Sweet Saturday Sample

Following on from last week's Sweet Saturady Sample, I'm sharing another from my 2nd book in the Gasquet Princes series, and a Valentine novella, His Chosen Bride.  Last week you met my heroine, Monica.  This week, Henri, my hero receives some shocking news.

~ ~ ~ ~

December 19th

 
Henri Pierre Gasquet hesitated before knocking on his father’s office door. They’d shared breakfast together less than an hour ago and talked over many things, including Henri’s killer schedule for the next several months. The king had given no indication of the need for a formal meeting this morning. With a fatalistic shrug, Henri knocked, hesitated a second, then turned the handle and entered the room.
 
“You wanted to see me?” he waited for his father to indicate he should sit before dropping into the chair in front of the king’s desk.
 
“I have not been unaware of the burden you have carried since my heart attack a year ago.” Shocked, Henri watched as the king flipped through the pages of his diary and sighed before stopping at today’s entries. He pointed to the itemised list, cast Henri what looked like a disappointed stare and turned it round for Henri to read the list of his appointments on the page displayed. Who’d passed his diary to his father?
 
“Combining your own commitments with those you took over while I recuperated would have felled a lesser man.” The king’s voice hardened.

Feeling the heat burn his cheeks, Henri shifted in his chair. The past twelve months had been tough, and for the last six, his advisors almost competed with each other in counselling him to slow down unless he wanted to occupy his father’s hospital bed.

“I am also aware you have ignored all advice to cut back. So I am decreeing that as of this moment you are on indeterminate leave of absence.”

~ ~ ~ ~

 

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Sweet Saturday Sample

Sweet Saturday Sample is back again! Where does the week go?  Seeing as how we are now into February and Valentine's day is fast approaching I thoought I'd share a little bit from His Chosen Bride, book 2 of The Gasquet Princes series.

She lost track of time until the flames caught her attention once more. They flickered from orange to gold, to silver, to white.

A flurry of snowflakes masked the flames and for a second Monica watched the most beautiful, pristine snow-scene she’d ever seen. Her lips curved in longing. How she’d love to get a toboggan and slide down that slope. She knew where it was, and had done just that many times in her childhood, first with her parents and then, in clandestine manner, with her brother. Sneaking an old tin tray from the back of her mother’s walk-in pantry, she’d then grabbed Billy’s hand and they’d rushed out the back gate, heading for the lakeside track that led up into the hills.

Darkness, dense and thick with grief dropped over the scene. Startled and disconcerted by the strength of emotion emanating from the vision Monica shifted to her knees, ready to stand, when a voice, a deep male voice, sharp with fear called out her name.
“Monica!”

She knew she’d never heard the voice before, and yet—it was as familiar to her as the image she saw in her mirror each morning.

“Help me, Monica.”

Desperate for more clues, she searched the darkness within the flames until it sputtered and faded. With a curse she jumped up and ran for the phone. With her outstretched hand hovering over it she halted and let her hand drop to her side once more. What could she say? What would the police or rescue team think of her if she called them and told them she’d seen a vision of a man in distress?

They’d laugh in her face and classify her as a lunatic. Well, maybe not. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d contacted them with positive information but something—an instinctive gut reaction told her what she’d seen this time hadn’t happened yet.

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Sweet Saturday Sample

I thought I'd share a little bit more from my first Valentine novella, The Wrong Target, with you this week.

“Who does the man think he is, swanning into my office as if he owned the place?” Tina stared at her reflection in the washroom mirror. Shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair snuggled into the curve of her neck.  Her wide, gloss-covered lips curved into a smile more often than not. Her sloping shoulders resisted all her attempts to carry her bag. Long, tapered fingers ended in polished nails that owed nothing to varnish. With a  huff she moved away from the mirror. As if a man like Ryan Thomas would see her as a desirable female, and why, she asked herself, did she even give the thought a moment’s consideration? To him, she was the woman causing him grief and inconvenience, despite her justification.

“He waltzes into my office regardless, demands his daughter’s reinstatement, and to top it off, his blasted arrow attacks me.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Helen’s reflection grinned over her shoulder. “And why is that arrow

sticking out of your desk like a contender for a popular cider TV advertisement?”

"We tried pulling it out, but it wouldn’t budge. Talk about King Arthur’s sword! We could use Merlin’s help to remove it.” No need to describe Ryan Thomas’s chagrin when he, too, failed to free the arrow.

 

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Sweet Saturday Sample

For this week's Sweet Saturday Sample I am offering you another short sample from my current Regency Christmas Romance, Vidal's Honor

 

 

 

 

Blurb:

When plunged into a world of spies, agents and espionage during the Peninsula wars, Honor, Lady Beaumont, flees for her life when the French capture her husband at Salamanca, and relies on his batman to arrange her safe passage back to England.

Viscount Charles Vidal is ordered by Robert Dumas, the First Lord of the Admiralty, to travel to Spain and escort the only woman he’s ever loved, Lord Devlin Beaumont’s widow back home before the French discover her whereabouts.

Their journey is fraught by danger, least of all knowing whether they are surrounded by friends or foe. Will they survive long enough to explore the possibility of a future together or will whispers of treason be enough to see Honor dispatched to Tyburn first?

~ ~ ~ ~

       “Are you aware we’re being followed?”

“Impossible!” The denial exploded into the night air.

“Shh. I believe it is a fact.” Vidal grabbed Juan’s arm and hauled him into the shadows. “Mrs. Beaumont told me this afternoon she’s been aware of it for several days now, but was not certain enough to mention it before.”

“And she decided to confide in you today, why?”

“She didn’t, it obvious she’s been worried about something for a while but put it down to the loss of her husband and her concerns for the future.” He hadn’t but had no intention of revealing more information on anything than he had to.

“And you believe her?”

“Not at first, but I spent more time this afternoon watching our backs, and believe she may be right.”

The air filled with Spanish curses.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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Sweet Saturday Sample

For today's Sweet Saturday Sample I'm offering a sample from my NaNo wip, Consuela's Story, although this is from Juan's pov.  Being a NaNo sample, please make allowances for the lack of editing. :-)

He couldn’t sleep. Wellington’s news had robbed the remaining energy from his legs and had him slumping into the nearest chair regardless of military protocol. Not that he was a member of any official army.  He’d returned to Spain with one goal in mind.  To hunt down his brother, and seek retribution for the murder of his wife and daughter.

And now…

The silent passage of the moon beyond his window failed to bring the usual sense of peace. Since his brother’s attack on his family he’d spent many a night staring up at the moon and pretending Maria and Francesca were riding across the sky while they looked down on him.

And now… he wondered again.

While he’d rushed back to Spain, his brother, Diago, had made his way to London, and according to his friend Lord Vidal, was even now making advances to Consuela.

The only available room left in the inn was tiny, with a window locked down tight against the night air, so the room smelled of stale ale and other unmentionable odours. He smote one fist in the other and strode from the edge of the bed where he’d sat to the window and peered out.

“You been and gone and missed it by five minutes.” The innkeeper told him when he’d rushed in to enquire when the next coach left for London.  “Won’t be another ‘afore tomorrow afternoon.”

His enquiries into hiring a coach hadn’t fared any better.  It seemed there was a prize cock fight in the village just five miles down the road and every available vehicle for hire was already spoken for. Assuming there’d be no spare horses for hire either he’d not even asked, but now as he watched the shadows shift across the ground below his window he wondered whether the plan forming in his mind would land him in prison if he was caught.

‘Another day won’t make a difference.’ A silent voice in his head urged, but instinct told Juan the voice lied.  If he didn’t know better he could almost swear he heard Consuela calling out to him, for him to help her.

 

 

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Sweet Staurday Sample

It's the weekend, so it's time for another Sweet Saturday Samples.  The week I'm sharing a snippet from Vidal's Honor, my latest Christmas Regency Romance published by Astraea Press.
Thanks for swinging by, because I always I appreciate it whe you share your thoughts.



http://tinyurl.com/d9572w9

Befuddled from lack of sleep and the struggle to  don her ever-damp garments, Honor let Vidal hoist her onto her mule.

“Why the urgency to move on in the dark? I thought Juan declared this an ideal spot to spend the night.”

“I told him of your belief we are being followed and that afterwards I spent the rest of the journey checking and am almost certain you are correct.”

“If this is the result, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

Vidal’s chuckle, low though it was, warmed her heart if nothing else.

“No, you were right to mention it. If we thought it safe enough, one of us would hold back to see if we can identify them, but it’s not, so we move on under the cover of darkness.”

From her perch on the back of the mule, Honor found herself eye-to-eye with Vidal. “Won’t the sound of our movements alert them to our intentions?”

“We have to risk it. Juan is sure if we go now we can gain enough ground to keep them guessing for a day or two.”

“Well, I hope he is right.” She tugged at the shoulder of her jacket in an effort to persuade the sleeve to line up more comfortably, and winced at the sharp stab of pain in her neck. “At least it has stopped raining, which will give our clothes a chance to dry.”

She swung round when Juan coughed on her other side. Even in the night-light Honor saw him shuffle. “We follow the river.”

 “So I gather.”

“You do not understand. We follow the river by using it to cover our tracks from those you say are following us.”
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Another Saturday and another sample :-) I can't believe how fast this year has gone, let alone the weeks. This sample comes from a scene in a wip which may become part of Sacha's story in my gasquet princes series.
Thanks to everyone who drops by.

Rosemary studied her son, Callum Hamilton. Eight years old, and the love of her life.

 

“You know,” he said, rising to his knees on his bed, “you look like a princess in that dress.”

 

“Oh!” Shocked almost speechless, Rosie swooped down and hugged Cal. “What a lovely thing to say. Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

 

Quickly knowing how much she’d embarrass him if she held onto him any longer than a couple of seconds, Rosie moved back and made a play of studying herself in the mirror.

 

“I lack the crown, don’t you think?” Angling her head from side to side, she met her son’s reflected grin in the mirror.

 

“You don’t need a crown when you wear that dress.”

 

The floor length pleated skirt of her diamond blue satin gown billowed round her legs when she turned. She still wasn’t sure about the single flowered strap that led the eye to the snug fitting bodice hugging her curves and emphasizing her slender waist, but had to agree it looked good on her.

 

Instead of her son’s voice, the words triggered the memory of his father’s voice when she’d joined him at the alter of the Estate’s church on their wedding day. On that day, she wore cream Nottingham lace over satin, with long slender sleeves ending in a ‘v’ on the back of her hand. The woman at the bridal gown shop gave it a fashionable name, which she’d ignored. Love at first sight, first with her almost husband, then with her wedding dress, and finally with her son the moment the nurse placed him in her arms.

 

And now…

 

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Sweet Saturday Samples

As always, thanks to everyone who comes by I always appreciate your comments. :-)

Sweet Saturday Samples brings an end to a very exciting week, when my first Regency Romance Novel released on 31st August.  So today I am sharing the prologue from No Job For A Woman ~

Prologue:

Julian Fanshaw ignored the other letters in front of him when he recognized one from his long-time friend Freddie Dalrymple, now Lord Worth. He broke the seal and scanned the single sheet with growing concern.

Julian, my friend, I am writing to implore you to put aside whatever plans you have in hand and to set out immediately to stay with us for an indeterminate period of time.

Thoroughly alarmed, Julian flipped the page in his hand to discover it had been dispatched more than a week ago.

If I bring to mind a certain student up at Oxford with us, and reveal that he and his wife are, and have been, my sister’s neighbors for several years, it will give you but an inkling of the root of my concern.

It has come to my attention, due to the arrival of his brother upon the scene, and recent events concerning my sister, Deborah, I am persuaded you need not only to know what is happening here, but be on hand to assist in circumventing any consequences of actions taken against her.

I have taken the liberty of gathering some friends together for a couple of shooting parties, thereby creating a reason for your presence.

Since his return from the Peninsular, Julian kept promising himself a trip to Worth’s Norfolk estate. Unfortunately in the last eighteen months, time and circumstances had worked against him.

Casting the letter aside, Julian strode to the door and called for his butler.

“I am leaving immediately for Norfolk. Please see that my bags are packed and have my horse ready within the hour.”

“You do not intend to use your chaise, sir?”

“No. I’ll ride, with a stop to visit Mr. Sewel. Arrange for Becket and French to follow me in the chaise with everything I’ll need for a month.”

Not by so much as a flick of an eyelid did Thomas reveal he recognized the name of his master’s man of business.

“Very good, sir.”

~ ~ ~ ~
No Job For a Woman is available HERE

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Sweet Saturday Sample

It's a while since I particpated in SSS and it feels good to be back.  Today I am sharing a scene between Honor, the heroine in my Christmas Regency wip, and 'le Duc' a French agent.
I hope you enjoy.

“Be calm, my friends,” the duke laughed, a carefree sound, and turned to the men.  “The south pavilion houses the Musée des Douanes and not only displays the history of Bordeaux as a port town, but models of different ships, various navigational instruments and much more. I thought it might interest my lord Vidal and your friend Juan.”

When both men hesitated the duke held their gaze and shook his head. “Both ladies are safe in my care. Shall we say,” he pulled his watch from his pocket and studied it. “An hour? Perhaps more?  I believe it has extensive displays, we will enjoy a stroll and find somewhere to enjoy another sample of the local wine.”

Reluctantly the men set of in the direction of the museum.

“That was very naughty of you,” Honor offered a smile with her mild rebuke.

When Consuela ran ahead  the duke turned a serious face to her.  “It has come to my notice that my enemies are closing in.”

Not a trace of humour remained in his eyes or round his mouth. He stopped walking and placed a preventative hand on her arm. Not knowing what to say, or what the duke expected from her, she remained silent.

“While you need not fear your wretched brother-in-law any more, I am afraid he managed to spread his rumours far and wide before he left England.”

“So you told me.” Her empathy ebbed with his reminder of what lay in store for her once she reached home.

“There is little I can do that will not exacerbate the situation, and it might amuse you to learn that while he betrayed his brother, and you, he also betrayed me, too.”

“He told you?” Vidal had warned her of Cedric’s villainy, but this? She watched the duke’s lips tighten, his eyes grow hard.

“Indeed, almost his last words were his boast that he’d been paid twice for the same information.”

“Then surely they are nothing more than idle threats of an evil man bent on causing mischief to the end.”

“So I thought,” the duke agreed. “Sadly, this time he did not lie.  If I return to England there will be no room for explanation.  There is, I believe a bounty on my person, and so it grieves me to admit that I will not be visiting your country anytime soon if ever again.”

“What does this have to do with me?”  A quick glance revealed Consuela studying some wares displayed outside of a building across the square.

“I have done what I can to restore your good name, but, as I said, now my own position has been compromised, it may not be enough. Indeed it could work against you.” He looked down, real regret in his eyes.

“I told you, did I not, that I have only one mistress?”

“You did.” Honor confirmed.  “Your country.”

“I knew I could rely on your good memory for I have a confession to make. One I hope will not distress you, rather you will remember with a little fondness.” He let go of her arm, and dug into his pocket once more.

“I once thought myself in love with a woman, but she taught me well never to trust her gender again, and until I met you I never deviated from that vow.”

Puzzled more than embarrassed Honor shook her head in semi denial of what she knew was coming.

“I will not go so far as to describe what I feel for you as love, rather that no other woman has touched my heart the way you do, and that is why I have taken it upon myself to escort you and your friends through France.” He looked round at the people. “I intended to use my yacht to send you across the Channel a final damning of your character in the eyes of your authorities. Now I find I cannot do it, so I have arranged for another vessel to carry you from France to England. Remember the name, it is important.  Marie Anne. You will ask the captain 'if this is the Marie Anne, not the queen'. Only then will he let you onboard.”

“But will you not be there to see us set sail?”

When the duke shook his head, Honor couldn’t identify the feelings swirling through her.  She’d feared him, loathed him, been grateful to him for the provisions he’d left them, and more than a little wary of his motivation for meeting them at Irun and escorting them across France.

“No, my dear, it is unlikely I will be there when you set sail.”

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Sweet Saturday Sample

For this week's Sweet Saturday Sample I'm continuing from where I left off on Tuesday. 
Lord Alastair Vidal hs arrived in Spain, only to discover Honor has left the village he was told about and no one knows where she is.
Thanks to everyone who visits, and as this is a first draft of my current WIP any comments will be appreciated.

Taking his time to stroll further round the collection of buildings Vidal made his way back to where Juan watched him. “Did they tell you where Phillipe has gone?”

“You have to understand,” Juan began, “ with the turmoil in our country, and Joseph Bonaparte on our throne, there are those who support him and his brother, while others, like us—“ he indicated the men he’d spoken with who were still watching them, “—who fight to restore our own monarch, communication is difficult. Trust is broken. Links are gone. We trust our own and pray we do not fall into the enemy’s trap when we connected with others who claim to support our fight. Phillipe told them little and they are offended with his lack of trust, even though they understand he acted for their protection. Few of them believed Phillipe’s assertion the newcomer was even his cousin so although they don’t know they think he has gone to warn them how close the enemy is getting.”

“If he can’t trust your own team of agents, do you suppose Phillipe will try to take the woman across Spain himself?”

Juan shook his head. “To do so would risk his own neck, not that that would stop him, but if he was uncovered it would bring retribution to his family and the rest of this community. They are afraid.”

Sweet Saturday Samples

Last week I shared a sample from my untitled WIP.  During the week I 'got' the title and so, this week I'm sharing a little bit more from what is now called Vidal's Honor.  In this week's sample, I have moved on several weeks in the story.

Thanks to everyone who visits, and I'd love to hear from you as this is a WIP with little editing so far.

“It is as I believed; there was French agent in your Admiralty, for only a traitor could pass on your husband’s identity. Now I am told the French are searching for you.”

“I thought we knew that?”

“It was a believable assumption given the circumstances,” Phillipe struggled to find the right words in English. “We assumed, but we did not ‘know’. Now we know.”

“How?”

“It is of no importance to you. All you need to know is that because your husband’s identity is known to the French you must leave.”

“Dev’s identity? Why would giving his name to the enemy make a difference?”

“Not his given name, Mrs. Beaumont,” Phillipe said. “Your husband provided your Admiralty and War department with vital information about movements and activities of the French armies. Information they could pass on to other divisions. He set up a network of underground units, men, rebels who objected to Napoleon installing his brother Joseph on the Spanish throne. No man survives long that kind of work using his own name.”

She wanted to dismiss Phillipe’s revelations as nonsense. Unbelievable nonsense, but if it had been, her husband would still be alive. “Are you trying to tell me Dev was some sort of spy? An agent?”

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Tuesday's Tales - City

Another Tuesday, which means it's time for Tuesday Tales again.  This week's prompt is 'City'. We can name a city or simply set our snippet in a city So, tongue in cheek, and offering a piece from my current untitled Regency WIP I am using a battle scene from Salamanca July23rd 1812 as my 'city'.

Salamanca – July 22nd  1812

...Why hadn’t he insisted Honor join the other women when Wellington sent them and the baggage far to the rear of the lines? Marmont was already moving his men in an attempt to outflank them. It wouldn’t work of course, couldn’t work; simply because in doing so he’d overextend his men, leaving them open to attack from Wellington’s different divisions. No way would their commander sit back and watch that happen without going into action. And Honor would be right there in the middle of it all without his presence or protection.

Knowing his wife would be on the watch for him, Dev slipped through the back of the tent and sought out his friend, Phillipe. They’d been together through many conflicts, long before he’d married Honor, and now he needed Phillipe’s word to see his wife safely away from Salamanca today.

Now.

For Dev had a premonition. One he hadn’t shared with his wife during the previous night.

Instead, he’d diverted her with, among other things, plans for their imminent return to England. This morning he’d written to his truest friend, Lord Vidal, asking him to watch out for and protect Honor when she reached home shores.

In the mean time he needed to know Honor would not become one of today’s battle victims, for to do his job properly he was charged with the task of discovering the intended movements of the enemy positions. They already knew numbers in the French divisions equalled, if not surpassed those of their own combined divisions. It was Marmont’s intentions that Wellington wanted clarification on.

Phillipe, in his position as Dev’s batman, and a local man, often passed information Dev gave him back to his team of guerrillas. Now, regardless of the outcome of his mission today, Dev needed the man to use his connections to keep Honor safe and spirit her away. He had to somehow arrange to send her on her way back home to London. Not an easy journey under any circumstances and with the combination of Napoleon and Joseph Boneparts’ armies plus rogue or deserting soldiers filling the roads or trying to escape across hill tracks it would be fraught with even more danger.

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Sweet Saturday Sample

Today's sample is a short snippet from From Now Until Forever, the first book in my Gasquet Princes Series.  I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for your support.

“I’m not done with you,” he ground out. “Not by a long shot. I may have to leave you now, but I’ll be back. So don’t think you can hide from me.”

His words lashed into her more thoroughly than a cat-o-nine-tails. His grip lowered to encircle her throat.

“I may never forgive you for what you’ve done, but you’re mine, and I always keep what’s mine.

Her world turned cold. “I know you find it hard to believe me. I understand, but ask you to remember, I’ll always love you. Always.”

His fingers tightened round her neck before he pushed her back against the pillows.

“I never thought I’d love anyone the way I love you.” Disgust, not love, propelled his words in her direction. “And it sickens me to my soul.”

From Now Until forever is available at http://www.amazon.com/From-Now-Until-Forever-ebook/dp/B006GYAV44/ref=la_B0042QD6S6_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1338594263&sr=1-6

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Sweet Saturday Samples

Sorry I have been mia so often recently and I hope to be more cnstant in the future. Today I am offering a sample from my current release, His Chosen Bride.  (Bk 2 in The Gasquet Princes series.)

“Miss Mon’ca!”



The sound of the child’s cry lent wings to Monica’s feet. She shot through the kitchen door, down the steps, and round the corner to the nearest paddock. She expected to see Rosie leading the child’s pony round the arena. Instead, the sight of the child clinging to the pony’s neck, his face hidden in the animal’s wind-blown mane, sent chills of fear down her spine.

Charlie-Boy, her neighbour’s three-­year-­old son, screamed again. “I wan’ Mon’ca!”

“What’s the matter, baby?” Keeping the fear from her voice, she reached up and let the child tumble down from the saddle into her arms.

“Tubby’s sick.”

“He is?”

Charlie nodded, his red-­rimmed eyes large and fearful. “He nearly falled and I thought I was going to get squashed.”

“And what did Rosie do?”

“She’s not here anymore.” Charlie-­Boy sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his chubby little hand.

“Did she say where she was going?” Monica assumed the child had misunderstood and her volunteer had gone to the stables for something.

“Her ‘bell’ wang and she cried and ran to her car. I got fwightened. And Tubby tripped and I thought he was going to fall.”

The ‘bell’ Monica knew was Charlie-­Boy’s name for a phone.

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After a few weeks away, today I'm back and sharing a short sample from my most recently accpeted novel No Job For A Woman - projected release date August 2012 with Secret Cravings Publishing.

My thanks, as ever, to everyone who visits and to say how much I appreciate your comments, because in the past they have been responsible for me making some major, and needed, changes to some WIPs.

“Again? What does he mean by ‘again?’” The fire died from her eyes and she stepped away from him. “What’s changed that Brandon broke his silence?”

Julian handed over the crumpled note.

“If you want to see your daughter again, hand over the papers by Thursday.”

“Thursday.” Deborah tapped one slim finger against the paper.

“Friday.” Her fist scrunched the note into a ball. “Brandon is to produce those papers before Thursday and I am to agree to wed him the following day. Where is the connection?” She spoke almost to herself and Julian leaned forward to hear her.

Ignoring him, she began pacing from one end of the room to the other. Julian caught Henrietta’s anxious look and shook his head. Freddie maintained his sister had a logical mind, and it interested him to see her ditch her indignation and address the latest calamity with a cool approach.

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Saturday 4th Feb

How is it that my well ordered life (if you believe that you'll believe anything) can run off the rails without me noticing?
I knew what this week's commitments were, I knew how to approach and deal with them, so how come I've managed to miss yet another Sweet Saturday Sample?

Instead I hope to get round and read everyone elses' offerings shortly.

Sweet Saturday Sample

Welcome to another Sweet Saturday Sample. And thank you to everyone who stops by every week. I hope you enjoy the sample my my latest release today.
There will be more tomorrow.


Security!
Even her job guaranteed none of that.
She dialled again, updated her boss then let the memories in, while she searched for the gunmen.
She’d spent the last three years trailing the youngest son of the ruler of a largely unknown kingdom that held more wealth within its boundaries than many of the largest nations in the world. Some claimed its wealth rivalled, if not exceeded, Switzerland. And she’d spent the last six months married to him.

To celebrate the release of my new book From Now Until Forever by Astrea Press, I will share samples with you throughout December.

GIVEAWAY

At the end of December I am giving away a PDF version of From Now Until Forever
and will use random.org to choose one lucky winner from all the SSS comments received.

Sweet Saturday Sample

Welcome to another Sweet Saturday Sample. And thank you to everyone who stops by every week. I hope you enjoy the sample my my latest release today. 
There will be more tomorrow.

To celebrate the release of my new book From Now Until Forever by Astrea Press, I will share samples with you throughout December.

GIVEAWAY

At the end of December I am giving away a PDF version of From Now Until Forever
and will use random.org to choose one lucky winner from all the SSS comments received.

So! It began.
In his usual no-­‐‑nonsense manner, Paxman, her boss, had updated her on events in the phone call she’d received just over ten minutes ago. It hadn’t given her time to warn Liam to get back inside, let alone for her to make any moves towards vacating the farm. As the head of palace security, Paxman focused on the job at hand and kept his missives brief. As her surrogate father—well, she owed him everything.

“Our man inside the British Embassy says Drake Guillespie, and his son deBonet, the rebel leader, are heading north and expected to pick up company on the way. Contact the Caretaker.”

In other words leave the farmhouse immediately. Brevity notwithstanding, from his information she’d assumed they’d have time to evacuate the place safely, instead of being embroiled in the middle of a gun battle.

Sweet Saturday Sample

Thank you to everyone who visits me every week and to those joining us all this week.  Click here->  Sweet Saturday Samples to enjoy many other fabulous excerpts.
This week I'm taking a break for The Brat and sharing the opening of a short paranormal story that so far has failed to find a home.

Riddick.
Snip, snip. Two more dead-heads for the compost. Snip, snip. I sighed with delight at the best display of roses I’d enjoyed, since moving here five years ago.

Since my husband’s death, my garden was my life. I never felt alone when working with my flowers. Indeed, I enjoyed my connection with them, one that transcended the physical; the logical. When I tried explaining to my neighbour, Rachel, she jokingly scoffed at my description as being ‘almost spiritual’.

“Next, you’ll be telling me you have faeries at the bottom of your garden!” We shared her joke with iced tea and laughter, but something deep inside me shifted uneasily.

With one foot, I pushed the swing and watched the sky fade from rose to dusk, and contemplated my earlier sense of unease. Faeries were fantasies of children and story-books. They didn’t exist.

Did they?

My Website: www.sherrygloag.com
My Blog: http://sherrygloagtheheartofromance.blogspot.com/