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.
For more Saturday Samples, click HERE
Showing posts with label book series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book series. Show all posts
12 May 2012
31 January 2012
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.
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.
29 March 2010
Please give a warm welcome to debut author ~ Kristy Denice Bock
Please give a warm welcome to my dear friend, and talented writer, Kristy Denice Bock who's debut novel, Divine Touch, releases on April 8th with Red Rose Publishing.
What/who has been your greatest inspiration?
My greatest inspiration in writing has been my father, who can tell a story so believable that when you find out it was something he just came up with, you question him making it up before you question why you believed something that turned out to be a tall tale. The gift to tell a good tale is something that runs rampant through my family, from coming up with a believable excuse to entertaining large crowds. The ability is something that has always struck me as a good thing to grab from the gene pool. I just took it a step further and put my tall tales in writing.
What has been your greatest fear you’ve had to overcome as a writer?
Fear is something that I deal with in small doses. One minute I’m afraid that everything I write is complete crap and unworthy of being read. The next I worry that I’m going to make my editor go blind with numerous errors and issues that I should be able to have fixed. Then I’m terrified that someone will read the book and hate it. I worry that my mother will read It and disown me (not for content but because it doesn’t live up to the likes of her favorite authors) Then I worry that it will collect dust and go unread for the rest of eternity. I get over these fears by writing the next book. I can’t stress too much about what I can’t change if my mind is properly engaged.
What do you do to relax?
Sleep. I’m an uptight person, so the only time I’m truly relaxed is when I’m watching the back of my eyelids.
Did you always want to write and if not what triggered your passion for writing?
Yes. My parents bought me an electric type writer when I was fourteen years old. I lost my way for a few years but came back with a vengeance. I knew I’d write.. never once questioned it… I just took a while to get started on that first book.
Are you a pantser or a plotter? If a plotter which comes first your characters, your settings or your plot?
I think about plotting. I think so hard I give myself a headache, so I just write and see where it takes me. Every other chapter I’ll go back and make sure everything Is moving in the same direction.
What kind of goals do you set?
Flexible ones. I’m a single parent of four children… goals aren’t my forte. Actually neither are schedules… appointments… structure…
Whose POV do you prefer…hero/heroine/villain/multiple?
I think every main character’s point of view is crucial to fully engage the reader. I want my reader to know what my bad guys are up to, it’s more fun when the reader knows more than the hero/heroine.
What is your favoured writing routine? Do you have a set routine and place to write?
Hmm, somewhere quiet (meaning no kid distraction because I have to blast music to drown out conflicting thoughts.) I often have a hard time focusing on what I’m working on with other stories, characters and ideas interfering so I play music very loud to help me with the task at hand. (And hope the kids stay asleep or that school doesn’t let out early for some unknown reason)
Which do you prefer, background music or silence when you write?
Loud, obnoxious, bass thumping music.
What book are you reading at the moment?
Right this moment I have far too much to do to read a book, which makes me very sad. I hope to soon pick up something fun and light. I pick books depending on my mood. If I want to cry… I pick up something that will make me cry, and sometimes if lifes just been overwhelming, well its time for a light and fluffy happy book.
Who is your favourite author?
Um, at the moment Mary Janice Davidson with her undead series. Tomorrow who knows… it changes with the last book I read.
Some writers stop reading while writing because the feel it influences their writing. Do you read while working on a current writing project?
Not while I’m focused on the project, but if I need a break from writing, reading helps me clear the circuit board so that my mind is not so wrapped up on my work in progress.
How do you deal with criticism?
Cry. LOL I’m such a wuss. Then I put my big girl panties on and read the criticism. If its something that will make the story better I go with it, if I see no positive aspects in it, I ignore it.
What do you do when your mind blanks?
Walk away or start deleting. Once I deleted three chapters until I found what bothered me. (this is not the most productive way to write a book, but it works for me.) I will also use a program called Write or Die and it helps tremendously with moments when the words just will not come.
What books and wip are in the pipeline for the future? (Plug your series as much as you like here!! LOL)
I created a world where there is another race of people living among us. They are omnipotent and are called the Divine Ones. Six Goddesses who have made a deal with the Human council that they would limit their involvement in human life, for the sake of their children. Their children would grow up among the human mortals and then pass three trials to prove they are capable of having their natural birth powers, and yet retain the balance with the humans.
Divine Touch – Release date April 8th!!
Kate learns her mother is a Goddess and her boyfriend is a werewolf. What else could go wrong?
Divine Intervention – Written and submitted
Savannah's day goes from bad to worse when she's killed by the groom on her wedding day... that is until she meets Death.
Divine Purpose – being written as we speak…
Elle wanted to rewind time after she accidently turns the man she loves into a shadow creature. What good is finding out your mother is a Goddess if you can't do just that?
Divine Revenge
Ember has finally found the secret to destroying her father’s empire, and she knows just the demon to help her do it.
Divine Forgiveness
Faith knows the good in Cade outweighs the bad, she believe in him when no one else would, will her love be enough to save his soul?
Divine Rescue
Evelyn was no damsel in distress, she certainly didn't need Alex saving her every time something bad happened. She wasn't just the daughter of a goddess, she had special ways to get herself out of situations
Divine Redemption
Edereu had been given a second chance, but the one person who had been there for her at her worst, wanted nothing to do with her now that she changed. How could she convince Michael that his heart would be safe in her hands.
(I also have the first book of an angel series in the works that is tentatively named Fall from Grace.)
Any tips on promotion?
Don’t expect others to do for you what you can do for yourself. I have a blog Talk Radio show (Wednesday Nights 11pm Est) I have an active Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, Ning. I plan on going to book signings as well as conventions in the next upcoming two years.
What advice would you give an aspiring writer?
Treat writing as a business. Dreams will give you an idea, but hard work, research and a business plan will get you so much further. Know your business, know your market, know your editor, know your publisher. Do not think that dreams alone will carry you through.
Do you have an excerpt from one of your books you’d like to share?
“I could devour every inch of your skin and you would beg me for more. It most certainly would not suck.” Though he didn't touch her, her body tingled as if he had. She stared at him dumbfounded while her brain tried to prepare some type of appropriate response.
As she gaped at him, she realized he was changing. His jaw extended, conforming to an altogether new shape. The next thing she noticed was his eyes. They shifted from blue to black as the bone structure in his face changed, narrowing causing his eyes to set apart. His black hair spread the length of his body. It took every bit of control Kate possessed to not reach out and touch him.
His spine erupted, lengthening his torso as he dropped to his knees. Kate wondered for a brief moment if it hurt. His arms and legs shortened, turning into what she would expect a wolf's legs to look like. Though it only took a short period of time, his transformation captivated her.
Unable to stop herself, she reached out to touch him. The wolf turned its head toward her, baring its teeth but emitting no sound. Kate's hand stilled at the vision of the fangs, but her curiosity was stronger than her sense of self–preservation. Her fingers connected with soft black fur. She half expected it to be coarse, but it felt like silk.
What started as curiosity had turned into pleasure. Her hands stroked the length of the wolf's fur from the base of its neck to the hindquarters. With her face pressed against his fur, she breathed in his scent. The feel of his fur against her skin sent a ripple of heat through her body.
Shocked at her body’s reaction, she jerked her thoughts from a place they did not belong. With a need to return to reality, she backed away from the wolf Zane had become. Her breath caught at the sight of his eyes. Though her mind had turned him from werewolf to pure wolf, the sight of Zane in those black eyes made her all too aware of the man within the beast. He flashed his teeth again in what could only be described as a smirk and bounded away.
Kate sank to the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She exhaled slowly, emptying her lungs before taking in a shuddering breath.
“You know you've been celibate too long when a wolf turns you on,” she said aloud. The desire she felt as she stroked the soft fur encasing that body left her throbbing with want. She knew the moment she saw him again in male form she'd not be able to look him in the eye.
***
Please visit my Book Trailer for Divine Touch
Thank you, Kristy, for coming in today and sharing your thoughts and advice with us.
If you have any questions or would like to leave a comment, Kristy will be happy to respond.
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