Broken Canvas

Tai Barnett

Description

Natasha Bishop has come a long way from painting pictures of landscapes in her Caribbean homeland to being a successful Hollywood Screen writer. Fame and popularity however do not fit the mold of the life that Natasha yearns for and though she finds solace and sincerity with her swooning younger boyfriend Andrew Kingston, she finds herself hopelessly drawn to Brody Banister, the ruggedly handsome playboy Scottish actor who starts igniting new feelings of raw passion for the Screen writer. Tormented by her thoughts of infidelity toward Andrew, while harboring a deep and surfacing secret from Brody, Natasha finds herself navigating through the contours of her life, each time racked by new challenges. She soon finds out that the greatest challenge of all is yet to emerge, and with its imminent manifestation will test the mettle of Natasha like nothing else she has ever experienced.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 avril 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781645364184
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Broken Canvas
Tai Barnett
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-04-30
The Broken Canvas About The Author About The Book Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement The Winner Is… Please Explain Vernon’s Southern Spread Not His Type? That Old Feeling Happy Morning, Love Cummins Plantation The Practical Voodoo Sanctuary Natasha Bishop Love Is a Fickle Thing How I Met Andrew Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby! Gone Shopping Rico’s Pulled Pork Tacos Hello, Charles Russell Banister Blind Date Best Friend or Complete Stranger? It’s Not That Serious… Is It? Miss Julia Pull up Another Chair Visions of Love Secret Meetings Flat Tire Tubby’s Plot The Remnants of Winter It’s a Wrap The Taming of the Banister Elsa and the Dutchman’s The Runner Look the Other Away, Tubby! Grow Some Balls, Brody! “Well? What are you gonna do then? Grow some balls man! Of all the time, you’re choosing not to be the ‘take what you want’ kinda man, you choose now! Follow her to the islands and make her know exactly what you’re feeling about her!” The Islands What the Hell Are You Doing Here? Well, Slap My Head and Call Me Silly Sent from up Above Happy New Year No Answer Fancy Seeing You Here I Am Never Gonna Fall in Love Again Sick Days Goodbye The Broken Canvas
About The Author
Tai Barnett has several years in the business retail industry and three years of voluntary counseling in primary educational settings. She holds a bachelor’s degree in psychology from the University of the West Indies, Mona, and is completing a Master of Arts degree at the Florida Institute of Technology. She completed a Paranormal Science-Fiction Series, and a compilation of West Indian short stories and poems. Several of her poems have been published in Blue: An Anthology of West Indian Poetry & Prose , 2015.
When Tai is not busy writing or researching, she enjoys spending time with her daughter and family, as well as cooking, and delving into controversial and metaphysical non-fiction books, articles, and magazines. Her passion is unquestionably writing and bringing her imagination to life. Helping the less fortunate and leaving a legacy of honor, empathy, humility, and respect are also dear to her heart.
As the Executive Secretary of a non-profit organization in South Florida, she believes that fostering education, health, and service to others and being heart centered is the way forward for the world.
About The Book
Natasha Bishop has come a long way from painting pictures of landscapes in her Caribbean homeland to being a successful Hollywood Screen writer. Fame and popularity however do not fit the mold of the life that Natasha yearns for and though she finds solace and sincerity with her swooning younger boyfriend Andrew Kingston, she finds herself hopelessly drawn to Brody Banister, the ruggedly handsome playboy Scottish actor who starts igniting new feelings of raw passion for the Screen writer.
Tormented by her thoughts of infidelity toward Andrew, while harboring a deep and surfacing secret from Brody, Natasha finds herself navigating through the contours of her life, each time racked by new challenges. She soon finds out that the greatest challenge of all is yet to emerge, and with its imminent manifestation will test the mettle of Natasha like nothing else she has ever experienced.
Dedication
Isabelle: My daughter and inspiration to live and love again.
My mother, Karlene: You are an angel on earth and a tower of strength. The day is soon approaching when you can finally enjoy life!
My family: When all that was left was love and each other. Dad, Alexia, and Stephen (Next…The Ballad of Thunderdash & Chickpea!)
The broken man or woman: Whatever your story may be, may you find bliss within and be open to the infinite promises of true love and be reminded: “The world is but a canvas for our imagination.” – Henry David Thoreau.
Copyright Information ©
Tai Barnett (2019)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s cataloguing in publishing data
Barnett, Tai
The Broken Canvas: Good Woman Gone Bad
ISBN 9781645364184 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019934634
The main category of the book — Fiction / Romance / Contemporary
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
[e-mail]
[phone]
Acknowledgement
I would like to acknowledge all the people that have devoted their time and energy into making this book a possibility: the technical team, graphics team, and everyone at my publishing house.
To: Pet, Bebba, Mario, Fallon, relatives, and close friends.
When you provided opinions, criticisms, and much-needed advice, not to mention when you were asked to read chapters upon chapters. Thank God for fervent family and friends!
To BJ: A million and special thanks for your continued guidance and contribution.
I acknowledge my existence as a spiritual being that is exploring the wonderment of creation.
The Winner Is…
This is the part that I dread the most, pretending like I think I belong on the Red Carpet. Tirelessly writing the script for that ‘established shot’, and even the exasperating junket—that I can deal with. Fanatical paparazzi, long makeovers, overly privileged, and onerous movie stars, have usually left much to be desired and a bad taste in my mouth.
What’s more, walking the legendary VIP welcome mat for the second time around had always been, in my opinion, a lackluster display of name-brand gowns and exaggerated model poses.
What I would much rather be doing, is watch the awards show from my own private home screen theatre. I could imagine it now, relaxing in my sweats and glasses, cuddling with my tenacious nine-year-old daughter Rose, busy-bodied toddler Charles, and my garrulous and rowdy housekeeper Vernon while stuffing our faces with sugary and buttery treats.
“Natasha! Is it true that you and Andrew Kingston are dating?” exclaimed the short and stocky paparazzo.
He was leading the high-strung shutterbugs as always. Heading the reporter and paparazzi mob with a venomous Cheshire cat grin printed across his pudgy multi-colored face. He was far more meticulous than the others, waiting patiently for the perfect angle and moment to completely obliterate any thriving dignity that was left of our very public lives. I knew him well because he was literally everywhere, even in my own back yard just a few months ago.
I ignored Tubby’s question. Yeah, I called him Tubby in my head and among family. It was quite the perfect title for such an execrable and devilish man. And his daring arrogance and loaded scandalous questions didn’t help to discourage me from not quickly labelling his barrel sized gut and attitude either. Criticizing someone is something that I hated and tried my best to never ever do. But Tubby made it way too easy.
Lights were flashing ubiquitously from everywhere as I turned to my right (the side they claimed was my most photogenic) giving the camera ever so superbly my very best yet painfully wheedling plastic smile. I was never good at pretending or lying, but I wanted to give the more tolerable group an even bigger paycheck and pretended not to hear Tubby’s questions.
“How did you manage to lose the baby weight and who are you wearing, Natasha?” A female one shouted from the sea of gossip conspirators.
“A lot of working out with my personal trainer, that’s for sure! It’s a Bella gente design from the incomparable Milo Milano.”
I was sure acting the part now! Naming Red Carpet designers…how silly was this?
“Rumor has it that Brody Banister is the father of your son, Charles. Do you have any comments to make on that Natasha?” shouted Tubby. His platitudinous remarks and deep Southern accent were frustrating me more and more. Yet, I was so in love with the South that I moved back to Atlanta almost eleven years ago.
“Does Andrew know who the father is? And do you plan on telling Brody that Charles is his son tonight?” Tubby continued throwing lethal daggers at me, enhancing the other paparazzi ogres’ thoughts no doubt. I couldn’t believe the little wretch was so brazened to even mention Brody and Andrew’s name together.
Tubby was pushing all my buttons now. After all the work that my publicist Frank, my Personal Assistant, cousin Lauren and family have done to keep this quiet, that Tubby old bastard is bent on destroying it all in one night.
I looked at his knee-high black Bobby socks, body-hugging khaki shorts, sandy blonde hair that was pulled to the back into a ponytail and cringed. This is the instant when I knew I wasn’t as cherubic and ‘Victorian’ like people believed me to be. And in my unforeseen moment of indignation I couldn’t help but wishing that something terrible would happen to Tubby, like him suddenly bursting into a lethal explosion of flames or being a tasty meal to his very svelte and hatchet-faced cameraman who just conveniently happens to be a Zombie.
But I snapped out of my ever-so-permeating reverie and fantasies, sighed a second time and endeavored to ignore Tubby’s insinuations.
“And here he is now, ladies and gentlemen…Brody Banister. The hunky Scottish actor has just made his official entrance on the Red Carpe