Zanzibar Dream

By Tori Knightwood

When Bella, a humanitarian aid worker in East Africa, falls for sexy co-worker, Antonio, she can’t wait for weekends away from the grit of their everyday reality in war-torn Rwanda to unwind, relax, and revel in each other. But relationships in the fast-paced aid world don’t tend to last, and one of them could be reassigned at a moment’s notice. Can they make it work, or will Bella’s heart be broken in the sultry nights of a Zanzibar dream?

A novellette-length steamy love story told in both poetry and prose for ages 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tori Knightwood
• Release date: Jul 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310520945

Tori Knightwood

Tori Knightwood has been lucky enough to live and work in some fabulous exotic places around the world. She faced down angry forest elephants in Tanzania, got a henna tattoo in Kenya, and fell in love in Rwanda. She writes stories to bring a little spice into your life. Tori is the author of Zanzibar Dream and the Hotel Safari series.

Book preview

Chiaroscuro

We walked up the hill in the bright sunshine, hand in hand. Sunday was ringing all around us: drums and church bells reverberated from nearby islands. At the top of the hill, a big, round structure with a red tin roof, cement floor, wooden cross beams, and no walls met us.

Flowers of every color and variety surrounded the building. We sat on the low stone wall near the flowers, under the glorious sun that was still too high and too bright to create shadows.

Our jobs with the United Nations in Rwanda led us to escape whenever possible into the local landscape. So far, our weekend on Bushara Island in Uganda’s Lake Bunyoni had not disappointed. Only a few other couples shared the island with us, and everyone seemed to long for serenity and solitude.

We watched the insects play all around us: ants marching busily along the ground, bees darting from flower to flower, dragon flies of blue and green swooping to the ground, flying in patterns we could not understand, all to the accompaniment of our voices as we sang to each other, snatches of old tunes from a separate past. Love songs, sorrowful songs, chanting and humming.

The sun warmed our bodies, so close together. I leaned my back against Antonio’s chest, feeling his low voice echoing deep inside me, and looked up into his face. Then I closed my eyes and felt his song on my hair and on my eyelids, his warm breath mingling with the bite of the sun on my skin.

Remembering the first time I saw him, the tall man who entered the American Club in long strides, I exhaled through a grin. The man who moved with intention. The man