Greetings Six Sunday Readers! Below please find a sliver from my novel, “Matching Wits With Venus”. Believe me, this is not your mother’s greeting card Cupid ….
Cupid paid the bar bill then sat back against the seat and studied the crowd of tourists. After he was certain Inuus could no longer see him, Cupid made his way across the Italian capitol to a large shooting gallery. Poor boys from various Roman neighborhoods, clad in dark blue athletic outfits that bore a small gold crest, stood in front of large bulls eye targets, quivers poised, arrows at the ready. They smiled when they saw Cupid appear.
“Ah, our patron saint!” Signor Morgiari called out as Cupid approached.
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