Please welcome my good friend Maggie Wells!
This week she's got a treat for you.
THE ART LOVER is free!!
Hurry out and get your copy while the deal lasts!
Blurb
Starving artist
Kelsey Tecato takes being The Templeton Museum's artist in residence a little
too literally. By day, she puts on a show of painting for the crowds that
shuffle through the galleries, but at night, her muse runs wild.
Mitch Jameson is a guy's guy. A cop moonlighting as a security guard, he has little use for the artsy-fartsy stuff, but the mysterious Ms. Tecato's sexy portraits call to him.
So does an interior alarm.
When Officer Jameson goes to investigate, he finds a paint-splattered goddess working on a self-portrait--in the nude.
A couple tubes of paint and a roll in the drop cloths later, free-spirited Kelsey helps Officer Jameson discover his passion for art.
Mitch Jameson is a guy's guy. A cop moonlighting as a security guard, he has little use for the artsy-fartsy stuff, but the mysterious Ms. Tecato's sexy portraits call to him.
So does an interior alarm.
When Officer Jameson goes to investigate, he finds a paint-splattered goddess working on a self-portrait--in the nude.
A couple tubes of paint and a roll in the drop cloths later, free-spirited Kelsey helps Officer Jameson discover his passion for art.
Buy Link
Retail Price: $0.99 Promotional
Price: FREE
March 3-7, 2014
Excerpt
His gaze traveled over the discreet placard
affixed to the wall, but he’d already memorized the pertinent facts. The
paintings were created by someone named Kelsey Tecato, the museum’s ‘Artist in
Residence’.
Coming on shift as the museum closed for the day,
he’d searched the faces of museum patrons and employees as they straggled past
the security station, but he’d yet to spot the one that matched the headshot of
a studious-looking brunette featured in the museum brochure. When he
oh-so-casually posed the question to Bert, he learned that meant Ms. Tecato’s
art was being subsidized in exchange for her participation in demonstrations
and exhibitions sponsored by the museum board. The knowing twinkle in the older
man’s eyes when he clarified that the ‘in residence’ part didn’t refer to the
artist’s living situation was enough to make him drop the subject. Bert was too
damn nosy for a guy who never managed to pass the detective’s exam.
Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the
other, he left the provocative portraits behind and turned toward the west end
of the building. The Templeton rambled for nearly a city block but most of the
space went unused. Exhibits occupied the open center space of the two-story
building joined by a pair of sweeping marble staircases. The east side had been
converted to classroom space decades before, but the warren of tiny rooms on
the west end were primarily administrative offices and storage.
His heart started to pound when he picked up the
murmur of a deep voice. Shifting the flashlight to his left hand, Mitch reached
for his sidearm and came up empty. He was a guard tonight, not a cop. His
service weapon was locked up safe in his apartment. At the end of the corridor
he pulled up short, pressing his back against the wall and tightening his grip
on the flashlight. He wore a panic button clipped to his belt but his instincts
told him he wasn’t at the panic stage yet. Breathing soft and slow, he closed
his eyes and focused his energy on catching a few words. Perhaps he could figure
out what the intruders were after before making his presence known.
Thirty seconds passed. His eyes popped open then
rolled heavenward as the droning voice segued into a bouncy pop song. The
radio. Someone had left a radio playing in one of the offices. Shaking off the
rush of adrenaline, Mitch pushed away from the wall and rounded the corner,
only to come to a dead stop when he saw the fan of light spilling from the
office at the very end of the hall.
Two things he knew for certain: the radio hadn’t
been playing when he’d made his post-closing rounds, and that door on the end
of the corridor hadn’t been open. He let the barrel of the flashlight slip
through his fingers until he gripped the lamp. Wielding his only weapon like a
club, he crept toward the door as silently as a guy who clocked in at six-four
and two-ten could. Just outside the office, he caught a flash of movement
inside the room and quickly pressed his back to the wall.
“About time you showed up.”
A woman. The intruder was a woman and she’d been
expecting him. Irked by the presumptuous amusement in her tone, he stepped into
the open doorway, prepared to let her have it, and almost swallowed his tongue.
Screw the flashing red lights. Alarm bells
clamored in his head the moment recognition clicked. Kelsey Tecato. Artist in
Residence. Painter of hard-on-inducing nudes. Live and in person, standing in
the Templeton Museum after hours.
And naked as the day she was born.
Author
Info
Multi-published author, Maggie Wells, is a deep-down dirty girl with a weakness for hot
heroes and happy endings. By day she is buried in spreadsheets, but at night she pens tales of
people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless
flirt, this mild-mannered married lady has a naughty streak a mile wide.
Fueled by supertankers of Diet Coke, Maggie juggles fictional romance and
the real deal by keeping her slow-talking Southern gentleman constantly amused
and their two children mildly embarrassed. They are the food purveyors to three
dogs, a passel of fish, and one impertinent house rabbit she claims is the love
of her life. Shh. Don’t tell her husband.
Author Links
Personal
Blog: http://maggie-wells.com/maggies-musings/
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/MaggieWells1
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1482834.Maggie_Wells
