(I don’t know if people use a feedreader and how it works if I back-date posts, so just fyi I’ve just back-dated two for the first couple of days of March.)
It’s that time of the week when I share a little snippet of what I’m currently working on! I’m wondering if it’s getting too repetitive though? Should I maybe change it to once every other week, or maybe even just once a month?
At least, this time I’ve chosen something that’s not Bowstrings & Velvet! Today, I’m sharing the first couple of paragraphs from my Historical Romance (Regency): A Midsummer Night’s Kiss. I will also show you the updated blurb. I’m still not loving it, but I think I improved on it since my whinge about it last month.
And here’s the first page of the story…
It was as if a dark angel had lain down
amongst the crisp, white sheets of the bed.
A very wicked angel.
May 14, 1812
It was highly improper for her to be alone with a man, even if he was fast asleep. Yet for some reason, she couldn’t make herself turn around and leave. The sight of a man in her bed was so out of place, to think that his naked body shared the same space where she normally slept. She shivered slightly at the thought.
The stranger was lying on his back with the sheets pulled up over his chest, a bare arm flung across his face. Little as it was, it was more bare skin than she had ever seen on a man. A quiet life in the country provided no sights like this. The thought made her smile slightly. Overcome by curiosity she took a few hesitant steps closer. This was madness, but she just wanted a better look. Ignoring the fluttering of her nerves she walked up to the bed, fully aware that she was doing something she really shouldn’t be.
Standing by the bedside she tried to lean over to see more of the stranger, but his arm blocked most of his face. His skin looked smooth and tanned, much darker than her own pale complexion. It looked utterly touchable. Throwing a glance towards the open door she made sure no one was in the area before using her teeth to loosen her gloves at the fingertips. Pulling them off, she quietly put them on the nightstand by the bed. She just wanted to touch that exposed skin. Just once.
Reaching her hand out, she pulled it back quickly when the stranger let out a small sigh. What was she doing? She must have lost her wits. You didn’t just walk into a room and touch someone simply because their skin looked warm and inviting – even if they happened to be sleeping in your bed. Smiling ruefully, she shook her head and retreated a few steps.
She almost bit her tongue in surprise when the man suddenly reached out and grabbed her bare arm. Before she had time to react she was pulled down onto the bed.
“Not leaving so soon, sweetheart?” the stranger mumbled, the hoarse quality of his sleepy voice sending shivers down her back.