Wednesday, May 25, 2011
The winner of my first place prize is: Kristi! The second place winner is: Leanne! I've already contacted the winners by email, but if for some reason the email goes astray and the winners are reading this, don't hesitate to contact me. I love to hear from readers anyway!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Gabe Preston watched as the ice cream left a tantalizing trail down the smooth skin he’d been checking out for the last ten minutes. The woman savored her treat with a childlike intensity, that pink tongue darting out and taking smooth licks. Now and then, her tongue would dip down and gather any stray drops before they could escape.
His gaze roved over her. Lord, there was nothing childlike about her figure, though. Tight black jeans and a little t-shirt hugged her lithe frame, reveling curves in all the right places. He stifled the urge to unfasten the top button of his polo shirt. What was she doing to him? This was a café, not a bar to trawl for women.
The lady tilted her head, and her eyes met his. A broad smile covered those delectable lips, stealing the breath from his lungs. She peered up through long lashes that he knew covered sparkling blue eyes. Her arched brows resembled the wings of--
He scoffed at himself. What was he? A poetic teenager? Gabe had long stopped being swayed by a pretty face after he’d seen how the size of his wallet could influence women. Some modicum of intelligence and kindness were essential. He didn’t know if she had either in abundance.
The ice cream cone wavered in her hand, and as it fell, alarm flared in her eyes. Her long auburn hair covered her face as she dove after it. The ice cream landed with a splat or the floor. Before he knew what he was doing, he was out of his seat and across the aisle to her table.
She glanced up, and her mouth trembled into a pout. “Oh dear, I lost my ice cream.”
Her voice flowed over him like a waterfall’s caress. Her accent--why couldn’t he place it? He’d traveled the world on business and pleasure enough to recognize most people’s.
Gabe reached into the pocket of his chinos and redrew a folded handkerchief. “We can get you another one.” He held out the piece of fabric.
She followed his gaze down to where her ice-cream covered fingers rested on the table. Rubbing her fingers together, she seemed fascinated by the melting substance.
Gabe narrowed his eyes. What was she doing? Wasn’t she a bit old to play in her food?
He cleared his throat and offered the handkerchief again. “Ahem.”
The woman tore her eyes from her hands and stared at him, her face glowing. “Would you?”
Confusion hit him. Would he what? “I don’t know what--”
She interrupted him. “Get me another one?” The woman clapped her hands together and cast him a hopeful glance.
Doubts about this lady’s eccentricities crept in. Was she all there? “Er, yes. Don’t you want to wipe your hands first?”
She inclined her head regally. “I think I will.”
As he handed her the handkerchief, her fingertips brushed his. Electric sparks zinged up his arms, cascading down to his toes. The woman froze, and then the moment passed.
Gabe crammed his hands into his pants pockets.
After wiping her fingers meticulously, she sat the fabric down on the table. “Thank you, Mr…?”
She folded her hands primly together. “Thank you, Mr. Gabe.”
He shook his head. “I go by the first name of Gabe. The last name is Preston.”
“I am Anha.”
A grin curved his lips. “Just Anha?”
A mysterious smile floated over her face. “Just Anha.”
Check out my newest release published by Astraea Press:
Through the Rabbit Hole
Social worker Natalie Danvers never thought she would fall head first into her very own dimensional tear — straight into a fey lord’s lap. The handsome but infuriatingly vague Lorh insists she’s stuck in his land for three weeks and that only she can discover the reasons behind her appearance in TirAnn. Natalie’s convinced this is all nonsense until forgotten memories of Lorh and his siblings resurface and collide with reason. Just who and what is she to Lorh and his family?
You can start the hop here (if you haven't already done so):
Thanks to everyone who's participated so far!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
This six is from my current work in progress The Pirate Princess.
Her vision roamed his body like hot hands and her voice slid into his mind like a lover’s fingers through his hair. “Oh, I don’t believe you are a sailor. Are you?” She used her sword to cut the ties of his tunic and fold it back to expose his heaving chest.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Pressing a hand to her still aching forehead, she bent over to retrieve her bag but froze at what she saw. The floor underneath the bag, underneath her feet, rippled. The whole floor swelled into a mass of waves.
She jerked her legs up onto the bed, her heart plummeting through the floor. As she whimpered, her eyes stayed fixated on the floor.
A flickering, glittering mist formed on the ground, overtaking the strange ripples and leaving her blind while it slowly crept over the bed.
Thanks for stopping by! To read other Six Sentence Sunday entries, visit here.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Here is a little bit of magic from my current WIP -- The Pirate Princess. Marchant, the commander of the armies of Komissa and renowned cadabout, has protected Brislyn, the spirited daughter of the Duke her whole life. During a celebration in honor of Brislyn's 19th birthday, March searches for the missing girl and finds more than he believed he could.
As March descended the path to the beach, the lively celebrations dimmed in favor of the whispering tide. As he suspected, the girl sat alone on a rock admiring the beauty of the sunset.
Finding her safe, he moved to return to the party -- and the earl’s daughter -- but stopped short. Bris began to play her lyre and sing; his feet sank in the sand. The lilt of her charming voice reverberated through him as if he had been deaf to music, to beauty, to love until that moment.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
“Your hand, it’s in one piece?” His teasing voice came from above her head. She spun toward him so quickly she nearly got whiplash, but halted when her nose almost hit his chest. Yikes,
when had he gotten so close—and so tall?
He picked up her hand, which by now lay limply by her side, and made a show of inspecting it. “Your hand, my lady, is fine?”
Thanks for stopping by! To view other SS entries, please visit http://sixsunday.blogspot.com/
Barnes and Noble