You always remember the first time you saw the man or woman you love. It’s something that remains etched in your memory, to be taken out and shared on special occasions, or when you just want validation for why someone found you attractive or interesting enough to want to be with you.
So in honor of that feeling, and with Valentine’s Day fast approaching, why not post a snippet of your choice of the first time your hero and heroine meet.
Here is mine, from my newly entitled “The Duke’s Desire,”
She looked up and found herself staring into the face of the most handsome man she had ever seen. His beautiful light green eyes were clouded with concern, and his tousled black hair fell forward as he leaned toward her. His nose was bold and straight, offset by high, elegant cheekbones. His mouth, dear Lord, made her think all manner of indecent thoughts she never had before.
Still dumbstruck, Victoria leaned toward the man. He smelled of lemons, horse, brandy, and some indefinable fragrance that she sensed was his alone.
She inhaled sharply; her senses heightened. The blades of grass were cool between her fingertips, the ground lumpy underneath her dress. Although the rays of the afternoon sun were warm along her back, his presence made her shiver.
“Tori?”
Amanda’s voice brought her back to reality. What was she thinking-she didn’t even know who this man was. She shook her head as if to clear away the cobwebs in her brain, and drew in a deep breath.
“I am fine, Sir. Thank you for your inquiry, but my friends are here and they will be able to assist me to my carriage. I appreciate your heroics in saving that little boy. I quite fear that I would have failed at my efforts to lead him out of danger .”
“I would be remiss as a gentleman if I kept you sitting on the ground. Please, may I assist you to your feet, Miss?” he asked. “I must commend you on your stunning show of bravery. I don’t believe I know of another young woman who would risk injury to her person to save a stranger.”
“I couldn’t let a child be crushed, sir. Anyone with a heart would do the same, if they had but seen him as I did. But I thank you very much for your concern and help.” Victoria gave the handsome as sin stranger a slight smile as she extended her gloved hand to him for assistance.
Merry and Lissy looked at Tristan and swept into deep curtseys. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,”
Victoria’s head snapped around. “Y-Your Grace?”
“Have you never met?” Merry asked. “Lady Victoria Aldridge, Lady Amanda Seacroft, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Avery.”
January 27, 2013 at 10:03 am
That’s great, Nancy! Can’t wait to read more of The Duke’s Desire. I love historical romance.
January 27, 2013 at 11:04 am
Duke’s are always such yummy heros. Great meeting.
January 27, 2013 at 12:19 pm
From my WIP “A Roman in the Southland.”
There she stood, a good foot shorter than the unsatisfied customer at Luigi’s Italian Bar and Grill–on her day off.
She had expected him to return her smile. She had expected him to accept her apologies. She had expected him to be placated with a refund and coupons. But he met none of those expectations. The embodiment of pure masculinity towering over her in a domineering fashion sent her heart into rapid palpitations, as if it belonged to a terrified rabbit, cornered by a wolf.
Despite her intimidation, his Herculean body managed to flush her cheeks to a warm shade of pink. She turned a stack of coupons into a hand fan and wondered if the heat from the kitchen had made its way up to the cash register.
His words droned out into a distant hum as she stared at his mouth and the perfect teeth it encased. Her gaze traveled over the rest of his hard body, in a slow meticulous path, outlining his every muscle.
He had a quarterback’s physique with his broad chest and thick arms. His sandy brown hair was just long enough to grab–with both hands. She leaned slightly to the right of the terminal to gain a full-length’s view.
He wore slim fitted dark denims with black leather J.Crew boots. The brass buttons on his navy blazer were unfastened, revealing a white silk shirt that clung to his firm torso.
She began to question whether the premature end to her morning slumber had been a blessing or curse.
His flaming green eyes, in sharp contrast to his bronzed skin, burned with contempt as he repeated himself.
“Miss. Miss. Did you hear me miss?”
“Huh?” She stammered as she snapped back to reality.
She hadn’t noticed she had been examining him so thoroughly, or for so long until he restated his grievance.
“I said we had a reservation for the private room which is now hosting a kiddie party. What happened to our booking for the room?”
Mariposa picked up a ragged gray appointment book from below the cash register and turned to Saturday’s date. A wave of nausea swept through her as she read the only entry, and it didn’t belong to the giant before her.
January 27, 2013 at 12:42 pm
Wow that is hot!! Great imagery!!
January 28, 2013 at 12:53 pm
Thanks!
January 28, 2013 at 12:30 am
Great excerpts! I’m posting the first meeting from my current WIP, a Regency set historical titled WICKED IN HIS ARMS. Here is the first time Dylan Crosby meets his best friend’s sister, Eve Tildenbury, after her pet python wrestles him to the floor.
He huffed in disgust and shook his head. Wrestled to the floor by a house snake. “Now see here.” The snake had graciously retreated a bit and appeared content to rest at the top of Dylan’s right knee. Gathering up the strength to finish him off, no doubt. “We both know it is physically impossible for you to eat me. I haven’t done anything to you. What’s say you slither off to wherever it is chaps like you go, and I’ll leave the room and keep this entire unfortunate incident our little secret.”
“She can’t hear you, Mr. Crosby.” The voice, warm dark honey wrapped in the rustle of silk sheets, tripped fingers of erotic visions down his spine.
Don’t look. Just his luck, the voice with the power to make Fordyce’s sermons sound like The Tales of the Arabian Nights, in all good likelihood, would belong to a woman more akin to a camel than a harem girl. Oh, very well. Look. His heart stuttered to a stop. Good God.
Eyes more lavender than blue. Delicate features drawn on pearlescent skin. Lips tilted in just the slightest hint of a smile. Pink as a maiden’s blush, full and in need of a good kiss or twenty. A cloud of golden hair framed her face and touched the back of her neck. The thick waves trapped in an elegant chignon promised a heavy fall of gilded satin for the man fortunate enough to take it down.
His mouth went dry.
A goddess descended from heaven, she glided across the white and pink swirled patterns of the marble. The severe green wool gown covered her from neck to ankles. It did little to hide the gentle curve of her hips or the contours of breasts full beyond his imagination and firm enough to send a connoisseur such as himself into—
“You are Mr. Crosby, aren’t you?” She folded her arms across the objects of his rag-mannered scrutiny and fixed him, one eyebrow raised, with a decidedly unamused stare.
“I am.” Between the continued tightening of the snake’s grip and the tightening of his body in reaction to the beauty who, impossible as it seemed, might be Tildenbury’s sister; the calm, clear manner of his response surprised him. “And you are?”
She knelt beside him and pushed his hands away from his reptilian captor. “Here to rescue my snake from another of my brother’s idiot friends.” To his utter amazement she reached between his legs and began to tug at the loops of snake which were now tightly woven around his upper thigh. Her hand delved down a bit and with ironic dexterity managed to grasp something definitely not snake.
Dylan drew his breath between his teeth and winced. “I’ll try not to take that personally, Miss Tildenbury.”
She snatched her hand back. Her face flushed a rosy pink. “Which? My calling you an idiot or my abuse of your…person?”
“You can call me anything you please so long as you get your friend here to release me.” He flattened his palms on the cool surface of the floor and tried to lift himself away from Shiva’s undulating head. “And as for my…person—”
“Let’s leave your person out of it, shall we?”
He found her brisk, unflustered manner arousing. Then again, she’d just had her hand on his cock. The only way he wouldn’t be aroused would be if he were dead – in the case of this particular woman, maybe not even then.
She fascinated him. Any other lady of his acquaintance would have fainted at the mere mention of the word snake. His golden-haired Venus grappled this behemoth as if it were a piece of wayward laundry. “Are you called upon to do this often? Rescue an idiot from the clutches of what I am sure is a perfectly amiable reptile. That is, when he isn’t lurking about the conservatory in search of said idiots to ensnare for a bit of harmless fun?” He leaned back onto his braced palms and bestowed on her his most disarming smile. A complete waste of effort on his part.
She favored him with a brief but potent glare. “She was not lurking. This part of the house happens to be her home.” Her words came in short little pants as she tugged and twisted in an effort to free him. Several strands of hair the color of sunlight tumbled free of her upswept coiffure. “I cannot fathom why my brother brought you in this way in the first place.”
“It’s after four o’clock.” Now Tildenbury had him spouting absurdities as facts.
Her hands stopped and her eyes narrowed on his face, as if in search of something. “After four o’clock? Oh! The dog, of course.” She studied him for a moment longer. “Then I owe you an apology, my lord. Had my brother been less impressed by your consequence he might have brought you in through the kitchens. I’ve been calling you Mr. Crosby when I should have been calling you lord something-or-other.”
“You’ve been calling me an idiot for the most part, but I’m not one to quibble about that sort of thing.”
January 28, 2013 at 7:28 am
HA!! Fantastic!! I love Regencies with humor!! This sounds like a winner