Nancy Jardine Author: Gee! Is it Thursday again?

Thursday, 16 January 2014

Gee! Is it Thursday again?

Good day to you, wherever you are!

Short update on my editing progress, yesterday. Did I achieve much?

Sort of, in that I re-read and accepted lots of changes (mainly those italics for Gaelic speech and back to normal font for Latin). I'm delighted that my editor found some more of those sneaky commas that I'd overlooked but almost nothing else! I'm around 200 pages done of 300, so as well as my 'kiddie' minding today I'll get the rest of those First Edits done and dusted.

One guest post is written - details of that tomorrow - which leaves me still some stuff to tick off on my list of 'to dos' from yesterday.

Today, over on my FEATURES blog, you''ll find a fantastic interview with paranormal romance author - Tiffany Allee. Hop on over and read about her 'Temptation By Fire'. If you're US based, you'll also find a great GIVEAWAY. Click HERE or use the top tab button to access my 'Features' blog.

Since my mind is on all things historical just now, here's another little temptation from my most recent historical adventure- After Whorl: Bran Reborn

Ineda first meets Bran....

AD 71 One Moon After Lughnasad – Marske

“Dé thu a déanamh? Tell me! What are you doing?”

Ineda left off her rifling and leapt upright in a rush, flight uppermost. She lunged the wooden bowl in her hand towards the huge warrior, even though it was no real weapon as it bounced off his considerable chest.

The man had erupted into the small roundhouse like a lumbering bull at Beltane, his expression just as furious as a trapped animal. Or maybe that was her own eyes reflecting in the one shining blue? His bulk ensured she could not injure him, her escape route foiled when he thrust the sickle away and reached forward to snare her awkwardly in his hands. Although she struggled with all of her might, the man well out-powered her.

“Let me go!” To add to her protest she stamped on his foot.

The warrior was not impressed by her strident demand or her ineffectual display of outrage as he continued his baleful staring. Maintaining a neutral tone, he clasped her writhing body. She could not fail to notice the winces of pain in his eyes as she kicked at his legs, but he held her firm.

“You seek something in particular?” His tone was low, a menacing thread lurking though his expression betrayed nothing.

Quelling her disquiet she spat back at him, though her mouth was barely at his mid-chest height. “Aye. I do.”

The man waited for more but she gave him no further answer, and instead took in his appearance. He was no Roman, of that she was sure: a Celtic warrior and a recently wounded one. There was the tiniest of flinches when her stare reached his eyes. A shimmer of hurt was followed by a curl of derision at his lopsided mouth. She spent no time working out why since she had a good idea. Pride was a wonderful thing for a mighty warrior, but loss of self-respect quite another. The undamaged side of his face declared him very handsome; the recent wounds marring his other side not so well looking. She guessed he had not yet come to terms with the ravages of war on his flesh.

“Meaghan has done a fine job to keep you alive, warrior. Those scars heal well.”

Her words angered him, evident in the black scowl he sent her way, the mention of his afflictions clearly not something he wanted her to speak of. He crowded her closer, hurdling her into the corner of the small room.

“Meaghan?” He only spoke the one word.