by Jeffe Kennedy
Today just happens to coincide with the release of the second episode of my serial novel,
Master of the Opera!
In this installment,
Act 2: Ghost Aria, the plot thickens. I actually get to say that for this book, because it's a suspenseful mystery as well.
Master of the Opera is a modern retelling of The Phantom of the Opera. Taking place at the famous Santa Fe Opera, the story follows freshly graduated apprentice, Christine, as she encounters the enigmatic "ghost" who haunts the opera house.
If you missed
Act 1: Passionate Overture:
In the first tantalizing installment of Jeffe Kennedy’s ravishing
serial novel Master of the Opera, an innocent young woman is initiated
into a sensual world of music, mystery, passion–and one man’s private
obsession. . .
Fresh out of college, Christine Davis is thrilled to begin a summer
internship at the prestigious Sante Fe Opera House. But on her first
day, she discovers that her dream job has a dark side. Beneath the
theater, a sprawling maze of passageways are rumored to be haunted.
Ghostly music echoes through the halls at night. And Christy’s
predecessor has mysteriously disappeared. Luckily, Christy finds a
friend and admirer in Roman Sanclaro, the theater’s wealthy and handsome
patron. He convinces her there’s nothing to fear–until she hears the
phantom’s voice for herself. Echoing in the labrynths. Singing of a lost
love. Whispering her name: Christine.
At first, Christy thinks she’s hearing things. But when a tall masked
man steps out of the shadows–and into her arms–she knows he’s not a
phantom of her imagination. He is the master of her desire. . .
And here's today's release!
Act 2: Ghost Aria
In the second seductive installment of Jeffe Kennedy’s thrilling Master of the Opera, a young woman falls deeper under the spell of the man who haunts her dreams, fuels her desire, and demands her surrender. . .
With each passing day of her internship at the Sante Fe Opera House,
Christine Davis discovers something new, something exciting–and
something frightening. Hidden in the twisting labrynths beneath the
theater is a mysterious man in a mask who, Christy’s convinced, is as
real as the rose he left on her desk–and as passionate as the kiss that
burns on her lips. He tells her to call him “Master,” and Christy can’t
deny him. But when her predecessor–a missing intern–is found dead,
Christy wonders if she’s playing with fire. . .
If her phantom lover is actually a killer, how can she continue to
submit to his dark, erotic games? And if he is innocent, how can she
resist–or refuse–when he demands nothing less than her body and soul?
Ghost Aria Excerpt
Candlelight, golden and gentle, greeted her when she woke.
She shifted, the glide of warm velvet under her cheek, the brush of a
soft fur blanket covering her. So peaceful and cozy. Her lashes looked
like black lace against the warm light. Sighing, she snuggled in, drowsy
and peaceful.
What the hell?
With a bolt of panic, she sat up, the throw falling away, and tried to absorb her surroundings.
It was something out of a dream.
She sat on an antique chaise, sort of a carved wooden fainting couch,
covered in emerald velvet with throw pillows in satin jewel tones. The
fur blanket felt real, soft as chinchilla, in a dazzling light pearly
gray, nearly a luminescent silver. The rest of the room held similar
furniture, an eclectic assortment of Victorian-style lines and fabrics,
breathtakingly elegant. Plush Oriental carpets easily worth tens of
thousands of dollars covered the floor, one bordering another in a
stained-glass pattern of color.
On every surface, white pillar candles glowed, their flames straight
and true in the draftless cavern. For a cave it was, rough rock walls a
disconcerting backdrop for the lovely pieces. As if she were some sort
of exotic animal, displayed in a zoo habitat created by some
well-meaning but misguided keeper—who couldn’t disguise the impression
that the abandoned lion’s den of rocks and crags had been hastily
converted just for her.
Little doubt who her captor might be. Or that Tara’s fate might yet be in store for her.
The stark terror she’d felt in the prop shop had chilled now, coating
her insides with a fine frost. Her mind felt crystal clear, sharp and
incisive. Some part of her recognized this as an adrenaline high. This
was the state that allowed mothers to lift cars off their children or
soldiers to continue fighting with fatal injuries.
Fight or flight.
If escape wasn’t an option, she would fight. Laura Moon’s daughter wouldn’t go down without one.
Resolved, she explored the room. Most of the furniture sat at least
an arm’s length from the cave walls, which allowed her to walk behind
the credenzas, desks, and settees, even the tall bookshelves. Though the
candles didn’t provide much penetrating light, her investigations
showed no doors, no tunnels, not even a mouse hole.
She circumnavigated the room twice. Then a third time, just to be
sure. The only egress appeared to be the chimney. The fireplace seemed
to have been dug out of the wall, large enough to stand in and deeply
inset. Behind a gleaming brass screen, logs burned with fierce heat, any
smoke whisked up the chimney. No telling how high it might be.
“Christine.”
She’d been ready for this, so she didn’t startle. Instead, she
reached for the fireplace poker and slowly turned to face her captor.
He’d apparently dressed for the occasion, the black cloak swept back
to frame his broad shoulders, clothed in a billowing white shirt with
poet’s sleeves, a waistcoat of swirling gold brocade fitted to his
narrow waist. The black half mask obscured his face but not his ice-blue
eyes or his sleekly groomed white-blond hair.
In his gloved hands, he carried a tray with a crystal carafe and a
plate of some sort of food. His gaze touched on the poker and moved back
up to her eyes, his sharp-edged lips curving. “Does the fire need
stirring?”
“You think I won’t use it, but I will.” Her voice sounded even and
confident. “You’re not raping me without losing some important soft
bits, mark my words.” She eyed his crotch significantly, which was maybe
a mistake because the tight fit of his black trousers left little to
the imagination.
“I won’t be raping you at all. I told you before, I have no wish to frighten you.”
“Breaking news—kidnapping and imprisoning someone is frightening to them.”
“I did not kidnap you. You fainted in my arms. I could hardly leave you alone in the hallway.”
“Then I can leave whenever I wish?”
“That is always within your power, if you truly want it.”
“Like Dorothy, I only have to click my heels and wish to be home?” She snickered. “That’s hardly a realistic answer.”
He shrugged, the liquid in the carafe sloshing. “What is real?”
She flexed her fingers on the poker. It felt solid. The fire warmed
her skin. But her dreams had felt this vivid, too. “I don’t think I know
anymore,” she replied, finally.
His lips curved. “I receive little company, so I would love for you to stay and continue to talk with me for a while.”
“Oh, is that what we’re doing?”
“Yes. A clever woman like you should recognize a conversation when
she’s in one.” He turned away and set the tray on a low table of glossy
wood with frivolous legs that ended in dainty carved hooves.
She lifted the poker. With his back turned, she could strike him over the head. Quick and clean.
“Don’t.” He said it softly, with stern command, never looking at her.
He poured the blood-red liquid from the carafe into a glass and brought
it to her. “If you try to attack me, I will tie your hands. I’d prefer
you to accept my ropes under other circumstances.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jeffe Kennedy is an award-winning author with a writing career that
spans decades. Her works include non-fiction, poetry, short fiction, and
novels. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow, received the Wyoming
Arts Council Fellowship for Poetry, and was awarded a Frank Nelson
Doubleday Memorial Award. Her essays have appeared in many publications, including Redbook.
Her most recent works include a number of fiction series: the fantasy romance novels of
A Covenant of Thorns; the contemporary BDSM novellas of the
Facets of Passion, including the newest,
Five Golden Rings, which came out as part of the erotic holiday anthology,
Season of Seduction, in late November; and a contemporary serial novel,
Master of the Opera, which released beginning January 2, 2014. A fourth series, the fantasy trilogy
The Twelve Kingdoms, will hit the shelves starting in May 2014. A spin-off story from this series,
Negotiation, appears in the recently-released
Thunder on the Battlefield anthology.
She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, with two Maine coon cats, a border
collie, plentiful free-range lizards and a very handsome Doctor of
Oriental Medicine.
Jeffe can be found online at her website:
JeffeKennedy.com, every Sunday at the popular Word Whores blog, on
Facebook, and pretty much constantly on Twitter
@jeffekennedy. She is represented by Pam van Hylckama Vlieg of
Foreword Literary.
The car
accident totaled Sabrina Post’s convertible and reinvented her memories. She
can't recall dumping Cole Dawson ten years ago. What her new clairvoyant
visions tell Sabrina is he’s her husband. Any practical girl would question her
sanity. But if Sabrina wants to make this imaginary future a reality, she'll
have to regain Cole’s trust and eliminate her rival, the coffee shop waitress
who’s pegged Cole as husband #4. 
