Forbidden Quest (Love Spectrum Romance) - Softcover

Tomlinson, Dar

Softcover

ISBN 10: 188547850X ISBN 13: 9781885478504

Publisher: Genesis Pr Inc, 1998

Synopsis

A white, genteel Southern woman engaged to a prominent architect meets a Jamaican immigrant and falls in love with him in this new novel by the Hemingway First Novel Award-winning author of "Broken".

About this title

About the Author

Dar Tomlinson Wielding Her Pen Against Ethnic Prejudice

As clear as if it were yesterday, Dar Tomlinson recalls making an astute observation in small- town Boswell, Oklahoma on the eve of the '50s. Then a young child, she realized that Oscar Rivera could cut meat for her family's table, but, while the town's friendly butcher walked past their house every evening after work, he would never be invited inside. The reason: Oscar Rivera was "a Mexican," and her family did not cross that cultural boundary or any other to socialize.

These many years later, Tomlinson is being heralded as a fresh new voice in fiction. Her deeply emotional and cutting-edge stories about cross-cultural relationships have won national writing contests and earned such prestigious honors as the Hemingway First Novel Award. Genesis Press has selected Tomlinson's FORBIDDEN QUEST to launch their new Love Spectrum imprint of cross-cultural romances in fall, 1998. And, looking back, Tomlinson knows what has compelled her to write about those who dare to cross cultural boundaries her early outrage at the way Oscar, the butcher, was treated by her family.

"The way my parents treated Oscar, and, later, my Hispanic friends in Oklahoma City, were defining moments in my life," Tomlinson remarked from her winter home in Scottsdale, Arizona. "It bothered me that skin color was the sole deciding factor in how people were treated. I remember not wanting anyone to be hurt by this attitude that prevailed in my family. I also recall not wanting anyone to believe I thought I was better than them. As I matured, I decided I would find a way to help obliterate this senseless ethnic prejudice. I learned that the strongest weapon I possessed was the written word."

Married before she graduated from high school, Tomlinson spent the next 25 years raising two sons, working as an interior designer and filling spiral notebooks with an on-going novel.

Then, in 1983, after living in Oklahoma, Texas, Georgia and California, Tomlinson settled in Denver with her husband and sons. There she dedicated herself to learning the craft of fiction writing. The new stories emerging from this determined writer revealed that she had gained considerable insight into various cultures during frequent moves with her family. They also showed that Tomlinson hadn't forgotten her pledge to use her writing to help abolish racial prejudice. She wrote characters into her manuscripts who learned to look past skin color and cultural differences as they worked toward their fictional goals.

In 1994, on a whim, Tomlinson entered her second manuscript in the Hemingway First Novel Award competition. She recalls the exact day three months later the precise hour when Hilary Hemingway phoned with the news that Tomlinson had won the prestigious national competition. Since that momentous day, Tomlinson has sold three novels with cross cultural themes, including FORBIDDEN QUEST. A fourth novel, DESIGNER PASSION, to be published by Genesis in 1999, is also women's fiction.

"When I write, it's like an out-of-body experience," she explained. "I cease being me and become the characters in my novels. I call it 'The Zone.' Every minute of every day, I want to write. It is, quite simply, a love of words."

Tomlinson strives to keep a balance in her life, though, regularly indulging a second passion for golf. She also enjoys tennis, skiing the Rockies and studying relationships, an interest that provides inspiration for her award-winning, cutting-edge stories.

From the Back Cover

Carolyna (Cally) Sinclair is a woman with a quest. After a disastrous first marriage, the genteel-familied Southerner has at last set her life on a constructive course. Cultivating her interior design business in Savannah's historical district is high on her priority list. So is her impending marriage to Hugh Masters, the ambitious architect who pledges the stability she seeks. But Cally learns her controlling fianc has motives of his own for marrying her, motives that have nothing to do with love.

Then one day Cally meets caramel-skinned Jamaican Paul Michael Quest on the Savannah docks. Everything in her privileged, Southern upbringing tells her to ignore her attraction to the immigrant musician and artist. But Paul Michael's lyrical voice enchants her. His accepting manner and gentle touch destroy all the barriers she's been taught to maintain between her and those of his color.

With his broad shoulders and artistic eye, Paul Michael is the complement Cally needs for her business. Working side-by-side in the sultry heat of Savannah's days and nights, she and Paul Michael ignore the warnings of her judgmental family, of those on his side of town.

Soon all Cally has held dear is at risk. Will she choose her family over Paul Michael, or forever regret abandoning her . . . forbidden quest?

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

A condensed excerpt from FORBIDDEN QUEST by Dar Tomlinson

When Carolyna arrived near noon, the Savannah dock seemed deserted. Sea gulls ambled away, scolding, as she circled the crate. Hearing a different noise, she whirled around, startled to find herself face to face with a tall black man. "Hey, girl. Does this big box belong to you?" "Excuse me?" Didn't he know he shouldn't call her girl no more than she should call him boy in this age of political enlightenment? "Were you speaking to me?" He made a show of looking all around, shrugged elaborately, smiled innocently. No one else here, his expression said. "This is my . . . box. Where did you come from?" "Jamaica." He almost sang the answer. His blinding smile didn't fade. His teeth flashed impossibly white. Carolyna'd had twenty-eight years of personal conditioning to prejudice, had inherited centuries of traditional white domination. Now, she scrutinized this man for disrespect but saw only a guileless smile. His skin was rich caramel, taking on an amber glow here and there, where the sun caught a moist sheen of perspiration. She made a determined effort toward the business at hand. A crack in the box's plywood, not quite broken through, indicated a significant bump somewhere along the way. She had painstakingly selected the desk in Rome. She ran a finger down the crack. "Your box is broken?" The question was songlike. The elongated "o" in "broken" stretched the word, caressed it with an arresting inflection. She found it difficult not to stare at him. His hair was brown, shot through with copper glints. He wore dreadlocks cornrows, actually. They were a modest chin length, immaculate, each one sealed with colorful, beaded bands. He was a black man. Yet he wasn't, quite, judging from the lightness of his flawless skin. She had seen movie stars George Hamilton for one with tans darker than this stranger's. His face was lean and classic, as though chiseled by a sculptor who, loving his craft and subject, had given him prominent cheekbones, a slender nose, and lush, carved lips. Heavy but precise brows and luxuriant lashes framed improbable, deep-water blue eyes. She fought against the urge to look into them deeply, and lost. He brazenly stared back. His long, muscular stature brought to mind all those art classes she'd taken in college hours of drawing forms. All the hours of mixing colors made sudden sense, too. She pulled a copy of the waybill from her briefcase, along with copies of the canceled check and correspondence. "I must have this desk. I have all the supporting documents. My name is on the crate." He folded his arms, cocked his head. The beaded hair-bands clanked softly in the noon quiet. A small hoop earring and a tiny gold stud glimmered when the sun caught his left profile. She fished again, came up with her driver's license and a business card for her interior design business. "See, it's me." He frowned, backing up a step. "Very nice picture. Very pretty girl." The hard "t's" in "pretty" gave his compliment credibility, even if he didn't know heshouldn't call her that not in Savannah. She handed him a business card, her nail pointing out Sinclair. She nodded toward the crate with an expectant expression. He laughed. Not an unpleasant sound, but rancor played along her spine, aggravated by oppressive heat and humidity. "What's so amusing?" "You are named after the state Carolina but it is spelled wrong. You know? You have this fancy card with the wrong name. You could sue your printer, girl. I am a witness." A welcome breeze stirred her hair and brought with it the smell of tar-coated pilings, bracing her. Over his shoulder, a few clouds gathered on the horizon. It could rain at any moment in semi-tropical Savannah. "I'd love to chat, but I have to get this desk released. I have to have it." She attempted to level him with her gaze, dismiss him. "Today." "No problem, mon girl." He shrugged. "I can do that." He pronounced "can" the way Jack Kennedy did in all those historical documentaries her fiancr watched. "You?" He nodded, his smile glimmering. "Sure, girl. I can take your desk home with me." She took back her papers. Her heart raced a little when he pocketed her card. Hugh's frequent warning of her too-trusting nature echoed. She pushed away a vision of Hugh's furrowed brow and attempted to act responsibly. "I don't know you," she said firmly. "This desk cost a small fortune." "I can get your box cleared through my friend." He nodded toward the men down the dock. "I will take it home with me. Today. You can come to see where. Tomorrow I will deliver. If not you will know where to bring the law. Lock me up forever. Throw away da key," he mimicked wryly, arching one brow. "I still don't know you. This desk is valuable." "Not to me, girl." Of course. Where would he fence a Louis XIV, gold inlaid desk? He pulled a heavy gold chain from beneath a purple T-shirt logoed JAMAICA JAM. His long, slender fingers worked the chain up his body, lifted it over his magnificent head. A fat, intricately engraved locket dangled from the end of the chain. "This is valuable. You keep this, girl. Tomorrow I will bring your desk. We will exchange treasures." He held the locket out to her. She took the locket, wondering if he would protest and if she was actually going to trust this stranger with her client's desk. What had stirred her confidence that much? And was it confidence or a hesitance to end the association? No wonder Hugh kept such a tight rein. "Thank you." She turned, looked back. "What's your name?" "Paul Michael Quest." He fastened his improbable blue eyes on her. "Paul is from my father. Michael is from my great-grandfather. Quest is the story of my life." She tried not to smile. "I'll see you at three."

Edition details

• Publisher: Genesis Pr Inc
• Publication date: 1998
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 188547850X
• ISBN 13: 9781885478504
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 242