According to my editor Chris Moeb at Pegasus Books, Rosso will be available as an eBook later this week!
Here's a quick excerpt,
Rosso smelt her perfume before he saw her, and he was overcome by its seductive scent. He heard the rustle of her gown and felt the pressure of her thigh against his. Turning, he saw two walnut brown eyes, looking straight at him. She had the clearest of skin on her finely-set features, and her long black hair flowed wildly across her face and down to her bare shoulders.
When she moved against him again, Rosso blushed at the intimate contact with an unknown woman. Coquettishly, she held his gaze.
“Are you afraid of me, boy?”
He tried to turn away, but she held onto his arm.
“How would you like to dance with a pretty girl then?”
Before he could answer, she took him by the hand and led him into the area where the other dancers spun. As she led, she sent a flashing look over his shoulder at something, or someone, beyond his vision.
For a young man, Rosso danced like a camel. Yet he was mesmerized, by his partner who moved her body seductively close to his body, all the while smiling at him. She was about to whisper something in his ear when someone spun him around.
A tall, handsome man stood before him, shouting, his face distorted by rage.
“Who said you could dance with my girl, vermin?”
His face calmed to an arrogant disdain. Before Rosso could answer, the man grabbed him by the hair and shouted to the encircling throng.
“We don’t like vermin in our town, do we?”
He twisted Rosso’s head toward the onlookers, who moments earlier were laughing with him, and who were now deriding him.
“What do you think we should do with this vermin?” the arrogant man asked the crowd.
“I’d leave the poor chap alone if I were you!” a voice called from the rear of the assembled mass.
Like all fickle things, the crowd, once solid and densely packed, miraculously opened to reveal a bored-looking man of good features. He sat on a barrel, drinking a glass of wine.
“What did you say?” said he of the disdainful features. “How dare you speak to me like that! Perhaps you have a death wish?”
Pushing Rosso away, he made for the indolent one, who appeared at first to ignore him. He finished the glass of wine before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and looking playfully at the young man who towered over him.
“Do you know what?” he inquired, with the faintest trace of a French accent. “I think, perhaps, that you’re a little too big for your boots.”
He held up his hand to silence the youth, who was seething with rage.
“And that isn’t all. I think you should apologize to that young fellow over there who has done you no harm whatsoever--apart from having the good sense to entertain that delightful young lady, who’s obviously far too good for an ape like you.”