It’s your turn to shine. Post any excerpt of up to 500 words. Please keep it PG 13. You can also post buy links if you have them.
Here is mine from The Seduction of Lady Phoebe, which is on pre-order and releases on September 19th.
The Seduction of Lady Phoebe
Her chest tightened with excitement, and she couldn’t believe he was here.
“Have you much experience in this sphere?” Her knight moved a bit closer.
“I believe I stay well informed as to the issues. When I visit my aunt and uncle I attend all the political dinners and other entertainments.” When she glided nearer to him, a hurry of spirits coursed through her.
He narrowed his eyes curiously. “What made you seek out the library?”
“I was avoiding someone.” Phoebe found herself even closer to him and wanting to be in his arms again. His deep, soft voice was like a warm wave, drawing her in. Did male sirens exist?
“I see.” He closed the distance a little more.
She searched his face. Barely a foot separated them. If only he would reach out to her. “You were in Littleton for the fight last week.”
“Yes, I attended with a friend,” he replied, his tone, intimate.
Phoebe tried to steady her thudding heart. “I remember your voice. You rescued me from the young man pounding on my chamber door and spent the night guarding me.”
She drew a ragged breath. Why was it so hard to breathe? “You didn’t want to be thanked. You have now saved me twice from importuning young men.”
His gaze seemed to focus even more intently on her. “Yes, I took him from your door. I thought, at the time, I didn’t need to be thanked.” His lips curled into a provocative smile. “I may have been mistaken. You may thank me, if you wish.”
Phoebe had no idea what she was doing. She’d never before been affected like this. His eyes and his body willed her closer. She ignored the small voice urging caution. Her pulse thrilled and there was no more space between them.
Tilting her head up, she put one hand on his face, resting her fingers lightly on his cheek. “Yes, I would like to thank you.”
He bent his head and lightly, very lightly, touched his lips to hers. They were warm and firm and so enticing.
Phoebe lips tingled just as her hand had when he’d touched it, but that was through gloves. This was a great deal better. “I have never been kissed before. I don’t know what to do.”
A flame lit in her knight’s eyes. “I’ll teach you.”
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon France ~ Amazon Germany ~ Barns & Nobel ~ Kensington
ellaquinnauthor
Ella Quinn ~ Author 
From a manuscript that finalled in a contest recently–a Gilded Age novel Return to Ravish:
Gerant considered this, watching his friend open the seal on the telegram. “There’s been talk about the condition of the dam.”
But O’callan did not hear him. His eyes found Sarah’s name. She had forsaken him, never a written word in all those long, ten years, and here she had the gall to send him a telegram! What the devil did she think she was about?
“Are you all right?” Gerant asked. Perhaps O’callan had seen the dam for himself, and the fears in the valley that came with the heavy rains were indeed justified. He watched his friend continue to read the telegram.
Finally, O’calan looked up. “I beg your pardon?”
Gerant laughed. “That must be quite a telegram. Is it from a lady?”
O’callan caught himself before he replied. “Yes and no. It is from that family I told you about. They have invited me to stay with them at the lake.”
Love it Angelyn!!
Wonderful excerpt, Ella and I love that cover so much!
Thank so much, Kary!!
Ella,
Thank you. I love this excerpt and your book trailer. The music is fits the light-heartedness of your novels.
Here’s my excerpt – This is from The Garnet Dagger – fantasy / paranormal with a light romance thread. This is book 1 of a trilogy.
I’ve known death. For over half a millennia, I escorted many to death at the end of my sword. In the eyes of the dying, I watched it shroud them. Foolishly, I thought many more eras would pass before death came for me. It came so swiftly that I could not run; I could not escape. At a village, dressed in human clothes, I took in everything.
I delayed my return to my people as I watched human jugglers bounce torches and knifes. It was autumn equinox and the festivities would continue well into the night. Children laughed as they chased each other. A trail of leaves from their costumes twirled after them. It was dark when I reached the forest.
A gasp rustled through the trees. The roots shot a warning through to me with stifled caution. In the distance, I heard a groan. Curious, I spun in the direction of the sound. The autumn wind breezed through my worn human clothes, chilling me. But someone needed help. I turned in the direction of the sounds. Whatever made the noise should be a few yards ahead.
My night vision picked up the sight of a human. His sallow face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Poking out from rags lay his arms and legs, which resembled skin stretched over sticks. So cadaverous was his face, I’d have thought him dead if he hadn’t moved.
“Please,” he said and his voice sounded like cicada’s vibrations, “help me.”
“What ails you in this troubled place?” I wondered if my voice, foreign to my ears in speaking the human’s language, revealed my nature.
“I am lost.” His dark eyes crinkled around the corners. “Without strength to rise. If you would but assist me up, I’ll be on my way.”
I’d never touched a human on purpose before. Was it that that gave me pause, or dread that stilled my heart? My feet itched to flee. As soon as I helped him, then I’d leave. I gritted my teeth and reached a hand down.
His gnarled fingers snapped on my arm, making me wince. Jerking me forward, his face contorted. Surprised by his strength, I fell beside him. Blackness curled around me. Teeth, fangs, broke through the skin on my neck. Then I knew him for what he was, a vampyre.
Buy Links: The Garnet Dagger Amazon: http://goo.gl/rMEJ59
http://www.crimsonromance.com / B&N | iTunes
Very nice, Andrea!
Great excerpt, Ella. Love first kiss scenes.
Thank you, Sandra. I’ve always loved this scene.
This looks Fabulous!
Thanks, Madeline!
This is an excerpt from Lost in the Mist of Time (Historical Time Travel in Ireland). This is Dougray and Aislinn’s first meeting.
The squeal of the tires and the rapid prayers from her mother in the back seat were all she could hear over her beating heart. The car spun to a stop on the opposite side of the road. For a long second, silence drummed like a gong of doom.
Aislinn took a deep breath and let it out again. “Is everyone all right?” A quick look verified her family was shaken but not harmed. “God, the man!” Aislinn undid her seatbelt and opened the car door, hitting the pavement. She ran across the roadway. Her brother and parents were close behind, but the mist drifted in patches, making it difficult for them to follow her.
“A.J., hold on!” Connor called out to her, but she didn’t stop. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. What if she killed him? She didn’t think she hit him but… She hurried on through the thickening mist.
A groan reached her ears and she scanned the area below. The grassy area at the edge of the road dipped at a downward slope. She worked her way toward where she heard the groans. Finally, her gaze made out an outline of a man, lying like a discarded bundle draped in fur. She didn’t hesitate, but ran toward him. His head rested on the rocks, as if they were soft pillows. At this moment, she wished they were. She knelt down beside him to assess the damage.
He groaned again, his head lolling to the side. “He’s breathing. That’s a good sign,” she murmured. She brushed his long dark hair out of his eyes, revealing the man’s relatively handsome face, bronzed by wind and sun. He possessed a square jaw with a generous mouth. He sported a mustache and beard, which in her opinion, needed to be trimmed, but still it did not take away the fact his strong features held a certain sensuality.
She then glanced at the man’s strange attire of wool hide and thick mantle, and not far from where he’d fallen she caught sight of a large broadsword. She wondered why he was strolling down a deserted road dressed like he was heading to a medieval reenactment.
She moved the thick cloak aside, her eyes widening in surprise at how his massive shoulders filled out his shirt. She took in the length of him and realized he was tall even for her standards. She towered over most men with her height of six feet, but this man had to be six-three or more. His legs were bare, muscular and thick. Viking legs came to mind. “He’s gorgeous.” She then shook her head, chastising herself for ogling an unconscious man when he could be bleeding to death. She looked him over for signs of injury. Her gaze caught the glitter of the amulet he wore. It was a spiral of intertwining lines that formed a circle, and in the center sat a large amber stone. For a moment, she forgot everything else and reached for the amulet, touching its fineness. Her brows drew together. “I’ve seen this somewhere.”
Before she could wrap her mind around where, the man grabbed her wrist and she lost her grip. Gasping in surprise, her gaze leveled on his eyes. Those pale, silver shards of glass narrowed with undeniable contempt.
“Are ye a thief, young waif?” he asked in a voice that expected a prompt answer or suffer the consequences.
Flustered beyond belief, she at first failed to realize he’d spoken to her in Irish Gaelic. But as fear was replaced by anger, she came to her senses and answered him in the language of choice. She was amazed that under the circumstances she could recall the words at all. “Lig amach mé!”
He seemed stunned by her response and she wondered if she had misunderstood. Maybe he hadn’t spoken to her in Irish. She repeated just as forcefully in English, “I said, unhand me.”
The man’s grip tightened as his gaze slid over her. With his free hand he grabbed her chest and squeezed.
“What in the hell,” she cursed.
One dark brow shot up in surprise as if he’d never felt a boob before. Well, he wouldn’t have time to indulge in his sick fantasy. She sent a powerful blow to his jaw, knowing right where to hit. Her father had trained her well. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he lost consciousness.
To Buy Link at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Mist-Time-ebook/dp/B001C9N3CA/
Ella,
Thank you for letting me post a sneak peek!
My pleasure! Thank you for posting.
Thanks for the invite, Ella! Your excerpt was great!
Here’s a new one from my Civil War romance, Confederate Rose.
Alex watched Mrs. O’Reilly’s retreating back. She disappeared into the kitchen to look for a bottle of syrup. The dress enhanced her already pleasing appearance, although he preferred his women a bit rounder in the hips and bosom. His thoughts drifted to Annabelle. Hair the color of wheat, blue-green eyes, full bosom and hips accented by a tiny waist, Annabelle was the epitome of genteel womanhood in the South.
Growing up together, they became engaged before he’d gone north to further his education. But when he’d returned, rumors of war had started circulating. She’d called off their engagement when he’d refused to enlist in the Confederate Army. Called him an abolitionist and worse.
Although Annabelle had been adamant he fight for ‘the Cause’, would she have fought beside the men as Mrs. O’Reilly did? He couldn’t imagine it. Annabelle’s idea of patriotic duty was attending military balls and soirées, or teas with the ladies where they discussed what hardships their men endured or bemoaned the lack of male companionship. He couldn’t imagine her setting her dainty feet in an army camp.
Mrs. O’Reilly swept back into the room, interrupting his thoughts. She set a small glass bottle on the table. “‘Tis all I can find.”
Alex eyed the clear bottle half-filled with amber-colored syrup.
When he didn’t move, she said, “Eat. Ye’ll be needing yer strength.”
“Pardon me?” He reached for the bottle.
“Ye’ve not looked outside, I take it.”
“Outside?” He glanced at the gauze-covered window.
The sky appeared dark. After glancing at her, he rose to investigate. When he pulled back the curtain, the sight before him sent his stomach plummeting. Snow covered everything as far as he could see and continued to fall from the lead-colored sky with furious resolve. “This can’t be. I have to get out of here today.”
He thought of the dispatch in his pack. He had to get to the Federal camp five miles east of here. How could he do that now? Then there was the matter of Mrs. O’Reilly’s mailbag, still hidden in the stall with the horses.
He turned from the window.
She seemed to read the look on his face. “Ye’ll not be leaving here today.”
He pushed a hand through his hair. What was he to do now? He was trapped in this cabin in the middle of nowhere with a lovely Irish Rebel. Meanwhile, he had a Federal dispatch in his pack he’d be unable to deliver but would certainly incriminate him if it fell into Rebel hands.
The woman picked up her knife and fork but continued to look at him. She pointed to his plate. “You should eat. Ye’ll feel better.”
“I don’t think so.” He took the seat across from her. He stared at his meal, unable to summon back his appetite.
“Starving yerself won’t make it go away,” she said between bites.
“You’re right.” He picked up the utensils she’d set for him. “It does smell mighty good.”
“Go ahead,” she urged. “Fill yer stomach.”
When she smiled at him, all thoughts of the blizzard outside were forgotten. He lifted his fork and shoved a hunk of syrup-coated hoecake into his mouth. Chewing slowly, he savored the sweet, hot morsel and quickly shoved in another mouthful. He murmured in satisfaction. If nothing else, the woman could cook.
“When yer finished,” she said, “I’ll be cleaning up here, and you can be seeing to the horses.”
He nodded. Good, he didn’t want her near there. If she found the mailbag… They finished their meal in silence, then he trudged through the knee-deep snow to the stable.
1st place historical category of First Coast Romance Writers 2010 Beacon Contest for Published Authors!
2nd place historical category of 2010 New England Reader’s Choice Bean Pot Award!
Confederate Rose available for $2.99 at Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Confederate-Rose-Susan-Macatee/dp/1601545568/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_4
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/confederate-rose-susan-macatee/1100248420?ean=9781601545565&itm=3&usri=susan%2bmacatee
The Wild Rose Press http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=89_117&products_id=3672
and All Romance Ebooks http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-confederaterose-362961-158.html
Wonderful excerpt, Susan!
Great scene Ella! Thanks for inviting us to also post a scene. You organization and marketing skills amaze me!
Here is a scene from Shenandoah Nights, the first novel in my Winds of Change time-travel trilogy.
An unusual ache in his shoulder and the scent of flowers woke him in the early morning hours. Ben felt Rebecca’s presence even before he opened his eyes. Sometime, somehow, in the middle of the night they had rolled together with only the wheelbase separating them from the waist down. She rested her head on his shoulder as though she belonged there. He inhaled the scent of her hair, an intoxicating mix of floral smells. His hands twitched with desire. Dear Lord, save me from myself.
He could move, should move, but he didn’t want to wake her, didn’t want to shift her at all. Fact was, he liked her there. The nearness of her filled him with a longing he hadn’t experienced before. He lay there for nearly an hour listening to her breathe, trying to make out the features of her face in the dim, early morning light.
A strong breeze sent a shiver through her and had her reaching for a cover. She searched with her right hand, still sleeping, still unaware where she was. She unknowingly ran her hand over his shirt, down his chest. He sucked in his breath, tensing every muscle in his body.
He felt her stiffen, and then watched her eyes open slowly. He tried not to chuckle at her shocked expression, which immediately turned to anger.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, her indignant tone unmistakable even at hushed levels.
“I would think that was obvious, Madam. I have been waiting for you to awaken so I may have the use of my shoulder back.”
He was certain she was blushing. She opened her mouth then hesitated. He couldn’t help but smile.
“I . . . well . . . I must have rolled over in my sleep.”
“’Twould appear so. Were you comfortable?” he asked with laughter in his voice. He knew he was baiting her, but he was enjoying himself far too much to stop.
He watched her ponder his question. A furrow appeared in her brow, a spark flashed in her eyes. “You are a little lumpy.”
“Lumpy?” He stammered. “I have never been called lumpy in my life.”
He could have sworn she grinned before laying her head back down on his shoulder. When she ran her fingers over his white linen shirt, across his chest and down his stomach he had all he could to do to remain still. Every fiber in his being was screaming. The woman could not know what she was doing to him. Then she frowned, yes, frowned at him before replying: “Yup, definitely lumpy.”
She withdrew her hand and attempted to roll away. He captured her wrist and grinned at her sharp intake of breath.
http://www.amazon.com/Shenandoah-Nights-Lisa-Belcastro/dp/1602903786/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377538451&sr=8-1&keywords=lisa+belcastro
Thank you. I loved your excerpt!
Hi Ella!
Thanks for the chance to share! Here’s a brief excerpt from THE SHEIK RETOLD coming 9/13/13.
Book trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ky4_cEWZxsQ
BLURB:
A haughty young heiress for whom the world is a playground…A savage son of the Sahara who knows no law but his own…When pride and passion vie for supremacy, blistering desert days are nothing compared to sizzling Sahara nights… Pride and passion vie for supremacy in this steamy re-telling of E.M. Hull’s romance classic.
EXCERPT:
Restless, I moved about the tent, listlessly examining objects that I already knew by heart, and flirting over the pages of some French magazines. I should have been elated at his unexpected absence, yet in my perversity, I was strangely unstrung with anticipation of his return. Now the utter silence only oppressed me.
Where was Gaston? Even the servant’s company would be preferable to my own. I guessed he must have gone with his master or perhaps he was long retired. I went to the flap of the tent and gazed out into the night. The camp, large and spread out was covered mostly in a blanket of blackness, broken by the occasional glimmer of a sparking fire.
I had dreamt for years of this experience, of a month spent in the desert and now here I was. I had longed for adventure. It is what I had sought, so why could I not turn this tragedy to my advantage? I had food and shelter that was far superior to any I could have provided for myself. And I was surrounded by hundreds of armed men. Whether I viewed them as my captors or my protectors was only a matter of perception—a matter of choice.
I knew I was safe. I had seen the depths of deference, the authority of the Sheik’s command. Any man outside of himself who dared to touch me would suffer death. Of that I had no doubt. The only thing stopping me from enjoying my adventure in this vast oasis and my freedom in the Sheik’s camp, was my own desperate desire to cling to a state of chastity I truly cared nothing about. It was only my pride that stood in the way of my pleasure, and my refusal to allow him to take it from me.
I chewed my lip as I gazed up upon the stars glimmering in the heaven like countless brilliant diamonds shimmering against a backdrop of black velvet. I wondered if in the great scheme of things, my pride was a bit over-rated.
This entire evening I had bucked with resentment against the pretense that I was a willing guest here, but had I met this same Sheik in Biskrah, in more conventional circumstances, if I had only been properly introduced, would I not have willing, even gratefully accepted an invitation to his camp? Only a week ago I would have jumped at the chance. What now prevented me from embracing that role? From enjoying that status— for as long as I had planned? I smiled to myself. Yes, it was all just a matter of perception—except for the bartering of my body— the Sheik’s expectation in return for his hospitality.
My smiled dimmed.
I could enjoy my month of holiday as planned, as long as I would willing serve his needs—and all that implied— in his bed.
MORE INFO: http://www.victoriavane.com/historical-romances/the-sheik-retold-by-victoria-vane-e-m-hull/
Thanks for posting, Victoria!
Very well done, Victoria!! I’m looking forward to the release!
Oh, I love your excerpt and can’t wait for September 19th!
My excerpt is from my new novel, Lord Love a Duke. It’s with my editor right now. Thanks for letting me post this peek!
Juliet did what she always did when her emotions were in turmoil and she could not settle herself: she forgot her problems and her sorrows at the pianoforte. The house was finally quiet after a day beginning with waking in the duke’s chambers that progressed to a hastily announced betrothal followed by glares and whispered comments from some of the matrons, Viscount Melville, and the thwarted Lady Phillipa. Add to this the edict from her aunt that she required Juliet’s help picking strawberries in the morning, and of course no one else was found qualified to help in this endeavor save the duke. Juliet grimaced at the thought as she arranged her skirts on the playing bench. The music room was far enough removed from the guest chambers that she did not fear disturbing anyone. With all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, however, she could honestly say she had no care if others in the house found the comfort of sleep or not. She shut all the open room doors and muffled the instrument just the same, as much to keep the music in for her emotional release alone as to prevent waking any guests.
How could she fix a problem without apparent solution? How could she apologize when there exist no words strong enough to convey the depth of sorrow felt for her actions and the resultant consequences? She lightly ran her hands over the ivory keys, stroking their cool and comforting smoothness, and gently began to softly play a melancholic melody, Beethoven’s piano sonata 14, Quasi una Fantasia. She closed her eyes and let the notes swirl around her, the minor chords providing a fitting musical blanket that wrapped around her as if a tangible covering of despondency.
As she progressed into the second movement she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the somber timbre of the music and the despair of her situation. Her fingers stilled and she felt her shoulders shake as quiet sobs finally broke over the dam she had built to contain her emotions over the course of the day. She felt the hot tears spill over her lashes as she hung her head, her hands braced at her sides on the bench. She let the tears fall freely to her lap, heedless of the damage she might do to her striped burgundy and cream silk gown she still wore from supper. She prayed for a catharsis she knew would likely evade her.
“How has it come to this?” she whispered to the dark corners of the room, wiping her tears away with shaky hands. “What am I to do?”
“You are to marry me,” answered the duke quietly, slowly making his way across the room, emerging from the shadows near the door to the hall.
This is an excerpt from Fast Track to the Past, a YA time travel adventure romance in which the protagonist, Jillian, goes back to 1888 to solve a mystery and find her father. She has just escaped from a kidnapper.
Jillian didn’t know what river she’d come to, but it was huge. She scrambled down the embankment and headed for some vegetation she’d seen from the top of the bank.
As she reached her destination, two things happened. She saw the opening to a cave, and the sun slipped below the horizon.
She hesitated. Did wild animals live in the cave? Would she be putting her life in danger by entering?
Maybe, but to return to the road would be worse. Jillian didn’t know what the man had intended to do to her, or why he’d spared her life so far. But she couldn’t risk him finding her again.
She got down on her hands and knees, as the opening to the cave was small and low and partially obscured by branches of some kind. It wasn’t a tree, and she hoped it wouldn’t be another thorny bush.
“If only I had a flashlight,” she whispered, as she broke off a branch from the vegetation and crawled through the opening. She stopped just inside, not daring to risk falling into a hole or whatever.
There’d been the time right before her ninth birthday when she and her dad had gone spelunking, or whatever you call it. And it hadn’t been an unknown and dark place, but a well-known cave. The stalactites had been beautiful, some so long she’d had to duck.
Not every part of it had been beautiful, though, and she’d been so scared, but her dad had taken away the fear and made it fun.
Her eyes burned with tears as she remembered the many things she and her dad had done together.
But she didn’t want to take the time to think about that now. She wasn’t in that long-ago cave with her dad’s protection. Instead, she crouched in an unknown place, alone, scared, and desperate to find her way back to Jake and Samuel.
Holding the stick in front of her, she prodded the floor in an effort to make sure there wasn’t anything she could fall into. As hot as it had been outside, it was cool and damp in here. Jillian didn’t like the wet feeling; it was slimy, like she imagined crushed worms would be. Gross. Why was she thinking stuff like that?
She moved ahead, continually feeling around with the branch, going forward inches at a time. Here the ground was hard, but there were things on it, twigs and maybe sand, she hoped, not brave enough to imagine worse stuff. She stopped to rest, realizing she was still feeling the effects of the chloroform. Not only was she groggy, but her head felt as if hammers were beating at it, first one side, then the other.
Something brushed against her ankle. Furry. She choked back a scream, not daring to let it out in case her kidnapper had discovered her absence and was looking for her.
Amazon Link: http://amzn.com/1482672812
Joan K. Maze
From my first book, A Traitorous Heart, currently available on Amazon. First book of The Reluctant Lords Series…
“Have you heard from the physician yet?”
“Yes, my lord. He sent the lad back with word ten minutes ago. He will be at
least another half hour.”
“Damn,” he paused and rested his head against the hand tightly gripping the
door. “Send the lad for Lord Hawkescliffe. Tell him it is an emergency,” Derek
barked the order. “Give me the keys to the manacles,” he held out his hand and his
tone brooked no argument. The guard handed over the keys reluctantly and Derek
slammed the door in his face. He knew the man was only doing his job, but he had to
take his frustration out on someone.
He limped back over to the bed and released the prisoner from her
restraints. The chains dropped to the floor with a loud metallic clank. He sat and
stared at her, his thoughts chasing each other. How could it be? Everyone was
supposed to have perished, except the handful that had been severely
wounded. Nearly an entire village had been wiped out. There was a disturbance
outside the door before it flew open.“All right Blackburn, what was so damned important that it could not wait
until morning?” Hawkescliffe demanded as he strode into the room. Derek was at a
loss as to how much time had passed while he watched her and thought. The doctor
had not arrived yet, so surely not much time had passed. Derek shushed Hawkescliffe
when the woman winced. “Did you just ‘shush’ me?” he asked incredulously.
“As my friend, shut the hell up,” Derek whispered. “Follow me,” he led Gabe
to the fireplace.
“Well, what is it? What is so important that I had to leave my conference with
the Prime Minister?”
“This woman is not a traitor,” Derek spoke with conviction.
“What makes you so certain? Tell me you have not let an attractive woman
turn your head. You are a better man than that. This woman was found with
incriminating evidence on her person. Of course she is a traitor.”
“I swear to you she’s not.”
“Have you questioned her? Did she give you reason to believe that she isn’t?”
“No, I have not had the opportunity to question her.”
“Then give me one good reason why she is not, and,” he cut him off before he
spoke, “I assure you it had better be one bloody good reason.”
“Because she’s my wife, dammit!”
http://viewBook.at/ATraitorousHeartTheReluctantLords
Thank you for this opportunity, Ella!
Tammy Jo Burns
Great excerpt! I can’t wait to read it!
Hi, Stacy, thanks.
As usual, wonderful excerpt, Ella!
Nancy, thank you!
Great excerpt, Ella! 🙂
Thank you, Jakki!