So I'm supposed to offer words of wisdom about writing, but after Friday, I haven't much felt like writing, and what I have been writing isn't appropriate for this blog. So, I'm taking the easy way out. I'm working on a contemporary romance that was inspired by this gorgeous house my kids and I saw. It's an old Victorian mansion built in 1872. Did I tell you it was gorgeous? If I had a few million dollars, I'd buy it in a second. But I don't. So, after letting it percolate in my head for a bit, and trying not to drool too often, I decided it would be the perfect setting for a book. My working title is the house's name, Rest Harrow. In case you're wondering, it's a type of herb. I'm not sure I'm keeping it, but it works for now. Below is the beginning of the book. I decided NOT to start with the setting (any of you who read this blog regularly may remember a post I wrote a few weeks ago about the importance of setting and how I started my other WIP with a description of the weather--I still like it, but I'm going for something different). Let me know what you think.
The lawn mower wouldn’t start. Again. She sighed and wiped a straggly piece of hair off her forehead, blowing it away at the same time. She yanked the starter cord and grunted. Nothing.
“Stupid idiot!” She kicked it. “Ow!”
“Want me to give it a try?”
She shrieked as she grabbed her foot and hopped. Her heart raced, but whether from pain or from fear, she couldn’t tell.
“Jeez, you scared me. Um, can I help you?”
She’d hopped far enough away from the stranger to give herself the illusion of feeling safe. There were enough tools and sharp objects within arms’ reach that she could defend herself if she had to, but as she looked toward the man standing in the doorway of the barn, she really hoped she wouldn’t have to. A crew cut showed off the chiseled bones in his face and the cleft in his chin. A white T-shirt clung to his body and emphasized bulging biceps, a well-sculpted chest and what she assumed would be “six-pack abs.” Worn jeans clung to well-toned legs. This guy was not only in shape, he was gorgeous. Her heart skipped again, this time from lust, and she blushed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was passing by and heard you yelling. I thought you might need help, although I assumed you were yelling at a person, not a machine.”
He grinned and a single dimple punctuated his cheek. Her face flushed hotter. She hadn’t realized she’d been so loud. And really, if this guy got any hotter, she’d need a shower.
“If you want to beat up the lawn mower for me, I probably wouldn’t object. It’s the most ornery piece of equipment I’ve got. Came with the house. I should just get rid of it and buy a new one.”
“Here, let me give it a try.”