Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything. ― Plato
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Take a journey through five melody-infused worlds where music inspires love to bloom.
“Tempo of Temptation” by Lela Bay / Regency
Perhaps it is best that Mr. Leon doesn’t recall Petra's mortifying declaration of love. Could their intense attraction during an impromptu midnight concert inspire her to risk her heart again?
“Contact High” by Emmy Z. Madrigal / New Adult
Raul’s addiction is just another symptom of the hard life he’s been dealt but when Victoria sings, his troubles fade into the background. Can her music inspire him to get clean?
“Her Immortal Beloved” by M.M. Genet / Historical
Beethoven’s plan is to write the ultimate love song that transcends all time for his beloved. Will the woman of his heart let his music inspire her?
“Rick Prince and the Manhattan Muse” by Naching T. Kassa / Steamy
Heart-broken musician, Rick Prince, is inspired by the beautiful single-mother, Zella. He has no idea she holds a secret from his past which may tear them apart.
“Love Comes to Kenneth’s Valley” by Kate Nox / Inspirational
Grayson Greer motivates his congregation through music, but after the death of his wife, the pastime is shrouded in pain. Can Rachel’s love inspire him to move on?
**Read Free Excerpt Below**
“Tempo of Temptation”
by Lela Bay
She pulled a blanket over the older woman, stoked the fire, and lifted a taper in one hand to light her way through the inky halls. A breeze flipped her robes, sending shivers over her bare limbs beneath the thin fabric. She reached for the heavy conservatory door, surprised to realize it had been left slightly ajar. Yanking the thick piece open, she gasped as she spied a pair of gleaming eyes.
She staggered back. Hot wax splashed onto her hand from the guttering candle. She cried out, but a heavy hand across her mouth and a firm arm around her waist silenced her as she was dragged through the doorway into the hall.
Bent half-back over the arm that held her, the candle tipped from the holder, pattering onto the floor and leaving them in darkness, yet the green eyes she’d seen needed no external light for their message. She clutched Ryder’s broad shoulders, catching herself against him so she wouldn’t fall. They panted together, silent for a moment. The warm length of his legs pressed against her own, and the tingle of his closeness stole words from her lips. She didn’t know which way to turn, what to protest, or how she should react to his intimate embrace.
“You...” She coughed, the breath squeezed from her by the arm he had wrapped fully around her waist. He lifted her, setting her bare feet onto the cold tiles of the floor where the flirty breeze snuck around her ankles. “...should not be up.”
“How could I resist? You are an enchantress, luring me from my bed with your siren song.”
“Don’t tell your aunt,” she pleaded, crouching to find the wayward candle. “She would not like it that you listened at the door.”
“No.” She read grimness and humor in the single word. She peered upward, unable to see him but alert to his voice. He added, “She has hidden you away successfully until now.”
“Absurd.” Petra gave up on the candle, unable to crouch at his feet a moment longer. She rose and peered at the burn inside her palm. It stung when she flaked hot wax away. “She has trouble sleeping and I provide comfort.”
“She cages an angel and bids her to sing on command.”
“I’m no angel.” As the words passed, she bit her lip. Confusion warred with her desire to flee, but pride kept her planted before him.
He knelt at her feet, then rose gracefully to offer the unlit candle. He could see better than she could, then. Realizing what this meant, Petra clutched the tie to her robe and pulled it in, feeling where the fabric gaped down the front of her nightgown and lay open over the ties at her bosom. She tugged, but his gentle hand settled over hers, stopping her.
He lifted her hand to his mouth and soothed the raw spot. His lips brushed across the back of her hand and over the plump flesh at the base of her thumb, nearly stopping her heart. Normally clean shaven, this late at night his chin sported a coarse shadow that rasped across her curved fingertips, the sandpaper roughness a direct contrast to the smooth and resilient ivory she’d recently caressed. Her fingers, of their own volition, opened and stroked against his cheek, seeking more of this new texture. His cheek flexed, a dimpled crease pulling her in as thoroughly as a whirlpool.
“I must go!” she gasped. She gathered her robes and, eschewing any light, flitted around him.
He stood behind her, silent, as she flew up the stairs. She paused at the top, remembering a bygone day when such a small exertion would have humiliated her. She leaned over the railing. Her hair ribbon slipped loose and fluttered into the darkness. Cloth rustled and a boot scraped. Would he try to return the ribbon as an excuse to climb those stairs?
Backing away, she raced to her bedroom.
He called me an angel.
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Meant to Be Inspired