Give me your favorite excerpt. They can be taken from anything, your book, TV, radio, movies, other books, etc. So take a few minutes to post a comment. Feel free to add your signature blocks with your contact information to your comment.
Here is mine from The Temptation of Lady Serena, book #3 of The Marriage Game, which releases in January.
Robert Beaumont rode towards the woman on the crest of the hill. She sat atop a raking roan, much too large for a lady. Her riding habit, a dull rust color, reminded him of autumn leaves. Her long auburn hair curled down her back, and she wore a small hat with some sort of feather—pheasant, by the way it stuck out. He wondered how the devil she kept the hat on her head with her hair down. His interest piqued, he urged his horse to a trot. As he neared, she took off at a fast gallop.
She was gone when he reached the top of the hill. Beaumont looked out over the valley. A horse and rider were in the north. How had she got that far so quickly? Disgruntled, he turned and rode home. After throwing his reins to a groom, he strode through the doors into the main hall and called to his housekeeper, “Norry!”
She came out from a parlor. “I’m here, my lord. There’s no reason to shout.”
“Who lives to the north?”
“Well, my lord,” she muttered, “if you were here more often, you’d know. It’s a widow lady. I can’t remember her name right off my head. Why?”
Ignoring Norry’s all too familiar complaint, he pressed for more information. “Does she have any children?”
The housekeeper narrowed her eyes. “I heard all her children are grown. She moved here after her son married. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lord, I have work to do.”
“Norry, let me know if you remember. Especially if it concerns an auburn-haired female.”
“Master Robert,” she began in a censorious tone, “we’ll have none of your carrying on up here. You leave it in London.” She nodded her head curtly and left.
Beaumont clenched his jaw and stormed off to his study, cursing the fact that so many of his servants had been with him since childhood, and never let him forget it.
ellaquinnauthor
I love the set up of that scene so much. When Robert sees Serena from afar and we just know it’s her and he has no idea who she is. It’s a perfect way to hook the reader!
Here’s an excerpt from my book Wicked Seduction the sequel to Wicked Designs coming out from Samhain January 2014. Horatia has fallen in love with her brother’s best friend, a wicked marquess named Lucien.
Horatia entered the library, lit a candle and starting looking under couches and behind chairs. She almost missed the soft click of the door as someone came in behind her and flipped the lock. The flame of the candle in her hand flickered twice as scuffling shoes across the carpet made her turn.
Lucien stood not five feet from her, watching her with hooded eyes. The sweet smell of brandy surrounded him and quickly enveloped her. The candlelight threw flickering shadows on his handsome face, highlighting a small scar near his brow that she’d never noticed before. His eyes were ginger shaded fire.
In just a few slow, predatory strides he towered over her. Horatia was suddenly very aware of his innate masculinity; the breadth of his shoulders, his height, and that the top of her head came barely reached his shoulders. Her center heated with longing and she barely stopped herself in time from reaching for him. He was too handsome, too virile. Whenever he was near he reduced her to a wild, wanton creature that would do anything for the chance to know pleasure in his arms.
“Horatia.” Her name rolled off his lips like a delicious forbidden fruit, sweet and decadent. “You ought to be in bed.” The wicked way he said bed had her on the verge of lightheadedness.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Her words were hoarse, as hunger for him tickled her insides.
He leaned forward, his body close to hers as he blew out the candle in her hand. The sudden darkness falling around them made her breath catch. The smoke curled and danced up between them, coiling like the serpent in the garden. Lucien was the forbidden fruit, gleaming and offering a world of knowledge about bodily desire and pleasure beyond words.
“There’s a lovely little remedy for sleep that I always employ, do you want to know what it is?” The look of sheer sensual mischief dancing in his eyes, set her skin on fire.
I shouldn’t answer. I know what he’s going to say. Blast it. “What is it?”
“I find the nearest beautiful woman, slip into her bed and wrap my body around hers…” he paused, grinning down at her like a Cheshire cat.
Heat exploded in her cheeks and she stifled a gasp at his implication.
He raised a hand, drawing one elegant finger along her cheekbone, the caress infinitely intimate. “That is the most delicious blush I’ve ever seen. The rose in your cheeks is inspiring. I’d like to make other parts of you redden with desire.” Lucien took the candle and holder from her and set them on a bookshelf behind her.
Horatia’s knees shook so hard they knocked together. She stepped back, dizziness overtaking her for a brief instant. She winced as her head collided with the bookcase behind her. Lucien closed the distance between them and braced his hands on the bookcase on either side of her face. His lips were inches from hers, his nose brushed against hers as he smiled crookedly.
“Shall I kiss you, Horatia? I find you hard to resist when you look up at me with those soft chocolate eyes. They are begging me to kiss you. Did you know that?” he mused aloud. His voice was a soft vibrating growl which made her breasts heavy and her nipples harden into tiny buds.
Horatia was incapable of speech; she managed to shake her head. She wanted to throw her arms about his neck and drag his mouth to hers. She ached to run her hands through his dark red hair. Endless nights had been spent imagining what this moment would be like, when he’d be close enough to touch, to kiss. Something deep inside her ripped apart in anguish knowing he wasn’t meant for her. He took only experienced, beautiful women to his bed and made wanton creatures of them.
Lauren Smith
http://www.facebook.com/LaurenDianaSmith
http://theleagueofrogues.blogspot.com/
Thanks so much for liking my excerpt. You’ve done a wonderful job with yours.
Great excerpt Ella! You have wonderful detail and imagery. Tweeted
Thanks again.
Loved your excerpt, Ella.
This excerpt is from my new historical romance, Lost Honor.
Shoved by powerful hands, she fell to her knees before booted feet. “Found her in the hold, Cap’n. Thought she was a boy at first, her wearin’ pants and a cap, but she has tits.”
“I can see that, Jurgens.”
Arianna followed the shiny boots up to tight-fitting, brown breeches hugging muscular thighs, and slim hips. A loose, white shirt covering broad shoulders next met her gaze, then a corded neck, square jaw, stern lips, crooked nose, and cold, dark eyes that stared down at her. “Where’s my brother? Who are you?”
“I will be asking the questions. Who are you, and why are you on my ship?” The deep voice thundered through the cabin.
Her stomach flip-flopped. Dizziness swamped her. Swallowing convulsively, she battled to contain the contents of her queasy stomach. Hiding in that empty molasses barrel hadn’t been the brightest idea of her twenty-one years. “I’m not talking to anyone but my brother.”
Jurgens’s forceful hands yanked her to a standing position. “You answer the cap’n.”
The abrupt movement snapped the fragile control she clung to. Spasms seized her throat. Arianna struggled to turn away, but the fingers digging into her arms held her in place. The contents of her stomach erupted.
All over Captain Danvers’s boots.
Her captor released her and jumped back in horror.
Available in e-book and paperback.
Lost Honor
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=191&products_id=5144
http://www.loreenaugeri.com
Great excerpt, Loreen. Thanks for posting.
Ella, I can’t wait to read your books!
Here’s a short excerpt from “Highlander’s Hope” which releases in May 2013 from Soul Mate Publishing.
In this scene, Yvette Stapleton and Ewan McTavish meet again, though she doesn’t remember him at first:
A carriage came alongside her, the door thrown open wide. A gloved hand emerged. “Get in, Miss Stapleton,” ordered a deep baritone voice.
He knew her?
Careening along, neck or nothing, Yvette peered over her shoulder. The men continued to chased her, only now, they were closer. There’s no help for it then. It’s either this stranger, or them. She had no idea who this ornate carriage belonged to, but she prayed he was better than the blackguards chasing her.
He knew her name and besides, she had her dagger. She released her bonnet which promptly plopped onto her forehead. Doubtful but desperate, she extended her hand.
At once it was clasped in a strong grip.
Yvette jumped, lurching into the carriage. The momentum flung her, arms and legs splayed, across a very stylish, very male lap. Her valise thwacked the occupant alongside his head. Her squeal of surprise was drowned out by his grunt of pain.
“Oh.”
“Oomph.”
His hat toppled to the carriage floor. Through the black lace edging her bonnet, she glimpsed a tanned, hawkish face and midnight hair. Tangled in her skirts and shawl, she whiffed his spicy scent even as she tried to scramble off him. Levering herself upward, her hand pressed against his generous maleness. Lord have mercy.
Cheeks reddening, Yvette released her hold on the satchel, and flopped onto the floor in an undignified heap. Her gaze flew to his face and darted away again before he looked up.
A low chuckle rumbled throughout the bouncing vehicle.
He was laughing at her, the cad. Who was he?
Her curiosity and gratitude faded into leeriness. Perhaps jumping into his carriage hadn’t been the better choice. She righted herself, then crawled off the floor and onto the opposite seat. Reaching to grasp her bag, at the precise moment her rescuer bent to retrieve his hat, Yvette smacked her head on his square chin.
The man grunted in pain for a second time.
Dear Lord, I’ve injured him, again.
“Blast it all. I’m terribly sorry, sir.” Quite cross, she retreated into the shadowy corner of the plush carriage and rubbed her throbbing forehead. “Who are you?”
Peeking at him from beneath her lashes, she reached to straighten her bonnet. It hung askew off the side of her head, like a giant drooping peony. “How is it you came along just then?” She shoved it into place but the moment she removed her hand, it flopped over once more.
The stranger’s unrestrained laughter filled the carriage.
“Oh, bother it all.” Yvette’s patience with both her rescuer and the silly bonnet were at an end. She had no choice but to remove the dratted thing to reaffix it. Several strands of hair tumbled to her shoulders when she removed the cap from her head. Suppressing a shriek of annoyance, she placed the hat beside her. She then set about securing the wayward curls. Pinning the last strand in place, her eyes met those of her companion.
Momentarily forgetting her unanswered questions, she stilled, as did the world around her. The air hung suspended in her lungs. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her stunned gaze riveted on his face. “You exist?” Her voice was husky with awe.
Raising an ebony eyebrow, a flicker of humor softened the nobleman’s features. “So it would appear.”
A voice, deep and dark, caressed Yvette’s heightened senses. She stared. Her gaze roved across his handsome features returning, as if compelled by some unseen force, to his eyes.
Those eyes. Fringed by thick lashes, the mesmerizing turquoise pools gazing at her sent her senses reeling in recognition. Her mouth dropped open. No, it couldn’t be. “Am I dreaming?”
Giving a quick shake of her head, she lowered her eyelids for a moment. Lud, but she was befuddled. “Who are you? Have I met you before?”
Thanks, Collette. Wonderful excerpt.
I really can’t wait to read Lady Serena’s story! Robert does sound like a piece of work. LOL Thanks for this opportunity!
This is one of my favorite excerpts from Betrothal, my medieval romance that should be coming out this spring. Geoffrey and Alyse have been betrothed, though they’ve only just met the night before at the betrothal announcement. Alyse has not quite taken to Geoffrey yet, so he tries another approach.
The dread must have shown in her face, for Geoffrey leaned forward as his eyes searched hers. “My lady, you grow pale. Have I distressed you yet again?”
She looked at him but barely saw anything. Escape. I must escape now. “My lord, I believe your plan has merit.” She rose, bringing him to his feet as well. “I fear, however, that our time this morning is at an end. I must go now to Mass in the chapel.” Sanctuary.
“As must I, my lady,” he reminded her and offered his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you there?”
No escape. Alyse nodded, resigned, as he placed her hand atop his sleeve. Even this small amount of time alone was to be denied her. With as good grace as she could rally, she allowed him to lead her from the Great Hall.
* * * *
Geoffrey knew she was displeased with him once more and inwardly cursed. He was making the situation worse but was at a loss to know to how to repair the damage. She walked beside him woodenly, her hand like a dry stick on his arm. I have faced enemy troops with less trepidations than this. Thoughts of battle strategies filled his head and he decided to seize the offensive tack as they wound their way toward the chapel. He doubted he could make things worse.
“You have been at court but a short while, Lady Alyse? I did not meet you when I was last here at Christmas.” Not only a ploy to get her to talk, he wanted to learn about her as well. If she would take the bait.
“No, sir. We did not meet.” She looked up at him and some of the fear retreated from her face. “I have been at court for two months now. Before that I was in the household of Lord Penburthy, in service to his wife, Lady Elizabeth. I was there the past seven years.” He hadn’t heard her speak so much at one time. Her voice was low pitched and melodious, a pleasure to listen to.
“Were you excited then, to come to court?” Geoffrey experienced a giddy rush when he saw a tentative smile play about her lips.
“Aye, my lord, I was eager to come. ‘Tis very grand here, especially after Merwyck Castle, near the Scottish border. A place beautiful, but wild. The castle did not have as many comforts as I find here.”
“What comforts?” He was fascinated by the way she blossomed before his eyes.
“Oh, warmth for one. The castle was so far north ‘twas always cold, even in summer. There were six other girls who served Lady Elizabeth, and we slept all in one room. Very noisy at night. To share with just one person here is like heaven.”
Geoffrey held his breath, for as soon as the words were out she colored prettily and darted a fearful glance at him. With difficulty he held in his amusement; still she noticed. A delicate black eyebrow lifted. “You have a comment, my lord?”
Geoffrey laughed then and, as they arrived at the chapel, took her hand, feeling that almost familiar rush of fire through his. “I would say, my lady, that you are indeed perceptive. To share a room, or a bed, with just one other person can be like heaven.” He lifted her hand to his lips, tingles firing off like sparks, and handed her into the chapel.
Thanks very much, Jenna. Great excerpt!!
My first thought was of Daniel Day Lewis in the “Last of Mohicans.” But after reading some of the other comments, I’m tempted to quote some of my book coming out next month.
Nah, Here’s Daniel:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=yoSzetoxZ34
Oh, I love the man!
LOL. That was great Lani!
Loved the detail here, Ella! Tweeted
Thanks so much, Karen.
Poor Robert! Norry knows him so well. He really is such a sexy beast! I am so looking forward to everyone being able to read his and Serena’s story!
Here is an excerpt from The Price of a Gentleman. Cain, Lord Ashworth has been accused of murdering his former mistress with the help of her hired companion. Well, being caught in bed together the morning said dead mistress’s body is discovered does have a tendency to make headlines! They have joined forces to discover who the real murderer is and Cain has moved into the house with Sarafina (the companion) in order to keep her safe should the killer strike again.
“Have you seen this?” The calm, even tone of his voice made her stomach drop.
He thrust a particularly lewd depiction entitled “The Murdering Marquis and the Comely Companion” under her nose. The artist had rendered Cain as an angel-faced Adonis dressed in evening clothes with a large bloody knife behind his back. While Sarafina appeared as a buxom scantily dressed siren in the act of pitching Millicent’s body out of bed and into a casket.
She snatched it from him only to have him retrieve the others from the table where he’d placed them earlier. He let each one drop to the floor as he read it. His silent rage and stoic expression might have frightened most women, and more than a few men. Especially those perceptive enough to see the darkening of the sudden storm about to break in him. Sarafina saw more. She saw the shadow of pain in his eyes.
“Cain, I’m so sorry.” She left the sofa and came to stand beside him.
“Did you hide these from me deliberately?” He pulled away to gather the papers and pitch them into the fireplace. “Is that why you read them in here?”
“No, I ….” She shook her head. “Maybe a little. You had so much to bear already. It didn’t seem fair for you to have to see those. The way they’ve painted you is just so—”
“Me? Do you think I give a damn about what they say about me?” He ran his hands through his hair and then turned to stride purposefully to the door.
“Wait. Where are you going?” She limped across the brightly colored carpet behind him. “There’s nothing you can do about it now. Come back and sit down. I know how insulting this is to you, to your family, but—”
“That’s not it. They can insult me all they want until we find the murderer. I don’t give a damn what they do to me. I put myself in this position. That isn’t the worst of it.” He gave the door latch a savage tug and pulled the door open.
She slapped her palm against the dark polished wood and pushed it closed.
“But then why.? Is it your mother or Lord Cavendish? Are you worried about what the newspapers might do to them?”
“No, Sally-girl, it isn’t.” He splayed his hand against the thick lacquered oak. Every tendon stretched from the tips of his fingers across the back of his hand until it looked to be carved from stone. He snatched the door toward him again. She stepped around to block his large muscled frame and became aware of how small she was next to him, how helpless she was against his rage.
Cain moved her gently out of the way and stalked out into the entrance hall. She suddenly realized what he meant to do. Reporters had been loitering in front of the house and across the street for days.
“Stop this.” She struggled to wrap her hands around his upper arm, rather like trying to uproot one of the marble columns at the foot of the stairs. “You can’t go out there. It will only make things worse.”
He continued to walk toward the front door and dragged her across the parquet floor with him. The poor footman, poised to descend the steps once more, took one look at them and fled back down the first floor corridor without a word.
“Your family loves you, Cain. They’ll understand. I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to do this, not even for their sakes,” she pleaded.
He turned on her so quickly she nearly lost her balance. His hands gripped her shoulders and her bones felt light and fragile against his barely banked strength. None of that distressed her. But the fierceness and primal power he exuded threatened to take her breath away. He surrounded her, confused her and thrilled her all at once.
“My mother doesn’t give a damn about me so long as I pay the bills. It will all go away because she says it will go away. Just like I go away until she needs something from me.”
“I can’t believe—”
“And if they print something about Cavendish he’ll buy six copies and have them framed for each of his houses.”
“Then for God’s sake why confront them? Why give them something else to write about if nobody cares what they say? It isn’t worth it.”
“Nobody cares what they say about me,” he shouted. “I care what they say about you, Sarafina.” He lifted his hand to stroke the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I want to put my fist through their faces for what they’ve done to you. You’re worth it.”
The floor fell away from her feet. The walls disappeared Everything drew back into the shadows until there was only him and the fury on her behalf that thrilled through his body and into her skin where he touched her.
“Then that is enough. For me, it’s enough.” She took his hand, now curled into a fist at his side, and unfurled it to press a lingering kiss into his palm. “Come back inside,” she whispered and tugged him toward the morning room.
He looked at the front door and then back at her, unmoving. “When will you believe you deserve more than a mere enough?”
“Not today.”
Louisa, thank you for your kind words about The Temptation of Lady Serena. I love you excerpt. I can’t wait until it sells!
Wonderful excerpt, Ella. I have to say I’m pretty anxious to read more.
Thanks so much, Melissa. That warms my heart.
Wonderful excerpt, Ella. I could picture everything perfectly in my mind.
Thanks so much, Ally. That means a lot coming from you.
What a great excerpt! Great job. I can’t wait to read this books!
Thanks so much, Stacy.
I love Justified. I love me some Raylan Givens.
He goes into a room when the bad guy holds a knife to a woman’s throat.
“I’m gonna to count to one.”
Thanks for coming by Carole.