Snippet Sunday 31-03-13 WWW

Thank you to everyone who visited last week and to those who left comments. Your thoughts are always appreciated.
For today's Sunday Snippet I'm continuing where I left off last week, a little ways into the beginning of a new WIP (working title Horseshoe 1) 
Again I don't have names for my characters at this stage hence the 'he' and 'she.'
This week I have also joined the Weekend Writing Warriors 

“It is you who trespasses madam.” The hauteur in the intruder’s voice sent shivers down her spine. “This is my home, and I do not tolerate insubordination from my subjects, regardless of their beauty.”

What kind of pompous idiot talked like that?  “I don’t know what you’re on, but you’re obviously out of your tiny mind.  This—” she spun round, her arm outstretched to encompass the room and the rest of the building beyond it, “—is my home and has been for the last three years.”

When his cold, disbelieving eyes stared back at her she rushed on. “If you don’t believe me ask monsieur Freemont at Ashworthy’s real estate agency in town, I bought it from them."

 

That's it for this week, :-) Thanks for coming by and you'll find lots more free-read snippets at Snippet Sunday  and Weekend Writing Warriors 

 

Sweet Saturday sample 09-03-013

Time for Sweet Saturday Sample again, and this week I'm continuing from where I left off last week one of my Gasquet Princes WsIP, its working title - Sacha's Story.

Sacha is the third (being the younger twin) Gasquet brother, and this clip comes from may be the opening scene in his story.

A twin recognised his sibling at a deep and instinctive soul level, and this imposter didn’t touch his soul.  He glanced behind him when Liam laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?  I thought you’d be pleased to see Simeon, even if it is only for a few hours, before we are all engulfed in the next tier of Jubilee celebrations.”

“If the man approaching your front door was Simeon, I’d be delighted, but the man you’re watching is not Simeon, I’d swear my life on it.”

Liam swung him round and Sacha noted the pallor on his brother’s face.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know why, or how, but my instinct tells me we are about to invite a cuckoo into your nest.”  His dry tone was not lost on Liam, Sacha noted with satisfaction.

Strangers watching Liam go about his business could be forgiven for thinking he’d put the past behind him. But they’d be wrong.  

Since the attempt on Liam, his younger brother’s life, if Melanie didn’t restrain him, tended to go overboard about personal security these days, and Sacha appreciated the turmoil his bald statement would have on his younger brother.

Physically knocked back by Sacha’s claim, Liam stepped forward again and watched the man haul a briefcase from the passenger seat of the car and head for the front door. “Who would organise something like this?” 

“The ‘who’ escapes me,” Sacha replied, “but the why is obvious.”

 

You'll find more free reads at Sweet Saturday Sample

You can find more information on the first two Gasquet Princes stories,

From Now Until Forever,

 

 

and

 

 

 

 

 

His Choosen Bride, on my website - http://www.sherrygloag.com

Hump Day Hook Blog 20th Feb

Welcome back to HumpDay Hook.  I always enjoy your visits and your comments.

HUMP DAY HOOK is a blog hop where each participating author posts ONE paragraph from a WIP (work in progress) or finished book each Wednesday. This gives readers an opportunity to sample different author's work and perhaps even find a new-to-you author.
 
I am continuing from where I left of last week, and - because I'm aiming for speed here, my 'paragraphs are very short so I am cheating a teeny bit so the action makes sense.

~~~
And while the foil points may be protected, Simeon had no intention of allowing this woman to best him.
Her lunge pierced his waving concentration and he almost failed to close in time, and countered with a tempo that forced them to circle once more.
The sound of steel sliding along steel shimmered in the air, cut through the ring of clashing blades. He saw it now— her strategy. 
~~~

Normally I'd ask you to revisit the Hump Day Hook blog to read all the other wonderful offerings but the ether gremlims are busy this week so please visit us on FB at
http://www.facebook.com/HumpDayHook#!/groups/402088636529367/

Tuesday's Tales ~ Ghost (30-10-12)

Today's word prompt for this week's Tuesday's Tales is ~Ghost. And while it is the time for gouls, ghosties and things that go bump in the night, I found myself unable to leave Simeon Gasquet hanging while in the middle of a duel forced on him by a mysterious woman.
So- (grin) here is another snippet from my current wip which will be the third or fourth book in my Gasquet Princes series.

She was good, better than good, she was excellent.  It didn’t take him long to get her measure, and yet— instinctively he knew something deeper lurked beneath her concentration, fuelled it.

Fuelled her.

Deliberation flared in her eyes and fury curled her lips into a snarl.

A snarl that birthed the ghost of a memory, a memory that vanished more quickly than mist on the wind.

This for her, he realised, was more than a simple challenge.  It was personal.

The sound of steel whistling through the air, millimetres from his ear cut through his distractions. Personal?

He’d see about that!

Simeon didn’t know what had crawled up her arse, but nor did he intend to take the rap for something he knew nothing about. He closed out all thoughts except those focussed on the woman in front of him and the foil in her hand.

In one corner of his mind he estimated the difference in their height. Eight inches, he decided and wondered whether he could he use those extra inches to his advantage.

The skill she’d displayed so far discounted any hope she’d charge at his manhood.  No, she’d not risk leaving herself open to the obvious retaliation such a charge would engender.

He circled, watching her back foot, weighing his options, always maintaining the straight line between them.

The circle widened.

He waited— knowing neither could lunge until they closed in again.  Not unless they wanted their opponent’s point in their chest.  And while the foil points may be protected, Simeon had no intention of allowing this woman to best him.

Her lunge pierced his waving concentration and he almost failed to close in time, and countered with a tempo that forced them to circle once more.

The sound of steel sliding along steel shimmered in the air, cut through the ring of clashing blades.  He saw it now— her strategy.  This woman was enticing him to risk a pass on her lunge.  To do that would dismiss his height advantage. Not that his height gave him anything more than a split second of time.

She lunged again, moved to his left, to his right and stepped forward. 

With a twist of his body he pushed her foil clear and brought his own down on her leather-gloved hand.

Only her gasp broke the shocked silence before she leapt back and lunged again.

She had a point, he’d used a moved barred by almost all fencing clubs, but this, he reminded himself, wasn’t a fight of his choosing, nor was it being played within club rules.  The woman fought with a skill and intensity that moved this fight beyond personal to malicious. 

He wished he knew why.

 

For more awesome FREE reads return to Tuesday's Tales

Six Sentence Sunday

Where has the week gone?  Here's another six sentences, from my my latest release, His Chosen Bride, for this week's SSS.
Thanks to everyone who passes by and to those who leave me comments.  I appreciate you all


Normally quiet-spoken, the snap in her voice startled him to immobility.

She stood back while he hefted the bale onto the high stack against the wall, and stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. Judging from the glittering anger in her eyes, he reckoned she’d done that to prevent her fists from connecting with his chin.

Not just anger burning in her eyes, he decided, and gave in to his need to touch. He reached out, skimmed a knuckle down her cheek, and let his hand drift round to the back of her neck. His thumb traced the racing pulse at the base of her throat. So the lady was not as cool as she’d have him believe.

Sweet Saturday Sample 25th Feb

I don't know about you, but I just don't know where the time is going to.  Sweet Saturday Samples rolls round again, and today I am continuing from where I left off in His Chosen bride, my Valentine story and the 2nd book in the Gasquet Princes series, in the Six Sentence Sunday snippet last week.
Thanks to everyone who comes by to read and to those who stop long enough to leave a comment .  I appreciate you all.

Prince Henri, heir to his father's throne, has been banished from carrying out his royal duties until further notice, by command of the King.  now he'sd having to adapt to a new way of life...

An emotional hole he hadn’t known existed opened up in his heart while he watched. Would the woman his parents chose for him have the same empathy with children as Monica? He clamped down on the question and went in search of his brother.



A new life opened up in front of him, one he could never embrace, but to which he knew he could escape occasionally, for long or short breaks, whenever he wanted to.


He began spending more and more time around the stables and if, while helping with the usual outdoor chores and seeing to the animals’ welfare, his gaze strayed to where Monica worked, he refused to acknowledge it beyond noting how she removed her glove to tuck her hair back behind her ear every time the wind whipped it round her face.


He denied the increased heartbeat that thrummed within his chest in time to a mantra he tried to ignore.


Liar, liar, liar.


He watched as, with graceful efficiency, Monica moved on from one task to the next. Her appearance of fragility was deceptive, Henri discovered, when he caught her hefting a hay bale and rushed over to take it from her.


“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ve got it.”


Ignoring her protest, he grabbed the pitchfork carrying her bale and followed her instructions. “You shouldn’t be lifting these.” He indicated the floor-to-roof stack of bales.


“I’ve been doing ‘this’ for many years, Henri, and just because you suddenly ‘see’ me at work doesn’t change my reality.”


From the beginning she’d ignored his title, and to start with he’d assumed she did it to annoy. But he soon realised it was her way of according him the same sense of belonging and family she offered Liam. So he ignored the warmth surrounding his heart that her actions triggered.

You can buy it here~~
http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=1651593&mode=product&product=9472803 

http://www.amazon.com/His-Chosen-Bride-ebook/dp/B0079A7V9W/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_6/190-6871302-0103505

http://www.amazon.co.uk/His-Chosen-Bride-ebook/dp/B0079A7V9W

From Now Until Forever (Book 1) is available here  ~~

http://www.amazon.com/From-Now-Until-Forever-ebook/dp/B006GYAV44/ref=sr_1_sc_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1322854797&sr=1-1-spell

http://www.amazon.co.uk/From-Now-Until-Forever-ebook/dp/B006GYAV44/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1322854884&sr=8-1-spell

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/sherry-gloag-from-now-until-forever?keyword=sherry+gloag+from+now+until+forever&store=book

nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/sherry-gloag-from-now-until-forever?keyword=sherry+gloag+from+now+until+forever&store=ebook

Tuesday Tales 21st Feb

Tuesday Tales word promt this week is 'Cheat'.

Thanks for coming by and I'd love to hear from you, too. You'll find plenty of other talented authors at TUESDAY TALES.

“I say, that’s a bit of a cheat. Isn’t it?”

Sacha watched the dull red creep up the young man’s neck and into his face beneath his scrutiny. No explanations necessary, he thought, and wondered how the man had managed to gain a seat at his table; unless, he narrowed his eyes in further contemplation, the stranger had expected to sit next to Melanie, his sister-in-law. Instead of sitting next to a 'real-live-rags-to-riches-princess' he’d find himself seated next to Rosemary Hamilton.  “What is it you say is a cheat? Forgive me, English is not my native language, perhaps you could explain it to me.”

“I was assured the Princess Melanie would be attending and now I learn she’s been replaced by a woman no one has ever heard of."

Before Sacha could reply the third gentleman at their table laughed. “Surely you’ve heard of 'Lady Highlander?'” He looked round at the other occupants of the table and offered a satisfied nod in Sacha’s direction. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Angus Dewar, laird of the Highlander Estate.”

Impressed, Sacha gave silent thanks to his security chief for providing the information less than half-an-hour ago and remained silent. A look in his direction confirmed that Dewar realised he'd heard of the honorary title given to Rosemary Hamilton by her late husband’s tenants. He also knew Dewar was Rosmary's brother-in-law.

He’d also learned she had an eight year old son, and was wondering why she’d given up the child’s entitlement to his inheritance.

Would the child consider she’d cheated him out of his right when he grew up?

More, he wondered why he was wondering about it in the first place.

Sure, he admitted she'd sucor-punched him when he first saw her, but that couldn't account for his sense of... betrayal? No, how could he feel betrayed when he hardly knew the woman? How could he feel his world shifting on its axis at the thought of her giving life to another man's child?

Children?

That was the biggest cheat of all.

No, he wouldn't go there. Not tonight, not on any night. The young man may whine about being cheated out of his sister-in-law's presence, but there were bigger cheats in life than that of a switch of celebraties at the first in a long line of social events marking his father's Jubilee celebrations in the up-coming months.

The rise and fall of surrounding chatter interspersed with the clink of glasses and the select orchestra playing in the background faded out while he studied his table companions. The young and disappointed man was shaking his head, eyes wide in anticipation. Was he a journalist who’d managed to circumvent security? 

Next to him an overblown bottle-blonde grinned like a Cheshire cat at everyone before leaning forward just enough to allow every male a full and uninterrupted view of her assets. Her pillar-box red talons on one hand rested on her partner’s arm, while the other was wrapped round the stem of her wine glass.

The second speaker, Dewar, Sacha noted, was in his mid-forties, early fifties, his pepper-and-salt hair added to his distinctive air and when the man glanced at him, he returned the rueful smile.

“Lady Highlander.” The man said now, “is a courtesy title given to Hamilton’s widow by his people.”

“I see.”

The young man replied, but to Sacha, it was apparent the man saw nothing at all. Sacha didn’t know why Dewar was playing with the young man, and moved sideways to allow the waiter top up his wine glass.

“Lady Highlander is here at the express wish of the Princess.”

The young man’s eyes glittered with eager anticipation. “Then where is she?”

“She is saying goodnight to my nephew.”

“She has a child?” Miss Red-talons piped up, righteous indignation lacing her voice. “Why is she here instead a member of the royal family?"

Sacha's outrage at the woman's stupidity diminished when Dewar cocked an eyebrow in his direction, he gave an infinitesimal shake of his head and watched the humorous gleam in the Scotsman’s eyes.

Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you to everyone who leaves comments, and visits every week. I truly appreciate your company.

The Gasquet Princes ~ Book 2

It didn’t take Henri long to pick up Liam’s eagerness to share and explain his enthusiasm for the farm and training the horses used to help disabled children. He supposed that at some time he’d heard of such things, but as he watched Melanie, and occasionally Monica, working with them, their joy transmitted itself to him.

Several volunteers gave their time to the charity, but it was watching Monica working with the children that soothed his soul and taught him there was far more to life than the meetings, duty, and ceremonies he’d immersed himself in so far.


The children loved her. And she reciprocated the emotion. It flowed around the arena when she worked, echoed in the children’s laughter each time they achieved a new goal.

Please hop on over to SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY to read more fabulous snippets on offer this week.

Tuesday Tales 31st Jan

Thank you for dropping in to read this week's TUESDAY TALES

The prompt is 'Save'

Sacha Mathieu Gasquet swore beneath his breath, hoping the carefully chosen music in the background covered his irritated expletive. Overhead lights strategically placed spotlighted many of the different groups playing a social tango as one or more joined and left groups to drift on to another. The scent of indoor trees and plants vied with expensive perfume. The rise and fall of conversation as businessmen worked the room, all reminding him of a pack of penguins huddled together in the arctic, while the women, eager to out-sparkle each other with their ropes of diamond wound round their necks and wrists, drifted at their sides. How come he’d never objected to the monotony of the routine until this evening? Not only the men, Sacha decided as he watched a couple of women, one in along midnight blue ankle length gown and the other in a rich brown that enhanced her hair and never crossed the line from professional business woman to professional companion.

If someone didn’t save him soon, he’d deck the next person who squeezed his hand when they shook it, he vowed beneath his breath, as the next man in the long queue waiting to be presented to him, approached.

Along with his brothers and members of the Jubilee Committee he’d approved the arrangements for his father’s silver jubilee, celebrating twenty-five years as King, but the last six months of receptions, tours parties and official appearances on his parents’ behalf was wearing thin. He was thankful he’d never have to step into his father’s shoes. That was his older brother’s destiny and failing Henri; Simeon, his twin, beat him into the world by six minutes.

The fumes of whiskey and Havana cigar reached Sacha before the portly, round-faced tub of a man. Bowing to the inevitable he still winced when the idiot nearly crushed his hand to a pulp.

"Archibald Clairmont."  The Master of Ceromonie's voice rang out seconds before the man grabbed his hand and shook it as though he were a terrier with a bone.

“Good to see you, my boy.”

When Sacha offered a blank, and he hoped, regal stare, the man laughed, slapped him on the arm and challenged his childhood memory.

“Shouldn’t expect you to remember your godfather, should I? After all I’ve been on the other side of the world for most of your life.”

A vague memory when he was about six years old, surfaced of a bubbly man who always surrounded himself with everything associated with a professional clown. He offered a tentative smile.

“Busted.” Sacha agreed, and searched the man’s suddenly anxious face.

“Don’t leave without talking to me.” The man waited long enough to obtain a nod of acknowledgement before allowing himself to be moved on.

For a moment, Sacha watched as he was surrounded by the mêlée of guests in the ball room.

“Mrs. Rosamond Hamilton.” The Master of Ceremonies ranf out about the general mixture of muted conversation and background music coming from the orchestra at the far end of the room.

The carefully presented official smile slipped right off his face when he stared into the startled sky-blue eyes of Rosie from his sister-in-law’s riding school for disabled children. Before the official could utter another word, Sacha grinned, and instead of offering the standard air kiss, aimed straight for her luscious red lips.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, and discovered he spoke no more than the truth, while remembering the dances he’d stolen during the Valentine Day’s bash they’d held at the riding school. And more, he recalled the sizzling electricity between them when he’d pulled her close enough to feel her heart racing in time with his own.

“Mrs. Hamilton is co-owner of a charity that offers riding facilities for disabled children.” The Master of Ceremonies voice cut through his memories.

“Mrs.?” Struggling to shove the shock and fury the image of Rosie in another man’s arms, another man’s bed aroused, he dropped her hand like a hot potato.

“Widowed.”

He saw the pain in her eyes, and fought for sympathy when relief warred for supremacy. “I’m sorry,” he lied, and understood why since his departure from the Scottish farm and riding school he’d left every woman he’d partnered over the last six months standing dumbstruck with wrath when he declined their invitations to share their bed.

Though what they had to be angry about he refused to acknowledge. Simply appearing at an event on his arm in the social calendar assured the woman of weeks of headline news in every major magazine and TV news channels for several months. And always they gained a sparkly trinket from Tiffany’s. He looked down at the wary eyes of the woman who’d haunted him for so long and let the first genuine smile reach his own.

“It’s good to see you, are you in London for long?”

“I leave in the morning.”

A rustle from the lengthening queue fueled his sudden anxiety. “Where are you staying?”

Rosie named her hotel, coloured when he squeezed her hand, and allowed herself to be escorted into the crush of people in the ballroom.

He didn’t stop to wonder why he couldn’t let Rosie leave before he’d spent some time with her. One look in his security guard’s direction brought the man to his side. A few words of instruction garnered a nod of acceptance and with a satisfied grin he turned to welcome the next guest.

By moving Rosie's things to a spare suite on the same floor of his floor of the hotel, she couldn't she leave for home before he saw her again.