A Soldier’s Italian Christmas — TY to everyone!! FREE Oct 13 and Oct 14 — Fri and Sat
Sooo thankful to everyone who nominated my Kindle Scout book The Magic Christmas Train . . . it wasn’t chosen and I wanted to do something to say “Thank you,” so for Friday and Saturday, Oct 13 & 14, my WW II Christmas novella “A Soldier’s Italian Christmas” will be FREE!
It takes place around the same time — Dec 1943 when the Allies were pushing north in Italy . . . when an American captain makes a wrong turn and ends up in a bombed out village . . . and meets a beautiful nun.
Art stolen by the Nazis figures predominately in my romance novella “A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.”
Sister Angelina discovers what the Nazis are up to and risks her life to save the art treasures. Here she is in the Monastery of Monte D’Oro Rose.
Sister Angelina and Capt. Mack O’Casey are spying on the brutal Nazi major in this scene through a peephole from their hiding place:
The library was filled with drunken Nazis.
Angelina focused on the outrageous behavior of the German officer with the pretty brunette on his lap. Ines. “Oh, my Lord…” she whispered, and then blessed herself. Major von Arx sat at the long table where the monks prayed, running his fingers up and down the girl’s shiny, smooth stockings. Silk. Ines let out a breathy sigh when he parted her thighs and his hand dove under her skirt.
Embarrassed, the young nun looked away from the spy hole.
Oh, the shame. What would the captain think if he saw her watching them?
“What is it, Sister?”
“Nothing but the devil at play,” she said, her cheeks flaming.
“Your words intrigue me.” The captain put his eye to the peephole and smirked. “Are you certain he doesn’t know we’re watching him?”
“Yes, but we must be careful he doesn’t see us. The peephole was hidden by priceless Renaissance paintings,” she said, wishing she’d never brought him here. “Until the Nazi major stole them.”
“Yes. The German officer ordered his guards to remove the paintings and ready them for transport. For the Fuehrer, he said. Two days ago, I hid in the tower and watched his men leave through the narrow passage and head down the mountain with mules packed with wooden crates.”
“Men died trying to climb these mountains, Sister,” said the captain, not trying to hide the raw edge to his voice. “Good men. Brave men. The mud, the stench of death all around us, but we kept going. For what? So this Nazi bastard could steal from the Church?”
His eyes glowed a vibrant blue more intense than a cloudless sky. Angelina felt deep into her bones here was a man of faith who could be trusted. A man who stirred her soul with the desire to feel his strong arms around her. Sweet yearnings to feel skin against skin that tore her apart. Especially at night when her small cell was dark and her cotton chemise stuck to her body drenched in sweat, feelings she didn’t understand tormenting her. The captain brought those feelings to the surface.
He was dangerous to her.
Dear God, why must you lead me into temptation?
“We must return to the orphanage so you can rest before it’s time for you to leave,” she said. It saddened her to send him on his way, but she must. “I will lead you through the secret passage down the mountain. From there you can take the road north to Rome. I will see to it Marcello brings you the abbot’s finest wine to take with you on your journey.”
“Do you think God would approve?” he said with a grin.
“Yes, though He doesn’t always approve of what I’ve done.”
“Are you telling me the sweet angel before me is not what she seems?”
Angelina blinked. Had he guessed her secret?
What is Angelina’s secret? Find out in A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.”
Coming up on Saturday: an extended video excerpt from Chapter One of A Soldier’s Italian Christmas.”
Posted on October 13, 2017, in Amazon, art, Christmas, heroine, Italian, Italy, Kindle, romance, soldier, sweet romance, Uncategorized, video, Vimeo, World War II and tagged Amazon, art, George Clooney, Italian, Italy, kindle, Louvre, Monuments Men, Nazis, novella, romance, stolen, treasure, video, World War II, WW2. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.