The Senses of Love by Kyle Shoop Book Tour and Giveaway :)
The Sound of Love
Senses of Love Book 1
by Kyle Shoop
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Words than can't be spoken can still be sung.
Sometimes the most beautiful relationships between two individuals blossom from moments of tragedy.
Charlotte and John grew up as young orphans in the secluded outskirts of a rural town. Each day, they’d sneak out to the nearby forest to escape the cold grasp of the orphanage’s tyrant-ruler, by creating an imaginary kingdom together. However, their worlds, and the safety that came from their friendship, were suddenly ripped apart when they got caught.
Years later, Charlotte conquered the marketing world in downtown Portland. Having gained normalcy in her life since her days in the orphanage, Charlotte never expected her world to be turned upside down by John abruptly being thrust back into her life.
However, the years since the orphanage had not at all been kind to John, leaving him unable to open up to Charlotte about the details. So, she reignites John’s love for playing music, finding that his songwriting is the only way to help him express what he otherwise has difficulty saying. But in doing so, the reunited couple discovers that John’s love for music may not have been the only fire waiting to be rekindled.
Would what began as two children playing in the woods in the heart of tragedy blossom into long-awaited, and much desired, love?
One of the common tragedies in life is seeing the world
around you degrade as time forges on. Eventually age may not
be seen as an accomplishment, but instead an unyielding
reminder that life will never again be as you once knew it. The
places that used to remind you of home subtly change with time
into a rustic ruin of familiarity. Those scenic images enshrined
as memories of significant moments in your life fade along with
your recollection of those memories. In time, the past that you
may have once cherished as treasured or ideal eventually
becomes an unrelenting reminder that the future will be a lot
But not for Charlotte – not at all. For her, the past was
not cherished, nor was it memorable. Rather, she had often
gone to excruciating lengths to forget her past. Once, she
stumbled upon a photograph in the newspaper of where she’d
grown up. Whether out of retaliation or an instinct for survival,
she set it afire, hoping that any memories she still had of the
place would also dissipate into the air along with the ashes of
the photograph. She then cancelled her newspaper subscription.
Charlotte’s life was the antithesis of human nature.
Indeed, it was the antithesis of nature itself. In college, she’d
learned about a law of nature called entropy. Under this law,
everything loses energy and degrades over time. Matter falls
away from each other into a lesser, more-chaotic state of
existence. Charlotte instantly rejected this idea and consciously
determined at that moment to do everything within her power
to avoid this from occurring in her life. She had to. If she was
to allow entropy to occur at all for her, then she might as well
be homeless. This is because homelessness was the natural step
from where she’d grown up.
So, rather than embracing the hopelessness of the natural
trajectory of her life, Charlotte instead did everything she could
to succeed. She declared a major at that same college, naturally
science. She then spent all of her time holed up in the campus
library focusing on educational success instead of allowing
herself to succumb to the temporary happiness that the other
girls sought in relationships or friendships. At nineteen years
old, she was the youngest person in her college’s graduating
undergraduate class. But nineteen was much too young to be
able to seriously jump into the workforce with any ability to
earn the salary that she knew she deserved, and which would be
necessary to pursue the financial successes that she thought
she’d earned. With her hard work, Charlotte became married to
the fact that she was deserving of a successful life. Not because
she was entitled to it or even belonged in that social arena, but
because she knew that she could attain it. She knew that she
was worth it, even if the laws of nature disagreed. And she was
willing to sacrifice all other aspects of her life to obtain what
she knew nature did not want her to achieve.
For this reason, Charlotte declared her graduate degree in
marketing rather than science. She was not naive; she knew she
somehow lucked out in being attractive. If there was one thing
gifted to her from birth, she recognized that was it. With her
tall, gracefully slender appearance, Charlotte also knew she’d
easily get an entry-level position in almost any marketing firm in
any large city. And once she got it with her looks, she was
confident that she’d then be able to impress the decisionmakers
with her wit and hard work to quickly reach maximum
earning potential. This is what she desired, but also what she’d
strived so hard to achieve to avoid entropy. Always, in the back
of her consciousness, was the self-doubt that she actually
belonged in the company of those decision-makers. She truly
believed that nature had selected her trajectory as eventually
being homeless, and she had cheated it.
Perhaps that was why she despised her short, daily
commute to her downtown office at the marketing firm which
she’d chosen to conquer. She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen
Portland for where she’d begin her career. Perhaps it was
because the city was up-and-coming and becoming modern.
Perhaps it was because the idea of conquering a larger city like
Chicago or Los Angeles was too daunting. Or perhaps it was
because of its close proximity to where she was originally from
in Battle Ground, Washington. That’s right – she grew up in a
battle ground, in all senses of the word.
But location had nothing to do with why she loathed her
drive to and from her office each day. Rather, that had
everything to do with Pioneer Square.
It was necessary to drive by some corner of Pioneer
Square to reach her building located just across the street from
the corner of that depressing city center. So, it was inevitable
that her morning each day would begin with seeing the
multitude of homeless men and women that congregated at
Pioneer Square. And at the end of a long work day, her evening
every night would conclude the same way as her day had begun
– by driving by that same dreadful square.
If Portland and its suburbs were becoming the modern,
happening location for young adults, then that modernization
was forcing the area’s homeless into the middle of the city. And
that middle was Pioneer Square. It didn’t matter if it was the
heat of summer or the dead-cold of winter, there were always
homeless people using Pioneer Square as their temporary home.
But it wasn’t actually the homeless individuals themselves
that Charlotte despised. Indeed, over the past year, she had
become visually familiar with the regulars. She began to
recognize many of their faces, and even looked forward to
seeing them throughout the week – so as to provide her with
the assurance that they were surviving despite the difficult
circumstances that they’d been given in life.
Over time, she’d recognize faces disappear from the
corner. It was sporadic and random with who would disappear,
and Charlotte never knew why. She began making stories up
about what the disappearing faces’ fates were, even though it
was just a ruse to shield her from reality. She’d imagine that
some of them decided to travel to other, larger cities – hoping
to start over anew there. Others were found by distant relatives
and provided an opportunity to improve their situation. And a
lucky few were fortunate to have found a selfless stranger who
would gift them with a new life – as if they had won the lottery.
Maybe one or two of them even struck it luckier and found
someone from a wealthier class to start their life with anew,
who saw them for who they really were on the inside despite
their unfortunate life circumstances.
Though these were all fantastical stories Charlotte would
imagine about complete strangers, they were all made up
dreams to avoid what she knew was the likely outcome of
several of the unfortunate individuals who had stopped
congregating at Pioneer Square. It would seem to many that
being homeless is the low point in life, but Charlotte knew that
the majority of people would stop being at Pioneer Square for
just that reason – because the loss of life was the natural next
step from homelessness under the law of entropy. And if
Charlotte knew that she really belonged on that street corner
among her true peers, then she knew what the forces of nature
really wanted her ultimate fate to be. She was determined, at all
costs, to avoid this.
But on this cold, late January evening, Charlotte sat in her
warm, luxurious car on her way home. The stop light seemed to
linger on red longer than normal. The hue of the red light
pulsed behind the backdrop of snow being wiped off of her
windshield repeatedly from the cascading rate at which it fell.
The rhythm of the windshield wiper seemed as if it would never
end, and Charlotte’s internal pull toward Pioneer Square
intensified. As if drawn by natural instinct, she peered at the
square just to the right of her stopped car, wondering which of
the familiar homeless she would see battling to brave the bitter
cold that night.
Then she saw him. A new face. Actually, two new faces.
But it wasn’t the fact that there were two new faces which
ignited her impulse to immediately get out of her car. One of
those faces was a first for her. One of those faces was a
The Sight of Love
Senses of Love Book 2
Does love at first sight exist when love is blind?
Ethan was born to paint. His pursuit of beauty and meaning through art was the only thing his heart desired above all else. Until he met Rose.
It was love at first sight. A love which was as inspiring and captivating as the delicate life which radiated from a fresh rose. Her sight intoxicating. Her personality angelic. Her love instantaneous and unselfish.
But was that love enough to last a lifetime? Art often requires sacrifice. But Ethan’s life wasn’t just full of sacrifice for his passion, it would become marked with significant loss. An unforeseeable loss beyond his control and undercutting all which he sought in life.
Each moment of life is just a brush stroke in a larger painting. Would the love between Ethan and Rose be just the first brush stroke, or instead the reason to keep painting?
Experience the second book in the compelling “Senses of Love” series.
For as excited as Eugene was to mentor and teach such a
uniquely talented, young boy about the fine art of painting,
Ethan was even more excited to have received the offer.
Ethan’s parents rarely gave him any attention, let alone show
any interest in what he actually enjoyed. So, he spent much
effort concealing his work from them at home. Now, Ethan
had found someone whom he could not only talk about his
passion with, but whom he greatly respected artistically. He had
carefully observed Eugene’s own paintings many times prior to
actually meeting him. To Ethan, this offer from a prominent
artist was the equivalent of winning the lottery.
“Really!?” He blurted out. “That’s great! I’ll see you next
Ethan began walking to leave the gallery so that he didn’t
get back to his father late. He had already been cutting things
close due to how much time he’d spent staring at the gallery.
And that was before Eugene started talking to him about
paintings. But Eugene moved quickly to catch up to the boy.
“Wait just a second – hold on.” Eugene needed
clarification of what the boy was talking about. “Why not
tomorrow or Monday?”
“Oh, I can’t. My dad only comes to the city once a week
on Fridays, and he doesn’t know that I come here during
“He doesn’t know, huh?”
Ethan just shook his head, not sure if that was a deal
breaker for his new mentor.
“Does your mom know?”
“My mom?” Ethan reacted by laughing out loud to
himself. “No, she’s too busy taking care of the other kids in the
house to notice anything that I like.”
“And how many siblings do you have?”
Ethan wanted to respond by saying “four too many,” but
he didn’t have time to joke around like he wanted to – he had
to get back to his father’s office before his father suspected
anything awry was going on with his son. So Ethan just simply
“Wow – four, huh?” Eugene eyed Ethan. He still felt
strangely and suddenly compelled to pursue teaching the boy
everything he knew about painting. So, he didn’t want to pass
up the opportunity to bring Ethan under his so-called
apprenticeship. Perhaps it was because Eugene didn’t have any
children himself and he found something endearing about the
boy. Or perhaps it was because all of his other students were
older than Ethan, and were only learning to paint out of
educational aspirations rather than an innate desire for the
ancient art. Eugene only spoke briefly with Ethan, but he could
see it. He’d been around enough students to know passion and
talent when he saw it. And that was rare.
Eugene threw up his arms, willing to take Ethan on as an
apprentice on whatever terms the boy’s circumstances
permitted. “Fridays at noon it is, then. I guess that’s enough
time, anyways – since it is free.” Eugene would have it no other
way than to be free. True interest in art shouldn’t be restrained
by monetary ability. Besides, if the lessons led to a true, lifelong
passion in the boy, as Eugene hoped it would, then it may just
pay itself off in the long run.
Ethan’s eyes lit up when he heard the word “free.”
“Free?!” He repeated in excitement.
“Yes – free. Does that work for you?” Eugene quipped,
trying to make a joke.
“Oh boy, does it! Now I can finally buy lunch instead of
spending that money to come in here.”
Those were the last words the young boy said before he
turned and ran out the door, back to his father’s hospital. But
those words confirmed Eugene’s desire to teach the boy. When
he had made the offer to teach him, Eugene didn’t even known
of the boy’s sacrifice to starve himself just to stare at the
paintings. This impressed Eugene to no end.
The weeks turned into months, and the months changed
into years. Each week, Ethan was religiously on time and
soaked up Eugene’s mentorship to no end. The days in between
lessons were never ending moments of torture for Ethan as he
wanted nothing more than to learn and practice the craft.
In addition, Ethan no longer had to hide his main
painting supplies in his room. Eugene not only gifted him with
painting supplies, but also gave Ethan space to stash his
paintings. And when Ethan turned sixteen years old, Eugene
surprised him with his own room inside of the gallery that he
could use as his own studio. Ethan was shocked and thankful
beyond words. He would frequently find reasons to tell his
parents why he needed to travel into the city. But really, he was
just using it as a ruse to go to his studio. And eventually, his
parents even stopped asking where he was, leaving him
wondering if they even realized that he was gone for several
hours after school most days.
Still, Ethan’s parents never caught onto his weekly lessons
from Atlanta’s most prominent artist and painting-connoisseur.
Ethan never felt bad about concealing his passion from his
parents. He didn’t even consider it a lie. This was because
Ethan could never actually remember a time where either of his
parents asked him what he enjoyed doing. His father was keen
on his eldest son following in his footsteps into neurosurgery.
His mother remained preoccupied with the other, younger
children, relying naively on her eldest son being independent.
Over the years, and certainly into his teenage years, this
lack of emotion from his family only left Ethan feeling empty
and truly alone. Eugene was really the only person who not only
shared his interest, but also was willing to listen to Ethan’s
perspective on art.
“Ethan,” Eugene told him on his nineteenth birthday,
“You are not only my best student I’ve ever had, but I consider
you my equal.” Eugene was standing at the doorway to Ethan’s
studio, staring at all of the canvases hung around the room
which contained Ethan’s romantic-style paintings.
“I …” Ethan said, turning to Eugene and not knowing
how to even respond to such an unexpected and genuine
compliment. In all of the years which Ethan had studied from
Eugene, he never even hoped to be considered his equal. Ethan
had always seen the opportunity with Eugene as an opportunity
to learn from the singular, living artist who he put on a pedestal.
He was always nothing more than appreciative of Eugene’s
graciousness toward him.
“No, I mean it.” Eugene interrupted, not even allowing
Ethan to say thank you. “Look at your work, Ethan – it’s
Eugene’s continued compliments struck Ethan. Ethan
was always so engrossed in what he felt compelled to express
that he’d never really taken a moment to step back from his
own creations and see what others might feel from them. He
looked around the studio, staring at about twenty or so of his
most recent romantic works.
“And so I think it’s time that you hang them in the gallery
for others to appreciate.”
“Really?” Eugene’s compliments had left Ethan stunned,
but this offer was even more shocking to him. Ethan got up
from his easel in shock. Never before had he expected, let alone
hoped, that he would one day get to hang his own work in the
galleries of the great Buckhorn Art Company. He’d stared
countless hours at paintings selected to hang on those gallery
walls, and knew just how high Eugene’s standards were when
selecting modern art for them. “Eugene, that’s the best birthday
present ever! Thank you so much!”
The excitement shown in Ethan’s face resonated just as
loud as the scream in the famous impressionist painting that the
two bonded over years ago. But if Eugene’s offer was shocking
to Ethan, then he was left completely speechless by next things
“Oh, that isn’t my birthday present. This is.” Eugene
walked over and handed Ethan an envelope.”
“What is this?” Ethan asked, dumbfounded.
“I have no children or spouse, Ethan. And I’m getting up
there in age.”
Ethan listened intently, not sure what was going on. He
shifted his glance from Eugene to the envelope and opened it
“It’s my will, Ethan. I’m leaving it all to you.”
Ethan didn’t know how to react. As the years had drifted
by, Ethan no longer considered Eugene just his distinguished
mentor. Eventually, Eugene turned into his confidant. And
after that, Ethan truly felt that Eugene was really the only father
figure in his life. Now, Ethan was learning that Eugene felt the
same way. Ethan wished he could draw what he was feeling
because words were not always his strength. At this moment, he
couldn’t think of anything else to say but “thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Eugene emphasized before embracing
his long-time friend, and the first living painter whose works
had ever genuinely moved him.
Kyle Shoop is a multi-genre author of compelling stories. His new "Senses of Love" series is a romance series that provides rewarding and inspirational stories.
Kyle is also the author of the Acea Bishop Trilogy, which is an action-packed fantasy series. All books in that series are now available, with Acea and the Animal Kingdom being the first book.
At a young age, Kyle was recognized for his storytelling by being awarded the first-place Gold Key award for fiction writing in Washington State. After spending several years volunteering in his wife's elementary classrooms, he was inspired to write the Acea Bishop Trilogy. He is now motivated to finish his the new romance series. In addition to writing novels, Kyle is also a practicing attorney. Kyle and is wife and two children are currently living in Utah.
A digital copy of the music soundtrack written specifically for The Sound of Love - all written, performed and recorded by the author Kyle Shoop
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