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Today, we welcome my writer friend from France.  J. Arlene Culiner is here to talk about story settings and her novel, The Unpredictable Colors of Love

Meet Ms. Culiner ~ Writer, social critical artist, and impenitent teller of tall tales

Arlene was born in New York and raised in Toronto. She has crossed much of Europe on foot, has lived in a mud house on the Great Hungarian Plain, in a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave dwelling, a haunted house on the English moors, and a Dutch canal. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest where, much to local dismay, she protects spiders, snakes, and weeds. Observing people in cafes, in their homes, on trains, or in the streets, she eavesdrops on all private conversations and delights in hearing any nasty, funny, ridiculous, sad, romantic, or boastful story. And when she can’t uncover really salacious gossip, she makes it up.

Author Websites http://www.j-arleneculiner.com

Author links: https://linktr.ee/j.arleneculiner

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Thank you, Judythe, for inviting me to be on your blog and present The Unpredictable Colors of Love.

I love setting my romances in the out-of-the-way places I’ve lived. The three books in my Blake’s Folly Romance series take place in a Nevada semi-ghost town where roads are unpaved ruts, and the doors of abandoned shacks slap in the endless wind. Felicity’s Power is set in an isolated cove on the California coast, and in my romantic suspense, The Turkish Affair, I present an archaeological site in central Turkey where theft is rife and the police are untrustworthy.

Yet, somehow, I’ve avoided writing about the country where I now live: France. Is it because the France portrayed in so many romances is nothing like the real country? Because people want fantasy more than reality? They want cafés where people engage in deep philosophical conversations and beret-wearing men with baguettes under their arm pass by on creaking bicycles.

In that mythical France, food is always wonderful, and Art is important to all.

In reality, people in cafés talk about football, television, or social media. Those beret men are long gone, and food is often — like elsewhere — created industrially, then frozen and shipped to restaurants where it’s heated up in a microwave oven. As for Art…

Fine. What would happen if I wrote a romance set in an artist’s retreat in the real France? If I describe what is actually going on in the countryside, add in a château that, like so many, was almost doomed to disappear?

If I do all that, would it still be a good setting for a romance?

Of course, it would. Thus: The Unpredictable Colors of Love,

Callie Patterson, an unsuccessful artist, hopes that a relationship with the irresistible and magnetic Nicholas Trier will pave the way to success. She follows him to France, where, in a magnificent château, he holds his artists’ retreats. But famous men surround themselves with hangers-on and demand complete loyalty.

Callie soon finds herself far more attracted to Michel Alexandre, the estate gardener, who loves and protects trees and every living creature. But if she wants to make a name for herself, she’ll have to choose Nicholas and his world.

Except nothing is quite the way it seems, and perhaps success isn’t the most important thing, after all.

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Excerpt from The Unpredictable Colors of Love

Callie dropped the backpack filled with art supplies and, uninvited, sat down on the soggy ground not far from where Michel was digging. She didn’t even own a houseplant, but a banal conversation about twigs and saplings was what she craved at the moment. “Okay, tell me why there isn’t a hedge here now.”
“Because, years ago, the farmer ripped out all the hedges to have larger fields for his agricultural machinery. Now we’re bringing back a balanced environment.”
“You’re not planning to replace every single hedge on your own, are you?”
“Of course not,” he scoffed. Picking up a small spade, he loosened another patch of earth. “There are thousands of trees and shrubs to replant, and that would be an impossible task for only one person.” With gentle fingers, he spread the delicate roots of a tiny shrub, tucked it into place in the little hole, then tamped down the moist soil with his palm. Reached for another, and then another.
She watched silently as he planted, and strangely enough, it was almost a sensual sight. His hands were broad, strong, and deeply tanned from working outdoors; his long fingers were beautifully shaped. And under that denim shirt of his, there was the alluring suggestion of tight sinew and warm, fragrant skin. Did she still find him bear-like? No, not exactly. Something more, something…
           “A penny for your thoughts.” Michel was watching her with those disconcerting eyes of his, very dark, with heavy lids and thick lashes.
She felt the blush as it traveled upward, flooding her neck, her face. He hadn’t caught what she had been thinking, had he? Perhaps he had. Surely, he’d seen how her gaze had slipped over his hands, his arms, his chest, and shoulders. How incredibly humiliating! What vaguely plausible answer could she give? “Oh…just remembering something.”
“Ah.” Eyebrows raised in overt amusement, he smirked—rather cockily—then went back to working on the next hole, the next shrub.

BUY LINKS:

https://www.amazon.com/Unpredictable-Colors-Love-Arlene-Culiner-ebook/dp/B0DCZWF836

https://books2read.com/TheUnpredictableColorsOfLove

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/27nE-cCHNqM