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Blurb
Cursed for mocking Aphrodite, the goddess of love, Clio, Muse of History and her lover are thrust back in time to the Salem Witch Trials and then the Italian Renaissance. Only love can save them both, but is their love strong enough against the one goddess who can end all love? Is their love A LOVE BEYOND TIME?

Excerpt

A Love Beyond Time
By
Alisha Paige

This Friar boasts that he knows hell,
And God knows it, that it is little wonder;
Friars and fiends are but little different.
For, by God, you have often times heard tell
How a friar was carried off to hell In spirit once by a vision;
And as an angel led him up and down,
To show him the pains that were there,
In all the place saw he not a friar;
Of other folk he saw enough in woe.
Unto this angel spoke the friar then:
`Now, sir,' said he, `have friars such a grace
That none of them shall come to this place?'
`Yes' said this angel, `many a million!'
And unto Satan he led him down. `
And now has Satan,' says he, `a tail
Broader than of a large galleon is the sail.
Hold up thy tail, thou Satan!' said he;
`Show forth thy arse, and let the friar see
Where the nest of friars is in this place!'
And before half a furlong way of time,
Just as bees swarm out from a hive,
Out of the devil's arse there began to rush
Twenty thousand friars in a crowd,
And throughout hell swarmed all about,
And came back again as fast as they can go,
And in his arse they crept every one.
~ From The Summonours Tale by Geoffrey Chaucer

Chapter 1

A twig snapped as Clio moved closer to the village just beyond the dense woods. Swarms of fireflies lit her way. Thick, gray smoke spiraled across the full, golden moon as she looked heavenward from where she’d been plucked. She could barely make out a cottage in the distance.
She blew out an exasperated sigh. “How long will you make me suffer, Aphrodite?” she whispered into the silent woods.
A deep, feminine chuckle echoed in her mind. Do you not regret your words now, my dear Clio?
“A million times over, my goddess. I deeply regret my words to you regarding your love for Adonis. It was not for me to say or judge you.”
When Clio shut her eyes, she could see the beautiful Aphrodite smiling down at her, a smug smile full of child-like pleasure at the next lesson to be learned by Clio, muse of history. Clio wondered which time period she’d been sent to this time. She was still exhausted from her jaunt into ancient Egypt. To think Aphrodite allowed her only one week’s rest and on a day she planned on joining her sister muses for a much deserved holiday. Never again would she speak against the goddess of love, but how much longer would she be punished?
Perhaps you will not fail this time.
Clio dug the heels of her hands into her closed eye-lids and hissed. “It is not easy to change the past, my goddess. Cleopatra, as you know, was very stubborn. I did my best to save her from the deadly asp.”
For once, Clio thought Aphrodite’s features reflected sorrow, but she wasn’t sure for whom, herself or Cleopatra. It was only a fleeting moment, though, and then her golden eyes sparkled with wicked intent, making it nearly impossible for Clio to see her as a goddess of love. To Clio, the goddess had become a holy being intent on revenge. A few silly, thoughtless words cast upward about her undying passion for Adonis had humiliated the goddess so much that Clio was still seeking atonement for her cruel words.
“Can you not tell me where I am then, dear goddess? Or shall I be in darkness all of the way?”
Another fiery giggle erupted from Aphrodite’s full lips. You will never be alone, my dear muse. Your sisters know of your whereabouts and since not one of them is seeking atonement for wrong doing, they shall all be at your disposal and I, of course, will be watching. You may only call on me once during your trials and I trust you will use that one time wisely. And remember, dear muse, you may only call on me for matters of the heart, not life and death. Those matters will be yours alone unless another god takes pity on your plight.
“My plight?” Clio snapped.
I must go now. Clio watched as a strand of bright red hair blew across the goddess’s face as she faded away.
“Don’t go! I have no idea where I am!” Another faint giggle and the goddess was gone and in her place was the sound of an owl hooting and the mouthwatering scent of ham coming from the cottage fire.
By the position of the stars, Clio knew it was dinner time. A sense of foreboding crept along her skin. Like a cold snake, slithering from a muddy creek, she could sense danger nearby. Her only possession was her bag of books and scrolls, full of ancient history and teachings from the greatest minds throughout time: Plato, Socrates, Confucius, Nostradamus and others. This knowledge and the help of her sisters was likely all the assistance she’d receive while in this unknown lifetime and who knew how long she’d be here.
She was at the mercy of Aphrodite and the other gods for that matter. From what she’d learned from her sister muses, many of them had thought her words toward Aphrodite atrocious. Clio meant only to tease her half-sister about her love for Adonis, but her blasphemy toward the two heavenly lovers bordered on hubris to the gods. Such an act of overbearing pride and lack of humility could result in fatal retribution. Clio’s one salvation was her father, Zeus. Were she not bred from the king of the gods, her fate might have been sealed and she’d surely be visiting Hades rather than a quaint village tucked into the past of who knows where.
Only a grove of willows separated her from the cottage now. Upon closer inspection, she could see two homes nearby. A larger, thatched cottage with a wide front porch and a much smaller dwelling, perhaps fifty yards behind it. She could see clearly now, that someone was tending to a fire outside. Broad, summer winds tickled her hair, bringing with them another scent from the cook-fires. Bread. Clio’s stomach rolled. The figure of a woman bent over orange flames. A dark skinned woman…perhaps a servant. Clio thought twice about approaching her. She should approach the main house first, but a gentle hand prodded her on. A sign most likely from her sisters. She didn’t expect help from any of the gods other than the muses and even their help she knew to be limited now.
Clio took a deep breath and stepped out of the line of trees and onto a well worn dirt path that led directly to the rear home. The woman sensed her approach and rose from her cooking, peering into the darkness.
“Who goes there? Is that you, Missus Parris?” the woman asked, as she hooded her eyes from the smoke.
Clio noted her clothing: a simple, drab frock. No shoes, but it was warm outside and the woman was home now. Stray hairs stuck straight out of the sides of her bonnet like dozens of black spider legs set upon her frazzled head. Sweat trickled between her eyes and down her broad nose. The muse looked upon her own clothing for the first time and noticed a similar design, though not as worn; another frock, brown in color, devoid of frills or lace. Upon it lay a thin, cotton apron. Thick soled, leather boots with worn laces adorned her slender feet, making them appear three sizes larger. She, too, felt a bonnet about her head.
She guessed herself to be in Old England, the London countryside perhaps. Wracking her brain, she attempted to guess the time period. It would be a time of historical importance. She shuddered. The Great Plague of London and the Great Fire of London came first to mind. Surely Aphrodite would not have thrust her into an abyss from which she could not recover, though she knew it was her job to inspire persons responsible for historical significance. Inspire them to acts of goodness and grace or courage perhaps…courage to fight and change the course of history when headed in a downward spiral. She argued endlessly that her duties within the universe carried the most weight, though her sisters disagreed vehemently.
“Forgive me for intruding on you in this late hour,” Clio began.
The woman threw a thick cloth over an iron skillet and tossed it onto a pile of sand before standing in front of it. “What is it you want? You look lost.”
“Aye. I’m only passing through but I must stop for the night. A wheel broke on my carriage and I’ve walked the rest of the way. I’m looking for lodgings. Do you know of any?”
“Lodgings? In Salem? Not likely. You could ask the Minister Parris and the missus for a bed. He lives there,” the woman explained, pointing to the larger home in the distance.
“You work for them, then?”
“I do. Where are your traveling companions?”
“Oh. They’ll be along,” Clio lied. Clearly women did not travel alone in this time period or in these dark woods.
The woman nodded with slanted, disbelieving eyes.
Clio cleared her throat, pondering the century she’d just stepped into and its place in history. “I could smell your rye bread from your open fires. Do you have any to spare? I’m quite hungry.”
The woman gasped. “I should say not! This bread is not fit to eat! Not by you, missus!”
Unsure as to whether she’d been insulted or not, Clio decided to question the woman further. “Bread unfit to eat? And why is that? I’ve never heard of such a thing, lest it be poisoned.”
The woman looked to her master’s home and then behind her, into the darkness before leaning forward. Another dribble of sweat slid down her nose and onto her full lips. The woman licked it off before hissing softly. “It’s witch’s bread!” “Witch’s bread?” Clio whispered, as goose bumps scattered across her flesh.
“Aye, miss. It is meant for the dog only. To punish the witch who casts spells on the poor afflicted souls.”
“Poor souls?”
“Aye. The devil dances in Salem. But don’t tell the Minister or his wife! I beg of you,” the woman spat, falling on her knees at Clio’s feet, scattering dust. “Those poor girls. When the dog eats the bread, we will know!”
“Know what?”
“Who in Salem works with the devil! Then we’ll know and all of this will come to an end,” the woman whispered, sputtering hot breath upon Clio’s knees.
“I promise. I won’t breathe a word of the witch’s bread. Please rise.”
The woman rose on shaking legs, her black eyes filled with a kind of crazed terror. She looked to be on the verge of hysteria. Clio grasped her shoulders and shook her. “Gather your wits, friend. My name is Clio. I’m here to help.”
“It is not I that needs help, ma’am. It’s all of Salem. Against the devil.”
Clio nodded, recognizing the significance of the town’s name. Salem. She was thrust into Salem, Massachusetts. The famous witch trials. Heavens! “I’ll go see about a bed, now, thank you. I never got your name, miss.”
“I am Tituba.”
****
“I’m not sure we have room for you,” Minister Parris explained, as he fastened his spectacles onto his head after answering the rap at the door.
His wife stuck her head under his arm to get a peek at the nighttime caller. “We could have her sleep in Betty and Abigail’s room, dear. There’s two beds and the girls can bunk together for the night.”
“I’d be ever so grateful, ma’am.”
The bald minister opened the door wider and let Clio inside.
“This way, dear, I’ll show you to your bed,” Mrs. Parris said. Taking Clio’s hand, she guided her down a narrow hallway. “Do you teach school?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I noticed your book bag.”
“Ah, yes. Yes, I do,” Clio lied.
Mrs. Parris pushed open the door to the bedroom. At the vanity sat a young girl. An older girl brushed her long, blonde hair. “Girls, say hello to our houseguest, Miss Clio. She’s a school teacher, just passing through.”
The older girl curtsied and muttered a hello while the younger girl giggled. “Oh goody! A slumber party!”
“No, Betty. Miss Clio’s wagon has broken. She’ll be on her way in the morning. She just needs a bed for the night. You girls hurry up and hop in bed. I suspect Miss Clio is rather tired from traveling all day.”
Clio watched the two girls kneel beside their bed, utter a quick prayer and then snuggle beneath the covers.
“Good night, girls.”
“Good night,” they chimed in unison
Clio sat on the edge of the bed and began to unlace her shoes when the woman walked back in. “Here’s a nightgown for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Sleep well, dear,” Mrs. Parris said, as she softly closed the door behind her.
Clio removed her shoes and blew out the candle before stripping off her apron and dress and pulling on the cotton nightgown. She fell back into bed, exhausted from the transition into another new suspicious world that cradled a dark hysteria within its womb. Hysteria so spectacular, the very mention of the name of the town now reminded one of wicked lies, false rumors and death by hanging. Her last waking thoughts were of the poor souls that perished within the town…those whose cries to the heavens went unanswered. Souls craving to be avenged, long ago dead…


CONTEST: LEAVE A COMMENT TODAY AND I'LL ENTER YOU INTO A DRAWING FOR AN EBOOK OF A LOVE BEYOND TIME!

Happy Reading and Writing!
~Alisha

An Interview with Hywela Lyn and Two Excerpts!

Please welcome my wonderful friend and muse sister, Hywela Lyn!

Alisha: Can you tell us a little bit about your childhood? Favorite memories?

Lyn: I was brought up in a small Welsh seaside town. As a child I spent a lot of time on the beach – not bathing or soaking up the sun, but looking in the rock pools at the crabs and little fishes. I was always crazy about wild life. I had a Welsh corgi called Bob and I used to take him for long walks in the woods near where we lived. My favourite memories are walking in the country with father and sister, my first riding lessons and working at the local riding stables.

Alisha: What a lovely childhood! Tell us about the hero and heroine in your latest release.

Lyn: Well, I had two books released within a few weeks of each other. ‘Starquest’ was actually contracted before my second book ‘Dancing With Fate’. The heroine is a lady with a mission – things don’t always go right for her and she has some difficult choices to make before she finally gets her ‘happy ever after’. There are actually two heroes in this book. They are totally different, one is dark and distant, the other blond and caring, and both sexy in their own way (And no, it’s not a menage :)).

In my ‘muse’ story, ‘Dancing With Fate’ the heroine is the muse of dance, Terpsichore, and the hero is the Celtic Myrddin ab Morfryn of 5th Century Wales. When the two meet up, sparks of passion ignite, but Myrddin isn’t quite what he seems and Terpsichore finds she has a rival for his affections.

Alihsa: Both of these are on my TBR list! And two heroes? Now I MUST read this! If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would they be?

Lyn: Well apart from the usual ones of world peace and an end to world poverty -

First of all I really wish no child or animal was ever hungry, homeless or ill treated. It really upsets me when I hear of small children and animals suffering at the hands of people who think it’s all right to hurt anything smaller and weaker than themselves, as if, because they’re not able to stand up for themselves, they have no feelings.

Secondly I wish I could go back in time and tell a couple of people who left this world suddenly, how much I loved them.

Thirdly I’d love to have enough money to buy a little cottage with some land in my beloved Wales.


Alisha: Such wonderful wishes! I really hope you get your last wish too! If you could go anywhere to tomorrow, where would you go?

Lyn: Well, Wales will always be home to me and I miss it very much. But if we’re talking about somewhere further afield, there are a lot of places in the world I’ve never visited and would love to see but the Western states of America are definitely at the top of the list. I’d really love to visit a real horse ranch, and I think the Grand Canyon must be one of the most amazing places in the world.

Alisha: Oh yes! I've been to the Grand Canyon. There is no describing it. Pictures don't do it justice. Just stunning! If you could see anyone tomorrow (dead or alive), who would it be?

Lyn: My mother. She died when I was ten years old and I’d love to tell her how my sister and I turned out. She’d be tickled by my writing I think, and probably surprised that I love horses so much and have had horses of my own ever since I managed to save up enough money too buy one.

Alisha: Oh Lyn! I have a feeling your mother knows all of this. I know she must be very proud! If you could choose six people to spend one week on a desert island, who would it be and why?

Lyn: My two sisters, Chris and Carol, our respective husbands – and my dog Bouncer. Am I allowed to have a dog? My sisters and their husbands and Dave my husband and myself all get on so well with each other and we don’t all manage to be together nearly as often as we’d like, since I now live in England and they’re in Wales. I’d like to take my rescued dog Bouncer, as he always pines if I have to leave him, and he’s such a lively, friendly little dog he’d keep us all amused .

Alisha: Bouncer is such a cute name! What word or phrase tingles in all the right places for you?

Lyn: Apart from chocolate? Well ‘I really loved your book’ will do it every time!

Alisha: Now that gets me all tingly too...lol! If you had one day to spoil yourself, what would you do?

Lyn: I love water. I’d like to take a cruise on the river and be waited on hand and foot!

Alisha: What’s the sexiest thing a man has ever done for you or said to you or both?

Lyn: I once went out with a man who called me ‘Princess’ and treated me like one. Unfortunately we both had problems at the time and drifted apart. I loved his old fashioned courtesy and found it a real ‘turn on’. He once cooked me a Birthday dinner, complete with a perfect ‘baked Alaska’.

Alisha: Ooooh, yes, I love a gentleman!



EXCERPT FROM STARQUEST

"I’ve loved the stars ever since I was a child. All I ever wanted was to travel to distant planets, visit new worlds.”

She smiled a little sadly. “Like you, I thought my work and my love of travelling was enough. But space can be very lonely sometimes, however beautiful it is. I hadn’t realised how lonely.”

“How long have you been a pilot, Jess?”

“Seven years, allowing for the vagaries of Time-Dilation and FTL travel. I graduated at eighteen from the Orion Space Training Centre and then, after my two years practical space flight experience, joined the Sisterhood as a Missionary. Apart from a year’s intensive training with them I’ve been travelling in space since I qualified.”

“You went to Orion?”

She nodded, enjoying the quick look of approval he gave her. Orion was notorious for the difficulty of its entry requirements and the rigorous training undertaken by its student pilots.

“Seven years is a long time,” he said softly. “I promise you Jess, while we both live, you will never be alone again.”

BLURB FROM DANCING WITH FATE

When Terpsichore, the Muse of Dance, is assigned to revisit the land of Wales, her task seems simple enough. She is unaware there is a hidden agenda. Before she can return to Olympus her path crosses that of the mysterious Myrddin, and her heart is lost.
But Myrddin is promised to another. His mind is set on the dangerous task that lies before him, and the woman he has sworn to save. Nevertheless, he cannot deny the growing attraction between him and the beautiful stranger he meets along the way.
Terpsichore and Myrddin face a deadly force that threatens to part them forever. Is she destined to lose the only man she has ever truly loved? Is there nothing she can do to save him? Finally, when all seems lost, in desperation she finds herself DANCING WITH FATE.

Where to find Lyn and her books!

‘Dancing With Fate is available as an individual download or in print in Book II of ‘The Song Of The Muses’.

‘Starquest’ is available for download and will be in print on 5th December

The latest news and reviews of my books or on my Blog:
Hywela Lyn

And if you’re quick and download either of my books from The Wild Rose Press site you
Could win a Sony E-Reader check out my Books with The Wild Rose Press:
The Wild Rose Press

If you go to link, as well as purchase links to both my books, you’ll also find a link to download my fantasy short story ‘A Bargain With Death’ for FREE as one of the Wild Rose Press’s ‘Freereads’.

I love hearing from readers and other writers and you can email me at: hywelalyn@hywelalyn.co.uk
Website: Hywela Lyn

My Space: Hywela Lyn

Starquest My Space: Jestine Darnell

Dancing With Fate My Space: Terpsichore

Alisha: Thanks so much for being my guest of honor today, Lyn!

Lyn: Thank you so much Alisha, I’ve really enjoyed talking with you. And it’s a joy and a privilege to have worked alongside you and our other ‘muse sisters’ in the series ‘Song Of The Muses’. I’m looking forward to the next Muse Anthology.

An Interview with Beautiful and Brainy Michele Hart!

Please welcome the very talented and hilarious Michele Hart to my blog today! I was lucky enough to be a part of the Song of the Muses series at The Wild Rose Press where I met Michele and my seven other sisters as we now affectionately call one another. Michele keeps me laughing, keeps me sane and has taught me that true friends really do exist out there. Thanks for stopping by today, sis!

Alisha: Can you tell us a little bit about your childhood?

Michele: I was a latch-key kid sitting in front of the TV and my World Book Encyclopedia. That was my entire childhood. Gilligan and Captain Kirk raised me. After about age ten, I bounced from one house to another, just moving with the family until high school, where we settled into the Tampa suburbs. My head was always in the TV until a high school job came around. I wanted to be a ballerina, an astronaut, and a dog trainer. Not all at once, of course. They’d never let me take my dog on the shuttle, and there’s not much room to dance.

Alisha: Tell us about the hero and heroine in your latest release.

Michele: In No Funny Stuff!, Drew is followed by a demon who regularly wrecks his life. One afternoon his everyday misery is disrupted by Daisy, a pretty country girl who happens to know Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, and Daisy and Thalia change his life, doomed to a short life by a vengeful god’s curse.

Alisha: If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would they be?

Michele: Gosh, probably nothing the rest of the world already wants and needs.
First, there’s the classic Miss America answer, World Peace. Everyone wants that. Secondly, I’d like outrageous writing talent. Who doesn’t want that?
Finally, I’d like to be in love with exercise, so I’ll be nice and healthy. As a writer, I’m way too sedentary.

Alisha: Those are wonderful wishes! If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would you go?

Michele: New Zealand. Always wanted to go probably because it’s the opposite of Florida, where I’m at now. Mountainous, cold, foreign. The men are big and handsome too. And Colorado for the same reasons.

Alisha: Mmmm...big and handsome. Okay, I'm going with you, sis. If you could see anyone tomorrow (dead or alive), who would it be?

Michele: My very best friend, Ron Parshley, who passed away in 2001. He was my knight in rusty armor and my mentor. I miss him terribly.
And my angel-dog Pooky, who is in Heaven because God felt lonely, and Pooky was the cutest thing She ever made so She called the Pookster home. I can’t blame Her. For the eight years I had her, Heaven was missing an angel.

Alisha: OMG! Now I'm crying! Wahh! I wish I could get Pooky back for you! If you could choose six people to spend one week on a desert island, who would it be and why?

Michele: Define ‘people’. Do they all have to be human? Smurfs aren’t human, yet we call them little blue ‘people’. Food for thought.
a-My best buddy, Alisha
b-my high school crush hypnotized to fall madly in love with me
c-President-Elect Obama, a leader I admire
d-Stephen Colbert, a comedian I love
e-Michio Kaku (Eva Gordon gets points for that one)
f-That guy on the TV show Survivorman, to keep us alive

and as a nonhuman nomination, a man made of Toblerone dark chocolate..
(I’m not saying I’d eat him.)

That makes the roll call for a good friend, a cute guy, a world leader, a snappy comedian, a brilliant scientist, and a yummy guy.. (I’m not saying I’d eat the Toblerone guy. I expect Colbert to suggest it, though. And, well, the man kills me.. I expect a good argument from him.)

Alisha: That's quite a guest list! And I'm invited! Woo hooo! Wow, wouldn't that be a wonderful island experience? And I'm going to eat the chocolate man, dirty parts and all. For those of you that saw my blog yesterday...we were talking about toe sucking...lol...I bet we'd ALL suck his toes..*snicker*! What word or phrase tingles in all the right places for you?

Michele: The pizza’s here! (I don’t hear that enough.)
There’s no calories in that ice cream. (Want to hear that one more, too.)
George Clooney’s on his way. (Never heard that one, but it sure doesn’t hurt the ears.)

Alisha: Sis, you are the funniest lady I know! You crack me up! Those are awesome answers! Let's have a slumber party, order pizza, pig out on ice cream, the non fat kind..there's some good ones now and invite George. I'm sure he could swing it. I hear he's into panty raids. If you had one day to spoil yourself, what would you do?

Michele: Dang, I’m pretty spoiled now. I’d spend the day at a really pretty beach. I can’t seem to stop writing beach scenes so I must belong there, despite my lily-white flesh. It’s such a nice setting for both romance and personal peace. Throw in a large parasol.

Alisha: Oooh I love the beach and you and I were just talking about going to the beach today. We can both blind the tourists with our white skin. I look like I'm made of flour! I sure could use the sun! What’s the sexiest thing a man has ever done for you or said to you or both?

Michele: A very handsome and creative young man once laid out a treasure hunt and a path of rose petals to our bed. That was pretty romantic. Applause for creative men!

Alisha: How very sweet, sexy and thoughtful!

CONTEST: LEAVE A COMMENT FOR MICHELE TODAY AND YOU'LL BE ENTERED INTO A DRAWING FOR A DOWNLOAD OF NO FUNNY STUFF!

Here’s an excerpt from No Funny Stuff!:

Concealing the gift under a washcloth in her hand, Daisy turned back to the room, intending to stash the present in her suitcase and preventing any questions of it tonight. When she crossed over the bathroom threshold, her foot caught on something. Daisy tumbled downward with a shriek; the gift flew from her hand.
The washcloth flung away, and she watched in slow motion the flashy, sparkly red bow flip end-over-end through the air until the rest of the room rushed upward and the carpet broke her fall.
Drew dashed to her and helped her sit up. She could see him better if those damned stars weren’t in the way.
“What happened?” she muttered, then she looked to see Olé stretched over the doorway, the Chihuahua’s little face looking guilty, yet a sliver of intent lay hiding in his eye. She realized just how invisible the dog had been all night.
Then the picture of the gift in flight set Daisy to a panic.
“Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” she chanted, imagining the gift from the gods fragile and now broken by her hand. She went to her knees and crawled along the floor, seeking the missing gift beneath the dresser, the desk. Olé joined her, sniffing but not knowing any better than she did for what the heck they searched.
She crawled over to one bed and threw up the covers to check beneath it. All she saw was Drew’s face appearing on the other side of the bed. “What are you looking for?”
She threw the covers back into position. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and crawled around to the other bed, checking every corner where the gift could hide. She noticed Drew’s interest, possibly focused on her upturned derriere.
She flipped the other bed spread flaps up and checked beneath to spot the box in shadow. Relieved, she reached under the bed frame and grabbed the box, bringing it with her as she rose, but the relief was short-lived. In her palm, the tiny, elaborately decorated red box lay open and empty. Drew stared expectantly at the inch-sized cube. She found nothing on the floor.
Before Daisy could consider what punishment the gods might demand of a crummy messenger, her nose detected a scent she knew well from the wild roses woven into the farm’s front gate. Roses meant home to Daisy.
Drew’s brow crashed. “Do you smell flowers?”
He leaned toward her and sniffed so close she felt the tug of breeze into his nose. “It’s you. You smell like flowers. Must be your shower soap.”
But she used the soap she made on the farm, oatmeal and otherwise unscented.
Daisy became super-aware of Drew’s close proximity. He just stood there beside her, wearing nothing but a hotel bed-sheet toga, the corners tied at one shoulder and draping the long line of his physique. Her eyes rode the open side of the toga, down his rib cage past his hips, where hard thighs and scattered hair took over. She was struck with the strongest urge to touch him, to slip her hands to his chest and run her fingers through the hair there. To caress his city-pale flesh, knead his weight-sculpted biceps, stroke the sides of his lean torso. The feeling was so strong, she broke into a sweat. Her palms itched.
Drew stepped back and began to hyperventilate. He paled, dropped onto the bed, his hand to his chest as if his breath had escaped him. He looked truly panicked.
“What is it, Drew?” Daisy asked, fearing the moment. She tossed the empty red box aside and took his hand to feel it clammy.
Was this The End?
****

Hugs to my Muse sisters out there,
Michele
~ ~ ~ Song of the Muses rocks! ~ ~ ~

Thanks for being my guest of honor today, Michele! Please come back soon!
~Alisha