the passion that blazed within them. 

 “C’mere,” he said and his voice, husky with emotion, warm and dark, set all her nerves aflame.

Such Fleeting Pleasures 

An Oberon Prequel Novella 0.5 

 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 (set some eighteen years before the series begins) also appears as flashback scenes in A Taste of Honey. 

 Although the series as a whole is not currently available, you can access a FREE DOWNLOAD of this novella when you join my Facebook group: The Crone's Nest:   

                                         https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheCronesNest 

Going To The Chapel 

Crossover Book 1.0 

In Waiting For The Big One, Gabby and Derek went from being friends to being lovers. Now, they're waiting for their Big Day. But will it be the wedding of their dreams? Or a bride's worst nightmare? 

 A quick trip to Gabby's hometown turns into the wedding from hell when Gabby and Derek are plagued by hailstorms, lost reservations, voracious goats, angry bees and enough family drama to fill a barn. 

 Guess it's true what they say, "The course of true love never did run smooth." But can the happy couple hold it all together, or will their Big Day turn into a Big Mess?

 ***A different version of this book was previously released as part of the Sapphire Falls Kindle World program.*** 

 Available now, only at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07SF7MD54/

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

Going Home

I was planning on writing a post about Autumn and why it's my favorite season, and struggling with how to put a fresh spin on such a familiar topic, and then my mother fell and broke her neck. 

Yes, I mean that literally. Apparently it's becoming more and more common especially among older women. Something to look forward to, I suppose. 

So here I am back in my parents' home for the next several weeks (although I hasten to add that this is not the house I grew up in) and for all intents and purposes, our roles have been reversed. My mother needs help dressing and bathing and eating. I find myself nagging her to drink more water, asking her if she needs to use the bathroom, complaining about her stubbornness and lack of patience. It's odd to see how we've come almost full-circle. And it's fitting that we should do so in the Autumn of the year. 

This is also going to be the first Autumn I've spent on the East Coast in almost thirty years. Already there are things that seem different than before; and other things that I am re-discovering. I've also been reconnecting with relatives I hadn't seen in some time, catching up on things I've missed, hearing old stories I'd half-forgotten

All in all, it's been an interesting and very colorful time, full of nostalgia and melancholy and memento mori--everything that Autumn should be. 

It struck me tonight that homecoming is also the theme of two of the books I have on sale this month. 

In Scent of the Roses, the first book in the trilogy that makes up my new box set Welcome to Oberon, Scout Patterson finds herself back at home after twenty years, where she's faced with many of the same emotions I'm dealing with...less the serial killer. So far. I hope. ;-)

In In the Dark, (the first book in my Children of Night series) twins Marc and Julie return to San Francisco to find that nothing is as they'd expected and, in a classic role reversal, they have to rescue the parent who'd once seemed invincible.  

Both will be available for a limited time for only .99--Welcome to Oberon is on sale now and for the next two weeks, In the Dark is on sale from October 15th through the 31st.  More information on both can be found at www.PGForte.com

What about you? Do you have a favorite season? A favorite theme? A favorite family story? I'd love to know!