Excerpt from The Rustler's Daughter by M.E. Franco

The Rustler's Daughter

By M.E. Franco

SYNOPSIS:

When Hannah Miller’s mother dies unexpectedly, she is forced to go live with her father, who she thought was dead. Hannah has high hopes that her father will be happy to finally meet her, but Roy Miller quickly puts Hannah in her place. She is a burden, just another mouth to feed, and an ugly reminder of the wife who left him.

Her father's act of desperation puts Hannah at the mercy of his enemies, the neighboring Scott family. Despite the bad blood between their families, Hannah is immediately attracted to Jackson Scott, but he has his own secrets and feels Hannah would be better off with someone else. When someone else does offer Hannah a way out of her predicament, will Jackson be able put aside his past and fight for the woman he loves?


MICHELLE SAYS:

Taking a break from my paranormal series, I set out to do something completely different. I grew up watching tons of western shows and movies and reading bags full of Harlequin romance books my grandfather used to buy me at the "swap meet", so I thought it might be fun to try my hand at writing one. My grandmother used to tell me stories of our family, and how they left Oklahoma to farm in California. I chose Folsom, California around the early 1890's as my setting. California during and after the Gold Rush was a dangerous place to be. It was a harsh environment to make a living for men, let alone women. When I wrote this story, I wanted the woman to be strong, but I also had to take into consideration that it was a different time, and women didn't have the choices they have now. Many women had to depend on men to survive, and so it was really challenging for me to write a strong woman character under those circumstances. It goes against my nature, but that was the reality of the time.

    In The Rustler's Daughter, Hannah is sent to live with her father and brother after her mother dies. Her father is a bitter man and his desperation sets forth a series of events that leaves Hannah alone on her family's ranch without help or money. Hannah is attracted to one of the men on the neighboring ranch, but he hasn't seemed interested in her. When a rich, older man in town offers her a way out of her predicament, she's forced to consider marrying a man she doesn't love to save her family's ranch.

EXCERPT:

"You seem to be a smart girl. I'm sure you're not as ignorant of your situation as you appear. Surely you understand that you cannot continue on as you are, without help."

            There it was. Out in the open. Her face burned with embarrassment. She looked away and didn't respond.

            "I want to help. As a friend of your father's, I feel responsible for you now that he's gone." Mr. Harding hooked his finger under Hannah's chin, turning her face up to his.

            "State your business, Mr. Harding." Hannah wasn't fooled by his false words. She remembered how her father had looked at him. They were not friends.

            Mr. Harding laughed out loud. "Well, you are a smart girl indeed." He laughed again. "Straight to business then. I like that. Here's what I propose, Miss Miller. You need money and someone to help you run the farm, and I'd like to do that for you."

            "What do you want in return?"

            "You," he said softly.

            "Pardon?" Hannah didn't like where this conversation was going.

            "It's simple really. I need a wife, and you need a husband. It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

            Not the romantic proposal she had always dreamed of, but many marriages were based on convenience rather than love. He was just being practical.

            "Thank you for your offer, Mr. Harding, but I'm not entirely alone. The Scotts have been helping me."
            Mr. Harding's eyebrows rose. "The Scott brothers? So, one of them has offered to marry you then?"

            "Well...no," she stammered while Jackson's handsome face burned in her thoughts.

            "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how that looks, Miss Miller. You alone on that ranch with three young men visiting, and no one there to chaperone," he sneered.

            Hannah was shaken by his cruel words. He was right. She hadn't thought about how her situation might look to others. She had enough problems holding her head up in town after being branded the rustler's daughter. She didn't need her reputation coming into question as well.

            "I'm well aware of my situation," Hannah hissed.

            Mr. Harding immediately backed off. "I'm sorry. I've offended you again. That was not my intention. You don't have to give me an answer now. Just say you'll consider it. I'm sure you'll realize that it really is the best answer." He smiled broadly, taking her hand and placing a kiss on it, before tipping his hat.

FIND OUT MORE:

Get The Rustler's Daughter on Amazon or  Nook.  

Also check:

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And follow on Twitter @MEFranco1

Excerpt from INFAMOUS By Irene Preston

INFAMOUS 

By Irene Preston

SYNOPSIS:

Being Jessica Sinclair meant never having to apologize for bad behavior.

Everyone knows Jessica Sinclair.  She’s that girl on the cover of all the tabloids. As a Hollywood insider, Jessica has spent her life partying with A-list celebrities, shopping on Rodeo Drive, and living through scandal after scandal.  She’s certainly not cut out for playing Mom in the suburbs.  But when her estranged husband offers her a second chance at the ‘All American’ lifestyle she can’t pass up a shot at real happiness.  Back in suburbia, Jessica spends her nights in sexy role-play hoping Morgan will overlook her deficiencies as a homemaker.  She spends her days attending  P.T.A. meetings, burning cookies, and asking herself "What would June Cleaver do?"  More to the point, what will Morgan do when she winds up back in the tabloids--with his teenage daughter right next to her?

FROM IRENE:

I call this my “Paris Hilton weds soccer dad story.”  I had a blast with this couple, but when writing about a married couple, it’s sometimes a challenge to keep the tension up. I loved writing this scene because it’s a great example of the way Jessica sabotages her relationships.  Her reconciliation with Morgan is going well until Morgan puts his foot in his mouth with an insensitive remark about a gift he’s bought her.  Instead of letting him know he’s hurt her, she reverts back to her standard coping mechanism. 

EXCERPT:

             “It’s amazing. I love it. What’s the occasion, though?”

            “No occasion, it just occurred to me that when a man has a beautiful wife he should buy her beautiful things.”

            Morgan wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he lifted out the bracelet and fastened it around her wrist. His thumb lingered, stroking her pulse next to the diamonds.

            “If you want a reason, though, let’s just say that you’ve been exceeding my expectations in the monogamy department. I know you said I wouldn’t be bored, but I didn’t expect you to take the job so seriously.”

            She lowered her lashes so he couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. He couldn’t mean that the way it sounded. It was the kind of thing a man said to his mistress, not his wife. She wondered if he had bought the bracelet with her in mind at all, or if he had just had the jeweler send over something in the appropriate price range for a spoiled trophy wife. The beautiful bracelet felt like a manacle around her wrist.

            All her happiness in the evening vanished. Was that how Morgan saw her? A beautiful possession? Something he could buy for his enjoyment and convenience? When they first met, she hadn’t thought so. She had thought he loved her as much as she loved him. It was only later that she realized he had never said the words.

            Her insecurities about moving back into his life crashed down on her. She still wasn’t satisfied with his reasons for wanting her back. Was it pride? She knew he didn’t like to fail. A divorce might have seemed like a very personal failure to him. Or maybe she really was just a pretty convenience. Why bother with a nanny and a mistress when you could get both in one package deal?

            “What would I have to do to earn a matching necklace?” She thought she had hidden the little barb of sarcasm under her trademark throaty purr, but apparently she was a little off stride tonight. Morgan’s eyes narrowed and he gave her a sharp look. Then he smiled and ran his thumb up her palm, sending little shivers through her.

            “I’m sure you’ll think of something if you’re motivated.”  

            She wanted to snatch her hand away from him, but years of playing the bad girl in public kept her calm and smiling. She wasn’t the daughter of an Oscar-winning actress for nothing. If Morgan wanted a whore, she would oblige him.

            She relaxed, letting herself lean toward him over the table. She uncrossed her legs, wiggling suggestively as she repositioned herself. Sighing, she ran a calculating tongue over her lips and then caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she peered up at him though her lashes. As expected, Morgan’s eyes were riveted to her mouth.

            “Got any suggestions?” she asked.

            “Jessica—” Morgan’s tone was an amused warning, but his eyes had darkened with desire.

            Under the table, Jessica toed off one black pump. The pumps matched the almost-demure black dress. They were almost boring, almost conservative, the type of black peep-toe pumps any woman might keep as a staple in her closet . . . unless you counted the four-and-a-half inch stiletto heel and the trademark Louboutin red sole that turned them into something else altogether.

            She eased her foot out of the designer leather and slid it along the floor until she made contact with the sole of Morgan’s sensible black oxford. Very slowly, maintaining continuous eye contact, she began sliding her foot up his calf. Morgan’s eyes widened and Jessica smiled at him as her foot continued its upward journey.

            “Jessica. . . .” His voice was a low growl.

            She blinked artlessly.

            “Morgan?”

            He opened his mouth, but just then her foot finished its climb and made its way over the edge of the chair and into his lap. There was an unmistakable bulge in his trousers. She stroked delicately.

            He jumped and a hand clamped over her foot. Trapped, she wiggled her toes against him, pressing down until she felt him press back involuntarily. His mouth was a grim line, but his pupils had dilated until there was only a thin band of brown around the edges.

            “Cut that out,” he said.

            Jessica gave another wiggle with her toes. His hand tightened around her foot.

            “Are you sure, Morgan?” she said. “I want to make sure to give good value.”

            Teach him to be careful what he wished for. The tablecloth wasn’t long enough to hide what she was doing. Anyone who happened to glance this way was going to get an eyeful. She smiled. If there was one thing Jessica Sinclair was known for, it was living right down to everyone’s worst expectations.

FIND OUT MORE:

Infamous will be available in US Barnes and Noble and other local booksellers on February 18, 2014

You can purchase online immediately:

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Excerpt from: Winter Arrives (White Cairns ski school, Episode 1) by Roz Marshall

Winter Arrives 

(White Cairns ski school, Episode 1)  

By Roz Marshall

Synopsis

When her ski instructor husband is delayed from returning to Scotland, it falls to Jude Winters - creative graphic artist, mother and home-maker – to get the season started for ailing White Cairns Ski School. It's a challenge that's way out of her comfort zone. How can she turn things around and keep the wolf from their door until he gets back?

"Winter Arrives" is the 1^st novella from the 'White Cairns Ski School' series about the dramas and romances in a Scottish snowsports school. 

Roz says:

“Winter Arrives” was, illogically, the second book I wrote for the ‘White Cairns ski school’ series.

Episode 2, “Fear of Falling”, started life as a one-hour TV drama script; and ended up as a prose novella when I realised how hard it was for a debut scriptwriter to get a series commissioned, and how much easier it is to self-publish a series of eBooks.

Like a TV drama series, each episode has its own story arc, but there are also threads from the wider story and foreshadowing for future books. So my challenge in writing Episode 1 was to introduce all the characters in a plausible way which would lead into the (already written) second book, whilst making it a real ‘story’ in its own right, with a beginning, middle and end.

This extract shows some of the would-be instructors arriving in the ski resort for their interviews with the ski school.

Extract

Jude twisted her lip. "I just hope today works, and some good people turn up. We've only got a couple of days left to get the list to Forbes."

"She'll be right," Mike said again, but anything else he might have added got lost as the door flew open and a denim-clad bundle of energy bounced into the room. Small, ginger-haired and distinctive, rather than tall, dark and handsome, he looked like the boy next door who'd been shrunk in the wash.

"Morning, campers!" He looked round at the almost-empty room. "I'm never first here?"

Jude went over to greet him. She held out a hand, "Hi, I'm Jude, the, erm, ski school owner."

He shook her hand enthusiastically. "Hi, I'm Callum. Callum Johnstone."

-::-

The main ski resort was a few miles away from White Cairns village. Built in the 1960s, around an existing village, it was a jumble of flat-roofed concrete monstrosities, quaint alpine-pastiche wood-clad lodges, and typical Scottish stone-built houses.

On the high street, a Premier bus pulled away from the bus stop, leaving two passengers on the pavement. The first quickly strode away, ponytail swinging above the rucksack on her back, Doc Martens tapping a rhythm that counterpointed the ski bag as it banged against her leg.

The second passenger looked rather forlorn as she stood amongst her bags, gazing round at the shops and cafes.

Tourists milled aimlessly on the pavements, cameras dangling round their necks like medals on Olympic athletes. Mostly they looked like they had just come off a bus trip to 'see Scotland in a day', although a few were obviously there for sporting activities and were dressed appropriately in sensible walking boots, fleeces and Gore-tex. The only local in evidence was a rather dishevelled, stringy old lady with grey hair and a decades-old ski jacket who was pushing a bicycle across the street, plastic supermarket bags swinging on the handlebars.

Debbie hoped that the rest of the skiers round here were a bit more modern, and perhaps more masculine as well. Sniffing, she unzipped a pocket in her sports bag, and pulled out a rather crumpled bit of paper. She studied it, then looked up and down the street. She frowned, turned the diagram through ninety degrees, looked left, and spotted the upper floors of the Regal Hotel. Stuffing the paper into the pocket of her hoodie, she took a deep breath and picked up her bags.

-::-

In the hotel car park, a beat-up Fiesta was sitting with its engine running, its windows starting to steam up. Inside, two sets of lips were welded together in a farewell clinch.

After some long minutes, they broke apart and the passenger reached behind him for the door handle. He slid out of the door, lips last, then flipped the seat forward and pulled a snowboard bag off the back seat and onto the pavement. He leaned back in for another kiss. "Last night was awesome!"

She pouted back up at him, saying, "Anytime, cowboy!" Then something across the car park caught her attention, and he noticed her pupils widen.

He turned his head to see what she was looking at, and his eyes narrowed. Another snowboarder was swaggering across the car park. He looked like a surfer dude – baggy cargo pants, a Fat Face sweatshirt, Converse sneakers and Oakleys perched on sun-bleached hair.

Marty stood up, pulled his sunglasses off his curly hair and onto his nose, then smacked the roof of her car and waved her off, saying, "I'll give you a call." He wouldn't.

The other snowboarder approached, sizing him up. From the look on his face, he obviously thought his labels were more impressive than Marty's jeans and fleece.

"Hi bro, I'm Colin. You here for the job?"

"Yup." Marty hoisted his snowboard bag onto his shoulder.

"What d'you ride?" asked Colin.

"A Deacon XT."

Colin sniffed. "I had one of those last season. Got rid of it." Marty just looked at him. "I got an Oppera Maxride from the rep. Wants me to test it for them. It's totally rad."

Marty shrugged. "I heard they were pretty sluggish. But okay if you don't ride too fast."

He turned his back and headed for the hotel entrance. They might be fellow snowboarders, but it was obvious they weren't going to be friends.

About the author

Roz lives in Scotland with her husband and the obligatory dog and cat. She has been writing since childhood, including screenwriting, songwriting, web pages and even sentiments for greeting cards!

The White Cairns novellas are written from experiences Roz had whilst working as a ski instructor in various Scottish ski resorts - they do say you should 'write what you know'… 

For more info on Roz Marshall, check out her books on AMAZON, get her NEWSLETTER, follow her updates on FACEBOOK or read her BLOG.

Excerpt from Love and Go by Wando Wande

Love and Go

By Wando Wande

SYNOPSIS:

Winning a Go game is hard, but winning the game of love is harder.

Luke Collier knows too well he's damaged. His mom never failed to remind him of his childhood sin until the day she died. Three months after her death, he is stoned in guilt and grief.

Hao Chen-Li, a Go game genius and self-styled Mandarin Asshole is determined to shake some life into Luke by force-feeding him Go lessons. His methods are pushy and grouchy and unconventional, but they work--too well.

Their tenuous Go bond becomes an irrefutable attraction.

Luke can’t risk it; he knows too well his dysfunction. A simple bond is good enough. But simple isn't so easy when Hao is determined to make his heart submit. Even though Luke can't deny his heart's need, he is gripped with indecision: trust love's power to heal or its power to destroy?

WANDO SAYS:

     This passage shows the first real encounter between awkward Luke and anal-retentive Hao. This chapter was exemplary of the book’s main themes, two very different men stewing in hurts, bumbling around to let go of their pasts, while clinging to their passion for the game of Go.  I liked how, in this scene, an ordinary Go game (some would call it a boring game) really showcases the characters’ true personalities. Also, the several layers of conflicts and the slight turns of humors were fun to write. Humor isn’t easy for me, but I find that with the right crucible of characters, humor flows more naturally. 


EXCERPT:

The particulars of Hao’s dating profile were easy to fill: Forty, lawyer, salary—declined to say. Favorite books: The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by William Gibbons. Favorite movies: Tous les Matins du Monde. Favorite music: L'Incoronazione di Poppea. About me …

The section knotted Hao into a sticky gumball. He put aside his laptop abruptly and shot up for a deep dash of breath. The potted bamboo at the far corner of the balcony beckoned with its pasty-yellow leaves and its crinkly brown sheathing the stems. His ex, Ricardo, had warned him jeeringly about his lack of affinity for green things, and this was the result: an imminent death.

Hao squashed himself back into the chair and opened his laptop again. His cheeks glowed with its bluish light, the cursor blinking in the About Me box. This should be simple, he thought.

Just looking to share my home and heart with the right man.

Those words bled with vulnerability and sentimentality, unfitting of a Mandarin Asshole. His mind segmenting into the deep dark night, he cracked himself for the precise and respectable way to say, “Hello, I’m Hao. Let’s fuck make love.”

He moaned to the stars, gritty ghosts, above the dark tree crowns. Falling back against his chair, he clicked furiously through ludicrous handles names and avatars of shooting dicks reticulated in pink. The lone abstract-looking avatar, a knife daggering a peach, piqued him despite the overtones of atavistic bravado in the username TheAssManCometh666.

His phone rang. Clicking through the profile mindlessly, he answered, “Hao Chen-Li speaking …”

“Hello. I hope you don’t mind, sir, that Brett gave me your number. I don’t believe we have met formally. I’m Luke Collier from the Go club.”

Luke’s words died on Hao, for he was faced with a big, blunt, black flag hanging at half-mast and a man’s face tight with a sneer of marine warrior ferocity. 

“Would you be making it to the club today,” Luke asked.

Hao licked his lips and repositioned his hot laptop for more comfort. “I won’t be coming until further notice.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Zoë will be sad too. She really wants to play you again.”

“Perhaps after she memorizes all the games of Go Seigen. Now if you’d excuse me.”

The phone dropped, Hao wriggled his fingers in anticipation of squeezing those corded braids of muscle. But the profile indicated nothing of parity between them except for the scant, ‘You know what I want, you know what you want. MESSAGE ME.’ This was an ultimatum to the Mandarin Asshole.

Dear TheAssManCometh666, I am a great admirer of your titan physique. It is truly without peer. May I inquire as to your exercise regimen over drinks?

The letter impressed him with its veiled intent, but as he was about to send it, his phone rang.

“This is Luke again. There are over a thousand games by Go Seigen. Surely you don’t mean all of them …”

Some static of grumbling carried over from the phone and then a piercing whine, ruining Hao’s southern glow.

“Yes, I meant all of them,” Hao said.

“I think this would be too hard for her, sir.”

“I memorized two games a week for five years. Believe me, given the right motivation, it’s very possible.”

“Sir,” the low voice grated Hao with its sleepy insistence, “two games a week would amount to over one hundred games a year. It’d take over ten years. She’d never get to play you.”

“You don’t say. At least, she’d have grown to be an excellent player worthy of someone else’s time. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Hanging up the phone, Hao groaned, switched to excogitating. Of money, looks, and personality, one need only pick two. He had money; he should be able to lie his way to a semblance of personality.

Dawg, yo ass is tight. Let’s meet up. Obviously, not that.

Exasperated, Hao soured on these messages that would, in the end, amount to nothing. Who would care for a hairless Chinese little man with no abs? Sighing, he shipped off his original message, and then the phone rang.

“I’m really sorry sir. I’m only trying to smooth a difficult situation.” Luke’s voice inflamed Hao’s ears. He groaned.  

“She feels this isn’t the least bit fair to her,” Luke continued.

“Am I obligated to play an entitled dolt?”

“No, no, of course not. There’s no obligation, only our gratitude, sir.”

‘Sir’ was nice to hear. “After she memorizes ten games then we may talk.”

“Five might be more reasonable for an eight-year-old.”

“Ten.”

“Seven.”

“All right, all right! Seven games. And don’t you ever call me again.”

Author note: Yes, Luke calls him again one final time. 

FIND OUT MORE:
Wando's BLOG
Wando's books on AMAZON
Follow on Twitter @WandoWande

Excerpt from The Last Lord of the Moors by Isabella Brooke

The Last Lord of the Moors

By Isabella Brooke

SYNOPSIS:

In the twenty-first century, who needs Lords anymore?

Richard, Lord of the Manor of Arkthwaite, lives alone in his crumbling house, resenting his hereditary position. He’s hoping to drink himself to an early grave and bring the title to an end.

His bleak plans are upset when newcomer Helena decides to shake up this fading community. She’s been jilted and she needs a new project, so she joins forces with local headmistress Vicky and together they hatch a plan to bring broadband to this remote spot. Their lives clash with Richard’s as the cable needs to be dug across his land.

But when Richard falls for Helena, it gets more complicated. She’s suspicious of men and their compliments; and he has his own reasons for wanting to stay single. Can they both shake off their histories to bring a better future to the village - and their own lives?

Contains: romance, community regeneration, pagans, over-the-top mothers, British humour, rain.

ISABELLA SAYS:

The whole fete chapter was great fun to write and the extract below is just one part of it. I’m interested in characters - of course, what writer isn’t! - but characters get really fascinating when you take them out of their comfort zones and shove them into challenging situations, and then let them spark off one another.

Here, Richard, the unwilling Lord of the Manor, has finally been dragged back into public life by Helena. It was a challenge to write a curmudgeonly character like Richard yet still keep him human and appealing enough for the reader to warm to him. Otherwise, why would Helena fall for him? Often I think people reveal their true natures through their actions, so while Richard might be saying one thing, his peace offering of a cheeseburger shows much more of his personality.

EXCERPT:

There was another flood of visitors to the fete just after lunch, and the numbers steadily built throughout the afternoon. Helena and Vicky had split up, and by three o’clock Helena was ready to crawl into a hole and sleep. She had sent someone to Ingholme to buy yet more toilet paper and plastic cups, and was just unloading their car, when Richard finally reappeared.

He was holding a greasy cheeseburger and it looked like the nicest thing she had ever seen. He thrust it towards her. “You haven’t had any lunch. Nor any decent breakfast. Three biscuits don’t count.”

“Oh. Thank you. One moment… here, Marie, these are for the far portaloos.”

Marie nodded and loaded herself up with loo rolls. She lumbered off and Helena accepted the cheeseburger. It was more than food, she knew. It was a sticky lard-based peace offering.

“That’s fantastic,” she said, after the first mouthful. “Hang on… how did you know I hadn’t had any lunch?”

He leaned on the car’s back bumper and tipped his head back, staring at the sky. “Intuition…?”

“Really?”

He dropped his chin and his gaze was intense. “Actually, no, I’ve been watching you all day.”

The bread and meat balled in her mouth as she suddenly struggled to chew and to swallow. The sentence hung in the air between them. She forced herself to eat the entire cheeseburger before replying.

“Like some crazy stalker?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because… of lots of things. What time does the fete end?”

“Officially, five, but people are starting to go home already. Then we’ve got the big clean-up, but most of the marshals are coming back tomorrow to help out.”

“Sounds sensible. You must be shattered.”

“I am… if I stop to think about it.” She sagged as she spoke.

“You’ve done an amazing job. I’ll hang around as well, help with the tidying, and then…”

“What?” She looked at him with curiosity. He folded his arms, then seemed to catch himself, and unfolded them with a jerk.

“Come back up to mine. I’ve got a tub full of left-over chili in the fridge. Needs eating.”

“Well, er…”

“Government directives mean we can’t feed left-overs to pigs any more, see. And I am sure you hate waste as much as I do. Also, you’ll be knackered. I’ll come and find you when the fete’s over.”

He stamped off and Helena shook her head in despair. He was making it very, very clear there was no romance in the air, and that was exactly how she wanted it.

Romance? Who mentioned romance? She frowned, mostly at herself. It was like telling someone not to think about pink elephants. She wiped her hands on a tissue and launched herself back into the fray.

FIND OUT MORE:

Isabella Brooke is the penname of a writer in North-West England. Under her other names, she writes cozy mysteries and magazine articles.
Writing as Isabella, she's free to enjoy creating warm, believable characters that find strength and humour in even the most difficult circumstances. These novels are pure escapism and such fun to write; she hopes they are as much fun to read.

She has a new blog at romancebyisabella.wordpress.com and is on facebook at www.facebook.com/isabella.brooke.author. The Last Lord of the Moors is on Amazon.co.uk at http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Last-Lord-Of-Moors-ebook/dp/B00HL03PT0and Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/The-Last-Lord-Of-Moors-ebook/dp/B00HL03PT0  

Follow her on Twitter @BarlowAutumn

Excerpt from Tripping Prince Charming by Ey Wade

Tripping Prince Charming

By Ey Wade

The Author Says:  

This excerpt from the romantic play/dramady, Tripping Prince Charming caused me as much drama and trepidation as it did the character Nathaniel .  His love for his lady fair was eluding him. She, Lillie-Rose McIntyre, has endured a very violent marriage and along with her girlfriends,  decided they would be in charge of the path of their love story. Tripping Prince Charming, a fairytale on its own, is written in acts and scenes and tell the tale of three very entertaining,  sweet love stories.

Nathaniel is a man determined to hold the woman from his dreams, in his heart like a precious pearl clasped in his hand. This is a tidbit of his anguish.  


Excerpt:

Nathaniel leaned back on the porch swing of the Gardiner home until his head was resting on the wrought iron frame and he closed his eyes. The metal was as uncomfortable to his flesh as his thoughts were to his mind. Sighing deeply, he searched his heart to try and figure out exactly what he need to do about Lillie-Rose.

 In his heart there was nothing but love for the woman. He knew without a doubt she was the one he wanted to spend the remainder of his life with. The problem was, Lillie-Rose was scared to death. The mere mention of the word marriage and she practically ran away mentally and physically. Not that he blamed her. After living through a violent and abusive marriage at a young age, and an equally violent childhood, he could understand her running in terror. Though he was doing his best to court her slowly with small gifts, attending quiet dinners in her huge hideout of a home, sometimes engaging in extremely sensual make-out sessions, full blown overnight lovemaking and patiently listening to her voiced fears, he was afraid to initiate a conversation that could possibly take their relationship to the final level or kill it where it stood.


To know more about Ey Wade and her books, visit 
http://wade-inpublishing.com 
Grab excerpts and pins http://bit.ly/TPCpins
BLOG: http://trippingprincecharming.blogspot.com
TWITTER: @jumpouttheboat 

Excerpt from Concealed in My Heart by Regina Puckett

Concealed in My Heart 

By Regina Puckett

Synopsis: Charity Fields has everything she has ever wanted. She has just married her childhood sweetheart and has landed her first leading role in a major motion film production. But soon a terrible lie and a heartbreaking betrayal turns her life upside down, and she has to rethink her entire future. Charity realizes she needs to put some distance between her and her old love, so she relocates to California to begin a new life.

When she's faced yet again with another loss and betrayal she doesn't think her heart can handle the pain. Through it all, Charity discovers that she has strength she never knew she had, and even if she has to keep her new love concealed in her heart, she will survive no matter what.

Regina says: I like this scene because it shows my main character, Charity Fields,  isn’t perfect.    It makes her feel real and not just the cookie-cutter beautiful woman who meets the handsome man and they live happily-ever-after. Happy-ever-after should be a journey and appreciated when it finally comes.

Excerpt:

Maria placed her hand on his arm and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Go get him, tiger. Now I’m going to leave the two of you alone. If David can’t teach you how to kiss on screen, no one can.”

David gave his wife a swift pat on her behind as she turned to leave. He then faced Charity. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. Of course, the first thing she did was tense up.

“Now there’s your problem. You can’t make the audience believe you want to kiss me if you continue to stiffen up like an ironing board every time I touch you. We’re supposed to be madly in love.”

Charity laughed at his comical hurt expression, but then remembered Christopher was on the other side of the set just waiting for her to mess up again. She wanted more than anything to prove him wrong. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do if it will get Christopher off of my back for once. I really want to do this right, but when you lean in, all I can think about is everyone is watching and it makes me too nervous to do what I know I need to do.”

David bit his bottom lip and looked thoughtful. He finally snapped his fingers and asked, “How do you make it through all your other scenes? Everyone’s watching then too.” Charity studied the front of his football jersey. It was smudged with dirt and grass. He was supposed to have just finished playing in a game against the Pittsburg Steelers. Even his face was smudged with fake blood and dirt and he was still too handsome for his own good.

It was tempting to wipe the fake dirt off the end of his nose but Charity resisted and concentrated on his question instead. “I don’t ever think about whose watching then.”

He swiped at the bottom of her earlobe and asked in a teasing tone, “So why are you thinking about them now? It’s the same thing. We aren’t really kissing. We’re actors and we’re doing what we do best, we’re acting. You have to start looking at this differently. The only thing that resembles a real kiss is that our lips are touching.”

Without warning he leaned in and spoke in the same tone Christopher usually used on her. “Now tilt your face up towards me.”

A giggle escaped before she could stop it but she immediately grew serious when he didn’t smile too.

He squeezed her shoulder and in spite of his instructions, she tensed up again. “Now get that deer in the head lights look off your face. Think about kissing Johnny. How do you feel the moment before he kisses you?”

That thought sent a shiver down her spine. Johnny was easy to kiss. Just thinking about it made Charity relax.

David grinned. “That’s it. Remember to use that look again when the camera’s on. You actually look like you want to be kissed.” He leaned in again and spoke in a low tone about each and every movement she should make in anticipation of his movements. The way he went over the scene, it made perfect sense to her. It was almost like choreographing a dance step by step.

David finally lifted her chin. “Now let’s do this exactly as we just went over it. I’m going to kiss you and you’re not going to tense up on me again. Okay?”

Charity drew in a deep breath and thought about Johnny as she leaned into David’s kiss.

When the kiss was over he let out a congratulatory, “Yes!” He nudged her shoulder with the palm of his hand. “See. That wasn’t so bad was it? I knew you could do it. It didn’t even take the entire thirty minutes. Let’s go show Christopher we can do this in one take.”

Charity couldn’t help but smile at David’s enthusiasm. She linked her arm through his. “Let’s go get this over with.”

David elbowed her in the side. “Hey. I have never had a woman less excited about kissing me before. I think my feelings might be hurt.”

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