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Saturday, January 28, 2012

Sweet Saturday Sample: From my untitled WIP

Me. Historical romance. Yikes.

Me attempting to anyway.

Me making it revolve around time traveling so my heroine can screw up all she wants. 

The following sample is from my Untitle WIP about a girl who stumbles through her mirror to 1909 . . . or 1905 . . . I haven't quite worked that out yet.


By the time Ben escorted her to her room that evening, Clara was exhausted. She was also sincerely disillusioned of any ideas she ever entertained about the desirability of living out one of her beloved historical romances. She checked the room for any sign of Annabelle and collapsed into a couch when she found her temporary maid absent.

“I despise this life,” she snapped. “And I’m sick of deferring to you for everything.”
It surprised Clara that Ben didn’t chuckle, or try to lighten her mood with light words. “You’ll probably get used to it eventually, Clara, and the animosity wears off with time.”
Guilt for snapping at him flitted through her stomach. He was only trying to protect her, and she should be more grateful she had him. Where would she be if he hadn’t saved her? She pushed herself into sitting position since lying on the sofa was uncomfortable anyway.
“Thank you,” she said, hoping he understood her double meaning. She was afraid she’d betray too much emotion if she tried to expound further.
A smile danced across Ben’s face. “Will you grant me a favor in return?”
Amused that Ben’s speech hardly ever seemed to revert to modernity, even when they were alone, she nodded. “Of course.” It surprised her that the tightness in her chest a moment ago had dissapated, leaving her glad for Ben’s company.
Ben crossed the room and leaned over her. She didn’t realize what was happening until he cupped her cheek in one of his hands. “I haven’t kissed a lady in two years. I suppose it would be like proposing marriage, and I haven’t consigned myself to that fate yet.”
“Oh?” Clara’s girlishly breathless voice embarrassed her. Clearly Ben only intended to kiss her for the sake of kissing.
He lowered his face to hers, first gently kissing her lips, then parting her lips with his, surprising her with the deft, practiced way he kissed. It seemed improper and welcome after all the propriety she’d been forced into. He pulled away after what seemed so short and so long at the same time. He took in her expression from only inches away. Be cool, Clara, she begged herself. Do not betray that one, meaningless kiss makes your head spin. And whatever you do, don’t tell him it’s your first kiss in over two years ...
Then his smile returned along with the teasing twinkle she so often saw in his eyes. His coping mechanism, no doubt, against the fear he’d never return to his real life. That he’d have to play dress up for the rest of it. Clara realized suddenly that those were her fears, pressing in tighter than the too-small corset.
Ben stood, then bowed. “Thank you.”
She giggled, glad for his ability to make this life seem like an entertaining, romantic dream. “You’re welcome. Good night.”
Ben opened the door to reveal Annabelle, raising her hand to knock. She curtseyed quickly to Mr. Mitchell. “Good evening, sir.”
Ben grinned, probably reading all the same shock in Annabelle’s face that Clara saw. “Good evening, Annabelle. Miss Rose was just about to ring for you. We’ve just returned from the garden party—,” Clara swallowed a laugh at Ben’s attempt to allay Annabelle’s fears of any ruinous activities occurring in the room before Annabelle appeared, “and Miss Rose is exhausted. Please have her dinner sent up here.”
“Yes, Mr. Mitchell.” Annabelle curtseyed again.
Ben turned to Clara and winked once before bowing with great flourish. “Good evening, Miss Rose.”

Read more samples here.

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About Me!

I've been writing since I was old enough to grasp a crayon--my grandma even has an early copy of a "book" I made her. I have a bachelor's degree in history from the University of Wyoming and will (hopefully) soon be starting a graduate program in English. When I'm not breaking up impromptu UFC fights in the living room or losing miserably to my boys at Uno, I'm ... well, writing or editing, of course! I'm married to my best friend, and we have three rambunctious but simply amazing little boys.


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