Happy Wednesday! I hope everybody has at least one fun thing planned for today, or maybe it'll hit you spontaneously. For me, I'm looking forward to reading some good books, crocheting, and sewing a little ice pack carrier for my husband and his bum knee. But first, today's special guest is Aubrie Dionne with her novel, Playing The Maestro.
The author is offering the prize to the right. This is available to US residents only, due to the nature of the prize and contest ends April 15. You can enter right here!
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Blurb
Melody
Mires has sworn off dating musicians, but when the sexy European conductor Wolf
Braun takes over her struggling symphony, her hesitation almost flies out the
window with the notes of her flute—until he opens his mouth. Wolf is arrogant,
haughty, and seems to have a personal vendetta against Melody. Oh, and he’s her
boss. If she wants to keep her job as principal flutist, she’ll have to impress
Wolf while simultaneously keeping her undeniable attraction to herself.
Wolf
came to America
Excerpt
Melody
Mires plopped into the principal flutist’s seat in Easthampton
“Bad
date, huh?” Carly ran her cleaning cloth through her oboe as her reeds soaked
in a tiny shot glass on her music stand. Violins screeched around them while a
French horn blatted arpeggios. It wasn’t exactly the best environment for
discussing Melody’s dating habits.
“Let’s
just say two hours of listening to a guy talk about his Stradivarius is less
than enticing.”
Carly
stuck her reed in her oboe and blew a tentative note. Ever since the board of
directors had turned off the AC to save money, she’d pulled her pin-straight
blond hair in a tight bun and wore shorts and sandals to rehearsal. “Which one
is he, Mel?”
Melody
considered letting the conversation drop. What did it matter? Every one of the
musicians she’d dated was the same as her: burned out from practicing to beat
the chair ahead of him, teaching five million lessons a day to make ends meet,
scrambling for gigs two hours away on the weekends, so involved in a dying art
form that he didn’t even know the Bruins were an ice hockey team.
What
she needed was a nonmusician, a gorgeous firefighter or a clean-cut Gillette
commercial model in a business suit. Yes, a lawyer who worked to defend the
innocent would be nice, or a veterinarian for homeless and sick animals—someone
who didn’t think the world revolved around him. But she didn’t travel in those
social circles. She was stuck in the stuffy bubble of the classical music
community.
“So
you gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?” Carly set her oboe across her lap
and shuffled through her sheet music.
Melody
leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Blake Templeton.”
Carly
gave her a shocked look. “Not Blake?”
“Yup.”
She assembled her flute to try and look like she was warming up, thinking about
the disastrous date with the orchestra’s personnel manager. “Good thing it
didn’t work out, or everyone would think I was dating him just so he’d tenure
my position.”
“I’m
surprised he’d ask you out, what with his sister and all…”
Melody
rolled her eyes. “Why would a flute prodigy from Julliard want this little
Civic Symphony seat anyway? Seems to me a girl who played the Mozart G Major
concerto in front of the New York Phil at age seven could get a seat in any
orchestra. Age seven. When I was seven, the only thing I was playing was
pretend flute on my toothbrush.”
Carly
shrugged as if she’d told her this flute whiz could tie her own shoes. “You’re
better than you think. You could give Blake’s sister a run for her money any
day.”
“Thanks,
hon.” Melody twirled her dark curls behind her head and stuck a pencil in to
hold the knot. “Like I said. I swear never…”
The
orchestra quieted around them. A man with dark chestnut hair flowing in waves
around his broad shoulders took the conductor’s podium and tapped his baton on
the music stand. Blue eyes that reminded Melody of the Atlantic
Ocean on a sunny day surveyed the orchestra. He pursed curvy lips
framed by a strong-ridged jaw and gorgeously high cheekbones and gestured to
Carly to give the tuning pitch.
Melody
was glad the woodwinds sat in the back so he wouldn’t hear her audible gasp.
“Who the hell is that?” She thought she knew everything happening with the
orchestra.
Carly
nodded to him and switched on her tuner, clipping a small mic to the bell of
her oboe. She spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “They just introduced him
on the website this morning. Their latest surprise: Wolfgang Braun, the guest
conductor from Berlin
Melody
stared in disbelief, thinking Chris Helmsworth’s Thor must have had a
better-looking, long-lost cousin in Germany
Review
“Dionne’s passion for music resonates through this lovely
story. Brava.”--Nikki Logan, author of How to Get Over Your Ex
About the Author
Aubrie grew up watching the original
Star Wars movies over
and over until she could recite and reenact every single scene in her backyard.
She also loved The Goonies, Star
Trek the Next Generation--favorite character was Data by far--and Indiana Jones. But, her all time
favorite movie was The Last Unicorn.
She still wonders why the unicorn decided to change back to a unicorn in the
end.
Aubrie
wrote in her junior high yearbook that she wanted to be "a concert
flutist" when she grew up. She majored in flute performance at the University of New Hampshire
She
is represented by Dawn Dowdle and writes sweet and adventurous fantasy,
science fiction, and contemporary romance.
Connect with Aubrie Dionne
Website: http://www.authoraubrie.net
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authoraubrie
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