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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