Flowers for Him

Flowers for Him

4.6 3
by Marie Sexton, Rowan Speedwell
     
 

He wanted to learn about beauty. He never expected to learn about love.

Billionaire Chandler Harrison's third marriage is now history, and he's left with his ex-wife's parting barb, 'You have no appreciation of beauty.' Determined to prove her wrong, Chandler hires artist Neil Sweeney to add a mural to his office wall. He doesn't even care what

Overview

He wanted to learn about beauty. He never expected to learn about love.

Billionaire Chandler Harrison's third marriage is now history, and he's left with his ex-wife's parting barb, 'You have no appreciation of beauty.' Determined to prove her wrong, Chandler hires artist Neil Sweeney to add a mural to his office wall. He doesn't even care what the picture is, as long as it's beautiful.

Neil Sweeney is an ex-tagger, a free spirit, and a bit of a hippie. He's never met anybody as uptight as Chandler, but when it comes to warming up Chandler's cold, stark office, Neil has plans involving more than art.

Chandler begins to find himself strangely moved by the mural developing on his office wall. He's especially moved by the artist himself. Chandler has denied his homosexual urges for most of his life, but it isn't long before Neil begins introducing Chandler to all kinds of new things. As Neil's masterpiece comes to life, so does Chandler's appreciation for art, colour, and the best kind of beauty of all—love.

Publisher's Note: This story has been previously released as part of the Promoted by the Billionaire anthology by Totally Bound Publishing.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781781843048
Publisher:
Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Publication date:
05/10/2013
Sold by:
Barnes & Noble
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
48
Sales rank:
173,200
File size:
200 KB
Age Range:
18 Years

Related Subjects

Read an Excerpt

The room that served as both my office and my boardroom was perfect in every way. White walls. White floor. A polished black teak desk against the wall, and a matching table in the middle. The fixtures were all black and silver, as were the chairs.

Streamlined. Practical. Functional. Just the way I liked it.

The only thing out of place was the artist I was paying to destroy it.

This is all Abby’s fault.

An uncharitable thought, but it was foremost in my mind as I showed him into the room. He was in his early thirties, younger than I by a good ten years. His ragged jeans and threadbare T-shirt were stained with paint, as were the brown plastic-rimmed glasses he wore. He needed a haircut. I made a mental note to be more specific next time I asked for an artist. No hippies. No freaks.

Too late now.

“This is the wall?” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and stepped back to survey the pristine expanse of eggshell white.

“Is it sufficient?”

“You bet.” He turned in a slow circle to glance slowly around the room. “Wow. This is…” He waved his hand in circles as he searched for a word.

“Clean?”

“I was going to say boring, but yeah. Clean, too.”

Definitely Abby’s fault. Abby was ex-wife number three. “You’re uptight, Chandler, and you’re boring!” she’d said when she left me—and my substantial bank account—for an electrician. “You’ll never learn to relax.”

“I can relax,” I’d countered. “I have a pool. I have a Jacuzzi. I have a sauna. I have my own private masseuse! What else do I need?”

She’d laughed at me. “You need to learn to appreciate life. To look for beauty.” She’d turned to gesture at the white walls of my office. “Look at this! This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

Then she’d left, and I’d sat there, staring at the untainted white walls of my office, trying to sort through it.

Meet the Author

Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.

Rowan Speedwell avoids dealing with reality as much as possible, but sometimes it finds her no matter how far or fast she runs. She likes angst and drama in books, where they belong, and prefers sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops. She has not listened to pop music since 1984, when she saw the movie The Terminator and was frightened back into her shell.

Rowan lives east of the sun and west of the moon, with her Cat, Kimball O’Hara ('Supreme Overlord of the Wasted Lands'). She doesn’t believe in telephones or television, although people assure her frequently that they do exist.

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Flowers for Him 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Deadliftr2 More than 1 year ago
What a wonderful, wonderful story! No -- it's not long, and in this case, it is a Very Good Thing. This a, to me, an amazing read. There was a story to tell. The author told it. There's nothing extraneous here -- only what was necessary to tell that story -- and it was a beautiful story at that. I've already re-read it half a dozen times ...and I just bought it a few months ago. And I feel so-o-o-o good each and every time I read it. I find it amazing that these excellent authors are able to cram so much feeling and emotion into so few words. Very well done!! Thank you both.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago