I'm waving hello from under the snuggly quilt on my bed. Temps getting chilly here, and though you European&US lot laugh at me when I say the temps tip in at around 18C/65F here right now, and that this is what spring is like for you, trust me - in the tropics, that is chilly weather! And we're not in winter yet! Thank goodness there's brilliant sunshine to keep the spirits up.
Speaking of keeping spirits up, what's better than visiting blogs and reading tantalizing snippets & excerpts, aka, what Six Sentence Sunday is all about? Join me for another few lines from Before The Morning (Corpus Brides: Book Two), which comes out next Monday, btw, May 7... *excited*
Last week, we left our hero just as he made a startling discovery - the woman he's just saved looks so much like his childhood best friend. He hasn't seen her in ages, so is it her, or not?
We move a page or so from where we left off - Ash, in true hero/knight in shining armour fashion, has gone up against the woman's lover, the man who hit her right in front of everyone. It took a policeman to tear the two men apart. Ash refuses to leave before the bloke allows him to check on her - Irina, as she is called.
They're in a room in the house now; Ash has made her sit down, and he is checking on her injury. Yet, recognition is flooring him...
No matter how much she reminded him of Rayne Cheltham, she wasn't his childhood best friend, and he also remembered Rayne as he had last seen her, seventeen years earlier, when they had parted ways at London Waterloo where she took the train to go to France.
Rayne would be thirty-five today, and Irina looked like she was in her early twenties—she still carried a soft layer of baby fat on her cheeks and along her jawline.
The area along her left cheekbone was an ugly, dark red colour, which would definitely swell and bruise later on—thankfully, the skin hadn't broken, and he ran the pad of his thumb against the injury; she winced, and he noticed the healing cut on her lower lip, concealed with dark-red lipstick. His gaze roamed over her, to notice once again the lightweight jacket that sheathed her from the waist up, with closed buttons riding to her throat; she couldn't be cold, not in the smouldering summer heat—she hid bruises, and the fist slam today was not her first.
"Why do you let him do that to you?"
She blinked; her lips parted, but she didn't answer—he'd forgotten she didn't speak English....'
Catch the rest of the SSS lot and their fantabulous excerpts - especially Jessica E. Subject, Siobhan Muir, Lorraine Paton, Cara Bristol, Wildcat's Wife, and of course, don't forget to check my sis&bestie's blog, @ Natalie G. Owens.
Hope you're all having a lovely weekend, peeps! Thanks for your visit, double thanks + XOXO if you leave a comment.
From Mauritius with love,