WIP Wednesdays

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The plot twist on WIP Wednesday

ginger-root-gingerbreadI’m at the point in my current WIP (The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle) where something needs to happen to stop the story from ending too soon. You know that moment? A complication. A change of plan. A misunderstanding. A new discovery. A missed opportunity or one taken.

So this week, I’m inviting you to share up to nine lines from a spot in your story where things change. Here’s mine, from Gingerbread Bride, my novella in the Bluestocking Belles’ box set Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem. My heroine, Mary, is baking gingerbread for a local wedding, while trying to avoid the attentions of the father of the bride.

She inclined her head, the barest minimum politeness required.

“Have you come to collect your daughter’s baking, sir?”

“No, no. Ruthie will do that herself. She’s just out there in the kitchen with your good aunts. What have you there, eh?” He came around the table to her side. As Mary moved backward to avoid him, her head struck the shelf behind her, upending a canister that struck her a glancing blow as it fell. Mary staggered, and was momentarily grateful for Mr. Owens’ steadying hands.

Until she heard the gasp from behind him.

Until she opened her eyes to see both aunts, her cousin, and Ruth Owens standing in the doorway, their mouths identical O’s of shock.

 

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Villains on WIP Wednesday

Turning awayThis week, I’m focusing on villains. On the Teatime Tattler at the weekend, I’m doing a purpose-written duo of vignettes from the point-of-view of my Gingerbread Bride villain from the Bluestocking Belles’ box set, Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem. I’m also writing a cross-blog post with my Belle colleague Amy Rose Bennett (to be published later in the month) with the Gingerbread Bride villainess.

So I’m inviting you all to post an excerpt of around nine sentences showcasing your villain. Here’s Viscount Bosville, in an extract from Gingerbread Bride.

“Watch where you are going, Ma—Cousin Mary? Good God, it is. What are you doing in this godforsaken place?”

Lord Bosville. Of all the people Mary imagined meeting, he was the last she’d expect to find this far from London. “Cousin,” she replied, giving him a frosty nod. They had parted on unfriendly terms, after he had tried to kiss her and she had, as her father had taught her, punched him in a vulnerable part of his anatomy.

Bosville rearranged his face into a friendly smile that did not reach his eyes. “I do apologize for my language, Cousin Mary. I was startled. How nice to see you. Mother will be delighted to hear you are well. She has been so worried.”

What nonsense. Mary suppressed a snort. Worried to have lost Mary’s money, perhaps.

“If you will excuse me, Cousin, my maid and I are tired.”

But Viscount Bosville turned and accompanied them up the stairs, insisting he would see them safely to their rooms.

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Love hurts on WIP Wednesday

7c8133e975bcIn three more weeks, my novella Gingerbread Bride will be released as part of the Mistletoe, Marriage, & Mayhem box set from the Bluestocking Belles. So that makes it a work in progress still, does it not? Wending its way towards launch?

So for the next four Wednesdays, expect to see excerpts from this novella. And please show me yours! I’d love to read them. (Don’t forget to share the post so other people can find our pieces too.)

So this week, I’m sharing the moment when my heroine accepts that she is still in love with her girlhood hero. (You might wish to share your hero’s moment of revelation, or even admission of attraction if love isn’t on the table.) My heroine is thinking of all the reasons she is not content:

First, she missed the sea. She had lived her entire life within the sight, smell, and sound of it, until she first came to London, and as each day passed, she yearned for it more and more. The sea was home, and this land-locked valley, however pretty, was not.

Second, no matter how sharply she spoke to herself, she could not stop thinking about Rick Redepenning. She couldn’t possibly miss a man she had spent less than a day with in the past five years. She was merely worried about his injury, that was all, that he might not be taking care, might not be healing. No matter what excuses she made, she was well aware she was in danger of once again falling in love with Rick the Rogue—if, in fact, she’d ever fallen out of love.

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Humour on WIP Wednesday

I’ve been to a few Facebook parties in the last year, and whenever I’m asked what I like in a hero, I always include ‘a sense of humour’ somewhere in the list of important qualities. What about you? And if so, how does your hero (or your heroine) show their sense of humour in your book?

As always, please post up to ten lines, and don’t forget to share the post so other people can see your snippet. Mine is from A Baron for Becky. Aldridge has woken up naked in a strange garden, and has wrapped a ladies’ shawl around his hips. His cousin arrives in response to an urgent message.

“Rede?” Aldridge said, the boards creaking as he shifted his weight. “Rede, you came yourself?”

The cousin replied, “With a message like that? ‘Stuck at Perringworth’s cottage just outside Niddberrow. No clothes, no horse, no money. Send closed carriage to the summerhouse, urgently. Your loving cousin, Aldridge.’ Fetching kilt, cousin. Pink roses on a green field. Setting a new fashion?”

Aldridge laughed. “I’ll bet you a gold guinea, at least a dozen people would imitate me, were I to walk through Hyde Park dressed like this. I did think it rather better than the alternative, especially if I had to walk all the way to the Court.”Jacques-Dumont-le-Romain--007 Naked man sleeping

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First lines on WIP Wednesday

gothiccastleBecause I particularly like the first lines of the new story I started last week (tentatively called The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle — and yes, Carol Cork, this is your story), I’m inviting you all to share with me and the blog readers the first lines of any chapter of your work in progress. I usually say 7 to 10 lines, but I’ve overdone it today.

As soon as he said the last words of the blessing, the fat priest stepped towards them, a broad smile on his face. “May I be the first to congratulate your graces?”

But the man to whom Linnie had just been joined in the bonds of Holy Matrimony ignored the outstretched hands and whirled around to advance on Lady Wyvern, who stood behind them.

“Very well. I have done what you demanded. Where is she?”

“Penworth, your manners.” Lady Wyvern scolded, but the Duke of Penworth ignored her tone and spoke over the rest of her complaint.

“You promised to return her if I married Graceton’s sister. Well. We are wed. I want her back, Lady Wyvern, and I want her now.”

Lin was trying to make sense of it all. The duke had been forced to this marriage as well? By a threat? But to whom? Surely not… not his mistress?”

She stole a look at her half-brother, Baron Granville, who was openly amused. “Send the boy back to his rooms, Margaret, and my sister with him. His treasure is there, is it not? Oh do not fret, vicar. You will get your fee and your portion of the wedding breakfast.”

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Parties on WIP Wednesday

mistletoeI’ve been celebrating some milestones this week: my blog birthday, the ninth month of Candle’s Christmas Chair, and the half-birthday of the Bluestocking Belles.

So I thought for this week’s work-in-progress Wednesday, the theme could be celebrations, parties, or events. Do you have a ball scene? A wedding? A fair? A birthday party? A banquet? Post seven to ten lines, and don’t forget to share!

Mine is from the Christmas party towards the end of Gingerbread Bride in the box set Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem, currently on prelease from the Bluestocking Belles.

The kissing boughs had all been hung, making it perilous to traverse the house and garden. By the time the party started Mary had been kissed at least twenty times, all polite salutes on the cheek.

The party spilled all over the house and beyond: carols around the pianoforte in one of the parlors, silly games in another, a continual feast in the dining room, and dancing outside in the crisp night air. Mary managed to avoid being alone with Rick until almost the end of the evening, when he cornered her in a temporarily deserted parlor, most of the party out on the dance lawn in the garden.

“Mary.” There it was again. Her name, hummed in that beautiful voice of his, sounding like music. She turned her face upwards, tipping her cheek within easy reach, but he curved his neck as he bent, so his lips touched hers.

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Hero’s sidekick on WIP Wednesday

Mary Duchess of GloucesterI’m late getting up my work-in-progress Wednesday post. Because, life. I’ve been thinking about all the people who surround the hero and the heroine, and I thought I’d make today’s post about them. Please bring us seven to ten lines of your work-in-progress that focuses on a secondary character. If your hero doesn’t have a sidekick, how about your heroine? And if neither them has a close friend and confidante, pick a piece about another secondary character.

Here are seven sentences from A Baron for Becky about the Duchess of Haverford. Not a sidekick, exactly, but certainly a significant secondary character.

The duchess ignored them both to focus on Becky.

She insisted on Becky sitting beside her.

“Are you keeping well, my dear? Are you eating?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Becky’s voice was so quiet Hugh had to lean forward to hear.

“You must eat several times a day, dear. More as the baby takes up more room…” she trailed off as Becky blushed scarlet. “And when do you expect the little one to arrive?”

“At Yuletide, Ma’am. Or perhaps early January.”

“What of sleep, Mrs Winstanley? Are you able to rest in the afternoons?” She turned to Hugh. “An afternoon rest is most efficacious for women who are increasing, Lord Overton. I will expect you to keep her in bed in the afternoon.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Hugh replied, blushing in his turn.

The Duchess silenced her sniggering son with a raised eyebrow.

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Danger in WIP Wednesday

Box setAt the cover reveal party for the Bluestocking Belle box set yesterday, we talked about heroines, and whether people preferred heroines to be rescued or to rescue themselves. Opinions varied, but it set me thinking about moments of danger. My novella for the box set is Gingerbread Bride, and my heroine is a strong-minded and determined young woman. Which doesn’t mean that she is always able to rescue herself!

So, for this week’s work-in-progress Wednesday, please post around seven lines that show your hero or heroine in a tight spot. The danger could be physical or emotional. You could show the rescue or just the crisis. You pick.

To kick us off, here’s mine. Mary is in a post chaise, the horses are bolting, and she has climbed out to see if she can stop them:

As she edged her way cautiously back to the door, a flash of movement behind the hedge to her left caught her eye. A rider? The hedge thickened again, and she couldn’t be sure. Another bounding lurch prompted her to move again, and she swung herself back inside to rejoin Polly—though not without a few extra bruises.

“The post boy is gone, and the horses are bolting,” Mary told Polly. “Stay in your corner and hold on tight. And pray that they run themselves out before we reach a bend in the road.”

Following her own advice meant she couldn’t see whether the glimpse she’d caught was a rider. Someone riding to their aid would be wonderful, but unlikely. Might as well wish for Rick to save her once again!

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WIP Wednesday

timthumbThis last week, I submitted my novella for the Bluestocking Belles’ Christmas anthology. It’s called Gingerbread Bride, and the anthology is Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem.

To celebrate, I’m making Work-in-Progress Wednesday about food. Post seven to eight lines from your work-in-progress with some connection to food (or drink, if your characters don’t eat on stage).

Don’t forget to share on Twitter, Facebook, and your other social media. If you tag me, I’ll like!

Mary smiled with satisfaction as she placed the last of the little gingerbread ladies into the box.  In the four weeks she had been at Aunt Dorothy’s, she had learned a number of recipes, and helped with all kinds of baking, but the gingerbread biscuits, which she had learned from the cook on the Olympus, became her specialty…

Aunt Dorothy had round and star cutters, and cutters in the shape of various animals. When the alderman’s daughter asked for gingerbread ladies and gentlemen for her wedding breakfast, Mary had been delighted with the notion, and the cutters the tinker made to her pencil drawings worked very well.

The icing gave them clothes and features; a whole box of little gingerbread grooms, and a box of little gingerbread brides.

And please, do consider joining us for our cover reveal party next week. The @BellesInBlue have great parties!

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WIP Wednesdays

I love how several authors offer an opportunity on their blogs for other authors to strut their stuff. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, I figured I’d give it a go, so look for me to post a Work-In-Progress Wednesday every week. I’ll set a theme and show you one of mine, and you give me five to seven sentences in the comments.

This week, since it’s the first, how about first meetings? Don’t forget to share once you’re done!

Here’s mine, from the made-to-order story I’m writing for Mary Anne Landers.

As she turned the corner into Frederick Street, a particularly sharp gust skittered a broken branch across her path, tangling it into her skirts.

She stumbled, and would have landed in the mud if firm hands had not suddenly caught her. As it was, in putting out her hands to break the expected fall, she had dropped her burdens. The shopping basket fell sideways, tumbling fruit, vegetables, and the wrapped parcel of meat into a waiting puddle. The parcel from the haberdashers that she carried on her other arm thankfully stayed intact and landed on a relatively dry spot.

She took all this in at a glance, most of her attention on her rescuer. A craggy face bronzed by the sun, amused brown eyes under thick level brows, a mouth that looked made for laughter. He was bundled against the cold wind in a greatcoat, muffler, and cloth cap.

The image is of Dunedin in the mid 1860s, the setting for my story.

Dunedin Farley's Arcade