Callie Patterson, an unsuccessful artist, hopes that a relationship with the irresistible and magnetic Nicholas Trier will pave the way to success. She follows him to France where, in a magnificent château, he holds his artists’ retreats. But famous men surround themselves with hangers-on and demand complete loyalty.
Callie soon finds herself far more attracted to Michel Alexandre, the estate gardener, who loves and protects trees and every living creature. But if she wants to make a name for herself, she’ll have to choose Nicholas and his world.
About The Unpredictable Colors of Love
by J. Arlene Culiner
Contemporary Romance set in the French countryside
In her late forties, Callie Patterson is determined to become a successful artist, and star French artist, Nicholas Trier, might help her achieve that goal. Not only is he gorgeous — tall with golden hair, chiseled features, and a fine mouth: the perfect male of the species — he is offering a two-week Artists’ Retreat in an 18th-century French château. Callie plans to hone her artistic skills and charm the too divine Nicholas.
But from the moment Callie arrives in France, nothing goes according to plan. The château is magnificent, the countryside is splendid but it never stops raining, and although Nicholas seems interested in her, he is surrounded by a determined and ambitious group of artists. Even more tiring, with only basic French, Callie has to fight to understand anything. Friendship with the château’s gardener, Michel Alexander, makes life easier. He is also an amateur artist, his conversation is stimulating, and his love of nature startling, yet Callie can’t consider him a potential lover. He’s no gorgeous Prince Charming — his hairline had receded, and he was short and solidly built with a broad chest and thick, bear-like torso. Besides, Michel is as poor and unsuccessful as she is, and a passion for the local gardener would be too reminiscent of Lady Chatterley’s Lover.
Excerpt
Callie dropped her backpack and, uninvited, sat down on the soggy ground not far from where he was digging. She didn’t even own a houseplant, but a banal conversation about twigs and saplings, was what she craved at the moment. “Okay, tell me why isn’t there a hedge here now.”
“Because, years ago, the farmer ripped out all the hedges to have larger fields for his agricultural machinery. Now we’re bringing back a balanced environment.”
“You’re not planning to replace every single hedge on your own, are you?”
“Of course not,” he scoffed. Picking up a small spade, he loosened another patch of earth. “There are thousands of trees and shrubs to replant, and that would be an impossible task for only one person.”
With gentle fingers, he spread the delicate roots of a tiny shrub, tucked it into place in the little hole, then tamped down the moist soil with his palm. Reached for another, and then another.
She watched silently as he planted, and strangely enough, it was almost a sensual sight. His hands were broad, strong, and deeply tanned from working outdoors; his long fingers were beautifully shaped. And under that denim shirt of his, there was the alluring suggestion of tight sinew and warm, fragrant skin. Bear like? No, not exactly. Something more, something…
“A penny for your thoughts.” Michel was watching her with those disconcerting eyes of his, very dark, with heavy lids and thick lashes.
She felt the blush as it traveled upward, flooding her neck, her face. He hadn’t caught what she had been thinking, had he? Perhaps he had. Surely, he’d seen how her gaze had traveled over his hands, his arms, his chest, and shoulders. How incredibly humiliating! What vaguely plausible answer could she give? “Oh…just remembering something.”
“Ah.” Eyebrows raised in overt amusement, he smirked—rather cockily—then went back to working on the next hole, the next shrub.
Except nothing is quite the way it seems, and perhaps success isn’t the most important thing, after all.
Trailer: https://youtu.be/27nE-cCHNqM
Meet the Author:
Writer, social critical artist, and impenitent teller of tall tales, J. Arlene Culiner, was born in New York and raised in Toronto. She has crossed much of Europe on foot, has lived in a mud house on the Great Hungarian Plain, in a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave dwelling, a haunted house on the English moors, and on a Dutch canal. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest where, much to local dismay, she protects spiders, snakes, and weeds. Observing people in cafes, in their homes, on trains, or in the streets, she eavesdrops on all private conversations, and delights in hearing any nasty, funny, ridiculous, sad, romantic, or boastful story. And when she can’t uncover really salacious gossip, she makes it up.
Author Website: http://www.j-arleneculiner.com
Author Blog: http://j-arleneculiner.over-blog.com
Author Links: https://linktr.ee/j.arleneculiner
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