Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Liron's Melody by Brieanna Robertson

Liron's Melody
Brieanna Robertson ISBN  978-1-936165-76-6

Word Count: 64,620
PDF Page Count: 195
Heat Index: Sensual
Does this book contain violence? No
Genre(s): Mainstream Romance, Fantasy
Release Date: 2-16-2011
Price: 5.99

Art heals, and one woman learns the true power of music.

A Julliard graduate and former member of the Philharmonic Orchestra, Melody hasn't played anything since her parents were killed in a tragic car accident. But when her friend buys her an old, weathered music score that seems to call to her, she is intrigued.
She knew that playing again would be a freeing feeling, but she never expected the action to open up a gateway to a world where creation and the arts are dominant and emotions are not frowned upon, but embraced. And she definitely never expected to be tossed into the living room of a muse--a man who lives and breathes music, who can calm her with a touch and make her hear symphonies.
As Melody learns of Liron, his world, and his own loss, she begins to heal, feel whole, and find herself again. But when the connection to Melody's world and the muse world is severed, will the music Liron inspired, as well as the power of her love, be enough to reunite them? More importantly, can Melody find the strength within herself to face the past she has been running from and do what needs to be done for the future she longs to have?

It was a mournful song, slow and dark, Gothic almost. She had planned to stop after the first few measures, but once she started, two things happened. Wondrous ecstasy coursed throughout her entire body as the music filled her soul once again, and her fingers moved over the keys with grace and ease, like she had never stopped playing. For one beautiful second, she felt like she'd come home. That reason alone was enough to keep her there, but something else happened. Something strange and all consuming.

While the sorrowful notes echoed through her empty house, her mind conjured up the image of a man sitting at a piano, alone in a candlelit room. She was looking at him from behind as he hunched over the keys, lost within the same notes she was currently playing. Long, shining, chestnut-colored hair spilled down his back and around broad shoulders that seemed burdened, as if they carried weight. That particular thing struck her because she noted that his shoulders looked the way hers felt. Heavy, tired, sad…

She focused on the image in her mind, more than happy to devote her attention to whatever her imagination conjured instead of the grief of missing her parents. The music filled her, swirled around her, along with the unbearable loneliness that emanated from the man at the piano. It was almost as tangible as hers, and her heart connected to him, whoever he was. An embodiment of her own pain and sadness, she imagined.

A chill ran the course of her body and the temperature in the room seemed to drop, which she thought was strange considering it was the middle of the summer. She ignored it as she continued to play, driven on by the gorgeous music and the enigmatic image in her mind. She found she wanted to know more about the person in her subconscious, the man brought to life by this aged score. It seemed he had a story to tell, and the only way to know it was to continue playing.

So, she did. She gave herself over to the notes and chords, lost herself within the vision in her mind until it seemed almost real. The temperature in the room continued to cool and the hair on her arms bristled. She felt a strange, tugging sensation around her heart, as if it wanted her to reach out to the man at the piano, touch him, soothe him, let him know he was not as alone as he felt, and maybe assure herself that she wasn't either.

As the music coursed through her and around her, she played with abandon. It was only when she shivered that she realized her eyes were closed, had been closed for quite awhile. With a start, her fingers fumbled on the keys, causing the pristine notes she had been playing to falter. How could she be playing the music in front of her without looking at it? Had she just improvised the last few minutes? She stilled her fingers, but the melody of the music continued on in her mind, echoing as if through a long tunnel. If she didn't know better, she would have thought it wasn't in her mind at all, but close by, and real.

Dampness touched her bare arms, and she swore she could smell the ocean, which made absolutely no sense considering she lived in Colorado, and nowhere near the sea. She looked toward her front door, wondering if she'd left it open and some kind of strange storm had rolled in.

She gasped and jumped so hard she almost fell straight off her piano bench. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them with the heels of her palms. When she opened them again, everything was as it should have been, and the temperature in the room went back to normal. She stared at her empty living room, trying to figure out what she had seen. For a second, the half of the room she wasn't in had looked like some kind of stone structure, like a room in a castle. It had felt cold and foggy, dimly lit with flickering candles, and in the corner where the door should have been, sat the man her imagination had conjured while playing the music. Only, she'd stopped playing, and he had continued.

“What in the world?” she whispered. Her heart pounded and her mouth felt dry. She glanced at the score of music and eyeballed it. She had never been an exceptionally creative person. Not visually anyway, in the way of dreaming up strange visions. Even if she had daydreamed now and again, they had never been so vivid that they had taken up residence in the room she was in.

Maybe she'd finally lost her mind. Or maybe she was so exhausted from Rob's hike of death that her brain was playing tricks on her. That had to be it.

But even as she convinced herself that was the only logical explanation, her heart still ached at the sorrow she had felt while gazing upon that man. She glanced at the keys, part of her longing to play again, to see if she could glimpse him a second time. Part of her was afraid to. What if she really was losing her mind? Had grief and isolation finally caused her to crack? If so, it probably wasn't healthy to continue entertaining the fantasy.


The desire to play again was overwhelming, no matter how irrational it was. No matter if he was a complete hallucination of her deluded mind. She just wanted to see him again. She wanted to see him because, in their shared sorrow, for one brief moment, she had not felt completely alone.

Exhaling slowly, she placed her shaking fingers back over the keys.


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