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Painted Blind by Michelle A. Hansen
As strange as this may seem, it’s about to get even stranger. Erik takes her to his palace in an idyllic kingdom, and she is swept into the beauty and culture of his world, but his affection has one condition: she may not see him. Overtaken, intrigued, and still not wholeheartedly believing he’s real, Psyche is going to have to decide if she can love him blindly; because if she can’t, she may lose him forever.
About this Author:
Painted Blind on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13640928-painted-blind
Author FB Page: http://www.facebook.com/michelleahansenauthor
Painted Blind FB Page: http://www.facebook.com/PaintedBlindnovel
(The Billboard Scene)
Traffic was painfully slow. Friday would mark the beginning of Labor Day weekend, then a break in the tourist season until snow fell thick enough for skiers. This week the sidewalks bulged with shoppers, and not one parking space emptied as I inched east between the brick buildings of old downtown. I parked behind the bank then walked along the side street toward the front. I rounded the corner and froze.
A new billboard stood at the end of the block. The perfume ad was a look-alike of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, and there in the center, beneath a waist-length wig, was me. Stark. Freaking. Naked. On Main Street. I choked on my breath. That one mistake, the one photo I swore my dad would never see was right there.
The photo didn’t show how my eyelid twitched or that my armpits were dripping sweat. It didn’t show the excruciating pain in my chest that made my arm numb. No, my face and body were dusted with gold, and my fearful expression looked half innocent, half seductive. A scream of panic pushed at my ears. My dad would see it. Every guy in town would see it. Savannah would see it, too.
My lunch jumped into my throat. I stumbled to a trash can and hurled.
Thunder cracked overhead. I looked up and that’s when I saw the guy down the sidewalk staring up at the billboard, hands on his hips. He spun around shaking his head, but he stopped when he saw me. Even from a distance, he was dazzling. I felt his gaze like a punch in the chest that struck suddenly and sent my pulse screaming. His eyes narrowed, and in that momentary glance, he looked past the ratty jeans and oversized T-shirt. He saw Venus, and it made him clamp his jaw tight and glare. Rain pelted the sidewalk between us, but I couldn’t pull myself away until he turned and disappeared around the corner.
Absently I walked into the bank, unable to free my mind from the angry set of his jaw. I set an envelope of Euros on the counter and saw surprise in the teller’s eyes when she looked at my face. She made a quick glance out the window and back to me again.
“It’s not me.” My voice was unconvincing. I studied the dark spots made by the rain on my shoes. I didn’t hear her reply. My mind saw only the guy who hated me without even knowing my name.
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