Forever From Paris

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The Desire of her heart... Finally, a man who doesn't think Marie is a bumbling fool for not being able to articulate her thoughts. Kind, thoughtful, attentive...handsome: He's definitely the answer to her prayer for a devoted husband. A promise of forever... Observant, funny, shy...gorgeous: Martin is tempted by the thought of a lifetime with Marie, but he must put aside his desire, for his heart is not free to love another woman. Can the prayer for a husband and the prayer of a wife, heal hearts and craft a happily-ever-after for two unsuspecting strangers? 


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The Desire of her heart... Finally, a man who doesn't think Marie is a bumbling fool for not being able to articulate her thoughts. Kind, thoughtful, attentive...handsome: He's definitely the answer to her prayer for a devoted husband. A promise of forever... Observant, funny, shy...gorgeous: Martin is tempted by the thought of a lifetime with Marie, but he must put aside his desire, for his heart is not free to love another woman. Can the prayer for a husband and the prayer of a wife, heal hearts and craft a happily-ever-after for two unsuspecting strangers? 

 


Excerpt


 

Shades of sun-kissed mauves and grays blended into an exquisite display on the marble floor, the likes of which Marie Wu had never seen. But the ceiling...the ceiling was magnificent! She tilted her head and ignored the ache that had formed in her neck an hour ago. Gilt mouldings framed elegant paintings. Vibrant variations of blues and pinks, golds and reds. Heavenly creatures and larger-than-life people gazed down through the ages in painted splendor. The talent it took to create such works of art would never be hers. There was something inherent in these creations which she lacked-an effervescence and realism which could not be taught, no matter how many years she remained in art school.

She slowly turned in a circle taking in the entire expanse of awe-inspiring ceiling. "Oh, wow!" The exclamation breathed out of her mouth in a whisper as she twirled.

She lost her balance, stumbled backwards trying to right herself, and crashed into something solid.

"Whoa! Steady there. Are you OK?"

Physically yes, but could she be more embarrassed? She didn't think so as a firm grip helped her to regain her balance. "I'm so sorry." She turned to meet the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her jaw dropped open, and she snapped it closed again.

"Not a big deal," he said, and smiled.

His entire face lit up, and the most adorable dimples formed in his cheeks. She'd always been a sucker for dimples. She stared at him helplessly, wanting to look away but not being able to. Black hair and ebony lashes made the blue of his eyes pop with brilliance and clarity, a mixture of royal and violet with tiny flecks of gold dusted in for good measure. A strong and angled jaw line brought a quiet emphasis to full, naturally-rosy lips. His nose, while not perfectly straight, was perfect. What a portrait he would make, framed in gilt.

Her gaze dropped to the strong arms and rugged hands that had helped to steady her-no wedding ring. Nice-and then she realized he'd actually spoken. She set her attention on his face as heat crept up her cheeks. "W-well, thanks for making sure I didn't hit the floor."

He chuckled. "I was just thinking of the floor. I'm not sure blood-red mixes very well with marble."

She grinned at his joke, hoping she looked more charming than stupid. Although, she was sure she looked pretty stupid. She had never been adept at talking to handsome men. "So, uh, do you come here often?"

He laughed outright, drenching her in a warm, melodious sound that would have put butterflies in her stomach if the humiliation hadn't already taken over.

"First time," he said.

"I didn't mean that-I mean, not the way it-Oh, never mind." She gave him a slight nod. "Thanks again for catching me. I'll leave you alone now." She turned from him, her embarrassed pulse pounding in her ears.

"Wait."

She kept walking.

"Really, wait." His hand brushed her arm.

She stopped and slowly turned to find him smiling at her. Butterflies battled humiliation and won. She didn't think she'd ever set eyes on anyone so good-looking.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It just struck me as funny. You OK?"

Good-looking and sensitive. There must be something in the Parisian water because men didn't come like this in the good ol' U.S. of A.

"Are you French?"

His brow furrowed a bit. "Uh, no. Do I sound French?"

She'd done it again. He thought she was a real fool. And she was. Of course, he didn't sound French. Or German. Or Japanese, for that matter. She studied her hands. "No, I just thought-it doesn't matter what I thought-so where are you from?" She shot her gaze to his. "Oh, my! It-it's none of my business. I'm not trying to be forward. I'm just-" She let out a deep sigh and started to turn away. "I'm so much better with art than I am with handsome men," she mumbled to herself. It really wasn't fair. The Lord had placed it in her heart to yearn for a husband, and yet, she'd never been able to find a man she could talk to without babbling like an idiot.

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

She froze to the floor in mid-spin. Had she spoken that loud?

 

 

Shades of sun-kissed mauves and grays blended into an exquisite display on the marble floor, the likes of which Marie Wu had never seen. But the ceiling...the ceiling was magnificent! She tilted her head and ignored the ache that had formed in her neck an hour ago. Gilt mouldings framed elegant paintings. Vibrant variations of blues and pinks, golds and reds. Heavenly creatures and larger-than-life people gazed down through the ages in painted splendor. The talent it took to create such works of art would never be hers. There was something inherent in these creations which she lacked-an effervescence and realism which could not be taught, no matter how many years she remained in art school.

She slowly turned in a circle taking in the entire expanse of awe-inspiring ceiling. "Oh, wow!" The exclamation breathed out of her mouth in a whisper as she twirled.

She lost her balance, stumbled backwards trying to right herself, and crashed into something solid.

"Whoa! Steady there. Are you OK?"

Physically yes, but could she be more embarrassed? She didn't think so as a firm grip helped her to regain her balance. "I'm so sorry." She turned to meet the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her jaw dropped open, and she snapped it closed again.

"Not a big deal," he said, and smiled.

His entire face lit up, and the most adorable dimples formed in his cheeks. She'd always been a sucker for dimples. She stared at him helplessly, wanting to look away but not being able to. Black hair and ebony lashes made the blue of his eyes pop with brilliance and clarity, a mixture of royal and violet with tiny flecks of gold dusted in for good measure. A strong and angled jaw line brought a quiet emphasis to full, naturally-rosy lips. His nose, while not perfectly straight, was perfect. What a portrait he would make, framed in gilt.

Her gaze dropped to the strong arms and rugged hands that had helped to steady her-no wedding ring. Nice-and then she realized he'd actually spoken. She set her attention on his face as heat crept up her cheeks. "W-well, thanks for making sure I didn't hit the floor."

He chuckled. "I was just thinking of the floor. I'm not sure blood-red mixes very well with marble."

She grinned at his joke, hoping she looked more charming than stupid. Although, she was sure she looked pretty stupid. She had never been adept at talking to handsome men. "So, uh, do you come here often?"

He laughed outright, drenching her in a warm, melodious sound that would have put butterflies in her stomach if the humiliation hadn't already taken over.

"First time," he said.

"I didn't mean that-I mean, not the way it-Oh, never mind." She gave him a slight nod. "Thanks again for catching me. I'll leave you alone now." She turned from him, her embarrassed pulse pounding in her ears.

"Wait."

She kept walking.

"Really, wait." His hand brushed her arm.

She stopped and slowly turned to find him smiling at her. Butterflies battled humiliation and won. She didn't think she'd ever set eyes on anyone so good-looking.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It just struck me as funny. You OK?"

Good-looking and sensitive. There must be something in the Parisian water because men didn't come like this in the good ol' U.S. of A.

"Are you French?"

His brow furrowed a bit. "Uh, no. Do I sound French?"

She'd done it again. He thought she was a real fool. And she was. Of course, he didn't sound French. Or German. Or Japanese, for that matter. She studied her hands. "No, I just thought-it doesn't matter what I thought-so where are you from?" She shot her gaze to his. "Oh, my! It-it's none of my business. I'm not trying to be forward. I'm just-" She let out a deep sigh and started to turn away. "I'm so much better with art than I am with handsome men," she mumbled to herself. It really wasn't fair. The Lord had placed it in her heart to yearn for a husband, and yet, she'd never been able to find a man she could talk to without babbling like an idiot.

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

She froze to the floor in mid-spin. Had she spoken that loud?


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