Curve Muse — Ann Vremont

An inspiring mix of a muse-on-the-loose, a plus-sized beauty and the artist next door…

Bryce is a practical, plus-sized woman with an L.A. apartment located a world away from the fairytales of Hollywood. So, when a blonde in red leather shows up proclaiming to be a muse and deputizing Bryce, she thinks another L.A. kook has landed on her doorstep.

But faster than Bryce can say, “No way, bye-bye, don't let the door hit your skinny ass on the way out,” she finds herself in a toga and amulets that are wreaking havoc on her senses. The fight to get out of the toga and return to sanity leaves her butt naked on the neighboring patio. When she realizes her gorgeous next door neighbor is RIGHT THERE with her, it's worse than any bad dream of showing up naked in high school.

For Mr. Gorgeous, however, it's been a long time coming. He's been having fantasies of painting Bryce au naturel for months. He's had other fantasies, too, but the shy beauty has turned aside and ignored every attempt to get closer. Now that he's got her halfway there, he's pulling out all the stops.

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This 50,000+ word title is for readers who love hunky artists next door, undiscovered beauty, and a meddlesome muse or two.
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Trying to sketch and hide his growing erection with the art pad at the same time, Walt shifted in his seat. Every stroke of the charcoal across the page equaled pressure instantly transferred to the bottom edge of the pad where it rubbed against his cock. He'd painted plenty of nudes, even women he had been intimate with. He had always been able to view them with a sense of artistic abstraction during the sessions. But he had never painted a woman he had been lusting after for months.

To go from a complete standstill to this…

Bryce wasn't making it any easier on him, either. She was thinking things, he could tell. The color on her breasts and face would rise from its usual warm cream to a rosy pink. Naughty things? Shy things? That he didn't know, but his cock grew incrementally harder with each blush. Lines blurred on the page and a slight tremor ran through his hand. He wasn't sure whether he could actually sketch her when she was within touching distance.

Maybe if he hadn't already touched her, he could have remained detached. But it was too late for “maybes”, and he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit to wanting her first as a lover. He could still smell the gentle fragrances of her body from when he had briefly pressed against her. Far from the juicy cherry coloring of her lips and nipples, she carried the scent of wild jasmine resting on top of cut green apples. The difference created a startling impression of innocence that was completely at odds with the suggestively lush flesh and the things he imagined doing with her.

Looking at her on the bed, he saw that she was lost in thought again and he waited for her to come out of it, waited to catch the slow spread of color against the creamy skin and see the barely perceptible swell of the breasts that bordered on petite in their asymmetry to the rest of her body. He groaned in anticipation, the sound seeming to jerk her back to reality. There. The flush. His cock twitched and he groaned again before dragging his attention back down to the sketch pad.