Saturday

WEEKEND WRITING WARRIORS #41

So, last we heard, Katherine is situated on a settee in the drawing room alone with Lord George Kerr. He has declared how many can't wait for Napoleon, or as he referred to him - La Corse - to be defeated.
"You sound as though you've been there and seen that for yourself."
If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she wouldn't have seen him give a start. Minutiae in terms of reaction, but there all the same.
"No, not this boring English gentleman. My French is deplorable, almost as bad as my Latin." He pretended to shudder. "I took an interest in what Old Boney was up to when Nathan enlisted, I played no part in the war."
The gentleman doth protest too much.
A revised quote from Shakespeare fluttered through her mind at his declaration. Kitty determined Lord George did not want her to question his connection with France and nervously pleated the throw rug on her lap.
That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. For more information on Weekend Writing Warriors, as well as to read other talented authors, click HERE


WEEKEND WRITING WARRIORS #40

I've been sharing from Katherine, and I'm loving how the story is unfolding, but today I thought I'd share from a paranormal/time travel that I work on whenever I can't think of what to add to my current WIP. It's my stress reliever.

This is from Craven Desires. The image to the left is part of the cover. Dreamy, or what?

Ma'alcom, a dark Druid, has two goals. The most pressing one is to rule the clan. The only thing standing in his way is his cousin, Robert Douglas MacKinnon, Laird of Craven Castle and a powerful Druid in his own right. Ma'alcom has captured Laird Craven's wife and in order for Craven to claim her, he must fight a champion of Ma'alcom's choosing, a giant of a man, topping Craven by a good six inches.

Unbeknownst to all of them, Eve included, she has been imbued with Fae powers... well, that is for another snippet....but they're about to get a taste of what she can do.

I've done a bit of a time jump in this excerpt, in order to leave you on the edge of your computer chair.
Ma'alcom twisted the rope until it bit into her skin and tossed the remaining length of rope over the branch of a tree, stretching her arms until she was forced up onto the tips of her toes. She struggled to stay on the balls of her feet, to help ease the pull on her shoulders.
"Don't think your lover will save you with magic, for the area in which he'll fight my champion has been heavily warded," Ma'alcom bragged before he stepped away and surveyed her, much as an artist would assess a new painting. "Unfortunately, this means my magic will be rendered useless as well, but such is the sacrifice I'm willing to make in order to keep the battle fair."
Hours later, as the full moon rose to its zenith, Eve watched the two men circle each other, testing the other's reactions, gauging their skills. She knew Ma'alcom intended Craven to be distracted by the thought of her strung up on the edge of the warded boundary and prayed fervently he would win and---
Pain sliced through her leg and she involuntarily cried out. Ma'alcom raised his dagger and watched blood drip off the end of the blade. Momentarily diverted, Craven lowered his shield and the giant swung his mallet.
"No!," Eve cried out, and the wood became silent, leaving only her and Craven.
Ooooohhhh, what do you think happened?
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Tuesday

Tidbit Tuesday

I've been working on KATHERINE, hoping for a fall 2017 release, and I'm close. So very, very close. I've shared numerous excerpts from this story line, and if you're interested in seeing the very beginning of Kitty's story, check out my Weekend Writing Warrior posts.

This excerpt is from another story I'm working on ( I like to have many irons in the fire... ). It's from GEORGIANA, which shall be released Spring 2018.

*~*~*
Georgiana Darcy bumped along the narrow road, the basket of preserves on her lap threatening to spill over with each jostle. She gripped the handle tighter and continued to gaze out the window, enjoying the vista spread before her. In two months time she'd leave this all behind and head to London in preparation for her first Season.
The thought of leaving Pemberley and all that was familiar caused her stomach to clench. She knew the fear was irrational, but the thought of meeting so many new people almost made her sick.
"Are you quite all right, Miss Darcy?"
The polite enquiry came from the Reverend Lord Nathanial Kerr, better known as Mr. Kerr to the parishioners of Kympton parish. His dark curly hair, broad shoulders and ready smile caused many a young lady to wish he belonged to her, but he had no eyes other than for his wife, the former Miss Caroline Bingley.
"I'm fine, Lord Nathan. Thank you."
As attractive as Lord Nathan was, he didn't make her heart race. No, that pesky organ only galloped along like a new colt around the vicar's brother, Maxwell Kerr, the fifth Duke of Adborough. Try as she might, no amount of internal scolding changed how she felt around him.
They hit another bump and her maid straightened her bonnet.
"Only one more mile, Sarah."
They were taking some much needed food items to one of Pemberley's tenants. This would be one of the last times she had the chance to drive around the estate as she would be leaving for London and who knew when she'd return, if ever. If all went as planned, she'd make her debut, meet a suitable gentleman, fall in love and get married.
Her stomach clenched again.
*~*~* 
 

Monday

Mondays With Jane ~ Persuasion

Chapter One
Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensation, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt, as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century - and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest that never failed - this was the page on which the favourite volume was always opened:

'ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.

'Walter Elliot, born March 8, 1760, married July 15, 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park, in the county of Gloucester; by which lady (who died in 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born August 9, 1787; a still-born son, Nov 5, 1789; Mary, born Nov. 20, 1791.'
Precisely such had the paragraph originally stood from the printer's hands; but Sir Walter had improved it by adding, for the information of himself and his family, these words, after the date of Mary's birth - 'married, Dec 16, 1810, Charles, son and heir of Charles Musgrove, Esq. of Uppercross, in the county of Somerset,' - and by inserting most accurately the day of the month on which he had lost his wife.
Then followed the history and rise of the ancient and respected family, in the usual terms: how it had first settled in Cheshire; how mentioned in Dugdale - serving the office of High Sheriff, representing a borough in three successive parliaments, exertions of loyalty, and dignity of baronet, in the first year of Charles II, with all the Marys and Elizabeths they had married; forming altogether two handsome duodecimo pages, and concluding with the arms and motto: 'Principle seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of Somerset,' and Sir Walter's hand-writing again in the finale:
'Heir presumptive, William Walter Elliot, Esq., great grandson of the second Sir Walter.'
Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character; vanity of person and of situation. He had been remarkably handsome in his youth; and, at fifty-four, was still a very fine man. Few women could think more of their personal appearance than he did; nor could the valet of any new made lord be more delighted with the place he held in society. He considered the blessing of beauty as inferior only to the blessing of a baronetcy; and the Sir Walter Elliot, who united these gifts, was the constant object of his warmest respect and devotion.

Wow - Think much of yourself, Sir Walter? Can you hear the wit and sarcasm in Jane's words? I'd love to hear your thoughts of the beginning of Persuasion.