Passionate Spirits…

I am away until Sunday – however, I wanted to post the new release of Passionate Spirits by Trinidad West. It’s out now at Ellora’s Cave. This book really intrigues me as it’s not just the standard – wham, m’am, thank you m’am book. Oh yeah – it has wild, hot sex like all of Trinidad’s other books but it also has the something more than makes you stop and think – what if? I love books like that. I highly recommend Passionate Spirits for all women, and men, of passion. Buy it and you will not regret it. And yes, - as always click on the cover to buy.

Passionate Spirits – Trinidad West

The blurb…

Iris Cooper is in a slump. She’s out of work and she hasn’t had so much as a date in ages. She doesn’t expect a weekend at an old farmhouse hunting through generations worth of dusty family papers to fix either situation but at least it will get her out of her freezing apartment for a couple of days. She hasn’t reckoned on sexy sculptor Mathew Hall, though—or the ghost of his great-grandmother, who’s determined to find a woman for him.

With the ghost sending her vivid, sexy dreams and Mathew sending her temperature soaring, it’s hard for Iris to remember about the job she was sent to do. And when Mathew asks her to pose nude for him, work is the last thing on her mind.

The excerpt…

Iris knocked on the door frame and peeked in. This room looked like it might once have been a screened-in sleeping porch but the screens had been replaced with windows that filled the room with daylight, even on such a gloomy day. Iris stepped inside. Mathew was not here but she guessed that this was where he spent his days. Blocks of wood from shoebox size to steamer-trunk size lined one wall of the room, but what drew her attention were the figures on the work table in the center of the room.
Scattered among a variety of woodworking tools, Mathew’s creations stood and sat and reclined, beautifully rendered carved women, whose finishes caught the fading light and seemed to glow with a magical aura. Their tiny faces were perfect, their limbs graceful, their proportions utterly lifelike, and not a one had a stitch of clothing on. One of them was lying on her stomach with her legs bent up and crossed at the ankles and her chin propped on her hands. Another, a work in progress, sat with her legs curled up underneath her and a book open on her lap. She was gazing into the distance and the expression on her face looked dreamy and sad. Iris ran her finger down the figure’s back. The wood felt warm and alive. She bent down to look more closely at the unfinished hands holding the book. The completed fingers were so perfect and lifelike, she would not have been surprised to see a hangnail on one of the them.
“Do you like them?”
Iris straightened up so fast she got dizzy.
“That one’s a commission. For a book collector’s library.”
He moved out of the shadows of the doorway and crossed the room to stand next to Iris.
“Do you think her breasts are too pert?”
“Pert?” Iris repeated stupidly. She tried to look critically at the woman’s breasts. They were the kind of breasts Iris had always wanted—full but perky—probably a physical impossibility, at least past the age of twenty. Gravity would never allow it.
“They’re perfect,” Iris said, hoping fervently that she wasn’t blushing, or worse yet, gazing too enviously at the carved breasts.
“That’s what worries me,” Mathew said, rubbing his chin. “I don’t want them to be too perfect.”
“Maybe idealized would be a better word,” Iris suggested.
Mathew glanced at her.

Oh, God, please don’t look at my breasts. She resisted the temptation to cross her arms to hide them. Nobody would ever accuse Iris’ breasts of being perky. On good days she rather liked them but today gravity and a past-its-prime bra were doing nothing for them. She reminded herself to buy new bras as soon as she had money again.
“Anyway,” she said, trying to shake off the thought of breasts, “I should get going before it gets dark. I hate driving in the rain at night.”
“That actually won’t be a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was just out in the barn and I walked a little way down the road with Daisy. You might make it out but you’ll probably just end up getting stuck in the mud if you try.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I should have thought to check sooner but I got caught up,” he said with a glance at the half-carved statue.
“With the breasts. Understandable. So I’m stuck here?”
“It’ll save you driving back in the morning. I’ll bring you down another box from the attic before it gets dark so you can keep working.”
“That would be great.” Iris forced a smile. She supposed it might be a potentially very romantic situation—lonely woman, handsome recluse, dark stormy night. She glanced around the room at the carvings. Unfortunately she was not the right lonely woman for this particular handsome recluse. He was obviously interested in lithe, long legs and gravity-defying breasts. At least it would probably be better than another night shivering in her cold apartment.

Back Sunday – be good or be fast and have an alibi ready.

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