Sweet Nothings–11/16/13 Only Marriage Will Do

Ferdinand_Leeke_Auf_der_Parkbank

“Let me whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

Sweet Nothings is back!  It’s a little shadow of Sweet Saturday Samples, until that sweet treat starts back up.  Until that happens, here’s a little weekly blog where you can post a “sweet” excerpt  (PG 13 or milder) from one of your works.  Remember: please  hold the excerpt to 350 words or less. But if your cutting needs just a few more words, that’s okay too.  I won’t be counting. LOL

Today’s “Sweet Nothing” is the beginning of the second book of the House of Pleasure series, Only Marriage Will Do. I’m finishing up my revision to this work this week.

397px-John_Everett_Millais_The_Black_BrunswickerThe maid who answered the door gasped and took a step back into the house. 

Amiable Dawson assumed she had been unprepared for the sight of his grim face as he stood on the marbled stoop of Dunham House. He’d been in a foul mood ever since the news about Katarina had reached him. Blast it to hell. The girl’s eyes widened and she glanced to her right, wringing her hands. 

“Who may I say—”

“No! I do not believe you!”  The maid got no further when a man’s harsh voice from within overpowered hers.

“I do not care what you believe. It is true, I tell you!” A woman’s voice, raised and sharp with terror, sent a chill through Amiable. 

Katarina. What in God’s name?

Used to making quick decisions, he barged past the stunned girl and strode down the hall toward the source of the commotion. He burst through the doorway, expecting to defend the woman he loved, only to stop dead at the sight of pursed lips and frowning brows set in the lovely face of a complete stranger.

            Her big brown eyes widened and she gasped as if in relief. Her honey-blonde hair, swept up beneath a fashionable lacy mob-cap, straggled into fetching wisps. Dressed in a deep pink striped gown that made a man want to take her in his arms and squeeze, she motioned him toward her.

“Here he is.” The charming creature flung the words at the scowling man who stood before her. “Now you will have to believe me!”

A sullen young man of medium height, foppishly dressed in a robin’s egg blue satin coat, dripped with too many layers of frothy lace at throat and wrists. Then the enchanting blond ran to his side, reached up, grazed a kiss over his cheek and whispered the frantic words, “For God’s sake, help me!  Just agree with whatever I say.”

Okay, now it’s your turn to share a “Sweet Nothing.” 🙂

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Only Marriage Will Do, Promotion, Sweet Nothings, WIP and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

15 Responses to Sweet Nothings–11/16/13 Only Marriage Will Do

  1. An excellent bunch of sweet nothings again. I really enjoyed reading all of them. Glad you’re bringing sweetness back, Jenna

    Like

  2. Daryl Devore says:

    Fantastic snippets. I don’t have anything PG13 to add to the mix 🙂

    Like

  3. Sue says:

    thought you had stopped these posts so nothing prepared. I have to organize my next chapter but mostly been working on The Bench a book soon to be published of my shorter pieces

    Whatever happened to the contemporary you had been working on?

    Like

  4. Daisy Banks says:

    I did enjoy your excerpt Jenna and the other excerpts I read below. Hopefully I’ll remember to post my thoughts on those on the piece itself next time. Nice to see you back in action.

    Like

  5. Daisy Banks says:

    This is a scene from my spicy story A Gentleman’s Folly, published by Liquid Silver Books. I do hope you like it.

    “Tea?” Katherine asked.
    “Yes, please.”
    Charles watched her every move as she left with a jug taken from the tray. While he waited for her to return, he looked about the room. For sure, he’d seen and lived in much worse, but this place, though clean and tidy and adorned with the feminine oddities such as the cracked pot with the flowers on the windowsill, the kind of things most women seemed to like, it screamed sufficiency and no more. Surely she’d succumb to his offer; she must be longing to return to Cranly and all its luxuries.
    Katherine re-entered the room. She’d smoothed her hair. There was no sign of the servant she’d said was in the kitchen.
    She filled the kettle from the jug, set it on the metal trivet on the fire, and opened the tea caddy as she prepared to make the brew. He watched her set out the tea dishes and pick out sugar from the dish, and caught his breath. She’d bitten her nails, a thing he’d never seen her do at Cranly, but so she had, down to the quick in places. The way she moved as she took the steaming kettle and poured a little water to warm the teapot told him she was uncomfortable. Strange he should know it with such ease, but he did. Katherine, relaxed and happy, moved with a grace few could match; tense and disturbed, she stiffened like a pine tree.
    “Here, let me help you,” he said, taking the kettle of boiling water from her. “Sit back. I’ll fill the pot.” He poured the warming liquid into the slop dish, removed the lid from the china pot, and added three spoons of the dark tea mix, picked the pot up, and poured the hot water.
    “You must stir the tea,” she said as he set the kettle back on the trivet and put the pot on the tray.
    “I remember.” He stirred the pot thrice as she always had and then put on the small lid and sat back for the magic brew to bloom. “Katherine?”
    “I can’t. Please, don’t ask it of me. I’d be so shamed.”

    Like

    • Jenna Jaxon says:

      Lovely scene here, Daisy. Brewing tea is such a tradition, so I love that you’ve used it as a means to stage an offer that is not a foregone conclusion. Thank you so much for sharing it today.

      Like

  6. Jenna, I love the way you make your fop so ridiculous. But, what’s funnier is that they used to dress just like that. Can you imagine one of our husbands dressing in robin’s egg blue? LOL

    Thanks for running Sweet Nothings. It’s always a pleasure to read all the snippets and to participate. Here’s a little sweet from my erotic spanking romance The Princess and the Huntsman. Poor Princess Brandywyn is a bit humiliated.

    After a while, the trees parted and the village came into view. Brandywyn, her expression imperious, stopped the first person she saw. “I am Princess Brandywyn of Ring. Clothe me.”

    The young woman laughed. “And I am Queen Maj of Bastin!” She looked at Tom. “Where did you find this one? Under a faery ring?”

    Tom smiled. “The girl has had a shock, ‘tis all. She has this notion and has not found her wits yet.”

    “Ah.” She patted Brandywyn’s arm, and Brandywyn quickly pulled it away. “Not the friendliest, is she?” said the woman, frowning now.

    “Er… no,” Tom admitted. Being shunned by the villagers would hamper his efforts to provide for himself and Brandywyn.

    “I am Princess Brandywyn,” the girl insisted. “I demand—”

    “Let us move on,” Tom said quickly. He nodded at the village woman. “Good morrow to you, goodwife.”

    The woman eyed Brandywyn suspiciously. “Daft,” she pronounced. “Good morrow to you, Tom Huntsman.”

    Brandywyn was undaunted. “But—”

    Tom took her arm and pulled her along.

    Yanking her arm away, Brandywyn said, “Leave me. I shall do’t myself.”

    Tom pondered this for a moment. The girl would have to learn on her own. “Very well.” He turned and walked away, watching her stop another passerby on the street and receive the same rejection.

    Following along a way behind her where she could not see him, Tom saw her fail miserably at her quest over and over again. Villagers were gathering in small knots, pointing at her as she made her demands, stomping her foot angrily. Finally, turning in the street and seeing that she was not going to be catered to, Brandywyn started back down the street the way she came.

    Tom stealthily followed her, but instead of asking for directions back to his cottage or to the palace, she stomped out of the village, head held high, to find her own way through the forest. After half an hour, she was hopelessly lost, of course, but she persisted with dogged determination.
    —-
    Thanks again, Jenna.

    Like

    • Jenna Jaxon says:

      The heardheaded ones always take a bit of time to learn. Tom’s smart to let her learn the hard way. Great excerpt, Patricia! BTW–My husband likes to wear a bit of color. He used to have two summer shirts, one a pink plaid and one a robin’s egg blue plaid. He wore them until they wore out. 🙂 Of course, a suit in robin’s egg blue would be a totally different thing. LOL Thanks for sharing!

      Like

  7. I love that excerpt, Jenna!! Here is mine from my new release, The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh.
    They rode side by side toward the cliffs. Rutherford jumped down and caught her as she slid off her horse. A frisson shot through her, and she stopped breathing for a moment.
    “Rutherford, I can’t—this feeling, every time you touch me. You must stop.”
    “I know. Anna, I . . . ”
    “No, please don’t say what you don’t really mean.”
    His hands tightened on her waist, causing the fire to burn deeper. He did nothing else, and finally the warmth subsided enough for her to gather her scattered wits.
    Anna glanced up and met his gaze. “Rutherford, I need to tell you something. Harry didn’t die at Badajoz.”
    Rutherford closed his eyes for a moment. No lies, no prevarications. Only the truth for her. “I know. How did you find out?”
    Anna leaned back and stared at him. “You know? How?”
    He pulled her to him and touched his forehead with hers. He’d seen the look of hope in her eyes. This was going to be like killing Harry all over again. Only, this time, Rutherford had to do it. “Anna, Harry and I both worked for the Home Office. Harry was supposed to be on home duty. We were intelligencer officers. I came back from a mission to be told Harry had volunteered to go to France.”
    Rutherford turned her to face the channel. “He’d completed his mission, and the ship he was on went down in a storm during the crossing back to England. By the time I returned, your father had already been notified Harry had died in a regular unit. The lie was to match the tale he’d told all of you when he left.”
    Rutherford heaved a sigh and glanced at her. Would she shrink from him now, thinking him a man of no honor? “If anyone would have asked me, I’d have told them to tell you the truth. They didn’t, and I was ordered not to say anything.”
    Anna shook her head. “But why? Why wouldn’t they tell us the truth?”
    He smiled grimly. “To save you the shame of knowing you had a spy in your family.”

    Like

  8. I love the excerpts. Thank you for allowing us to share. Here’s mine from my historical romance, Viking Fire:
    “The bedchambers are upstairs.” She pointed.
    “Lead the way, then, my lady.” He grinned. His smile did not falter her resolve to be rid of him; instead, she stomped each foot on the stone steps.
    She showed him the larger one first. “Our room.” She waved her hand as she stood at the threshold.
    He moved passed her and into the room. Surveying the goose-feathered mattress he turned back to her. “Tis the first you admit we marry.”
    “No. I said no such—”
    He crossed the distance to her. He pulled her in his embrace and she went rigid. She opened her mouth to scream, but as she drew a breath his lips crushed hers. Tingles of warmth crept from inside her to the tips of her toes. Her mind raced, demanding she be free, while her traitorous body melted in his arms. His kiss became gentle and sparked a craving inside her for more. His mouth opened, offering her to taste secrets. She slackened against him as his tongue played across her lips, stroking, and numbing her thoughts. He did not force his way further, but ended the kiss with her lips yearning for his. Then he stepped back.
    She gasped, horrified. Her hands were clutching his hair and she jerked them away as if he scalded her.
    “Your lips and eyes speak of your love.” He beamed at her frown. “Now I am sure of your passion for me.”
    “No.” That was enough! He had overstepped his bounds with his prideful arrogant assumptions. “You are mistaken; I wish to never marry you.” She would not fall in love with him. No matter his handsome face. She must not allow herself to acknowledge that she liked it when he kissed her. How she wished to be rid of him and all the turmoil he caused. She would never be free if he became the laird over her.
    “Aye, your kiss spoke more than you know.” He chuckled and held her hand kissing her palm. “In time the rest of you will agree as well.”

    Like

  9. jeanjoachim says:

    Here’s a sweet excerpt from my spicy novel, IF I LOVED YOU, first in the Hollywood Hearts series. Megan is a financial advisor and Chaz, gorgeous movie star is her first client. Here their initial meeting doesn’t go quite as Megan planned:
    “Look, I know you’re famous. My brother is famous…”
    “Mark Davis. Star quarterback for the Delaware Demons, right?”
    “He’s my twin.”
    “You don’t look at all alike. Can you toss a football?” A smile curled his lips.
    “Like I haven’t heard that one before. I don’t give a damn you’re famous, okay. Can we get that straight? I’m not impressed, not going to grovel at your feet. You’re simply a potential client whose money I may be managing. No more and no less. I’m not going to swoon and ask for an autograph or throw myself at you. Of course, I’ll do my best to take care of your money as if it was my own, but that’s as far as it goes.”
    “Way to use your charm on me to win my business.” Chaz leaned forward.
    “I don’t need charm; I have brains.” A smug smile crossed Meg’s lips.
    “Whoa! Oh, yes…Harvard M.B.A., right? Harvey told me.” Chaz sat back in his chair again.
    “Right.” Meg leaned back, too, folding her arms across her chest.
    “Yale School of Drama here. So don’t condescend to me. I’m not a ‘dumb’ actor in love with himself. And you’re dressed pretty hot for a financial advisor with only dollars and cents on her mind. Not that I’m objecting. I love eye candy…great rack, too…” He grinned at her then pulled out his cell phone.
    “Eye candy? Rack? Did you say rack? Why the nerve! Is that your cell phone? Turn it off…” She rose up out of her seat.
    “My cell phone is my livelihood. I’m not going to miss an audition or an opportunity to read a script because you want my phone off. And rack is a more polite term than some men would use.”
    Megan sank down in her chair, speechless, while Chaz returned a text message.
    “I think perhaps you should talk to someone else here…” She stood up and moved toward the door, but Chaz’s strong grip on her arm stopped her.
    “Sit down,” he said quietly.

    Thanks for this opportunity to share part of this book.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s