I know, I missed last week and I’m sorry. To make it up to you, I’m inviting you to post fifteen paragraphs of whatever you like, as well as your buy links, and social media information. Please keep it PG-13.
Here is mine from The Temptation of Lady Serena which releases on January 2, 2014.
The Temptation of Lady Serena
Shamir’s hooves clattered on the brick of the stable yard. Serena slid down from her horse and, hoping to avoid her aunt, hurried to a door on the side of the house. Serena had not yet found a way to explain to her aunt how riding calmed her fears so that she would understand.
“Serena,” Aunt Catherine called from the breakfast room.
Serena jumped. Damn, caught again. “Yes, Aunt Catherine?”
“Come here, my dear.”
She was certain her aunt planned, once again, to kindly explain why Serena could not ride alone. Though, after seeing the man on horseback this morning, she acknowledged her aunt might be right.
Well, there was no avoiding it. Serena straightened her shoulders and entered the breakfast room braced for a reprimand.
Her jaw dropped.
Two very fashionable couples were with her aunt—one older, about her aunt’s age, the other couple near her age. The men wore close-fitting dark coats and beautifully arranged cravats. They and the younger woman, shorter than Serena by a few inches, rose. Her gown was of a light brown cashmere, trimmed with dark brown ribbon, and tied under her bosom with a darker brown and gold twisted cord.
Serena shut her mouth and stood, rooted in place. The younger woman approached, smiling and holding out her hands. Serena, in her dull russet riding habit, felt like a duck to this lady’s swan.
“I am so happy to finally meet you,” the woman said. “I’m your cousin Phoebe. May I call you Serena? It is such a lovely name. We are here to help you make your debut.”
When Phoebe embraced Serena warmly, she awkwardly returned the gesture. Serena blinked back tears and her tension seeped out as Phoebe then led the way to the table.
“You’re surprised, I’m sure,” Phoebe said, in a warm voice. “I’ve just been told your aunt did not inform you we were coming.”
Serena glanced toward her aunt, who immediately introduced the others present. “Serena, do you remember your uncle Henry and his wife, Ester? Phoebe is their niece. Her husband is Marcus, Earl of Evesham.”
The tall dark-haired man inclined his head.
“Your uncle Henry has been very interested to hear of you over the years and has invited us to stay at St. Eth House for the Season.” Aunt Catherine smiled. “There is no one more able to help you through your Season.”
Buy Links: Kensington ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon US ~ Amazon Canada ~ Amazon FR ~ Amazon IT ~ Barnes & Nobel ~ iTunes
ellaquinnauthor
Ella Quinn ~ Author 
Reblogged this on GovernessInRed Book Reviews.
Thank you for reblogging!!
Reblogged this on bookworm2bookworm's Blog and commented:
Happy Monday Morning Bookworms!
We’ve had some snow here in Chicago last night and it looked real nice out….How’s the weather where you are? I’m not sure why, but I always need some snow to get me in the mood for Christmas time. I think I’d have a hard time getting in the mood if I were living in Florida.
I think by now you’ve caught to my ‘pattern’ of ‘reblogging’ for the past couple of days, and the reason for it is THE SEASON!
Last month’s celebration was a HUGE hit, and I’m over the moon as to how many authors, readers, followers and bloggers have been supportive, but Dudes! It was grueling and I’m taking a few days of hiatus to get ready for Christmas, read some Christmas stories and bring you Giveaways of some of those as well!.
And speaking of Giveaways, I’ve yet to pick the winners and inform the authors too. Please be patient with me, k? THANKS!
In the meantime, I’m reading this book as we speak, and the author, Ella Quinn had posted today a wonderful excerpt of it, so…grab a beverage of your choice [I’m having Mastro Lorenco Espresso by Tassimo with some cinnamon sprinkled on top and it’s heavenly!], pull up the lap top, desk top or your phone, and enjoy the excerpt!
HUGS!
Mel
Melanie, thank you so much for reblogging and your great support!
You bet!
HUGS!
Mel
What fun to see Phoebe again in your excerpt, Ella!
Here is an excerpt from my January novella, Under a New Year’s Enchantment. It’s the sequel to Under a Christmas Spell. The asterisks are there to show italics, because I don’t know how to do it otherwise.
Setup: Theodora has sneaked out from the Christmas house party at night to look at the Roman ruins, because her old friend and host, Lord Westerly, has become withdrawn and unfriendly, and wants people to stay away.
~~~
Theodora made her way through the overgrown sanctuary and across a strip of flagstones to the site of the old refectory. A pit the size of a small bedchamber, but only a few feet deep, yawned near the tumbledown stone walls. A makeshift canopy covered it to keep out the rain. She jumped into the pit and made her way carefully around the picks, shovels and trowels, past the brazier and a couple of chairs to where several pillars had been unearthed.
She squatted, aiming the beam of the lantern. She knew what the pillars were. She’d seen a drawing in one of Papa’s books. They were the remains of a hypocaust, which—
“What the devil are you doing here?” said a voice of pure rage.
Theodora started violently, dropping the lantern. It hit the ground with a clatter. The glass broke and the candle went out, plunging her into darkness. She uttered a mew of distress.
“It serves you right.” It was Lord Westerly speaking, she realized. “I don’t intend to wed you or any of the others, as I trust I’ve made plain by now.”
She stood, disbelieving, staring into the blackness. He thought she’d come out here to trap him!
“Even if I did, this sort of ploy wouldn’t work,” he said. “I won’t be forced into marriage.”
Mortification washed through her. As if she would! Much as she liked Garrick, she wasn’t one of those ninnies his aunts had invited in the hope that he would fall in love with them. She had come, as she did every year, to help out as a sort of secondary hostess. She’d known Garrick Westerly for years. She’d followed him about when she’d been ten years old to his fourteen. She’d been desperately in love with him at fifteen. She’d prayed for him when he was away at war, and she’d looked forward to seeing him again.
He wasn’t the same man anymore. He had returned hard, bitter and frequently rude.
“Let this be a lesson to you, before you ruin all your chances,” Lord Westerly drawled. “Gentlemen use some rather unpleasant words to describe the sort of woman who chases a man. I assure you, nobody wants one of those as his wife.”
Shaking with anger now, Theodora made her way slowly away from his voice and toward the edge of the pit. It was all she could do not to shriek at him. **I already did that, remember? I wouldn’t chase you now if you were the last man alive.**
Theodora’s half boot encountered a trowel. She muffled a curse and bent to pick it up. **And I’ll certainly never use you as a daydream lover again.**
She hurled the trowel in the direction from which his voice had come. It met something with a clang—fortunately not Garrick’s head, which wasn’t made of metal, although evidently he had returned from the war about as intelligent as a lump of lead.
“You disgust me,” she said. She picked up her skirts and stormed away without another word.
~~~
Here’s a buy link for pre-order: http://tinyurl.com/UANYE
Oooh, Barbara, that’s a wonderful excerpt. I can’t wait for the release!
Great excerpts. I don’t have 15 PG paragraphs in a row 🙂
Tweeted.
LOL, Daryl. I had that problem with my last novella. 😉
LOL, You could just post what you do have, Daryl!
Serena is my fav you’ve written thus far.
So here’s an excerpt for my debut historical series coming this year. It’s set in late Victorian. Vic is a young woman who has chosen to live as a man so she can do interesting things. She is hired by the famous sleuth Xavier Thorn who is reported to be the ‘real’ Sherlock Holmes.
Vic awoke in her bed, fully dressed, and most confused. The last she remembered was Xavier holding her in his arms and magically turning Aunt Maddy’s death from one of pointless horror to one of value and honor. She sat up and frowned. She’d been foolish to allow Xavier to hold her, but at the time, she hadn’t exactly been thinking about keeping her secret. She’d been drowning in anguish, and Xavier’s arms had pulled her to safety.
She took in a deep breath and faced the reality of the situation. She held a strong attraction to Xavier Thorn. Once before, she had felt something for a man. During her first year at Oxford, she developed tender feelings for a young man who had cared for her in return. He did not know her secret and she dared not risk his discovery of the truth. Thus, Vic had not allowed herself to succumb to physical affection then and nor would she now. She hoped this time would not be so painful for the man involved. She still remembered the young man’s heartbreak with heavy guilt.
She sighed. This time would be different. Xavier’s heart appeared well armored. She frowned as she remembered the tenderness of his embrace. Even if he succumbed, she could use the excuse of being his employee, if the more obvious objection of her being a man was insufficient.
(Yeah, like that’s going to work.) Hope you enjoyed.
Heh. What fun!
This sounds really interesting, Liza!! Thanks for posting!
Thank you Ella. Great excerpts everyone.
Here’s mine from Viking Fire, Historical Romance.
“The bedchambers are upstairs.”
“Lead the way, then, my lady.” He grinned. His smile did not falter her resolve to be rid of him; instead, she stomped each foot on the stone steps.
“Our room.” She waved her hand as she stood at the threshold.
He moved passed her and into the room. “Tis the first you admit we marry.”
“No. I said no such—”
He pulled her in his embrace and she went rigid. She opened her mouth to scream, but as she drew a breath, his lips crushed hers. Tingles of warmth crept from inside her to the tips of her toes. Her mind raced, demanding she be free, while her traitorous body melted in his arms. His kiss became gentle and sparked a craving inside her for more. His mouth opened, offering her to taste secrets. She slackened against him as his tongue played across her lips, stroking, and numbing her thoughts. He did not force his way further, but ended the kiss with her lips yearning for his. Then he stepped back.
“Your lips and eyes speak of your love.” He beamed at her frown. “Now I am sure of your passion for me.”
“No.” That was enough! He had overstepped his bounds with his prideful arrogant assumptions. “You are mistaken; I wish to never marry you.” She would not fall in love with him. No matter his handsome face. She must not allow herself to acknowledge that she liked it when he kissed her. She would never be free if he became the laird over her.
“Aye, your kiss spoke more than you know.” He chuckled and held her hand kissing her palm. “In time the rest of you will agree as well.”
http://www.amazon.com/Viking-Crimson-Romance-Andrea-Cooper-ebook/dp/B00DV0XJ9U/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386612876&sr=8-1&keywords=viking+fire
Cool! Okay, as calm as I could make it, from Love & Vengeance, from my series Gladiators, to be released April 2014
Gustina’s back ached, scrunched against the wall. The small room reeked of dirt and male. Aside from the narrow wood-framed cot, there stood a small table and from the ceiling, a round oil lamp. Stone floor, solid cemented walls with a wood door and above it, a narrow window, covered with metal lattice. Just the perfect hole for a gladiator. A gladiator who saved her from death. Who claimed her. She shivered at the realization.
Now the goliath was awake, sitting and staring at her, like a little boy whose dog ran away. And she was the dog. As he stretched, flexing his shoulders and back, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked like Hercules or one of the gods, Apollo perhaps.
His black hair was short and mussed with sleep. The sunlight highlighted his angular cheekbones and square jaw. His nose had a bump, as if broken on several occasions. He had a thick neck, broad shoulders, defined by muscles and tendons, rolling with each move. His bare chest and abs displayed corded lines, defined by years of physical labor, tapering to a narrow waist. As he cocked his head, the crack in his neck echoed loudly in the room.
This was a man, a gladiator, considered a champion by this house and most of Rome. Oh yes, she had heard of him and several others. Been in the market with her Dominia and saw the trinkets that were for sale – pictures of him and others on plaques, adornments for sale, supposedly dipped in their blood and sweat, sold to give good luck and many more things.
He watched her, his gaze intense. She felt the pressure on her body but his eyes were dark, foreboding. Then he stood. The coarse blanket fell to the pallet, exposing his nude body. He was a god. She couldn’t shake her vision from him at first. Muscled thighs and calves flexed as he came upright and his arousal obvious. Desire filled her and she swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to regain control over her sense. When his lips curved wickedly, anger flared through her. How dare he enjoy her attraction to his body! She whipped her head toward the door and stood.
She stepped over to the transom, looking upward into the warmth of the incoming rays.
*
Marcus’ smile remained, pleased at her flush when she saw him naked. He partly expected her quick denial of her reaction but why he wasn’t sure. Just as he didn’t remember how he’d gotten into his bed nor when he removed his subligaculum. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he studied her as he reached for the cloth and wrapped it around his waist, binding the ends through his legs over the front.
She looked at him. Her fingers made a movement at her forehead and lowered as she closed her eyes and bent her head. Praying like those pathetic creatures… gods, she was a Christian. The idea irritated him. Last thing he wanted to do was to put up with her ramblings like those others he heard spouting in the market as they got closer to the Colosseum.
With a disgusted breath, he grabbed the batting and wound it around his calf. “What are you doing?”
He saw her gulp. Damn, the arch in her slender neck, the movement of her throat, sent desire coiling down his spine. Violently, he pulled the ties to the leather casing over the batting. Last thing he needed was a Christian. Jupiter laughed at his arrogance.
She turned her head, and her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Blue. Crystal and sharp. Damn, he wondered how they’d look satiated by his cock.
“I pray to the gods, seeking their guidance.”
He scoffed. “Do they answer you?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Perhaps, if I wasn’t interrupted.”
He chuckled as he tied the second legging on. Outside, the loud snap of a whip filled the air.
“Gladiators!”
Thank you!
Great excerpt, Gina!!
Loving these excerpts!!
Thank you, Nancy!!
At the beginning of Advent I started off an advent calendar, every day adding a bit more to the story of Daniel’s and Rebecca’s first Christmas together. Daniel and Rebecca are the hero and heroine of my debut regency romance “Saved by a Rake.” This excerpt comes from day three of the advent calendar.
It can be found here: advientos.com/destinatarios-publico.php?codigo=11604-1433
There was a thud and the carriage started to lean over to one side. Daniel was pushed against Rebecca as the whole structure toppled. Snow seemed to come up to meet the windows. Daniel was thrown on top of his wife. She made a little “oof” sound as they landed on their sides. All he could see out the opposite window was a grey ominous looking sky.
****
Daniel shook his head and grabbed hold of something to pull himself upright. The lack of noise from Rebecca, whom he had to be crushing worried him. Moving gingerly, he managed to right himself, being careful not to bang his head on the window and door which were now the top of the coach. He grabbed the handle of the door, using all his strength to flip the door all the way over so it landed against the outside body of the carriage. A little more light seeped into the carriage and Daniel could see the crumpled heap that was Rebecca, motionless and pale.
God, please don’t let her be dead.
He kneeled down as best he could around her body and pressed two fingers to her neck. The strong beat of her pulse made him groan with relief. He looked around, trying to assess the situation and work out how to get Rebecca out of the carriage. It would not be easy. She may be light but trying to get out himself was going to be a great enough task.
“M’ lord!” It was McGuire, the coachman.
“McGuire. Come and help. My wife is injured.”
The ruddy face of the coachman appeared at the door, his white hair plastered to his head by the still falling snow. Daniel presumed his hat had been knocked off when the carriage toppled over. At least he was all right.
“How did you manage to survive?” he asked the servant.
“When we started to topple and I knew no amount of trying to steer the horses was going to help, I just threw myself off the top, my lord. The snow broke my fall. Not that I was thinking on it at the time.”
“No, I suppose not. I’m going to have to hand Lady Ramsey out to you. She’s unconscious.”
“Aye, my lord.”
It was his only option and Rebecca was safe with McGuire.
Daniel lifted Rebecca gently, noting the discolouration of her cheek and the awkward position of her arm. She may very well have broken something and must have some kind of head injury. He took her under the shoulders and lifted her high above his head. McGuire’s hands were there, just under his.
“I have her, my lord.”
The gentleman and servant worked together, easing her ladyship out of the carriage until Daniel had satisfied himself that she was safe. He then put one hand on either side of the door and pulled himself up. It took a great feat of strength to pull his whole body until his chest was level with the door. He scrabbled around with his legs for some kind of foot hold but there was none. Brute strength would have to suffice. Gritting his teeth he roared as he pulled himself high enough to kick his legs out. The whole carriage wobbled and creaked, but the sight of Rebecca in a cradle hold, in the arms of his coachman was enough incentive to finish the job. He scraped his hip on the side of the carriage as he slid in a rather ungainly manner onto the snow. Then he rushed over to the coachman and his unconscious wife.
“She’s not stirring,” he growled.
“No, m’ lord. We need to get her indoors or she will catch a chill.”
“How far is it until the next inn?”
“Four miles or so. But, umm…”
“But what?”
McGuire nodded to the front of the wreckage. Of the four horses that had pulled the carriage along, only one remained, lying on its side, whinnying pitifully.
“Have you got a pistol, my lord?”
The coach man looked gravely between the beast and his master.
“In my trunk.”
“I will sort it. Take Lady Ramsey to a safe place. You cannot see it now but I know this road well and there is a farmhouse just over that field. Follow the edge of the field and you shall surely come upon it. It is maybe half a mile.”