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The Art of Love
The Art of Love
The Art of Love
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The Art of Love

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When an ebony artist strokes his ego as well as her paint strokes a canvas, he'll do just about anything to create a masterpiece of love. 

Follow their love story as billionaire cowboy Brandon Fairchild and artist Elise Saunders fall head over heels for each other. As they grow into their love, challenges arise from all possible angles. Bitter exes, racist friends, and stubborn families set in their beliefs do everything possible to disrupt their blossoming relationship. But love should always prevail no matter the skin color of the lovers. Love should always shine through no matter the obstacles set in their path. Will these two lovers be able to master the Art of Love? 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 2, 2019
ISBN9781386997955
The Art of Love

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    Book preview

    The Art of Love - Cristina Grenier

    CRISTINA GRENIER PRESENTS

    The Art of Love

    Marie Parker

    Want to receive a FREE copy of this

    full length BWWM Romance by bestselling author Cristina Grenier?

    Click the cover below.

    Chapter 1: Finding The Right One

    The sun rises just as the crispness of the morning blows through Brandon Fairchild’s golden strands. His pecs nearly pop through his shirt as he adjusts his hat. The cattle mull around as they wait to be herded into the milking stations. His gloved hands grip the reins as Ginger stirs underneath him. She’s ready to get on with the morning chores.

    Easy girl, he whispers to his mare. He believes a man should have a hand in everything that happens on his own land; no matter how much he’s worth. With a slight flick of her reins, they trot down to the pig pen. Brandon runs down his mental checklist making sure the trough is full, the waterer is at the proper levels, and the gate is still intact. When all is well, he walks Ginger to the stables. He leads her into the stall and checks on the other horses while he’s inside.

    As Brandon walks back to the main house, he looks around his land with a sigh of satisfaction. The dirt under his boots is a welcome feeling compared to carpet under wingtips. Thoughts of client meetings and trips to multiple building sites leave him less than enthusiastic about the day ahead of him. He grumbles at his Bentley parked outside of his garage wondering why it was so inappropriate for him to ride Ginger to work. The trip isn’t too far but riding her does nothing except ruin his good suits. Logan, his assistant and protégé, is waiting at the back door for him to come inside.

    Just as Brandon gets within earshot, he starts rambling off, I have your suit pressed and ready for you. You have a ten o’clock with Mrs. Dubois and her boyfriend. Don’t confuse him with Mr. Dubois. The contract is for a small colonial style house not too far from her family home.

    You know how much I hate those messy situations. Call Laney and tell her to take that meeting. Just say I got called in to another job. I can’t very well lie to Mr. Dubois, especially when we see each other around at the gun range.

    Okay, I’ll take care of that, Logan makes a note as they step inside the mud room, And the new painter, Darren is here, and he’s gotten started on the mural for BJ. He said that he needs more nails to apply some piece of art or something. I don’t know.

    What? There shouldn’t be any holes in the walls for a mural! Brandon leaves Logan standing there amidst a pile of dirty boots and clothes. He heads straight to the addition of the house he recently had finished to see what this particular artist was up to. When he enters the space, all Brandon can see are thousands of tiny porcelain tiles scattered about the room. On the wall are thin pieces of wood framing random shapes with one area half way complete.

    What is this? Brandon questions the man who’s extremely focused on the work in front of him.

    This is what you asked for Mr. Fairchild, he replies baffled, I am putting up a wonderfully playful mosaic with shapes and brilliant colors-

    Stop, stop, stop, stop… I didn’t ask you to put up a mosaic. I said a mural, Brandon’s face takes on a shade of red the artist has never seen in his palette, A mural! This room is for my nephew, my six year old nephew! Is that not what I told you?

    Please, I can take it down. I misunderstood what you were asking for. I can fix it, Darren tries to appease Brandon.

    You will not fix it. You will touch nothing else in here! Your incompetency shall not be rewarded! GET OUT! Brandon howls. Darren could swear he feels the walls shaking as he grabs his tools and darts out of the room.

    Logan chuckles at the artist running out of the house and immediately heads toward the bedroom. He sees the mess of tiles and mortar all over with an incomplete mosaic portrait on the walls. He knows that talking to Brandon in one of his moods is job-threatening, but the day must move forward.

    So another artist bites the dust, Logan mumbles as he finds Brandon in his bedroom prepping to shower. He was once shy in front of the assistant but Logan let him know that brooding blonde billionaire cowboys just don’t do it for him. His relationship is strictly professional as he takes a seat in Brandon’s massive walk-in closet.

    Did you see what he did in there? Brandon shouts still in a heightened state of anger.

    Yes I did. Maybe you should have given him a chance to finish or fix it, Logan counters.

    Yes and maybe I’ll let the hedge trimmer give me my next haircut!

    No need to be snappy. It was just a suggestion, Logan admits.

    I know but it was a stupid one. An artist who can’t tell the difference between a painted mural and an applied mosaic isn’t one I want to work with. You know how much Brody and his son have been through these last few months and I want things to be perfect for when they get here. I don’t have time for misunderstandings. Get me another artist out here by tomorrow, or so be it I’ll have you do the wall!

    Ha! Logan can’t help but scoff, You’ll have me do it and end up with stick figures and a yellow sun at the top corner.

    They both laugh as Logan leaves him to get ready for the day. Brandon’s anger subsides as he wonders who will be brought in to finish the job. Logan is wondering the same thing as he hops on the phone.

    Gloria, my Gloria. How are you this morning?

    Darren got fired didn’t he? the woman on the phone questions.

    Well, yes but it was his own fault he pissed off the beast. Mr. Fairchild asked for a mural and not a mosaic. Darren tried to do both and that didn’t go over so well, Logan tells her.

    I don’t know any other actual artists in the area who aren’t under contract who he hasn’t fired over the last month. I mean, she sighs heavily, I use these artists for the events I plan and design and have never had any issues. I just don’t understand what he’s looking for, Gloria confesses.

    Well maybe that’s it. Maybe you’re overthinking this and going for artists who expect their work to be displayed in a museum, he truly needs someone to appease the eyes of a toddler.

    I think you’re right, Logan. I’ve been thinking too much like an adult. I think I may have somebody. And it’s somebody he’s already familiar with. I’ll send her your way tomorrow morning. Will that work?

    Yes, tomorrow morning works and for both our sake, Logan warns, This person had better be the last!

    The following morning, just as Brandon is coming in from his morning chores, there’s a Prius parked near his garage. He peers inside the vehicle but nothing shows itself to be extraordinary.

    Whose car is that out there? he calls out shaking his boots off sending bits of dirt scattering across the floor.

    That car belongs to the new artist commissioned to finish the room, Logan calls back from the kitchen. He takes a cup of coffee to him as Brandon peels off his drenched shirt. He’s sweaty and stinks of manure. Logan advises, You may want to shower before you go see this one, Brandon.

    Brandon huffs at the idea and proceeds to see the new artist anyway. The view before him is one he isn’t expecting. The denim blue overalls do nothing to hide the curvature of her frame as she shifts back and forth with a mallet and scraper in hand, removing the mosaic tile from the wall. He can see beyond the overall straps to a white crop top t-shirt revealing just a slither of milk chocolate skin at her waist line. Her arms are toned and flex with every jab at the plastered tile. Her thick black hair is pulled back into a tight bun but is covered in the white dust from breaking through the tiles.

    Brandon clears his throat to speak loud enough to disrupt her, Good morning!

    The stunningly beautiful woman is clad in goggles and a dust mask. She turns around to see a shirtless, muscle bulging, sweaty man standing in the doorway. She pulls her mask down and mistakes him for one of the groundskeepers, Hey, good morning. Can you do me a favor and bring me a vacuum when you get a chance? Thanks I’d really appreciate it. She smiles and turns back around returning to the task at hand.

    He chuckles and speaks out again, Excuse me, but I’m Brandon Fairchild.

    The woman drops her tools immediately and rushes back to him apologetically, Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognize you all dirty and covered in pig musk. It’s been a long time, Mr. Fairchild.

    Likewise, Ms. Saunders. It’s still Miss isn’t it, he mildly flirts with his new employee.

    Yes it is, Elise replies shaking her head.

    What are you shaking your head at?

    You! I know that smile. I know that look! You’re up to no good Brandon Fairchild. Remember that I know you! I know the kind of guy you are. You just think you can come in here make people swoon all over you. Take your shirt off and flex those muscles. Distracting me from my job… Wait a minute how did you know it was me in here? she asks suddenly realizing he may have just been walking around without a shirt on.

    I didn’t know it was you in here, Elise, Brandon bursts into laughter, I swear I didn’t. I just came in from doing my morning chores and didn’t wanna smell like cows.

    Elise shakes her head in embarrassment, Oh God. Please don’t fire me. I didn’t mean to insinuate or sexually harass you or make you feel uncomfortable.

    "No worries Elise, no offense taken. But I’ll get that vacuum brought to you

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