Country Girl, City Lights by Giselle Renarde #UrbanFantasy #Romance

12:06 PM | Labels: art gallery, country girl, fantasy, fantasy romance, new adult, office romance, Romance, small town big city, Urban Fantasy, workplace romance

Cover art depicts the silhouette of a young woman against city lights at night

When bad boy Matt leaves the small town of Port Canatangua, Delia follows him to the big city. Delia’s crazy about Matt, and refuses to believe the rumours surrounding his departure. As soon as he finds a good job, he’s sure to get in touch. Until then, Delia takes a dingy little apartment and a position as a security guard at the art gallery. When she falls asleep on the job and finds herself inside a painting alongside Jacob the handsome shepherd, she tells herself it’s just a crazy hallucination. What better place than a dream to find the man of her dreams?

Previously published as “The Rococo Room.”

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EXCERPT
Delia concentrated on the sheepy hillside hanging directly across from where she sat. It had a soothing effect. The sloping green hills looked like the little valley in Canatangua Park, where she’d tobogganed every winter as a child. In the summers, they’d lie on their backs and point out constellations to one another. Matt hadn’t moved to town yet, when she was that age. When he touched down, it was like an asteroid hit.

As she watched the sheep graze, her eyelids grew heavy.

Pry them open, girl. Focus!

She stared at the painting. Little Sam had pointed to “the boy” in the picture, but for the life of her, Delia couldn’t find any figures. Only sheep.

Look for him.

She roamed the hillside, up and down the green grass. She crept between fluffy sheep in search of the boy who kept them. Where was he? Beyond the next knoll? Off in the distance? But the distance seemed so far. She’d continue her search after quick nap.

Cuddling her head against the fleece of virgin-white lamb, she fell asleep.
When she awoke, a dark form all but blocked out the sun. Her mind told her body to leap, but her legs froze in hypnopompic atrophy. She tried to press herself up by her palms, but her hands slipped on the grass.

As her pillow bleated and scrambled out from under her, her cranium met the ground with a hard smack.

“Aww, I think I bit my tongue,” she mumbled as the hovering shape stretched out a hand.
When he leaned forward, his golden form blocked the sun from her eyes. She could finally see who he was—and man was he a sight to behold!

His curls sprung like dark woodchips from under his peasant’s cap. Even standing against the sun, gold specks glinted like fireflies in his hazel eyes. He’d shaven at some point, but not within the last two or three days. That was all well and good—his square jaw wore stubble well. A threadbare shirt narrowly concealed his undoubtedly perfect chest, and beyond his brown trousers there be dragons.

Propping herself up on her elbow, Delia held out her hand to accept his help. As he lifted her from the grass, it hit her—something was wrong with this picture! Most notably, she was in it.

She spun around, expecting to find herself face to face with a window on the red room. Nope. Nothing but pastures, sheep, and a beautiful boy looking at her quite quizzically.

“There’s no need for alarm,” he said. “This is a safe place.”