Blurb:
Renowned portrait artist, Samantha Brown is through with men. After dealing with an overbearing father and cheating ex-fiance, Samantha is not in the market for romance, of any kind. Give her a blank canvas, some paints and brushes and she’s in charge of her life. There was no room in her life for love, so why did she find herself giving in to Rafael
Santini’s outrageous demand that she paint his portrait?
Satisfied with his upcoming marriage of convenience Rafael Santini isn’t in the market for love. So, how come he finds the pint-sized artist stirring up emotions he didn’t have time for?
An accident forces Rafael to re-evaluate his life and wonder whether he can teach Samantha the art of love.
Excerpt:
“This is a copy of the original that I sent you five years ago.”
Braithwait’s words dropped into a lengthening silence before Samantha straightened and leaned forward.
“Whatever it is you say you sent me, I never received. Where did you send it and who was it addressed to?”
“When did you say you moved out of your father’s home?” Rafe asked Samantha before the solicitor could speak.
“Three years ago.”
“And,” Rafe spoke directly to Braithwait, “you say you sent the original copy of Mrs. Brown’s will to Samantha at her father’s house five years ago?”
“Yes, I did. Is there some problem?”
“Did you not find it unusual that Miss Brown failed to acknowledge the receipt of the document?”
“I couriered it, and it was signed for.”
“So you can’t guarantee who signed for it?”
“Let me have a look.”
The solicitor shuffled through the more papers in the folder and after a couple of minutes pulled out a small, square slip of official looking paper. “Here it is. And—” he pointed to the bottom, “There is Miss Brown’s signature.”
Rafe studied the form, passed it to Samantha who leapt to her feet. “This is not my writing and certainly not my signature.”
“Having recently exchanged legal contracts with Ms. Brown I can verify that this…” He pointed to the scrawled signature. “This is not genuine.”
The blood leeched from Braithwait’s face and he slumped back in his chair. “Who would do this?”
Rafe watched and waited until the truth dawned on the solicitor. He pushed the paper across to Samantha. “Do you recognise that signature?”
She paused, nodded, then shook her head. “At first glance I thought it was Adrian’s writing.” She leaned forward and peered more closely at it. “It’s certainly not mine, nor is it quite like Adrian’s. Oh, yes, whoever did this tried to make it look like his. But why?” Once more she shook her head before casting a confused look at the
inspector. She glanced at the signature again and swore. “Whoever signed this has a light hand. Adrian is heavy handed in everything he does, including writing. But why try to pass this off as his writing and not mine? It doesn’t
make sense.”
Renowned portrait artist, Samantha Brown is through with men. After dealing with an overbearing father and cheating ex-fiance, Samantha is not in the market for romance, of any kind. Give her a blank canvas, some paints and brushes and she’s in charge of her life. There was no room in her life for love, so why did she find herself giving in to Rafael
Santini’s outrageous demand that she paint his portrait?
Satisfied with his upcoming marriage of convenience Rafael Santini isn’t in the market for love. So, how come he finds the pint-sized artist stirring up emotions he didn’t have time for?
An accident forces Rafael to re-evaluate his life and wonder whether he can teach Samantha the art of love.
Excerpt:
“This is a copy of the original that I sent you five years ago.”
Braithwait’s words dropped into a lengthening silence before Samantha straightened and leaned forward.
“Whatever it is you say you sent me, I never received. Where did you send it and who was it addressed to?”
“When did you say you moved out of your father’s home?” Rafe asked Samantha before the solicitor could speak.
“Three years ago.”
“And,” Rafe spoke directly to Braithwait, “you say you sent the original copy of Mrs. Brown’s will to Samantha at her father’s house five years ago?”
“Yes, I did. Is there some problem?”
“Did you not find it unusual that Miss Brown failed to acknowledge the receipt of the document?”
“I couriered it, and it was signed for.”
“So you can’t guarantee who signed for it?”
“Let me have a look.”
The solicitor shuffled through the more papers in the folder and after a couple of minutes pulled out a small, square slip of official looking paper. “Here it is. And—” he pointed to the bottom, “There is Miss Brown’s signature.”
Rafe studied the form, passed it to Samantha who leapt to her feet. “This is not my writing and certainly not my signature.”
“Having recently exchanged legal contracts with Ms. Brown I can verify that this…” He pointed to the scrawled signature. “This is not genuine.”
The blood leeched from Braithwait’s face and he slumped back in his chair. “Who would do this?”
Rafe watched and waited until the truth dawned on the solicitor. He pushed the paper across to Samantha. “Do you recognise that signature?”
She paused, nodded, then shook her head. “At first glance I thought it was Adrian’s writing.” She leaned forward and peered more closely at it. “It’s certainly not mine, nor is it quite like Adrian’s. Oh, yes, whoever did this tried to make it look like his. But why?” Once more she shook her head before casting a confused look at the
inspector. She glanced at the signature again and swore. “Whoever signed this has a light hand. Adrian is heavy handed in everything he does, including writing. But why try to pass this off as his writing and not mine? It doesn’t
make sense.”