And now, without further ado,
If this is your first visit to my blog, WELCOME! If you are returning, it’s great to see you again!
Many thanks to the host of this event: Carrie Ann Ryan.
What kind of hero do you like the best? Well, we authors are ready to share the kinds WE like to read and write about! And we are EACH doing a giveaway. Yep. There are over 200 giveaways, as each blog is raffling off prizes as well.
1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet
2nd Grand Prize: A $130 Amazon or B&N Gift Card
3rd Grand Prize: The following Swag Pack!
Today I thought I’d give you a comparison from my own writing, for your reading pleasure:
This is from my newly released Christmas novella, A Heart Is A Home: Christmas in Texas:
A few minutes later, they were back in the front sitting room, and as Joy busied herself behind him fussing with the garland and the candle arrangement on the dining room table, he shuffled through the handful of CDs he’d brought down from his room earlier, along with the portable boom box to play them on. He decided on one and dropped it into the tray. He hit the play button and in a moment the familiar croon of Savage Garden’s big hit, Truly Madly Deeply came through the speakers.
“Oh! I love this song!” he heard Joy pipe, which made him swing his head around to look at her. She was already swaying to the music as she lifted the garland again and, instead of resettling it in whatever new arrangement would please her, she treated it as if it were a dance partner and did a slow swirl around the table.
Not one to miss an opportunity, Adam immediately stepped up to the plate. In the next seconds, he’d taken her in his arms, and taken the lead, dancing her out of the dining room and onto the open area of the rug-covered floor of the sitting room.
When she actually started to sing along to the CD, it tickled him so much, that he found himself chiming in himself. So, for the next minute or so, there they were, swaying around in slow circles, grinning at each other, and singing their hearts out. And that’s when Adam knew he’d been right: Ms. Pettigrew was the perfect tonic for his maudlin mood.
As the music began to fade, they slowed their movements to a bare sway. He felt his grin dissolve to a smile, and watched hers do the same. Their eyes met, locked, and without thinking, and of its own volition, Adam’s head bent towards her. It wasn’t until his lips were a breath away from hers that he caught himself up and disengaged, stepped back, dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, took that step into him again, lifted up on her toes, slid her arms around his neck, and pressed her warm, pliant, chocolate, cream, and hazelnut flavored lips to his. He was lost.
Maryn descended the steps leading into the courtyard, despondency weighting her mind and heart. Though she’d had little hope of a reconciliation with her husband, there had been enough of a spark to keep her watchful for the first days of her voluntary exile. But her father’s return from the Maclean holding with a declaration from Daniel that he would not stand in her way if she wished to obtain an annulment had quashed most of her hopes. And now, in the seventh day of her exile with no sign of her husband, the final ember died. A forlorn sigh escaped her lungs. He and Jesslyn were no doubt making plans to wed.
Before she realized what was happening, two vise-like hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off her feet.
“Papa!” Maryn screamed, her vision blurred into a montage of stone, sky and earth as she was slung over a shoulder, like a sack of turnips. She heard a very familiar chuckle and her blood boiled. Not one word from him for a sennight, and now, instead of soft words and kisses, he behaves like a cur?
“Set me down!” she said, trying to wriggle her way free.
But his grip held firm, and he had the temerity to laugh even louder!
Pounding her fists into his back, she bellowed, “Just where do you think you take me, Daniel MacLaurin! Papa! Help! Papa!”
With a forceful bounce, he positioned her more securely on his shoulder and tightened his hold.
She elbowed him in the kidney. He did not even flinch. Lord! What was he made of, granite? Now her elbow tingled and ached. She tried to rub it, but she could not reach it in the position he had her in. “Put me down, you boorish buffoon!” Her throat ached too, and that was his fault as well.
He gave her a sharp slap to her behind, but said naught.
She sucked in a breath. “You...you...argh!” she sputtered, unable to think of a rude enough epithet.
His roar of laughter was pure male. With a swift turn of his head, he kissed her abused rump.
A thrill ran through her at the show of affection and she calmed. A sense of wonder filled her as, all at once, she realized he wasn’t here to cause trouble, but to take her home! Enjoying herself now, she said, “Laugh now, but you’d best sleep with your eyes open this night!”
He tossed her over the saddle of his horse.
The breath blasted from Maryn’s lungs. She wheezed and coughed.
She saw him grin before he took the reins from the stableman.
She pierced him with a killing glare.
He cocked a brow at her. Then, whistling a merry tune, he walked them out through the fortress gate.
“If you do not allow me to straighten up right now, I shall surely be sick all over your boots,” she told him in a strained voice.
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