The Rescued Heart

ISBN Digital: 978-1-61217-948-3
ISBN Print: 978-1-61217-947-6
Page Count: 266
Word Count: 66668
Rating: Sensual (PG-PG13)


When a family friend invites widow Ellen Ross to the Basel art fair, she stifles her misgivings and takes a hesitant step toward healing. Yet it is an accidental meeting with youthful Swiss artist Christian Karl that offers her an escape from grief. Captivated by his zest for life, she is shaken on her return to find she carries his child.

Christian takes pride in seeing through the facades his sitters present to him. When he paints Ellen, he sees passion and courage beneath the prim, conventional shell she shows the world. Despite her denial, he cannot believe his instinct has betrayed him. To find the truth, he must pursue his love to her native Scotland.

Face-to-face again, Ellen must decide--can she accept Christian's optimistic approach to life and take a gamble on their future? Or will pride force her to reject him?

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 266
Word Count: 66668
978-1-61217-947-6 Paperback
978-1-61217-948-3 Digital


Then his focus changed. There was softness in his eyes when his gaze roamed over her half-naked figure. “But what is important today is you. Your skin is luminous like a pearl, my Helen. I must paint you.”

He posed her cross-legged on the bed, bringing her hair forward over one shoulder. “Turn toward the window, please.” He laid a book across her lap. Eyes narrowed, he positioned her arms and turned her head. “Ja, ist gut so.

The tenderness in his words, contrasted with his deft, impersonal touch, almost made her laugh. “No. No smiles. Helen, today you are regal. Look at me like a queen.” He had set a canvas on the easel and, working swiftly, mixed paints on a wooden board.

Ellen had the oddest sensation of seeing herself through his eyes. Not as a queen, he had used the wrong word, but as a woman of power. That power came from taking charge of life. Today, she had made something happen. And from now on she would make her own decisions. She understood too why his artist’s fingers had traced the curve of her hips. As well as power, her body was ripe with sensuality that was all the more potent for its brief flowering.

She did her best not to move as the sun moved across the window. It dappled her skin through the net curtain and drew reflections from the discreet coral varnish on her nails.

When Christian told her she could look, she gasped with pleasure, although the canvas was mostly filled with blocks of shape and colour. The furniture merged into pools of shadow and the body was female. Her face was transfigured with purpose and dignity.

Copyright © 2018 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.