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?
Chapter
1
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
less
memorable.
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
homeless
child.
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.
Chapter
2
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
Friday
then!”
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
lunchtime.”
“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
said,
“Four.”
“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
beautiful.”
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
Eugene
said.
“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
up.
“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
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Comments
Post a Comment