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Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece
Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece
Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece
Ebook71 pages35 minutes

Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece

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Tom, museum curator and expert in Renaissance jewelry, doesn’t think his boyfriend Peter is “The One.” Peter is perfectly happy with Tom, but Tom is obsessed with the artist Benedetto Emilio Nesci—exciting, passionate, extraordinarily talented… and dead for over 400 years.

Tasked with researching a bejeweled codpiece, Tom abandons his professional ethics—and his sanity—to try on the codpiece and is transported halfway around the world and back in time, right into Florence, Italy and Nesci’s workroom.

After his initial panic subsides, Tom seizes the opportunity to allow Nesci to seduce him, but Tom discovers not everything about the sixteenth century is as romantic as he’d imagined. Getting back to the modern world and Peter becomes Tom’s only wish, but desire and reality are two completely different things, and Tom might not get what he wants this time around.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 24, 2015
ISBN9781634760928
Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece

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    Emily's Magical Bejeweled Codpiece - B. Snow

    Emily’s Magical Bejeweled Codpiece

    By B. SNOW

    Tom, museum curator and expert in Renaissance jewelry, doesn’t think his boyfriend Peter is The One. Peter is perfectly happy with Tom, but Tom is obsessed with the artist Benedetto Emilio Nesci—exciting, passionate, extraordinarily talented… and dead for over 400 years.

    Tasked with researching a bejeweled codpiece, Tom abandons his professional ethics—and his sanity—to try on the codpiece and is transported halfway around the world and back in time, right into Florence, Italy and Nesci’s workroom.

    After his initial panic subsides, Tom seizes the opportunity to allow Nesci to seduce him, but Tom discovers not everything about the sixteenth century is as romantic as he’d imagined. Getting back to the modern world and Peter becomes Tom’s only wish, but desire and reality are two completely different things, and Tom might not get what he wants this time around.

    Many thanks to Ulysses Dietz for his information about museum-quality antiques and how to handle them. Any mistakes in the story are entirely my own.

    Dedicated to two of my critique partners: Evangeline Hunter, who thinks codpieces are the most hilarious things ever, and Tiana Johnson, whose writing encouragement increases in direct proportion to how crazy a story idea is. Thank you, ladies. I blame—I mean, I owe it all to you.

    THERE’S NO nice way to say this, so I’ll just say it. My great-uncle was an old pervert. The woman’s mouth tightened, as did her grip on the cardboard box she was holding.

    Tom bit his lip, trying not to give her a verbal slap. He wasn’t going to argue with her—Zaz Edison had been an old pervert. But he’d been a fun, witty, engaging old pervert, and everyone, including Tom, had liked him. Well, everyone except his great-niece, apparently. Tom sorted through possible responses for something to say that wouldn’t be too offensive; the man had died just two days earlier.

    Well, he began, but the woman shook her head impatiently.

    "No, please, I really don’t want to talk about it. I just want you to take care of this. She thrust the box at Tom, and as she did so, the notebook sitting on top of it slid off and fell to the ground. The woman picked it up and set it on Tom’s desk, her lips moving in a weird way, as though she was holding back a swear word or a string of them. Uncle Izadore left it to a museum in San Francisco, and I have no idea how to get it there. You don’t just slap a FedEx label on something like this. Or maybe you do, I don’t know. She blew out a breath. You museum people must know how it’s done."

    She made museum people sound one step above carnies, but Tom barely heard her through the fog of shock that crept over him. A museum in San Francisco? Zaz had been a patron of the local museum for years; he knew Tom was the jewelry expert there, and yet he’d left something valuable, something interesting, to another museum?

    If he hadn’t left specific instructions in his will, the woman went on, I’d have thrown it out with the rest of his pornography.

    That got Tom’s attention. What did you throw out?

    She gave Tom a look, then spoke to him as if he were an idiot. Everything! His house was filled with…. God knows what. Books, magazines, DVDs. Even old movies. I didn’t look that carefully. I don’t want to know.

    Jesus, not just a prude, but a stupid one. Please tell me you’re joking.

    Not at all.

    That stuff was vintage—

    It was filth! And now it’s all in garbage bags outside the house. You’re welcome to it if you get there before trash pickup.

    Fine. Frigid bitch. Poor Zaz.

    She must have read Tom’s face, because she scowled. Then she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. I’ll need you to sign this receipt.

    I’m not going to sign it before I know what I’m receiving.

    It’s in the box. She jiggled her foot as Tom set the box on the desk. I just can’t have that thing in the house. I have children.

    Tom allowed himself an eye roll as he opened the flaps of the box and began digging through the packing peanuts. His fingers hit something hard—a wood and glass display case by the feel of it. He pulled it out, then froze when he saw what was inside.

    Tom stared down at the object, then carefully set the case on the desk before snatching up the notebook.

    Are you going to sign the receipt or not?

    Give me a minute. His heart was racing. He flipped through the notebook until he saw the name he was looking for, then snapped it shut and grabbed the receipt. He signed it, then shoved it back at the woman.

    "I know none of this is legally binding, so I’m relying on your professional ethics. Uncle Izadore spoke highly of you.

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