My Review:Harper Higgins, art history professor and Vincent van Gogh scholar, doesn’t need a man. She needs an artist. Fast. The art show she’s counting on to secure her tenure is in trouble. So when she collides with a ruggedly handsome man carrying a basket of violets on a rainy night in Boston, she thinks she’s found her miracle. Cynical, brooding ex-soldier Tom Stone can paint. And he’s quite good. He just needs Harper’s artistic touch.
But once she talks him into pretending he’s a long-lost descendant of van Gogh, the trouble really begins. As the art opening draws near, their identities—both real and imagined—hang in the balance. The student becomes the master as Tom teaches Harper that passion is its own work of art…
I had pretty high expectations for this one after loving my last read by Teri Wilson, Unleashing Mr. Darcy. While this definitely didn't wow me like that book, I still love the characters that this author creates; they are so complex and unique to contemporary romance. The Art of Us is a book with an interesting premise - drawing on some of those tropes we know well but also introducing new feelings. Harper is curating an art show for the college where she works and when her star artists ends up in jail, she's left scrambling to find someone to replace him. Enter Tom, the swoony and mysterious veteran that started painting as therapy after he returned from Afghanistan. Although Harper is reluctant to tell anyone Tom's real story, and that didn't quite make sense to me considering how awesome his story was, her reluctance to tell the truth ended up with them spending a lot of time together in preparation for the show. As with Unleashing Mr. Darcy, Teri Wilsons love of dogs was also on full display in The Art of Us, which I once again appreciated. This book is definitely quirky, but it mostly works. I found it a bit slow at times but I still can't wait to read more form this author.
The Art of Us came out last year, and you can purchase HERE.
But in that moment, she wasn't thinking of the art show, Dr. Martin or Archer, sitting in his jail cell down in New York. She wasn't even thinking of Lars Klassen waiting in the wings to steal her promotion right out form under her. She wasn't thinking about Rick and how she'd never felt quite good enough for him. She wasn't thinking about her father or all the other men her mother had brought home. A laundry list of men who'd let Harper down, time and time again.
Her thoughts centered around one man, and on mean only. The man whose hands had created those gorgeous paintings. The man standing beside her, watching, waiting, with those unreadable frosty eyes of his.