chick-lit · romance

*BLOG TOUR* Gone With The Waves – Brian David Bruns (EXTRACT)

Blurb; He’s emerged as a swanky, tuxedo-wearing, cruise-ship rock star. But will it be enough to win his girlfriend’s heart?Brian would walk the plank if it plucked Romina from her awful bottom-of-the-boat job. But knowing that their only way out of the hellish working conditions is to beat ships at their own game, he bids her adieu to learn the competitive trade of art auctioneering. And though he takes his fair share of hard knocks, he’s finally hitting the big time.

Becoming a master auctioneer, he lives like a cigar-smoking king aboard elite luxury liners with access to anything he wants. But when he returns victorious to whisk his love away to better things, Romina mysteriously refuses. And he worries that in chasing his ambitions, regardless of good intentions, he may have lost her forever…

Can Brian persuade Romina that the world is their oyster, or will she push his grand vision overboard?

Gone with the Waves is the dramatic conclusion to the Gone with the Waves romantic comedy series, entirely of real events in the author’s life. If you like charming humor, conflicted hearts, and more twists than a whirlpool, then you’ll adore Brian David Bruns’s sweeping odyssey.

Extract;

Greece
JUNE 2, 2005

1
Sweat sheathed my body, slid down curves, dripped over edges. The hair on my chest swirled this way and that. The scratches down my back the same. I panted, was exhausted. I was dizzy.
I was not alone.
The room brightened as my lover pulled open the curtains. Revealed was she who had taken my breath, made me sweat, made me dizzy. She wore my shirt. It was large enough to hide if she wore anything else underneath. I knew she did not.
“Check you,” she said with a smirk. “You say you marathoner, babaloo.”
“That was longer than a marathon,” I noted wryly.
I slid into shorts, followed her out onto the balcony. It was on the third floor. The air was damp, cool, delicious to our fevered skin.
It was dawn.
The distant plains sloped up to a mountain range to the east. The ridge was dark but defined by a sharp, brilliant edge. Sunlight slid along its outline like molten iron flowing into a mold. And from behind the sun-rubbed ridge sunlight speared high into the sky, also defined by a sharp, brilliant edge.
It was no ordinary sunrise.
This was no ordinary valley.
The valley floor itself was forested with deciduous trees, soaking up a lush morning mist. From their midst rose a shocking series of rocky pinnacles. The fat stone fingers raked the sky, some slender, others fat, all hundreds of feet high.
Perhaps they were upthrusts of ancient granite, or hardened volcanic plugs. More likely they were sedimentary stones winnowed by deep time. A river meandered among them. Perhaps it had been the artist, now retired.
Certainly the most amazing aspect of the magnificent pinnacles was their caps. Ancient stone monasteries were neatly fitted atop, capped themselves by orange tiles. Some had towers that crawled down slopes, others graceful stone bridges arcing from rock tower to rock tower.
Behold, Metéora.
Romina trailed a fingertip along my shoulders as she passed by, leaned against the railing. She readied a cigarette, but did not light.
She squeaked.
She fled.

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chick-lit · romance

*BLOG TOUR* Wet Orpheus – Brian David Bruns (EXTRACT).

Blurb; He chose her over the company. He’s about to find out the real cost of romance…

Brian’s love for Romina may be strong, but he’s sailing into troubled waters. And he’s even prepared to endure torturous months apart working like a dog on another ship, if it means he can get them back together. Though he’s unprepared for the sadistic challenges his cruel new boss implements to break him body and soul.

Enduring extreme anti-Americanism, food deprivation, and 100-hour-long work weeks, Brian’s only beacon of hope is the messages sent from his soulmate. With her emails to sustain him, he vows to stay the course and outsmart the higher-ups of the cruise-line giant.

Can Brian survive the stormy conflict threatening to drown his hopes of reuniting with Romina?

Wet Orpheus is the second book in the wild Gone with the Waves romantic comedy series, entirely of true events in the author’s life. If you like insider accounts of work below deck, heart-aching emotion, and passionate love stories, then you’ll adore Brian David Bruns’s tale of overcoming impossible odds.

Extract;

Black Sea

JUNE 2, 2003

1

I feel a distance between Romina and myself that was never there before. It is because of her indifference when she left Conquest. I only hear from her every couple of days, and that is hard for me. I can feel the difference in her tone, the resumption of happiness (she is traveling a lot).

Romia is meant for paradise, and our spending this vacation together is our way of reaching that. I want another Eden like last time, and I certainly am ready to make it happen. It is a two-way street, though, and it was lacking on board from her direction. I will not waste my time if she is not interested. We both know that we will be apart afterwards.

We’ll see what happens.

—Brian’s diary

I was in Romania again.

Had I really been gone seven months? It didn’t feel like it. But those months had been a blur of crushing newness—to get to sea, to learn the sea, to survive the sea.

The sea and the job were one and the same.

For every day a passenger lived on a cruise ship, the crew lived two. Like the sea, the work was eternal. The work was vast. The work pummeled, eroded. It inspired awe, inspired fear. In my four months on the job I never had a day off, nor a sub-eighty-hour work week.

I was ready enough for a break.

That was an important term, ready enough. I could keep going. But I recognized how the micro-tears in my body, in my mind, would only deepen. I now understood why the military recruited the young. I was no longer particularly young. I also now understood why Romina had lost her spark. She was no longer particularly young, either.

But she was in Romania again, too.

Would Romina be the same provocatrix as when I first met her? Or would she be Conquest-cold?

At the airport, she didn’t greet me with a white rose. She greeted me with a bone-crushing hug and countless kisses. Her red lips made pajamas out of my face. She purred.

So too did Albișoara purr, as she took us to our happy place.

Everything was better. Instantly. Me. Her. Us. Gone was the labor, the stress. Gone was the indifference to each other’s presence. Gone was the rain, the gloom. Not the traffic. That was still there. But gone was its effect on Romina. She had released her inner donut.

I secretly wondered if she was sucking up.

But when Albișoara entered the verdant foothills of the Carpathians I began to understand Romina’s almost euphoric happiness.

The green spoke volumes.

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