It’s been awhile. On the other hand, it’s hard to post when one doesn’t have an internet connection.
Let’s have a free for all. Post anything you like from a book you’ve already released, or are about to release. If you’re not published, post an excerpt of what you are querying or working on. Buy links and social media links are welcome and encouraged.
Here is mine from A Kiss for Lady Mary which releases on May 26th!
Kit looked out the window as Mary and the rest of the ladies returned. Her chin had a mulish cast, and he wished he knew what the others had said to her.
“Have you told her how lovely you think she is?” Marcus asked as he glanced out the window.
Kit dragged his gaze from her. “That would be forward.”
“Good God, man.” Huntley dropped his head into his hands. “Every woman likes to be complimented.”
That wasn’t fair. Kit did flatter her. He sniffed. “I do. I tell her what an excellent job she’s done with Rose Hill.”
“We could just take him out and shoot him now,” Rutherford said to no one in particular. “It would put him out of his misery and ours.”
“It’s a good thing”—Marcus gave a rueful smile—“you have us here to help you.”
Huntley refilled Kit’s glass. “When being courted, a lady wants to be told she is beautiful and desirable, not that she is a good land steward.”
“They also need to be kissed.” Rutherford shook his head in disgust when Kit scowled. “I think you’re making a mistake. The normal rules of polite behavior do not apply to courting, but if you’re not going to kiss her, then you must figure out some way to be more attentive. She probably doesn’t realize you’re even interested in her.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss Mary. Her lips drew him like a siren’s call, but he’d made a habit of correct behavior, and his friends’ advice went against everything he considered honorable. On the other hand, he was becoming desperate, and they could be right. What if he had given her the wrong idea?
“Very well.” Kit took a swallow of the sherry. “I will do as you suggest. If she slaps me, I’ll blame it on you.”
“Here they come.” Huntley grabbed the tumbler from Kit’s hand. “Now tell her how much the fresh air agrees with her. That she has roses in her cheeks or something like that.”
The door opened and the ladies strolled in, all of them but Mary with broad smiles for their men. Kit moved toward her, took her hand, and gave her his most charming smile. “How lovely you look. The fresh air agrees with you.”
God, he sounded like an idiot.
Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “Thank you.”
Well, perhaps not so much of an idiot. She seemed to enjoy the accolade, and she hadn’t even looked as if she wanted to hit him. This wasn’t so bad after all.
Buy Links: Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ B&N ~ Apple
Now it’s your turn!!
Thanks, Ella, Here’s a short excerpt from my Daisy’s Dilemma which is currently on pre-order from many online stores.
Daisy’s Dilemma by Anne Stenhouse 16th June from MuseItUp
“You are asking me to marry you?” Daisy addressed the man kneeling in front of her. She continued to be surprised. She was a tiny bit relieved. She was, unexpectedly, disappointed.
Reuben!
Emotions tumbled around in her head as unwelcome as the disordered digestion which had laid her low for nearly five days. She didn’t find herself in the best fettle for dealing with marriage proposals.
John Brent raised his head from the kissing of her fingers and smiled. Daisy sighed. There was no doubt but John’s smile threatened to turn her recovering insides to mush all over again. The cool turquoise of his eyes displaced the memory of Reuben’s dark ones snapping with angry amber chips. What right had Reuben to be angry with her, she wondered, not for the first time since their encounter in the breakfast parlour.
“Yes, my beloved Daisy. I am asking for your hand.” John stood, bringing her whole attention back to him. Daisy’s gaze followed his rise. His was such a comfortably rounded figure she sometimes forgot how very tall he was. “Isn’t this what we have both wished for?”
amazon US http://goo.gl/DMUXzK UK http://goo.gl/iMFFVu MIU https://goo.gl/uh0kUT
Yay! So glad to have this back, Ella! Great excerpt!
Mine is from my soon to be released Georgian romance, Only Marriage Will Do, coming June 9th.
At the touch of his fingers on her cheek, Juliet lost her battle with the tears. She had sworn not to shed a single one over him, but now they flooded her face as the ache in her chest reached a terrible crescendo.
“Juliet, my dear.”
As the first sob tore from her throat, he scooped her up, bore her over to the parlor’s sofa, and settled her in his lap. “Juliet, do not cry, my love. You break my heart.”
He pressed her head to his chest, heedless of the torrent that soaked into his jacket.
She could not stop, however. The misery at what she intended to do overwhelmed her. She must send him away, she must.
Her cries intensified, banishment from Amiable a sentence too terrible to contemplate. The pain cut so deep for a brief moment she wished to die just to escape it. Finally, she managed to stem the tide to a trickle. Soul-wrenching grief gave way to bleak despair. She lay exhausted on his broad chest, too tired now to even move her head.
“My dear,” he spoke quietly into her ear. “What has happened to make you so unhappy?”
She struggled up, trying to catch her breath. She risked a glance at him and wished she hadn’t. Tears threatened again. “I…I c-came to tell you I no longer r-require your services as escort, Captain Dawson.” There. She had said it. “You may return to London on the morrow, sir.”
“I see.” He held her steady with one hand while the other pushed back a stray wisp of hair straggling from her coiffure. “That would be a most prudent move.” He captured another escaping strand and stroked it into place behind her ear, then wiped her tears away with his thumb.
Could he not see her misery? Would he add to it with his kindness? Such attentions made it almost impossible to continue with her resolve.
“However, I do not think I will go, my lady, if it is all the same to you.”
She fought to keep her composure. “I, however, no longer require your escort, sir. I will journey on alone.”
Amiable smiled patiently but shook his head. “I fear not, my dear.”
“I will.” She tried to pull away from his grasp but he held her still.
“Most definitely not.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, urging her face closer to his.
“Wh—what are you doing, Captain Dawson?” His blue eyes were her whole world.
“Bowing to the inevitable, my love.” Then his mouth met hers.
PRE-ORDER LINKS
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Only-Marriage-Will-Pleasure-House-ebook/dp/B00ONTR82M/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1427555594&sr=1-1&keywords=Only+Marriage+Will+Do
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/only-marriage-will-do-jenna-jaxon/1120611643?ean=9781616506186
Lovely, Ella. Sticking with the hero and his friends theme, here’s an excerpt from my WIP (as yet untitled):
After a couple of hours spent scrutinizing the accounts for his various estates, Cranny welcomed the knock on his study door. “Come.” He looked up from the papers strewn across his desk, and would have sworn his imperturbable butler was… agitated.
“You have visitors, Your Grace. The Earl of Woodford and the Marquess of Hexelby.”
Grinning, his butler’s agitation forgotten, Cranny jumped to his feet. “Well, what are you waiting for, my good man? Send them in.”
Before Benjamin could obey, Woody and Hex pushed past the butler and strode into the room, greatcoats swirling about their legs, their hair less than impeccably groomed and their countenances positively thunderous.
“Is it true?” Woody demanded without preamble.
Cranny blinked. “What?”
“That you have been shot,” said Hex with a degree of ferocity Cranny had never witnessed in the man before.
“Well, yes—”
“Name the cur and he will have his just reward,” said Woody.
“A lead ball,” said Hex without hesitation, his tone even grimmer than his countenance.
“No, too quick,” said Woody.
“Too true. What do you suggest?” Hex asked the earl.
Cranny mustered his scattered wits. “Do stop acting like cuckolds, you dolts! God’s teeth. Can you not see that I am standing before you, very much alive and well?” Obviously not, for both his friends now pinned him with a fiercely scowling scrutiny.
Hex spoke first. “You confirmed you were shot.”
It sounded like an accusation. “In the leg,” said Cranny.
“It matters not whether it was your leg or your heart,” Woody said grimly.
“So name the cur,” said Hex. The tone sounded very much like a snarl.
Woody’s glower deepened alarmingly. “And his days shall be numbered too few to count on even one finger.”
His friends exchanged a swift glance, but when they simultaneously produced pistols from their coat pockets, Cranny jumped back a pace or two. In other circumstances his companions would have had a hearty laugh, but their countenances remained fiercely intent. “By God. You truly mean to kill my assailant.”
“Slowly,” said Woody with immense relish.
“Excruciatingly painfully,” Hex elaborated with considerable feeling.
Cranny groped his way back to his chair, his brain working overtime while he searched their faces for some sign of trickery—Woody was certainly not above such a prank—but they were in deadly earnest. Both of them. Before he could utter another word, or even fall into his chair—and he very much wished to do so—the door burst open.
Fauston exploded into the room, slamming the door behind him. His countenance was pale and etched in fury.
“Faust! Do come in,” Cranny cheerfully greeted him, then with immense feeling: “Please tell me Have-A-Chat is not behind you.”
“It was Havilah?” Hex and Woody demanded in unison.
“No!”
“Then who?” thundered Faust. “I will tear the unspeakable rotter apart with my bare hands!”
“You mean you do not have a pistol on you?” Cranny issued the taunt before he could think better of it.
“Of course I am armed.” Faust whipped a pistol from his greatcoat. “It is also primed and loaded and ready to be put to good use.”
“Stand in line, Fauston,” said Woody.
Hex stepped forward. “Come now,” he said, his voice finally reflecting a little of his usual calm. “We are friends, and there are now four of us if we include Cranny.” He visibly brightened. “We can form a firing squad!”
Groaning, Cranny dropped into his chair. While his friends enthusiastically discussed the merits of a firing squad, he propped his elbows on his desk and cradled his head in his hands. Had he not always known Plumpy Plumpton would be TROUBLE?
A commotion started outside. Have-A-Chat, no doubt. As if he did not have enough stupidity crowding his study. Resigned to dealing with more idiocy, Cranny focused on the door, certain it would burst open at any second.
Ignoring Ellie’s plea to not interfere in the affairs of gentlemen, armed or otherwise, Lucy stormed toward the study. Poor Benjamin had seemed quite overset when telling them of the gun wielding gentlemen in The Peacock’s study—no doubt because he liked his employer.
She did not.
Without pausing to knock, she threw the study door open. “I will shoot the man who deprives me of the pleasure of shooting… him!” And just in case the armed intruders were in need of greater clarity, she stabbed her index finger in The Peacock’s direction.
The Peacock shot to his feet, and the three towering men in voluminous black greatcoats swiveled to face her. She raked their astonished faces, narrowing her eyes as the first signs of revoltingly superior masculine amusement leeched into their too handsome countenances.
“Gentlemen,” said The Peacock into the ensuing silence. “Permit me to present my ward, Lady Lucinda Plumpton.” He drew an audible breath. “It was she who put a ball in my leg, so be my guest.” He indicated her with a vague little flap of his hand. “Shoot her.”
Great excerpt Ella. Here is a short one from my children´s novel Amanda in Alberta – The Writing on the Stone.
The officer shook his head and turned to the girls. “I’m Constable Rod Turner of the Drumheller RCMP. Are you enjoying your visit to the Hoodoos?”
“Oh, yes,” they said in unison.
“Is this your first time to see these crazy rocks?”
“I’ve been here before but it’s the first time for my friend, Leah. She’s visiting from England.”
Leah grinned from ear to ear. “Are you really a- a Mountie? I thought you would look different though.”
“I guess you expected the Red Serge and flat-brimmed Stetson. We only wear those for ceremonies, in parades and in the Musical Ride. Oh, and when we have our pictures taken for postcards.” The young officer winked causing Leah to turn a scarlet red. “You be careful now. These badlands are not always safe. You should stay on the pathways. By the way, we’re on the look out for some artefact thieves. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, let me know.”
Amanda swallowed. She thought about the stone in her pocket and looked down at her feet. She hoped he couldn’t read her mind.
‘We’ll let you know if we see anything suspicious.”
The officer handed Amanda a business card, touched the rim of his hat and strode away.
Once he was out of earshot, Leah turned to Amanda. “Blimey, are they all that cute?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. He’s over twenty years old. Way too old for us.”
“True, but he’s very dreamy. I sure would love to see him in his dress uniform.”
“He’s just a Mountie. They’re everywhere.”
Leah smiled. “Well, you sure went gaga over the Bobbie in London, didn’t you?”
Amanda’s ears turned red. “Yeh, I guess so.”
http://www.amazon.com/Amanda-Alberta-The-Writing-Stone/dp/177168019
Ella, I miss your constant presence on the Internet!! So glad you’ve posted today.
Here is a brief excerpt from Lady of the Flames:
Fen poured warm water into the basin and reached for Andromeda’s slippers. “I’ll wash your feet.”
She slid them under her skirts. “You mustn’t. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“My dear girl, nothing about this situation is proper.”
True, they were alone in his bedchamber. I’m completely ruined, she thought. Word of her disappearance must be all over London.
“You’re bleeding,” he said. “You’ll ruin my carpet if I let you go on this way.”
She gave a sputter of a laugh, and he took her left foot before she could stop him. Their eyes met briefly—and both looked away. Did he remember their love of long ago, the summer when she was seventeen years old? Stolen kisses, whispered vows. They’d sneaked off to a meadow and lain in the long grass in each other’s arms, and when he kissed her bare feet, desire coursed all the way to her core.
He’d refused to go further, insisting it wouldn’t be right. She’d well-nigh thrown herself at him, but still he refused. She flirted with his rakish friends, but neither tantrums nor jealousy moved him. In despair, clinging to the remnants of her belief in magic, she called on Mama’s locket to come to her aid.
A few days later, he gave her the cut direct. She tried to talk to him more than once, but each time he went still and cold, then turned away as if she didn’t exist.
That was the day her belief in magic died.
Hi, Ella! Glad to have you back! Here’s an excerpt from Beauty’s Curse, which is available for pre-order now and will be released June 9th.
She closed her eyes and relaxed her muscles one by one, trusting that David would keep her from sinking—until he let go. With a gasp, she struggled to float, her body arching and her legs rigid. No use. As soon as her face dipped below the surface, all reason fled and panic took hold.
David’s arms returned, but not before she’d elbowed him in the shoulder, barely missing his chin. “Ho now. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he said, bringing her close.
She latched onto him as tightly as a burr in his shirt, if he’d been wearing one. “You let go of me!”
“You were ready,” he insisted.
“Hardly.” She wrapped her legs around his waist for good measure.
“Well then, I’m sorry.” He tried to peel her arms from his neck, but she wasn’t about to let go. “Come now. Let’s try again.”
She shook her head, her face buried deep in the side of his throat. “No.”
“I thought you liked to try new experiences.”
The rumble of David’s voice inches from her ear sent a tremor along her spine. Her cheeks flaming, she leaned away. Had he been referring to that day on the boat?
“Are you ready for another…go?”
She could tell the instant his thoughts veered in the same direction. His eyes became a molten brown, and something below the surface of the water elongated and hardened. And it wasn’t a fish.
This is next on my list to read! I’ll have a review up soon! Looking forward to it!
Thank you!!
Thank you again, Ella, as ever. It’s good to see you back. This excerpt comes from An Improper Marriage, available in e-book and paperback from Amazon.
Assuming a demure attitude, Eleanor lowered her eyes to her gloved hands, now nestled in her lap.
Charles was not deceived. “Spill it, Ellie,” he commanded. “What bumble-broth have I got myself mixed up in?”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” she answered primly, her composure returning now the danger had passed. “If you will just convey me to Ludlow—”
“Ludlow!” he spluttered. “That has to be approaching twenty miles! What is for you there?”
“My godmother, my mother’s very dear friend, lives there. She is a modiste. I am accomplished with a needle. I thought to seek a situation with her.”
“Why, for God’s sake?”
Eleanor sighed. “I can see I shall have to start from the beginning.”
“At once, if you please,” he said crisply, his expression stern. “This seems to me a very rum state of affairs.”
“You were up at Oxford at the time, but when my father died, we had to leave the Rectory because the living was conferred on another reverend,” she began.
He nodded. “I remember. Your mother remarried, did she not?”
“That is correct. She married the gentleman who is part-owner of Grandfather George Henzey’s glass manufactory, Robert Holt. He’s the reason I am here.”
His anger having rapidly dissipated, the look of alarm Charles bestowed upon her made her rest one hand on his arm.
“No, no, he would not harm me, I assure you!” she said urgently. “Except for this one subject, upon which we disagree most vehemently, we have always rubbed along together very well. I hold him in considerable esteem – when he is not trying to sell me to the highest bidder!” she finished darkly.
Charles’ brows disappeared into his hairline in shocked enquiry.
“My stepfather means me to marry the heir to a wealthy iron foundry.”
“The gentleman at the inn?”
She nodded. “That is correct. His name is Jeremiah Knight and he has shown an interest in ‘investing in the company’ – which means he will pay a large marriage settlement! – so that Robert may further his interest in cut glass. He says that is where the money is to be made.” She managed to keep her voice matter-of-fact. It was, after all, not an unusual state of affairs and the truth so far as it went. Having made her escape, she saw nothing to be gained by revealing the full extent of the ironmaster’s perfidy. However, she could see that Charles was startled by the way he would not meet her gaze. Thoughts revolved rapidly around her head.
“What does your mother say to this marriage?” he asked at length. “Surely she would not—”
“My mother died a year ago,” she said quietly. Charles took her hand for a moment, squeezing lightly. The unexpectedly gentle gesture of sympathy broke through her composure, her next words ragged in their sincerity. “I cannot marry that man!” she blurted. “He is twenty years older than I and an insufferable… stuffed shirt! I would die of boredom within a sennight! And the thought of… you know—” She blushed hotly at the memory of Knight’s words. “—submitting myself to him… I could not! I had to get away.”
As her amber eyes met the hazel orbs of the man, Eleanor saw those of the boy; the boy who had known her every secret bar one – and she knew she could not keep the full truth from him.
Thanks again for this, Ella! This is from my new Scottish novel, The Highland Lass, which is set mainly around my own beautiful area in the present and past.
Eilidh Campbell returns to her Scottish roots from America with one main aim: to discover the identity of her real father. But her mother’s past in Inverclyde is a mystery with family secrets, a book of Robert Burns’ poems with a hidden letter and a photograph link to the Holy Loch at Dunoon when the American Navy were in residence.
Staying with her childhood friend, Kirsty, while searching for answers, Eilidh begins to fall in love with handsome Scot Lewis Grant, but just how free is he? Together they trace the story of Highland Mary and Robert Burns, with its echoes to her mother’s story. In short alternate chapters, Highland Mary tells her own story from 1785-6. From Dunoon, to Ayrshire and culminating in Greenock, Eilidh finds the past is closer than she realises.
Excerpt (from a historical chapter)
The lasses glance after him longingly and the women warn against him, for his reputation is well known. Yet there must be other sides to him, for he sits in the Kirk and listens to the word of God. And I’ve heard my master talk of him with admiration at times. How the young man struggles to keep his farm going along with his brother, and of his writing and verses that are filled with intelligence and wit and such insight into human nature. I admire him long before I ever properly meet him.
Risking another glance, I see he has turned away to look at the preacher. His dark hair is smooth and curls in below his neck, and his profile is strong. He is smart in jacket and neckerchief and he has not the air of a farmer. Just as I remember I’m still staring, he looks up and our eyes meet again. This time I smile shyly and briefly before returning to my open Bible. He must not think I admire him too well. I’ll not become one of the silly lasses who cast longing glances at him in the hope he will dally with them. I have too much pride for
such behaviour. However, I cannot help one final glance as we stand to end the service. He smiles. And my heart tells me it is too late. But I still do not realise that this man, Robert Burns, will have anything to do with my destiny.
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Highland-Lass-Rosemary-Gemmell-ebook/dp/B00TOTER6Q
Website: http://www.rosemarygemmell.com