My latest novel, Counterpoint: An Interactive Family Saga Volume I, will be out later this week (with a special offer for readers of this blog and Another World Today).
Unlike a traditional novel, however, this one will be written by incorporating reader feedback as we go along. At the end of each Volume, you'll be able to chime in and tell me where you want the story to go next. A new Volume will be released every month, allowing you to guide it!
In the meantime, please enjoy our exclusive previews, below:
"You're not being reasonable."
"I'm rich. I don't have to be." Noting Victoria expression, he asked, "You don't believe me? I'll prove it to you.
His eyes locked on Victoria's and, much to her discomfort, she found she couldn't look away. Her throat dried, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and trapping a gasp that, much to Victoria's embarrassment, nevertheless managed to escape her lips the instant Robin glanced down and casually tugged loose the sash of his robe. Noting her discomfort, Robin smirked, his countenance twinned with a vaguely sadistic quality, like a tiger toying with its prey.
She stood rooted to the spot, her pupils the solitary features currently capable of movement. And, despite her very uncomfortable sense of being controlled and manipulated, Victoria felt her eyes tracking the descent of Robin's robe. It slipped off his shoulders first, revealing arms a great deal more muscular than she’d first suspected, considering Robin's frame. She noted the sculpted contours of his upper body even as her gaze fell lower, absorbing Robin's washboard stomach, every abdominal rippling below his skin like the tier of an abacus. The robe continued falling, but, at the moment of truth, he effortlessly caught it around the waist, and, turning slightly, offered Victoria a prime view of his left shoulder-blade.
Approximately the size of a clenched fist, or a drink coaster, the skin just below and to the left of Robin's neck boasted one of the most exquisitely rendered tattoos Victoria had ever seen. It might have been a canvas at an art museum, considering how much detail and color had gone into the design. In shades of cardinal, black, and yellow, the tattoo depicted a pessimist's view of Hell, with inferno bursts raging through molten rock, crumbling brimstone, and, at the forefront, a menacing male figure dragging away a helpless damsel.
"Hades," Robin made the introduction, as if that explained it. "The Greek God of the underworld kidnapping Persephone."
"It's beautiful." Her voice sunk to an awed whisper. "You know what it reminds me of? A Burton Chalmers painting."
"That's because it is one."
"Right." Now, it was Victoria's turn to smirk. "The man's work is on permanent exhibition at the Louvre, and you're telling me he does a little tattooing on the side?"
Unimpressed with Victoria's tone, Robin shrugged his robe back on, and coolly related, "I was in France, I called Chalmers, I asked him to ink the tattoo. He said no. I named a price. He said yes. Have I made my point, Miss Morgan? The rich don't have to be reasonable. I always get what I want, and I wanted that particular design. It's my favorite. I relate to it. In Greek mythology, Hades is the bringer of chaos."