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Rhapsody: The Magical Matchmaker Series, #2
Rhapsody: The Magical Matchmaker Series, #2
Rhapsody: The Magical Matchmaker Series, #2
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Rhapsody: The Magical Matchmaker Series, #2

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When Serenity Resorts disappears, Jonathan and Isabelle must play a magical game of seduction to find their way back.

After a string of bad relationships, Isabelle planned to escape the real world with a tropical vacation. But escape becomes too real when Paradise Resort disappears. To find her way back, she must break an oath and out-play a man whose appeal is much too physical. Her self-control is resolute until Rhapsody becomes a game she wants to play.

Jonathan's needs are simple: break down Isabelle's resistance, win the game, and get back to the real world where an emergency waits. Desire grows as the sexy game-play forces secrets, fears and passion. Jonathan never expected to meet a woman like Isabelle. At the end of the game, they must determine how to escape together, or he'll lose Isabelle forever.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 24, 2016
ISBN9780995267404
Rhapsody: The Magical Matchmaker Series, #2
Author

Sharon Clare

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it. –Roald Dahl I don’t remember the first time I said, “Let’s pretend ...” but life is definitely more fun when I start my day with those words. I write romantic fiction with a little magic, a little suspense and a little humour. When you reach the end, I strive to leave you in a happy place. I’ve always lived in my head where making up stories was a guilty pleasure. It wasn’t until I had my three children and completed a degree in psychology and professional writing that making up stories became the job I love. Life is full of difficult times, so it’s important to me to write novels where happiness ultimately triumphs. I help my characters overcome their demons, so they learn to love themselves, open their hearts, and receive the love everyone deserves. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea there’s more to our world than we perceive. That’s why I created Finn, a mischievous, match-making elf from a world just a wee bit off Earth, who believes every time love is experienced, energy empowers our worlds. Find Finn playing games with humans and spreading the love in the Magical Matchmaker Series. Visit Sharon at: www.sharonclare.com What readers are saying:  “There are two things I love most about Sharon Clare's writing and books: her strong ability to tell an imaginative and incredibly well-written tale and her love of the end-of-story twist.” –Terri, an Amazon reader “Some authors possess a deft hand with adventure, others, mystery, and others, knee-buckling romance. Clare is a master of all three, weaving the elements together in an award-winning recipe guaranteed to make the mouth water.” –Sherry Isaac, award winning author “Words that came to mind as I read it were sophisticated and polished. Ms. Clare's voice is lovely.” –Amy Dunn Caldwell

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    Book preview

    Rhapsody - Sharon Clare

    Acknowledgments

    Iwant to thank my editors Jennifer Lawler and Julie Sturgeon.

    I also want to thank my critique partners: Sherry Isaac, Urve Tamberg, Carole-Ann Vance, Siobhan Minty, Jennifer Filipowicz, Linda Cassidy and Geoff Weaver for their honesty, constancy and support.

    I also want to thank my friend, copy editor Mark Allen for his help with the blurb and for patiently answering all my questions.

    I’m also thankful for the endearing friendships from all the talented Crimson Romance authors and Toronto Romance writers who generously share their knowledge and enrich my writing life.

    And to my wonderful family and friends who listen to story problems, follow me virtually and provide endless cheer, I couldn’t do this without you all!

    Chapter One

    The promise of amusement brightened Finn’s mood as he leaned against a bamboo beam where orchids hung in terracotta pots, perfuming the air at the Caribbean resort. Veiled from mortal sight, he watched a woman’s sleek black hair whip across her bare shoulders as she danced. So relaxed. So at ease. So content in her packaged life. Not a hint of suspicion her vacation would soon take a turn. Her oblivion curled his Elvin lips.

    The perfect subject.

    For a human, she had a body that bid his gaze to each curve, skin that shone like wet pearls. He’d watched her languish daily on a beach chair to escape into her books. Once, her cheeks had flushed when she’d read an erotic scene — a blindfolded heroine anticipating the feel of the hero’s hands on her thighs, spreading, exposing, touching. Isabelle had glanced around as if anyone other than Finn had the power to read her mind.

    Enjoy your last dance, princess.

    He saw her clearly. Isabelle Carson had taken a self-imposed vow of celibacy. A mindset she’d have to overcome — tonight — if she intended to stay in the human world.

    Finn had chosen the male subject, another fine specimen, months ago. Jonathan Raynor, a man who didn’t acknowledge his emotional void, a man who didn’t recognize his own need for one good woman.

    Before he could set the boundaries for the game, he needed Isabelle to leave the dance floor. He knew just the right prompt to send her to the beach.

    The telltale wind of another elf’s approach curled against his neck. Who had found him? The waft spiraled down his back and blew through the ends of his waist-length ivory hair. Finn’s chest constricted and quashed the flow of energy through his veins.

    King Oberon appeared beside him. The king, no less. Finn swallowed and forced the quivers that threatened his composure to settle down.

    Formidable as always, the king pierced Finn with a gaze that would make an elf of lower caste fall to his knees. You’ve decided to provoke the mortals despite my warning to stay out of human minds.

    Denial was futile. Only for our greater good, Finn retorted, once again. How many times would he need to explain simple concepts? Just because the council didn’t agree with my theory, doesn’t make it less valid.

    They did not disagree that humans are over-populated, all-consuming, and self-destructive. And they did not disagree that the quest for true love is not a priority in human lives.

    Oh? Small concessions as they were from the council was progress. Frustrated by opposition that belittled his intelligence, Finn had left the council meeting abruptly when it became apparent he had no supporters.

    But, Finn, you truly can’t expect the council to agree that the energy from a few billion humans, no matter the degree, can affect us in Alfheim.

    The king didn’t see it. The council didn’t see it. Even though the human dimension was a mere hair’s width removed from the Alfar, no Alfarian believed the negative energy humans generated could weaken an elf, any more than they understood energy from human love could be used to enhance Alfarian powers.

    Finn looked into the king’s cobalt blue eyes. If that is the case, then I ask that you grant me leave from the council. Give me time with the humans to gather the proof I need. Give me twenty of their human years to conduct my study.

    The king let go a snort. Leave you to play games with the humans? His gaze traveled over the sea of dancers. Do you see a miserable face out there, Finn? Humans love their holidays, yet they allow themselves little leisure. No wonder so few find true love. Create. Destroy. Over and over. No one understands them. How could you have insight enough into the ways of these creatures to pair them with their true mates?

    Finn had watched humans for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know why he was entertained by them when most Alfarians viewed them as inconsequential. Centuries ago, he’d started to see the energy that swirled around them, how the color of the energy changed dependent on their thoughts, how love surpassed all energies, even hatred. I read their minds.

    King Oberon drew in a short breath.

    Finn carried on before the king could protest. Humans don’t see themselves, they don’t understand their own needs, so how can they determine what they need in a mate? By instigating more love into their world, I serve both our realms, and I have the means to prove it. The matchmaking service I will provide will be faultless. Practically. There’d be human hearts broken here and there, terribly difficult to avoid, but he served the greater good, and did he request compensation? Never. I will tell no one I have the king’s approval for my work, unless you wish acclaim when I pool my results for the council.

    You have five human years, Finn. I want reports annually.

    Finn bit back the exclamation that five years was nothing. He worked alone. He had to find subjects, devise games, measure responses, tally results. But he also knew when to push and when to wait for another day. He drew a deep breath that mushroomed his chest.

    The king wasn’t finished. I trust you’ve curbed your tendency to indulge them.

    Finn’s chest deflated.

    I wouldn’t call it a tendency. He’d paid a hefty price for those mishaps. And those humans thought me a trickster, so I doubt they felt indulged. But it was fruitless to explain human habits to Alfarians. I desire nothing other than the time to test a dozen or so variables. Which factors unleashed the greatest passion between two mates? This game would test sexual boundaries.

    Your credibility is at stake, Finn. I wouldn’t forget that.

    King Oberon disappeared without a goodbye.

    Finn knew what was at stake. When he’d tapped the force behind the most passionate love, no longer would his genius be called lunacy. No longer would his isolation be called defeat.

    An instant later, Finn appeared on the beach under palm fronds that cast long black shadows over the sand. He watched his male subject halt at the shoreline and stand frozen even when a wave brushed his sandals. Alone for a moment, Jonathan glanced toward the Italian restaurant, as if he controlled his destination.

    Finn was the master of the night, Jonathan and Isabelle mere players. Power surged in his veins — there was nothing finer.

    He cast the Alfarian spell to begin the game.

    Chapter Two

    The boom-boom-boom of conga drums beat the rhythm of salsa into the heated bodies undulating over the dance floor. With a subtle shift of her partner’s body, Isabelle was spun in a tight pirouette and pulled up against his ultra-toned chest.

    Your skin, it is so soft like a spring blossom under my hands. My lovely, Isabelle, I would like to spread your petals and taste your sweet, sweet nectar. His hips rocked against her pelvis as his lips brushed her ear.

    Isabelle tugged her hand from the Latin American man. I don’t think so, Leonardo. The only sweet nectar you’ll get from me comes in a can. Thanks for the dance. Do enjoy your night.

    Spread your petals and taste your sweet, sweet nectar. Oh brother. She laughed as she slipped off the dance floor, averting the flicker of heat between her thighs from her thoughts. In week eight of her relationship classes, she wouldn’t plunge into a hot affair if Leonardo had the only nimble feet left on Earth. Groomed to make everyone’s vacation a most pleasurable experience, all the dancers at Serenity Resort were light on their feet and heavy on charm.

    This vacation was an opportunity to determine why she attracted the wrong guys time after time — men who lusted after her body and didn’t care if she had a mind. Week eight was detox. A cleansing of old thought patterns. Relationship Rescue’s mantra sang through her mind. I deserve a man who treats me like treasure.

    The promise of a Caribbean sunset drew her away from the music and down the lit stone path toward the beach. The security guard nodded as she passed.

    "Buenas noches," she said in her limited Spanish.

    Bordering the walkway, the delicate petals of a Persian pink amaryllis warmed in the evening heat. When she reached the beach, she slipped off her sandals and strolled to the water. Grains of sand sifted in between her toes as she breathed the humid, salted air. A seagull swooped in low over the waves, its voice, a jovial call. Her shoulders relaxed. If only every day could end on a sandy beach.

    Apart from one guy reading a Blackberry farther along, the beach was oddly deserted. She squinted to see him clearly. Closely cropped dark

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