Cat Gardiner is my guest today and she is sharing an excerpt with us from her latest release, Villa Fortuna! She also has a pretty special prize package. Be sure to leave a comment because you do not want to miss out on this one!
It is such a joy to have you back, Cat, and I appreciate the very generous giveaway that you have for my readers! I know they will too! Ummm...I do like your choice for the "Darcy" hero! :)
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Thank you Janet for accepting my calling card at More
Agreeably Engaged! I’m so happy to be here to share an excerpt from my newest
novel, Villa Fortuna, with you and your followers.
Having published VF in December, I’ve
visited a few blogs and have enjoyed talking with readers about the Clemente
sisters and the love of family, especially during the holidays. However, we
haven’t met our “Darcy” hero – Dr. Michael Garin, yet, so I thought snippets
from Chapter Two would be a proper introduction.
When my hairdresser gave me the plot bunny in February
2015, I immediately knew who to cast. Villa Fortuna was written around my ideal
for Mike: British Model David Gandy. My
BFF and I brainstormed to cast Stella Russo De Luca, VF’s “Lady Catherine”
character. I think we hit the nail on the head casting the incomparable Shirley
MacLaine as Mike’s grandmother. I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into
Mike’s world.
Excerpts from Chapter Two
Doctor Michael Garin of Manhattan Aesthetic Associates
(MAA) was known among the affluent strata of New York City as the cosmetic surgeon for everything from
simple Botox or Radiesse injections to laser fillers and surgery-free
facelifts. Following in his father’s footsteps, he had built quite an esteemed
reputation for himself in the advancement of body sculpting. So much so that
the 4,106 friends of the “MAA Body Fan Club” on Facebook reverently referred to
him as “Michelangelo.” It was an abhorrent nickname on a social networking site
he privately despised but acknowledged with a cool ambivalence since its
creation this past year by one of his obsessed patients.
Bright blue eyes stared blankly at the sculpture on the 60th
Street and Park Avenue mall beyond his office window. It was two in the
afternoon and he was killing time between appointments. Actually, that’s a lie.
He was gathering strength and nerve, awaiting his next patient’s arrival. She
was a plastic addict, a Barbie Doll wanna-be, and he didn’t quite know how to
proceed because she was also his best friend’s sister. Tenting his index
fingers against his lips, he surveyed all his potential responses to her,
banishing each one as they popped into his mind.
But you were a C-cup
three months ago. I won’t do it, not again. No, that wouldn’t be effective.
You
know that catwoman person? Well, you’re headed in that direction and going to
ruin my reputation in the process. I’m a dog person. That would be a mean,
below-the-belt comment, though very tempting.
Blair,
your lips will end up looking like your labia. No, that may be the look
she’s going for. He’d already tailored those
lips to her specifications. Come to think of it, he almost backed out of that
surgery, too. He shuddered at the remembrance of her labiaplasty.
You’re
beautiful enough. I refuse to make any more changes. No, she might take it
as an invitation for dinner, or worse—sex. Surgical alteration of that area, with her under anesthesia,
was the closest he’d ever go to laying his fingers to her flesh and, for the
record and his own sensibilities, he had double gloved. Yet still, he was the
one who had to live every day with the disturbing image burned onto his brain.
Mike shuddered again.
Every scenario he played in his mind seemed to draw the same
expected, repeated conclusion—her manicured fingers flirtatiously running down
his white lab coat with a coo of “I just have to have your hands on me.” The
recollection of her tug to his necktie, attempting to pull him onto her
suddenly reclining form, made his flesh crawl and he resisted the compulsion to
depress the antibacterial pump at the corner of his desk.
This was always the hard part of what he did—denying a
patient their right to pay for surgical enhancement. At times such as this, he
wished himself to be a greedy man or, more importantly, an atheist. His religiosity
and conscience battled with a career in which he spent his days altering God’s
perfect creations with the slice of a scalpel all for vanity purposes.
“Doctor Garin, your grandmother is
here to see you,” Gwen, his assistant, announced over the speakerphone.
He gazed up to the ceiling thinking
that this day couldn’t get much worse. It seemed that finding his peaceful
center before Blair Channing’s appointment was not to be had. “Thanks. You can
send her in.”
He sat back in his chair, readying
himself for the mini-tornado about to blow into his office.
In other Italian families, his
grandmother would be referred to as his “nonna” maybe even “nonnina” because of
her slight five-foot-two inches, but Stella was no sweet, lovable nonna. There
was nothing remotely nonna-esque about the dictatorial,
full-of-spit-and-vinegar redheaded hellion.
Stella
Russo De Luca, his mother’s mother, burst into his sanctuary with her usual
dramatic
flair,
slamming the door
against the wall and nearly toppling the bronze Rodin replica statue of two
hands from its pedestal. She stood at the office threshold with nude-colored
fingernails clutching slender hips, seemingly clawing the fabric of the white
Oscar de la Renta suit she wore. Her short hair had been re-touched recently,
as well as her Botox injection, which was obvious when perfectly arched
eyebrows remained stationary as she employed her usual expressionless
expression.
Once again, Mike wondered why she
still allowed her salon aesthetician to inject her illegally when he could do
it without the common side effect.
Having made her grand entrance, the
haughty whirlwind nearly sucked the air from the room when, with chin raised,
she spoke through puckered lips, “They’ve arrived!”
He sighed and rubbed a hand across
his brow. “Who has arrived?”
“Those damned Clemente women!
That’s who! The will has been read. How dare they stake claim to my ancestral
home.”
“No, it is their ancestral home and has been for something like eight
decades.”
“As my eldest grandson, it is also
your building!”
His six-feet, two-inch tall frame
walked around the desk, then affectionately kissed his diminutive grandmother’s
cheek cautioning, “Calm yourself, or you’ll have a coronary.”
“I assure you, Michael, I will not
be dropping dead before Villa Fortuna has been signed back over to a Russo
heir.”
“I hope you’re right. Apart from
the fact that I’d miss you, it’s a great building and a great location. Once I
turn it into luxury condos, it’ll be the perfect investment. I’ve had my eye on
it for some time.”
Stella took a seat facing his sleek
steel desk, and removed a compact from her handbag, dabbing repugnant summer
perspiration from her cheeks. “I have been engaged in this battle for Villa
Fortuna for 20 years, and I am not going to give up the fight now that the
witch is dead.” She closed the powder case with an abrupt snap. “I intend on
ramping up my efforts.” …
She paused assessing her debonair
grandson up and down—from his black, wavy hair, light stubble beard, to his
size twelve Ferragamo shoes. “Of course, there is another way to reclaim
ownership of the building.”
Familiar with that devious look of
hers, he abruptly stood, heading back around to his desk chair, effectively
putting space between them. “Oh, no… forget it. Don’t even think about it!”
“But why not, Michael? Marry,
divorce, and then buy the puttana out
of her share of Villa Fortuna. It is your duty to your famiglia.” …
“Did you hear me, Michael? Do your duty. I
don’t care which one you marry, just pick one, and be done with it. You’re
almost thirty-four for Christ sake. It’s time you married and had children. Not
a Clemente’s child, of course. It would pollute your gene pool and my father
would roll over in his grave.”
He ran his hand through his hair.
“That’s not going to happen. I won’t be dating any of these women as a means of
laying my hands on a piece of real estate. As much as I desire the building, in
the scheme of things it’s not all that important to me. It’s also unethical and
deceitful and, like Joey, you know it goes against my grain.” …
“Doctor Garin, Ms. Channing is here
for her two thirty appointment,” Gwen announced through the speakerphone.
“Thanks. Put her in exam room
number three, and I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“But Doctor Garin, there’s no exam
table in number three.”
“Exactly.”
Poor
guy, huh? He sure has his hands full. I
hope you’ll consider Villa Fortuna for your TBR pile in 2016. You may have a
few laughs. I know I did when writing it. Thank you for stopping by More
Agreeably Engaged and reading! Please leave Janet and me a comment to be
eligible for the last of Villa Fortuna’s Blog Tour giveaways.
For US Entry winner: Because our Lizzy loves to bake and several
scenes take place in Messina Bakery below the Clemente sisters’ apartment, this
special prize pack includes a Villa Fortuna e-Book, an Andrea Bocelli DVD,
sweets, and tools of Lizzy’s escape in the kitchen with a recipe!
For International Entry winner: A
Villa Fortuna e-Book
Buona
Fortuna! Good Luck!
Thank you again, Cat, for stopping by and sharing an excerpt from your book. Even though I may have 'blushed' a tad reading of those surgeries, I chuckled too! :) Villa Fortuna is definitely on my TBR list. I know there has been a lot of buzz about this book and that has to be exciting for you. I wish you the best with it and am anxious to learn more about what you have in the works for your next one. Please come back and visit again.
Readers, don't forget to leave a comment and your contact info to be entered. The giveaway will end on the 25th of January at 11:59 PM. Thanks for visiting and good luck to all!
If you haven't checked out the MAE Awards for Favorite Books of 2015, please do. Cat Gardiner's Denial of Conscience was a winner along with several other great reads by some fabulous authors.
