Saturday, February 8, 2014

Cover Reveal: Rhapsody by Rosalind Scarlett

Hello Lovelies!!!
I have a special treat for you all today. I am so lucky to be able to show you the cover fro Rosalind Scarlett's new book; Rhapsody!!! *yay!!!*
So... let me tell you about the book, and who Rosalind is and where you can find her!!
Rhapsody is the first book in her brand new Sanctum of Souls and will be released May 21.

The only woman Raphael has ever loved does not know he exists...

Raphael is a Guardian Angel with a predicament.
He has fallen desperately in love with one of his charges.
Ever since Grace was a child, Raphael saw something extraordinary in her.
But in her world, she is anything but extraordinary. All her childhood, Grace suffered epileptic seizures, causing her mother to shelter her and her father to ridicule her. Now an adult and on her own, still she is hesitant to liberate herself, when what she really longs for is to do all the things she used to dream of as a child. And worse, she safeguards herself against love, fearing no one will ever truly accept her with her condition.
Little does Grace know what— or whom— not only accepts her, but would give up eternity to be with her.
To Raphael, Grace is the most compassionate, selfless soul he has ever perceived. A pediatric nurse at The Children’s Hospital of Seattle, she does whatever she can to help others who are less fortunate around her. At home, she creates exquisite art— her favored theme, Angels.
From the moment she came into this world— after reviving her from her near fatal birth— Raphael has given excessive attention to protecting Grace. Watching her grow into a delightful young woman, he is stunned to discover he possesses feelings he never knew could exist for a being such as himself. In torment, he observes as she falls in love for the first time, and then ultimately suffers one
heartbreak after another.
Though she was able as a child, one day Grace suddenly cannot see him anymore— and then she never does again. Anxious to somehow make his presence known to her, Raphael revels in orchestrating phenomena to please her. He thrills in seeing her giggle like a carefree child again. Still, it seems Grace doesn’t connect these occurrences to him. Perhaps she has forgotten all about him.
But that will change. The only question is, will it be for better or for worse?
If there is one thing Raphael is guilty of, it’s virtually neglecting his Guardian responsibilities over the other humans entrusted to his care. While preoccupied with Grace and obsessing over a potential development in her love life, one of them is murdered.
Repulsed and distraught over his failure, Raphael resolves it is time for him to distance himself from her— which turns out to be the worst decision he could have ever made. Grace offers a Good Samaritan act so typical of her, and is brutally attacked. Now in a coma, her life is dangling on the edge and he cannot bear the thought of losing her. The Angel of Death is lingering around her, just waiting to
take her away forever. If Grace dies, Raphael knows she will pass out of his own hands, and into his— and he will never see her again.
Raphael admits that there isn’t anything he desires more than to be with Grace. So he searches desperately for the solution to something of which he has heard obscure rumors— Angels who have chosen to fall.
When he discovers it for himself, he is faced with the choice that will alter his very existence for all eternity. Will he forsake his eternal life as an Angel of the Seraphic order just to become a mere mortal man and have an ephemeral human life with the only one he has ever loved and cannot bear to give up?


"I write descriptive stories in lush settings overflowing with every emotion shared by the human experience: joy, hope, love, desire, longing, lust, jealousy, hunger, loathing, uncertainty, grief, and desperation, amongst others. As we can all relate to some, if not most of these, I delve into these matters of the heart and put them on naked display for you, the reader of my stories. At times you will find the aura of my stories is exceedingly beautiful, and other times, rather dark.

Whether it is my straight Erotica stories or my other books, I delight in writing a passionate sex scene, but do so in a manner which, though still deliciously explicit enough to stimulate your blood flow, is not in the least bit crude. I write the stories I always sought to read, yet could never seem to come across these days. My style of writing has been compared to Anne Rice, as well as classic female erotica writer Anaïs Nin."

Award Winning Author Rosalind Scarlett lives in Boulder, Colorado with her loving and supportive husband, two rambunctious little boys, her pampered kitty, Bella, her feisty canary, Limoncello and her proud bunny, Micah. She holds degrees in Psychology and Interior Design. Rosalind is zealously proud to be of Celtic ancestry.

When not immersed in her writings, Rosalind's passions are reading, listening to music, yoga, spiritual exploration, organic gardening and living, riding horses, transforming ugly, old houses to their former splendor, riding bicycles with her family, hiking, mountains, lush evergreen forests, foggy mornings, falling snow, feeding old bread to small critters and watching nature from her deck on crisp evenings with a glass of wine.

Before sending you off to read an excerpt from the book, I will show you the cover. Make sure to drop by Rosalind's pages and say Hello. She's the sweetest and nicest person! You can tell her I sent you ;-)



Grace’s face beheld a reflective sort of purpose.  I gazed at her, wonder befalling me as I watched each succeeding stroke of her brush come together to form the image against her canvas.  She painted with so much precision, so much passion and heart, it was a though she was making love to the canvas.  One glance into her thoughts right now and I could easily detect that was exactly what she was fantasizing about.  At least making love to the figure which she painted.

And that knowledge killed me, made me ache all over.  So I tried not to read her thoughts.  But it was becoming so difficult not to.  And at the same time, it felt so wrong, as though I was invading her privacy. 

I looked on as she gave the brush one last stroke across the canvas and stepped back to evaluate her masterpiece.  Her face told me she was rather amazed with herself.  But I was not.  That was not to say I did not feel she possessed talent, for that she surely did.  A vast amount of it.  No, rather I was overcome with amazement, as well as pride at what it was she had felt so moved to paint. 

In her last few minutes of painting, I had watched in astonishment as Grace adorned the tousled brown haired, hazel eyed man with an expansive pair of iridescent white feathered wings. 

It all became so clear.

The man was an angel.

The angel was me. 

Could she know?  Could she remember?

Could it be that she has at last recalled her awareness of me from the days of her childhood?  Has she somehow actually seen me, or does she just sense my presence, my image working its way into her subconscious mind, as attuned as she is?  Have I somehow missed the signs of her perception in her thoughts?  No, I could not have.  I know her mind better than anyone.  But then, I have an advantage over the mortals who have believed they knew her, for I can sense her every feeling, perceive her every thought. 


 “Grace.  These are absolutely incredible,” Kate exclaimed without removing her eyes form the paintings.  “Do you realize how talented you are?”

Grace shook her head, staring in awe.  She couldn’t believe what she had heard.

“Well, then let me be the first to tell you. . .”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve already told her that before,” Jen interjected.  Tons of times!  She doesn’t believe me.  But maybe she’ll believe it coming from someone like you.”

Grace’s eyes began blinking rapidly and for a moment, I feared she was going into a seizure.  Then, finally she spoke.  “Um, thank you.”

“I would like to buy your work, assuming it is for sale,” Kate said.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Grace said slowly.  “I have never really even thought about selling it.”

That piqued the woman’s interest further.  “I am prepared to pay you ten thousand dollars for each of these,” she pointed to the first four.  “And for this one, twenty.”  She stopped in front of the painting Grace had done of the angel, me, reaching out to it with her hand in awe.  “And if you have others, I would love to see them, as well.”

Grace’s eyes boggled.  “Ten thousand?  Twenty thousand?  That’s ridiculous!” she repeated incredulously.

“Alright.  I can offer twelve-five for those.  And Twenty-five for this one.”  She turned her eyes back to it longingly.  “But that’s my highest offer,” Kate came back coolly.

I wish I could inspire that kind of reaction in Grace! 

“See Grace!” Jen said.  “Did I tell you that you were good or what?!”

Grace just stood there looking bewildered.  She couldn’t believe it.  Her mind was racing.  She never believed anyone would be interested in ever buying her work, let alone pay such a ridiculous sum for them!

“So, do we have a deal then?” Kate probed when Grace had not said a word.

“Oh.  Um, I don’t know.  I guess I’ll need some time to think about it,” Grace muttered in a monotone voice.

Kate appeared rather stunned that her generous offer to an unknown artist wasn’t immediately snatched up.

Jen appeared even more so.  “What do you mean think about it?” she screeched.  “What’s there to think about?  It’s not like you can’t just paint more for yourself.”

Geez, Grace thought.  She sure is taking this personally.

“It’s just that my work is very personal to me and I didn’t paint them with the intention of selling them,” Grace explained.  “I have never even thought about selling any of it.”  She paused before continuing.  “And I just couldn’t sell you that one.”  She pointed to the one of the angel— the one Kate had offered her twenty-five thousand dollars for.  “I just couldn’t.  Maybe I’ll paint you another just like it.”

“I understand that dear, I do,” Kate started thoughtfully.  “But you should understand something, as well.  I have a very wealthy client who wouldn’t blink an eye at dropping an easy mil on the right art collection for his new spread.  And let me tell you, yours is the right art I have been keeping my eyes peeled for,” Kate said, her tone dead serious.  “You and I both could profit quite nicely from this.”

Grace, again was flabbergasted.  Jen just stood there with her mouth gaping.

“Wow,” Grace finally said, taking in her words.  “Um, yeah, like I said, I’ll think about it.  Really.  I’ll get back to you soon.”

Kate nodded and smiled.  “Just don’t take too long,” she warned.  “Wealthy people tend to become impatient and move on rather easily.”

“Alright, thanks,” Grace replied with a stiff smile, as she gathered up her paintings.

When she and Jen left the gallery, Jen jumped in front of her to confront her.  “Are you insane?”

“You already asked me that earlier and I told you that I probably was,” Grace retorted.

Jen crossed her arms in frustration.  “After I go out of my way to talk you into coming down here and help you carry these things, you have the gall to turn down her offer?”

“I didn’t turn it down,” Grace corrected her.  “It’s just a lot to absorb.”

“Well, you are crazy if you walk away from this opportunity!” Jen exclaimed.  “Did you hear her?  That guy would be willing to spend a million bucks on your art!”

“Yes, I heard her,” Grace calmly answered.  “Though she is just speculating.  She doesn’t know for sure that he will like my work.”

“She sounded pretty sure to me!  She would have written you a check right then and there,” Jen exclaimed.  “And I’m sure she wouldn’t have offered if she wasn’t sure her client would want to buy your work.”


“So what are you going to do?” Jen probed.

Tired of being hassled, Grace sighed.  “I told you.  I’m going to think about it.”

Jen looked frustrated.  “If I were you, I’d be spending all my spare time painting!”

Grace thought about that as they came to the door of her apartment building.  “Hmm,” she said.  “Well, see you tomorrow at work.  Thanks again, Jen.”  She took her paintings and went inside.

Setting her paintings down beside her, Grace dug her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.  She walked into her apartment and leaned each of her paintings against the wall and plopped down on her bed.  She sat there, just staring at them for quite some time. 

One was of a magnificent strong black horse.  It stood there in a field looking proud with its long and thick, flowing mane and tail and feathers around its hooves. 

Her dream horse. 

The kind she had seen in the movie “Lady Hawke” when she was a kid.  I recall perfectly the moment she saw that horse, Goliath, prance out onto the screen, her eyes flared, her heart opened and she decided that would one day be the horse she would have.

Then, some years later, the first time she had the opportunity to get on the internet the first thing she promptly typed into Yahoo!  was ‘Friesian horse’.  Excitedly, she browsed around, taking in the pictures of the unbelievably beautiful creatures she had been dreaming of for years.  Her hopes crashed when she discovered that they ranged in price from fifteen thousand to a couple hundred thousand! 

I never thought I’d have a chance in hell of ever buying a horse like that for myself.  Now this lady is offering me enough to buy one for just one of my paintings!  So, why am I having such a difficult time agreeing to it?  If I were smart I would have took the money and ran before she had a chance to come to her senses!  But then, I never claimed to be smart!

Then I watched as her eyes moved to the painting of the male angel.  Her face changed, expressing longing in a different way as she reached out and stroked the image on the canvas.  My soul seized as she did this.

This painting is all I have left of him.  He was so beautiful.  Why does he never come to see me anymore?  Is he really a distant memory or merely the vivid imaginings of a child.  But I was sure he was there.  I know he is the one who pulled me from the ice.  Why did he have to leave me?  Leave me all alone.  If only he knew how much I needed him still.  How I have never stopped needing him.

I am here!  Here with you now, Grace!  I have never left your side.  Never!  It is you who stopped believing, who cannot see me anymore.  Just believe in me once more, wholeheartedly, and you will know I am with you, as I always have been!

She lay back on her bed and began to weep, gripping hold of my spirit.  I hated that she thought herself to be alone, that I had abandoned her. 

Why can she not understand? 

As I watched the tears roll down her face, I wished more than ever she could know of my presence, that I could hold her, offer her some sort of comfort.  But then, if she did know I was here, this whole thing would not even be an issue.  I wished that all my concentrated thoughts would somehow make me visible to her again.  I desperately searched for something to do which would make her aware.  She had not associated the other phenomena with me as I had hoped.  What could I do that would tell her I am here.  That I love her more than anything, in ways that I don’t even have the right to?

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