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Crystal Inman* Bestselling Author

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The Portrait


The Portrait is by authoress Crystal Inman.  When Ms. Inman puts her voice into words they are magical.  With each and every new release she pens, you are transported into a new adventure.  Taking the readers beyond the everyday read.  When you see her name, just buy it!  You will never be disappointed that you did!


Reviewed by Janalee Ruschhaupt at Love Romances




Readers will find it tough not to enjoy Sophie’s charisma and her effect on Dylan’s brooding nature. Ms. Inman’s marvelous imagination shines through in this intriguing tale, while simultaneously providing enough romance and mystery to keep you glued to the page in an effort to find out how everything will turn out.

Reviewed by Jen at Coffee Time Romance




Crystal Inman has written a story that tells of a man's quest to achieve forgiveness from those he has wronged and along the way finds love in the arms of the woman who would give everything within her to help him.


Reviewed by Sheryl at Ecataromace


“I’m going to kill him.”

The words were low and disgusted.

Sophie shifted in the sand and sighed.  Sand?  The heat of the sun caressed her arms, and she fought to come out of her stupor.  Sand?  Sun?  Impossible.  She blinked rapidly and looked up.

The portrait.  Lord, he was beautiful.  He was peering down at her, scowling.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said puzzled,  “You were smiling.  What happened?”

He sighed.  “Charles, damn him.  I told him not to send anymore.”

“Send anymore?”  All the words jumbled in her head.  Sophie pushed herself up and looked around.    Impossible.  “Where am I?”

“Here,” he said cryptically.

She stood up and tilted her head.  “That’s rather ambiguous, don’t you think?  Am I dreaming?”

“Yeah,” he snarled.  “One big dream.  Go back to sleep, and maybe you’ll go back to where you came from.”  He turned away from her and stalked up to the house.

Glory, she thought.  I could have made him a little more personable. 

Sophie brushed the sand off of her pants and followed the trail up to the cottage. 

Dylan.  The name echoed in her head.  Her dream was extremely obnoxious.  For someone who looked so nice, he had a nasty temperament.  Well.  Then.  She would just go and straighten him right out.

Sophie marched up the rock steps and threw open the door.  The man’s head flew up from his book he was reading at the large, wooden table. 

“Can I help you?” he asked with mock politeness.

“Listen.  If I’m delusional, the very least you can do is be personable.”

He closed his book slowly.  “That would be reasonable, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said shortly.

“Well.  Let’s get this out of the way.”  He stood up and shoved the wooden chair away from the table.  “I’m not reasonable.  I don’t want you here.  Don’t expect me to do cartwheels because you are.”

Sophie arched an eyebrow.  “Testy, little hermit, aren’t you?”

“Get out,” he said furiously, pointing towards the door.

She crossed her arms over her chest and lengthened her stance.  “Make me.”

He shoved the chair back under the table and strode quickly over to her.  “Don’t push me, woman,” he hissed, inches away from her face.

Sophie looked up into his dark eyes and grinned.  “You really are pretty.”

Dylan stepped back.  “Where did he find you?  Because you have to go back.  This is no place for you.”  He turned away from her and walked over to the window.

She looked around the room.  He had placed wooden furnishings around the living room.  Every piece was polished.  Sophie ran her hand lovingly over the back of one of the chairs and sighed.  Quilts were draped over the two couches.  Brass sconces were placed on the walls between windows.   

“Your house is lovely.”

Dylan’s head dropped forward, and he mumbled something.

“Pardon me?” she said.

He turned towards her with his eyes blazing.  “This is a mistake.  Period.  Fall back asleep and think of wherever you came from.  Click your damn heels together.  I don’t give a damn.  But leave!”  He raked his hands through his hair.  Little chestnut spikes stood up on the sides of his head.

“You act as if I’ve planned all of this.”  She swept her arms around the room.  “You obviously know a hell of a lot more about this than I do.  Explain.”

“Are you always so damn stubborn?”


“I can’t tell you.”

Sophie ran her tongue over her teeth.  “You can’t tell me.”

“No.  It’s not allowed.”

“Fine.  Whatever.  Just trot yourself up to the boat dock or wherever and tell them I’m ready to leave.”

Dylan threw back his head and laughed.  The laughter rolled out of him until tears ran down his cheeks.  “Boat dock,” he snorted.

“Okay.  Obviously that’s not happening.  How about a phone or something?  Fax machine?  Any type of computer?”

“Let’s see.”  He ticked off his fingers.  “No.  No.  And no again.”

Sophie tapped her finger against her cheek.  “There are no outside means of communication?”

“Well,” he sighed. “Now she gets it.”  Dylan turned and walked over to his table and sat back down.  He picked up the book and commenced to read.

She cocked her head to the side.  Maybe she was unconscious.  Delusional.  Asleep.  Hmm.  What else?  Maybe she was dead.

Sophie walked over to Dylan again and tapped his shoulder.  “Am I dead?”

His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened.  Laughter shot out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it.  The pure sincerity of her tone was his undoing.

“Lady.  I assure you.  You are not dead.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Go home.”

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