About the Author:
Willsin Rowe falls in love with a scent, a playful
expression or an act of casual intimacy more easily than with physical beauty.
When confronted by any combination of those elements he is a lost cause. He has
done many things over and over, done even more things only once, and half-done
more things than he cares to admit. He loves to sing and doesn’t let his voice
get in the way. He is intelligent but not sensible. He is passionate but
fearful. He is not scruffy enough or stylish enough to be cool.
About the Book:
Douglas Blackwood stands to inherit a lot of money...as
long as he takes over the family textile business. Desperate to find his own
path in life, and to clear his head, he has taken an impulsive sabbatical to
Mexico. A sabbatical that cost him his materialistic girlfriend.
With funds running low, he talks his way into some
casual work at a vanilla plantation, run by siblings Domingo and Isabel
Melendez. Douglas finds Domingo dismissive and angry. Isabel, on the other
hand, is beautiful, fiery, passionate...and off-limits. It’s not just that
she’s engaged to Patricio, possibly the most beautiful man on the planet. She’s
also treated like a princess by all the plantation’s workers. Whether she likes
it or not.
Isabel’s dream in life is to remind the world of the
delightful intensity of Mexican vanilla. No mean feat in a world that has come
to believe “vanilla” is synonymous with “dull”.
When Douglas’s ignorance raises her ire, Isabel
initiates the handsome American into the sensory power of pure vanilla. Using
some unconventional, yet memorable, methods. But what is the secret that
makes—and keeps—Domingo so angry? How does that secret affect the engagement of
Isabel and Patricio? And where does that leave Douglas?
Excerpt:
“Many, many years ago, people called Papantla the City
That Perfumed the World. The streets would be covered with these pods, sitting
in the sun to dry. The aroma of Heaven filled the air. What you are smelling
right now? Why, back then, it was the rarest spice on earth. Now your people
are telling the world it is plain? The most common flavor? Boring?”
“It’s just…just a saying.” I felt a tiny bit
lightheaded, but it seemed to be as much from Isabel’s passion as from the
intensity of the vanilla pod. “Besides, it’s not my people. It’s just…people.”
“The problem is you Americanos don’t know what this can
do. You think my baby is only good for sweet dishes.”
“Well, it’s a sweet spice, yeah?”
“Remember, I have been to your country. I have tasted
your food. Your bread, your burgers—it all tastes sweet to me. But my
vanilla…Oh, she can do so much more.”
“Such as?”
She curled her mouth into another smile, so small, so
nuanced I could easily have missed it.
“Close your eyes again.”
Of course, I did. More movement, then I felt Isabel’s
finger on my lips. She pressed and rubbed, and I realized she’d spread some of
the vanilla pod’s heart on my mouth. Almost involuntarily, I snaked my tongue
out to taste the gooey treat. It had a touch of sweetness, but also a sharp
edge of bitterness and a dark musk. It had so much more complexity than I’d imagined.
Isabel traced my lips with her scented finger. I
followed her with my tongue, chasing until I caught up. At first I flicked
lightly at her skin, until she pressed forward, dipping the tip of her finger
inside my mouth.
The spice of the vanilla pod certainly aroused me, just
as she’d said it should, though it was mainly due to the way it mixed with her
soft skin. I traced her finger, searching for every last iota of flavor. Her
breath washed over my neck, creeping down into my shirt.
She drew her finger from my mouth and rubbed the pod
onto her skin, where her neck met her shoulder. “Try this, Douglas.” She
speared her hand into my hair and pulled my head downward until my lips met the
silken heat of her skin. “This is where your American girls wear perfume, yes?”
“Oh, yes.” I opened my mouth to suckle on the heavenly
concoction of Isabel’s velvet throat coated with the aromatic wonder of the
vanilla pod. Her tiny moans seemed to vibrate through my body as I curled my
arms around her, holding onto her in case she fell. Or I did.
