The always funny and charismatic Lisa Olech joins me today, a fellow member of the Blue Ridge Literary Agency. Check out Lisa’s website. She’s a spectacular painter and makes stunning stained glass pieces too. But today she’s here to tell us about her latest book, ROCK SOLID, second in the Stoddard Art School Series.
First, a quick blurb, then on to Lisa’s 3 short, sweet and very good reasons to read “Rock Solid” as well as an excerpt.
MAXIMO VEGA is a “rock” star! The media proclaimed him ‘The Sculptor for the New Generation,’ but he’s a reclusive artist ensnared by fame. Driven and intense, his isolation only adds to his mystique. Couple that with his smoldering good looks and rich Italian accent… Fans sigh his name.
EMILY BASKINS is a gifted graduate student at the Stoddard School of Art. To land an internship at the Vega Studio is her golden ticket. All she has to do is follow the rules. And stay out of trouble. Two things Emily has never been able to do.
As Max becomes trapped in the glare of the limelight, he discovers his greatest muse. He teaches Emily to breathe passion into clay and give marble a soul. But is their fiery relationship as rock solid as they believe? Or will a lie shatter the illusion?
OKAY…TAKE IT AWAY, LISA…
Sharon, you’re such a doll to host me on your blog! What a fun subject line! Here are my three reasons why you should all read my new novel, ROCK SOLID:
#3. You’ll find out what looks like twenty raccoons fighting in a gym bag!
#2. You’ll learn how to say “I love you.” in Italian. (And really who doesn’t want to know how to whisper that to their significant other!)
And the #1 reason why you should read Rock Solid… The clay scene. Yes, I said clay. Do you remember the famous pottery wheel scene with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in the movie Ghost? Well, this scene in Rock Solid between Maximo Vega and Emily Baskins makes Patrick and Demi look like two kids playing in a mud puddle!
I had such fun writing this story. I hope you’ll love it as much as I do. Enjoy!!
Maximo Vega gathered his composure. He wore a black T-shirt, gray across the shoulders with dust, worn jeans, and heavy boots under a thick leather apron that reached to his knees. Hanging his head and bracing his hands on his hips, he was a study in frustration. The sleeves of his shirt hugged defined muscles of steely arms. And his hands…they were artist’s hands. Sculptor’s hands. Beaten by stone and scarred by tools. They spoke of years of rugged, blistering work.
He was tall. His shadowed jaw, rigid with anger, cut sharply against the tanned column of his neck. Maximo slapped the chisel on his leathered thigh. “I pay you. You find me good hands! Not idiota!”
“I’m sorry, Maximo. He’s gone. You’ll never have to work with him again.”
The great artist’s gaze slid over Emily. His eyes stopped at the white-knuckled hold she had on the large black portfolio.
He waved a hand toward her. “What are you?”
Emily’s throat slammed shut.
“A new intern possibly,” offered Dante. “She’s here from the Stoddard School of Art.”
Deep brown eyes the color of rich coffee, no cream, speared her beneath frowning brows. He flipped his hand toward the portfolio. “Come. Show me.”
Emily shot a look to Dante. He gave her a tiny nudge, like a parent pushing a frightened child toward Santa’s lap.
“Come, come, come.” He snatched the portfolio from her numb fingers, unzipped it and laid it open across a crowded worktable. He used the rag in his hand to wipe the sweat from his lip as he flipped through photos and sketches of her latest works.
“Nice. Hmm. No.” A nod for this one. A shake of the head for another. “Yes. This one is good. Good.”
He looked away from her sketches and gave her a hard stare before looking down the full length of her and back again in a slow appraisal. Emily released the breath she was holding.
“Let me see your hands.”
She held them out and he grasped her wrists and examined first her palms before turning them over. “Cold,” he said just loud enough for her to hear.
The smell of the heat of his body and the spice of soap drifted past her.
He lifted a quick eyebrow. “Good.”
Lisa A. Olech is an artist/writer living in her dream house nestled among the lakes in New England. She loves getting lost in a steamy book, finding the perfect pair of sexy shoes, and hearing the laughter of her men. Being an estrogen island in a sea of testosterone makes her queen. She believes in ghosts, silver linings, the power of a man in a tuxedo, and happy endings.
You can find her at: www.lisaolech.com, Facebook: www.facebook.com/Lisa.A.Olech.Writer, Twitter: www.twitter.com/LisaOlech