Excerpt Monday - Painted Soul

BLURB: Journey into the lives of two artists, through the streets of London, the shadows of the underground clubs and a secret past, and into their souls to believe in love.
American artist, Elizabeth McAlister searched for ten years for the dark art student she gave her heart to in a Soho nightclub. When the famous underground artist, Puzzola, appears out of the shadows in her London studio one night, a summer of intense passion and dark secrets begins. As she falls deeper in love with him, Elizabeth tries to rescue Puzzola from a tortured life he refuses to talk about. Unfortunately, his true identity and erotic past are exposed in a local newspaper. Even though Elizabeth holds his heart and soul in her hands, she’s not sure she can win the battle with the ghosts of his past or if their love is strong enough to survive.


Painted Soul - EXCERPT 1
“Breathe, Elizabeth, breathe,” she willed herself.

“Slide the rail, Elizabeth! Come on!” She saw Michael jumping up and down.

“Oh, hell. Why not!” She swallowed the last of her drink and slid down the rail into a vision of black and white.

“Hey there!”" She felt his breath on her cheek. His hands, with their strong grip on her bare waist, seared her skin. She looked into those piercing eyes. Piercing blue eyes, not black, but the color of the Caribbean Sea. Unlike many guys here, he wasn’t wearing the usual makeup sported around the club scene, just a bit of eyeliner. His lashes so dark, his lips so, so, so....

“Dance with me, my lady.”

Everywhere he touched, she burned. She fought to regain her senses. He seemed familiar. There was an entity projected from this young man that completely mesmerized her.

“What’s your name?” she wondered aloud.

“My friends call me, Puzzola,” his gaze never leaving her face. “You must be Elizabeth. I know your brothers.”

“It seems everyone knows my brothers!”

He smiled and nodded in agreement.

“Puzzola? That’s an unusual name.”

“It means, skunk. My friends in Italy gave me the name. Don’t understand why,” he said running his fingers through the bleached blonde stripe. “The name has stuck with me since.”

“Do you go to school in Italy?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes. I’m studying from the masters.”

While they danced she felt so aroused by him, and somewhat embarrassed by the awakening wanton emotion. Maybe Lynn was right, perhaps they did know each other and were lovers in another life. That would be too cool, she thought to herself. She’d never felt this way about any guy she dated, so hot and ready for anything he would ask of her. And she was only dancing with him, a total stranger! Every part of her body Puzzola touched was set afire, while the rest cried for his touch.

“You’re a good dancer,” Puzzola yelled.

“Thanks,” Elizabeth was knocked toward him by out of control dancers.

“Are you alright?” he frowned in the direction of a green-haired dancer bouncing away. “I’m not sure if we could get off the floor now if we wanted to. It’s getting more crowded. The band is about to play the best set of the night.”

“You must come here often.”

“Enough,” his mouth was next to her ear, “Your brothers drag me out of my den occasionally when I’m in town. If you came here, I wouldn’t need to be dragged. You are beautiful.”

Elizabeth felt herself blush. Several times she thought he would kiss her, but he didn’t. Puzzola grabbed her hand, placed it on his shoulder, turned his head with closed eyes placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. He then turned to face her and put her through a dance move, never taking his gorgeous eyes off her.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Elizabeth mumbled to herself while looking back at the dark figure.

“What?”

The heat between the dancers intensified as the music grew louder. Their world was spinning out of control. They felt a common bond, a shared destiny, but neither could fathom the depth of what they were experiencing. The music was too loud and the dance floor too crowded to carry on a conversation, but their eyes spoke. They danced into the night only with each other, constantly touching, with the exception of occasional interruptions by Lynn or her brothers’ untamed behavior.

As the club wound down in the early morning hours, Puzzola drew her into his arms and led her off the dance floor.

“I must see you again, Elizabeth,” he looked at her with desperate hunger in his eyes.

Suddenly, she was overcome with a sense of sadness; “I leave for New York in the morning. I start college classes next week.”

“What are you going study?”

“Art,” she replied breathlessly.

His eyes lowered to her lips and he nodded.

“Art. I like art,” he smiled crookedly. “Promise me, you will study hard and become undeniably skillful in your chosen medium. If you are true to your heart,” he tapped her chest with a long finger, her heart fluttering with his touch, “I promise you,” he paused to pull her closer, “we will meet again.”

His lips caressed hers. Elizabeth melted. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she probably would have fallen into a heap on the floor. She slid her arm over his shoulder to tangle her fingers in his long, soft black hair. Puzzola groaned as she ran her other hand over his painted cheek and her fingers through his blond stripe. She inhaled rapidly as he pulled her upward to place feather kisses on her neck and collarbone. It felt so good, so right pressed against him. His lips came down hard on hers, parting her lips for a deep, intense kiss that reached into the depths of her soul.

“There is so much I want,” his voice was raspy. “I want to be with you. I want to take you where I know you want to be.”

“I wish I didn’t have to leave in the morning,” Elizabeth could hardly breathe. She was ready to give herself, and would have bargained with the devil himself for more time tonight in London. If he asked her to spend the night with him, she would.

“There is not enough time to kiss you. Not enough time to touch you. You are in my soul, Elizabeth McAlister. Remember my promise, we will meet again,” he whispered the pledge to her as he rubbed her temple with his thumb.



He ran his long fingers across her cheek to the back of her head and kissed her with greater intensity than before. She felt him claiming her, possessing her. With their bodies flattened against each other, she felt them fusing together. She could feel his heart beating as fast as hers was pounding loud in her ears.

As he pulled away, Elizabeth asked, “What’s your real name?”

“Puzzola,” he responded as he bowed his head and a lock of blonde hair fell across his dark eyebrows and ocean eyes. With two fingers, he gave her a jaunty salute and disappeared into the crowd.

“Ready to go, Elizabeth?” Michael’s voice said bringing her back to reality. “You all right, doll? You look like you did at the funeral. You were supposed to make a good memory to take home, remember?”

Why did she feel like she just lost something dear? “I did, I think,” she gulped. “Michael, do you know a guy named, Puzzola?”

“Yeah, he’s like a rebel, a punk, but a real upright guy though. Comes from an aristocratic family, but he wants to do his own thing," Michael smiled. “He’s studying art in Italy, and his father is totally freaked out about it. He’s not following the ‘master plan.’ Kind of sounds familiar, huh?”

“What’s his real name?”

“Ah, he just goes by Puzzola.”

Michael wasn’t stupid; he made a point to keep an eye on the girls through the night. When he took a break from dancing during the crush, he saw the heat between Elizabeth and Puzzola. Too bad Father wouldn’t let her study in London.
Puzzola, being Erick’s age, was a member of the brothers’ inner circle of friends. A group built on honesty and trust. He could trust Puzzola with his sister; he always thought they’d make a good match. But the fire he saw ignited tonight could build into an inferno. Perhaps when they are a little older and can handle the blaze, they might be given the chance to burn together. In the meantime, he’d be the overprotective big brother.

He put an arm around Elizabeth to lead her outside. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Puzzola with the same lost gaze on his face. Michael smiled at him only to receive a nod from the striped head. They seemed made for each other, both being creative and emotional. Maybe soul mates, but now was not the time in their lives to test such waters. He didn’t want to see his sister hurt, or lose a good friend to bad timing. He would make sure they would meet again some day.

“He got under your skin, little sister,” Michael said. “To be honest with you, that’s the first time I’ve seen him on the dance floor. You two melted The Place down! Come on, let’s get back to the flat. You have a long trip ahead of you.”

Elizabeth looked up to her oldest brother and had a sinking feeling he wasn’t referring to her plane ride back to New York.

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Tempting Tuesday - Lonely Soul excerpt 2

TEMPTING TUESDAY


Michael and his two closest friends went to lunch together
every Tuesday and Wednesday when they worked together in the
Graphic Arts building. The three had met during the internship
phase of their careers. At the time, Tommy and Matt had been
surprised to discover their new friend was the future owner of
McAlister Enterprises. The young men spent a lot of time together
womanizing when they weren’t biking, bungee jumping, skydiving,
and any extreme sport they could find or just relaxing at his cabin.
Michael valued his friends because they saw him for who he really
was, just a simple guy who liked to have fun, then hang out in a log
cabin on a lake.

“I’m so hungry my stomach is going to start digesting itself,”
Tommy complained as he opened the menu.

Tommy Harris was the shortest of the three in stature, but
he had the personality to match his reddish-blonde curls. His wild
hair, tattooed leg and style of dress he chose when he wasn’t
working, gave him the look of a professional skateboarder instead of
a graphic artist.

“I think I’m going to get the brontosaurus burger,” Matt
joked as he tossed the menu aside without looking at it. “With lots
of grease.”

Matt Keller was from northern Minnesota and fell victim to
Michael’s teasing because of his slight accent. He was a tall man
with dark brown hair and always looked as if he just climbed out of
bed, which many times was just the case. Being somewhat vain, he
only wore his glasses for reading and not many even knew he had
them. His way with the ladies was sometimes ruthless because he
could drop the clothes off any woman with his obnoxious charm.

“If you get a burger, you might have to warsh your face,”
Michael imitated one of the many words his friend pronounced
differently.

Matt flipped him the finger.

After they placed their orders they chatted quietly about a
project at work until Michael heard a familiar laugh coming from
behind the curtain that separated the booths. His friends obviously
recognized it also and looked at him in silence.

It was his girlfriend, Colleen Chandler and a friend. With a
wicked grin, he held up a finger to his lips and they listened to the
conversation.

“How can you be so sure he’s going to ask you to marry
him?” The friend asked.

“I found a ring box in his coat pocket last night,” Colleen’s
voice carried.

“I can’t believe it. You went through his coat?”

“Well, yeah.”

“What about John Lawrence?”

Michael listened intensely as their food was delivered.
Tommy and Matt sat mute, eavesdropping as well. He knew there
was something wrong with his relationship with Colleen and now he
was getting an earful. This was going to be better than dinner
theater, he thought.

“I’ve been playing with both of them long enough to see
which has more to offer. Oh, he’ll cry in his brandy for a bit, then
move on.”

“So you’d choose Michael over John. Doesn’t the Lawrence
family have more money?”

“They have old money. I’m not sure how much control John
actually has.” Colleen paused. “Besides, Michael has the better
package.”

Tommy spit his drink out; Matt stuffed his napkin in his
mouth to suffocate his laugh. Michael tried to hold back a smile as
he playfully smacked them.

“He’s that good?”

“The best,” Colleen purred. “Any time, anywhere, any way.
Hmm. He knows exactly how I like it.”

Matt and Tommy rolled their eyes, pretended to fan
themselves and slid in their chairs almost going under the table.
Michael covered his face with his hands, embarrassed at both his
friends’ behavior and the subject matter.

“I have a lot to change in that man; he’s a gem but a bit
rough around the edges.” Colleen spoke matter of factly.

“Oh, kind of like the pool boy with a big bank account.”

“Exactly. I think with a little persuasion, I could make a
social star of him. The newspapers already love him with his model
looks and large bank account.” Colleen paused. “Oh, look at the
time, we better get going.”

The three men immersed themselves into their meals and
acted oblivious to the women who stepped near the table. Tommy
stuffed a large piece of food into his mouth. Matt lifted his drink to
his lips. Mike simply hoped the ladies wouldn’t notice the three of
them at all, but they did.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the three musketeers out on a lunch
date.” Colleen stood with one hand on her hip and flipped her hair
with her other. “Do you want me to have the waitress bring extra
napkins over for your pets, Michael?”

“Hello, Colleen. Aren’t you lovely today?” Matt said in a
sultry voice. “Did you have a make over or did you just wake up
ugly?”

Colleen gave him a sneer before turning her attention to
Michael.

“How long have you been here?” She asked.

“Long enough.”

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“How about lobster?” He looked up at her with a smile.

“Sure. I’ll see you later.”

She bent and kissed him on the cheek. As she walked away,
Matt and Tommy pretended to be gagging. Michael waited
patiently until their theatrics were done. He tried to hold back a grin.

“You’re still going out with her right after you heard her
admit she’s sleeping with another guy?” Tommy didn’t hide his
surprise.

“Wait a minute, he’s up to something,” Matt hit him with his
elbow. “Lobster, eh?”

“Yep,” Michael grinned, “at Ralph’s Lobster Shack.”

“Great! The best dumpy lobster kitchen in town.” Tommy
wiped his hands with a napkin, “What time do you want us there?”

His friends erupted into laughter. Within moments he had
formulated a plan to break up with Colleen. It was going to be too
easy.

“So Matt,” Michael decided to change the subject. “I tried
calling you last night and got your answering service. What were
you up to?”

“Nothing much.” He munched on his burger. “Just grudge
fucked my ex-girlfriend’s best friend.”

“What?” Tommy yelled. “I thought you were mad at both of
them.”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Are you going to see her again?” Michael tried not to laugh.

“No, are you kidding? But I feel much better,” he spoke
calmly. “I suggest you try it sometime, Mikey. Hey, are you going to eat that pickle?”


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Excerpt Monday - Painted Soul

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just a writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.


Excerpt from Painted Soul

Puzzola with his usual cool exterior was outside leaning against the wall when the brothers exited Elizabeth’s gallery. The flash of lightening and rumble of thunder reflected the storms churning inside him. He was balancing on a thin line. The plan was in motion.

“I’m trusting you with my sister, friend,” Michael said, meeting Puzzola with a cold stare as lightening flashed again in the distance.

Erick palmed a key to the dark figure, “Oh, she’s mad at us!” Then he leaned closer to whisper, “Good luck.”

Puzzola nodded to his friends before slipping inside. The plan called for elevating Elizabeth’s emotions to the same level she had experienced that memorable night while dancing in The Place. Tonight they would finish what they started, both releasing years of pent up emotion. The lightning lit up the empty gallery showing him the stairs, but he could not miss the mind-blowing music full of hard driving guitar riffs and unbelievable energy. From personal experience, he knew Elizabeth was on an escapist trip. Drugs or alcohol could never take a person close to the trip an artist takes while working intensely on a piece. Pausing at the top stair, he tried to slow down his breathing.

Slowly, he peered into the studio like a peeping Tom, but wasn’t prepared for the sight. With her hair flowing freely over her shoulders Elizabeth danced in the candlelight holding a paintbrush and wearing only a thin camisole and thong panties. She raised her arms over her head in a graceful gesture swaying her hips to the sexual groove blasting from the speakers. Her smell filled his nostrils, his hunger for her intensifying as he struggled for control.

Elizabeth was definitely caught up in the mood of the candles, music and emotion. When she finally turned and saw him standing in the doorway, she stopped dancing, still holding her paintbrush. Puzzola met her gaze, smiled as he shrugged his shoulders and boldly stepped into the room. Sexual tension in the air was thicker than the paint on the pallet.

“Hello, my lady,” his voice thick and sensual.

She stood breathless, still in shock. Here he was, in her studio. “How did you get in here?”

“Someone thought I might need this,” he placed a key on a table. “I wanted to thank you personally for coming to my opening. But I’m sorry if you found some of my work disturbing.”

“You were there.”

“Yes. I enjoy listening to my work being analyzed,” he moved effortlessly around the room sending her sultry glances. “It’s a fun little game I play with my critics.”

“I’m sure Painted Soul will get you committed.”

“Committed to whom?”

He was the most delicious man she had ever seen. Taller than she remembered and more masculine than the clean cut punk with two-tone hair she met so long ago. Yet he still held a mysterious power over her. In his black clothing, he moved like a panther. She shivered thinking of the image in “Painted Soul.”

“Nice work,” he complimented as he looked at the painting. His eyes momentarily narrowed then flashed back to Elizabeth.

Puzzola held out a hand to her, she saw the scar across his palm and the gold band on his thumb. Her heart pounding, she touched it. Upon her hand, she wore a thumb ring she purchased shortly after meeting him. Puzzola rubbed his thumb against hers with a slow stroking motion. Cat-like he moved until they touched palm to palm and stood chest to chest, staring into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth’s heart pounded to the beat of the provocative music. Emotions and memories filled her mind. She wanted him more than ever.

“Do you want me to be here, Elizabeth?” Puzzola asked in a husky voice.

In a daring move, she touched his check remembering the two black painted stripes long gone, then traced his jaw line with her fingertips. Her throat felt dry, as she caressed the face that haunted her dreams. She couldn’t believe he was real, but she could feel his heat. Elizabeth saw the raw hunger in his eyes reflecting what she felt.

“Yes,” she answered with little more than a whisper, “very much.”

Like the lightening outside, Puzzola quickly moved her into his arms and pressed hard against her. His carefully planned night was unraveling, he was losing composure. His emotions were taking control. He had to devour his ravishing tormentor and make the pain inside his soul subside. She would be his, tonight.

“I have made time stop for us tonight. You will not get away from me this time,” he whispered in her ear. He felt her melt into his arms as his body gyrated against hers in time with the music. “Welcome to our fantasy. Open your mind let your wishes come true. I am here, Elizabeth, flesh and blood to set you free. I will be whatever you want me to be. I am all your dreams and your worst nightmare in one. Release me only when you are ready to begin your reverie.”

Elizabeth pressed against him, tilted her head back with closed eyes as a small moan escaped from her lips. Her body begged to be touched, to feel the burn. She needed him to wipe away those lost years without him. He cupped her face with his fiery hands, forcing her eyes to open. His eyes burned into her then they rolled back when she ran her hands across his torso and along his sides, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath the silk fabric of his shirt. She could hear his struggled breathing and feel his rapid heartbeat. Pleased with her affect on him, she continued her movements.

His eyes opened as he caressed her throat with his fingers and brought his hand down her chest across her breast. Elizabeth thought her heart would leap out of her chest when his hand stroked her body as if inspecting, then finally resting on the small of her back. His other hand slid behind her head. A soft purr escaped from her as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathing hard, tipped her head back desirous for a kiss.

Pulling her close Puzzola nuzzled her check, “You have haunted my dreams. I can not believe I am finally holding my specter. I have wanted you so long.”

His mouth came down on hers in desperate need. Heat churned inside her as she answered back with the same desperation. Flames of passion and desire spread to inferno.

“Dream lover,” she touched his check and he turned his face to place a kiss in her palm, “take me where I want to be.”

Hearing the repeated promise of long ago, Puzzola smiled, “Oh, my lady.”

Lightening flashed, thunder rolled and rain began to pound on the roof. The music, the candles, Puzzola lost all control as the need to be released from the burning desire peaked. In a swift movement he pulled the camisole off Elizabeth’s body, exposing soft round breasts to the glowing candlelight. He picked her up with his hands under her, pushed her back against a wall and covered her neck with fervent kisses. She gasped and arched against him as he sucked a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Puzzola groaned as she ran her fingers through his hair. He took her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss as he pulled off her panties. The kiss stopped when they both were breathless. Looking into her eyes, he was lost.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he murmured, “I want to taste your sweetness.”

“Puzzola,” Elizabeth whimpered as she placed a hand on his face.

“I am here,” he said as he trailed kisses down her neck.

He buried his face into the softness of her chest, his tongue flicked at her nipples and traveled down across her flat belly. He dropped to one knee, cupped her butt and moved her legs over his shoulders.

Elizabeth didn’t pay any notice to the cold wall on her back. The fire within her blazed. Bracing her back on the wall she twisted her fingers in his silky black hair. She was floating in air consumed by the emotions and sensations she was feeling. His touch pushed her higher, she thought she was on her way to heaven. His fingers probed her as his tongue tickled the silken folds, she cried out his name in sheer pleasure.

Not stopping his kisses, he gently moved her legs down and rose while she tugged at the stays of his pants. Elizabeth was amused when she found there was nothing between this man and his leather pants as she reached to release his throbbing manhood. His pulsating erection felt like velvet in her hands. Puzzola’s tremble and muffled groan told her of his struggle.

He leaned forward with both hands on the wall as she touched him. With the next clap of thunder he reached under her butt and roughly lifted Elizabeth and braced her against the wall. He had to become one with her. Elizabeth cried out in pleasurable surprise as he thrust inside her. Puzzola paused for a moment to allow her to become accustomed to him, but when he felt her muscles milking him, he couldn’t hold back any longer. With vicious ferocity he pushed Elizabeth to cry out in ecstasy before he exploded inside her.

Still inside her, holding her tightly he slid to his knees. The burning need did not decrease, his pulse continued to race.

He let out a shaken laugh, “Erick said you would bring me to my knees.”

“I’m not through with you yet,” Elizabeth felt a surge of newfound energy. Standing, she tugged hard at Puzzola’s shirt, buttons flying in all directions while nibbling on his ear.

She couldn’t help but stare at him once he had shed the rest of his clothing. His sculpted body called to her touch. The Painted Soul towered over her, his chest wet with sweat, all muscles tense and hard from their last workout. His black hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He flashed a lusty smile at her.

Elizabeth remembered the night they met and the way he smiled when she was caught staring at him. This time she kissed the lips beckoning to her, showing him her flaming passion. Her tongue stroked his, her teeth tugged at his lower lip. Feeling daring and wanting more, she became more adventurous.

“Let’s make a fantasy real,” she taunted as she kicked a large roll of canvas into unraveling across the studio floor. Elizabeth took Puzzola by the hand and led him to the center. His eyes glimmered with recognition of her plan.

“I hope you’re planning to use acrylic paint on this canvas,” his eyes never leaving her body while his smile only grew larger.

“Certainly,” Elizabeth presented him with a basket full of brightly colored tubes of acrylic paint.

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