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THE DEPTH OF BEAUTY
A Sinner's Grove Novel
A.B. Michaels
Released on January 6, 2016
Red Trumpet Press
A stand-alone historical novel, The Depth of Beauty follows on the heels
of A.B. Michaels’ award-winning fiction debut, The Art of Love.
Born to wealth and prestige, handsome and
successful in his own right, Will Firestone is the crème de la crème of 1903
San Francisco society. But when a
business venture draws him into the city’s reviled Chinatown, his notions of
what matters in life are tested in the extreme.
With the help of an exotic young mother and a mysterious orphan, Will
embarks on a journey of self-discovery, where love, danger and tragedy will
change his life forever.
The
Depth of Beauty is part
of a dual-genre series, “Sinner’s Grove,” which chronicles the family and
friends of a world-famous artists’ retreat on the northern California
coast. The stories follow both historical
and contemporary tracks, and can be read separately or together for greater
depth. Other titles in the series
include the contemporary suspense novels Sinner’s
Grove and The Lair.
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Excerpt
He emerged from the trees
to see Mandy standing at the water’s edge. She was facing the ocean, so he
could only see the back of her. She had taken off her shirtwaist and her skirt,
leaving only her chemise and a petticoat. Her feet were bare and her rich, dark
red hair flowed down her back.
She was bewitching.
She was trying without
success to skip rocks into the calm water. Will’s own heart skipped. He knew he
should respect Mandy’s privacy and leave, but his attraction to her kept him
rooted to the spot. He watched her arms, those same pale, graceful limbs the
baby doc had touched during the presentation. His fists coiled in response.
He couldn’t stand it. “I
can show you a better way,” he called out, walking toward her.
Startled, she turned, and when she saw
him, she too froze. She glanced at her clothing sitting on a piece of
driftwood, and Will reflexively took off his own jacket. “Here,” he said,
beginning to cover her as if she were a child. He paused, looking at the swell
of her breasts beneath the filmy material of her undergarment. They were rising
and falling with her rapid breaths.
She was anything but a
child.
He looked up and lost
himself in her almond eyes.
Mandy was the first to
break the spell. “What did you mean, a better way?” she asked softly.
He stepped back. “Skipping
rocks. Hard to do in the ocean, but it can be done.” He looked down at the sand
where they stood. “First, find the flattest rock you can. Not too big, about
the size of your palm.” He picked one up and stood close to her again, reaching
for her hand, turning it over, and placing the rock in it. “You hold it like
this,” he murmured, taking her fingers and wrapping them properly around the
stone. He absorbed the feel of his hand touching hers and wanted to hold it
properly, as a suitor would, even though he knew he couldn’t. He looked around
for another rock to demonstrate the throw. “You stand like so, pull your arm
back and flick your wrist, so that it spins. See?” He demonstrated and they
watched his rock skip four times before disappearing into the water.
Mandy smiled with delight
and looked up at him. “I want to do that!” she cried.
“Then give it a whirl,” he
said.
It took several tries
before she was able to skip a rock even twice, but she reacted as if she had
just climbed Mount Everest. “I did it!” she crowed.
Will couldn’t help but
grin at her enthusiasm. “I’ll attest to it,” he agreed.
They stayed in
companionable silence for a bit longer until, once again, Mandy brought them
back to reality. “I don’t think you came down here to teach me how to skip
rocks,” she said. “Why did you come?”
He had practiced his
little speech on the way down the hill. Why was he so loathe to begin it now?
He took a deep breath. It had to be done. “I heard that Ethel Steubens quit and
that you’ve, um, stepped into her place, as it were.”
Mandy’s voice lost its
levity. “Who told you?”
“Peter
Raines.”
She nodded. “I should have
known. He’s beyond worried about what Lia might think.”
“So, he’s correct? You’ve
been displaying yourself in the … altogether?”
She looked at him with the
knowing expression of a woman twice her age. “Do you mean, have I been modeling
naked?” She squared her shoulders. “The answer is yes.”
Something primal escaped
him—something he had worked hard to control. “Well, you are damn well not going
to do it anymore.”
Born and raised in northern California, A.B. Michaels holds master's degrees in history and broadcasting, and worked for many years in the public relations and marketing fields. An avid quilter and bocce player, she currently lives in Boise, Idaho with her husband and two furry "sons" who don't seem to realize they're just dogs.
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