I’m headed to the Romantic Times Convention in New Orleans. If you’re still around, I invite you to post the first page of your latest release, Work in Progress, or a book you just finished. Feel free to post media or buy links.
Here is mine from Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret,book # 5 in The Marriage Game which releases in August.
CHAPTER ONE
Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret
July 1816, St. Thomas, Danish West Indies
Miss Eugénie Villaret de Joyeuse followed Gunna, an old black slave, down a narrow back street lined with long houses in Crown Prince’s Quarter. Her maid, Marisole, stood watch as Eugénie and the woman entered the building.
“He be here, miss.”
A baby, not older than one year, sat in the corner of the room playing with a rag doll. His only clothing was a clout, which, by the strong scent of urine, needed to be changed.
She and Gunna and the boy were the only occupants of the cramped, dark room. She crouched down next to the child. “What happened to his mother?”
“Sold.”
Naturally; why did she even bother to ask? It was cruel to separate a mother and child, but there was no law against it here.
“When?”
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ellaquinnauthor
Ella Quinn ~ Author 
Intriguing, Ella.
Thank you, Jenn!
Hi Ella, thank you once more for a chance to share. I love the opening of yours, above. This is the start of Mariah’s Marriage
London 1822
Mariah Fox stabbed a long pin through her straw bonnet, attaching it to her upswept mass of ash-blonde hair. She tied the ribbons beneath her chin, drew back capable shoulders, and stepped into the street.
The city air, heavy with the rank smell of the Thames and the fumes of a nearby tanner’s yard, struck her in the face. She’d spent an hour teaching sixty urchins their letters, and their unwashed state was only just preferable to the smells on the street. Nonetheless, the class was the high point of Mariah’s week, and today one of the boys had recited his letters all the way through. “Watch yer feet there, Missy!” a youth shouted as he hefted a load of rags newly tumbled off his mate’s barrow. “Too dainty they are ter get into any ’orse muck.”
Mariah pulled back just in time to avoid a steaming mound of horse droppings and sent a grateful smile toward the lad. She pushed her fingers into the pocket of her pelisse and found a coin to spin in his direction.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Mariah,” Peter Sharp, her companion, said. “He’ll only spend it on ale.”
“I think he earned it, Peter. He may spend it as he chooses,” Mariah replied and wished again that her papa had less faith in this sallow complexioned man, now in middle-age. He seemed to make it his business to drive joy from the air. “Besides, I have to clean my own boots at present so I am grateful,” she added. “The latest boy has proved no better than any of the others your papa takes on?” Peter asked, and Mariah hated the smug smile that tugged around the corners of his mouth. How she wished she could say the boy was excellent beyond expectation.
“Alas, no. He ran off two nights ago with a flagon of cider and a side of ham. Cook is very cross.”
Mariah’s Marriage by Anne Stenhouse is available from amazon:
http://goo.gl/pASdjp and http://goo.gl/NxYxj5 and from most online stores such as omnilit: http://goo.gl/LJpY0n & Barnes & Noble http://goo.gl/cW71Lv
Interesting beginning Ella. I’ll have to check it out! Here’s mine from my latest release Love & Vengeance –
Rome 108 CE
A menacing growl followed by an earth-shattering scream bellowed above the rafters. The roar of the crowd snapped her out of the numbness. The applause echoed through the chambers as particles of sand rained through the wood slats in the ceiling.
She was filthy, covered in sweat, blood and grime. What damage could more dirt do? Toes on the dirt floor wiggled as she stared at them. Her hair hung around her face like a curtain, matted with dried blood. Inadvertently, she lifted her hand to tuck one side behind her ear but jerked to a halt, restrained by the iron cuffs around her wrists, bound together with a chain. The same chain connected to the metal collar around her neck. How had she forgotten its weight resting so heavily on her shoulders?
Another scream and the sound of flesh ripping, laughter and clapping became louder above. Fear snaked down her spine and she shuddered.
Gustina sat on the stone ledge, chained with the other miscreants, waiting to be forced up the ramp to the carnage above. If she could just return to the numbness again, where nothing mattered any more. The place she’d escaped to before she’d heard the animals attacking the condemned out there. But she couldn’t silence the roar of the crowds enjoying the executions as their noontime entertainment. Trembling, she pulled her sluggish legs up, wrapping her joined hands over them, and buried her face in her knees.
****
In the hallway outside the chamber, Marcus stood, flexing his muscles, his arm extended with the metal disk in his hand. It equaled the weight of his sword—a weapon he would not have until it was his turn in the arena. Besides, there was no room in the corridor to swing it, to loosen his arms in preparations for the next fight.
Christians and convicts. What a surly lot. But it was an easy way to feed the vast array of beasts the Empire kept to compete in the games. Did he ever feel sad for the poor souls about to perish by their claws? No. Nor did he mourn the loss of life at the end of his sword.
He was one of the rare attractions people paid to see. He was gladiator.
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1f1PV0m
Nook: http://bit.ly/1fbMvrR
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1jIyEXc
Gratitude 🙂
That’s a very moving excerpt, Ella. Thanks for the opportunity to post here — and see you at RT! Below is an excerpt from The Magic of his Touch, where Peony Whistleby is rolling naked in the dew on May Day morning, hopefully to bring her true love to her side:
“Get up! Get dressed!
Peony froze in mid roll. A strange man bounded toward her, gesturing, his voice low but urgent. She scrambled to her feet, a shriek catching in her throat.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, but he kept on coming. Her heart clambering into her gullet, she tried to cover herself with her hands.
“Who— What—” She couldn’t get a word out.
“Don’t stand there like an idiot, girl! I already know what you look like naked.”
A blush crowded up her neck and burned her cheeks. “Get your clothes on, and be quick about it.” With brisk, shooing motions he herded her toward the hawthorn where she’d left her shift and gown.
Anger swelled up, overcoming her fear. How dare he order her about? “Go away,” she said, hating how her voice trembled as she fled before him. “What are you doing here? You have no right.” A little way round the circle of meadow, she spied a horse, cropping the grass at the edge of the wood.
“You should be thankful I’m here,” he said, stopping several feet away when she reached the hawthorn. “I don’t know what foolishness you’re up to, but clearly your lover isn’t coming, and—”
“No, because you spoiled everything,” she said. Her hair had fallen out of its ribbon and stuck wetly to her face. She clawed it away, wanting to hit him. Her chance at finding love was gone. “Go away!”
He folded his arms and just stood there, scowling—and looking at her as if, underneath that frown, he was enjoying himself. “Not until you put your clothes on and be off home where you belong.”
Another flush overwhelmed her, this time of shame and misery, as she realized what he meant. He thought she’d come out here to tryst with some likely village lad, as if she were a scullery maid. And who was he, anyway? She’d never seen him before. He was dressed like a gentleman and spoke like one, too, but he didn’t belong here.
“Who gave you the right to order me about?” she demanded. “This is private land.”
His eyes widened. “You silly little fool, I’m trying to protect you. I traveled here with a friend. To him, a naked woman is a blatant invitation. You’re lucky it’s I who came upon you and not he.”
She grabbed her shift and turned it right side out. “Stop staring at me.”
“You’re a beautiful girl without any clothes on,” he said. “I wouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t stare.”
http://www.amazon.com/The-Magic-His-Touch-Mischief-ebook/dp/B00B355EK2/
Thank you Ella! Here is mine from The Garnet Dagger Book 1 Legends of Oblivion series. Which is still on sale for 99cents at Amazon and Kobo (which could change at any moment because the sale was over last Monday, but neither of these ebook retailers have changed it yet – so more savings for readers 🙂
I hated to wake Celeste, but we needed to keep moving.
Outside the cave, I leaned in. “Celeste?”
She didn’t answer me.
With a frown, I crawled into the cave. She lay on her side, her breathing even.
I brushed back a leaf stuck in her blond hair. My fingers glided across her brow and a shock radiated through me.
Perhaps, because I was already full from my curse, I could touch her? Cautious, I leaned over her. My lips tingled before they even brushed hers.
She sighed against my mouth, and kissed me back.
Her mouth opened like a blossom. Gingerly, my tongue touched hers. Surely nectar was not as sweet as this. Her arms rose, bringing me closer. I fell across her, my body shivering from my power.
Damn my curse. I leapt off her and banged my head against the cave’s ceiling.
She stared up at me as if to focus. “Brock?”
“Aye,” I replied and backed away, ashamed of what I’d done. Prophecy demanded I end her life. What was I doing kissing her?
Amazon Buy Link: http://goo.gl/rMEJ59
Thank you! Great openings! From Ride A Falling Star:
“This is like a bad movie,” the cowboy said. “Go out for a few drinks with friends, and what do you know…a pretty girl hops in your truck…then you’re on the run…hellfire.”
“I’m sorry I got you involved.” Ava wanted to crawl under the seat and stay there. This guy didn’t deserve any of this. “Let’s find a police station and you can go about your business.”
“It won’t be that simple,” he said. “He shot at you, hit my truck. That makes me a witness. Besides, I can’t just throw you out at the front door and leave you there.”
“I’m sorry,” Ava repeated.
“Yeah, me too. My backers aren’t going to like this one bit.”
“You’re an athlete?” She glanced at him again. A cowboy hat. Jeans. Boots. The arm of his right sleeve covered with sponsor patches. A big belt buckle shining under the street lights. It dawned on her he’d probably been in town with the National Finals Rodeo. “A rodeo cowboy?”
“I ride saddle broncs.”
“Wow.” She was suitably impressed. Rodeo cowboys came into the Blue Valentine every December during the two weeks of the National Finals Rodeo. Some of the girls talked about how sexy some of the bull riders were, but Ava had never dated a cowboy.
“You see that guy?” The cowboy’s terse question brought her back to the present.
A quick glance over her shoulder showed nothing. “No. Look, I’m close to my house. Why don’t you take me there? I’ll call the police from home.”
“Better idea. Dial 911 and have them meet us there.”
She’d been so rattled, the thought of dialing 911 hadn’t even occurred to her. “Super plan.”
His sardonic grin flashed in the dark. “I have them from time to time.”
In spite of her fear, she smiled tremulously. “Good to know.”
Great beginnings everyone! I’ve really enjoyed reading them. Here’s mine from my WIP:
Charleston, March, 1780
The sound of pounding hooves came closer. The black muzzle of a horse appeared to her right. He can’t catch her. Abigail leaned even further over her mount’s neck, cursing the stays that made the motion difficult. The animal responded and surged ahead of her pursuer.
“I will catch you,” rang through the air, only to be carried quickly away as she rounded a corner in the trail through the woods. Diomede’s flanks were wet with perspiration and her breathing heavy, steaming in the chill air. Stretching forth her neck even more she fairly flew over the ground, dodging trees so closely Abigail’s skirts tore on the bark as she raced forward, forcing the woman to keep her head below her horse’s lest a low-hanging branch decapitate her.
The path wound on and her pursuer never let up. A muddy shortcut veered off, tempting and treacherous, but Abigail wound not risk either injury to Diomede or capture. The lowlands of South Carolina were filled with marshes that could snap an ankle with a misstep, and many a man and beast fell victim to the quagmires.
A tree, fallen since she last rode this way, blocked the way. Diomede might be fast, but she wasn’t big enough to jump it. With the lightest touch of the reins she risked a side trail that led to a low point, and heard a triumphant laugh from behind. With a half-step and bunched muscles they went over the log, back hooves scraping bark, but the other rider’s horse was able to take the tree straight on and they now were neck and neck.
Where the horse was dark the rider was light. Blond hair slipped from a leather thong; only the look of concentration and gloating smile marred the view beside her. She couldn’t let him catch her.
Crying to the steed, begging for even more speed, she leapt over the bushes and back to the course. “I’ve got you now,” the other rider called as he made to grab for the reins.
Awesome!
Great excerpts, ladies. Here is another snippet from THE PRICE OF A GENTLEMAN
“Any man is capable of murder, given the proper provocation.” She raised her head in a defiance she didn’t feel. “And I may not be able to avoid Lord Henley Snowe should things go as he seems to think they will.”
“Ah! So you think Ashworth did it.”
“No, of course I don’t, but we both know how it looks. I know he didn’t do it.” To her shame the heat of a fierce blush warmed her skin. “Do you think he did it?”
The earl regarded her levelly and smiled. “My cousin didn’t murder your mistress, Miss Warren. His mother is the most provoking creature God ever blew breath into and if Ash hasn’t killed her, he cannot be provoked to murder.”
Sarafina smiled in spite of herself. “Lord Cavendish, really.”
He released her hands and strolled to the sideboard that held an enticing array of brandies, wines and cordials. He dashed a portion of French brandy into a snifter and sipped it slowly. “Someone, however, did kill her, most brutally. And if you think that person has any reason to come after you I suggest you take care to protect yourself, not just from the murderer, but from Henley Snowe’s Bow Street hire as well.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just how long were you listening before you came in?”
He laughed. “I wasn’t actually. I asked the servants. They know everything.” Lord Cavendish returned the snifter to the sideboard and bowed deeply to her. “I’m off to plead Ashworth’s case to some tedious official who won’t listen. You don’t happen to have any money lying around that I might use by way of persuasion do you, my dear?”
“I’m merely the companion, my lord, and poor as a church mouse.”
“Pity,” he replied. “I shall simply have to use my charm and good looks. This business of not allowing women to be clerks and magistrates is dashed annoying to someone with my limited means.”