A little over 3 years ago the twists and turns of life meant I was given a window of opportunity to focus seriously for the first time on my writing. With the fabulous support of my family my dream of being an author sparkled with a glimmer of hope.
In the intervening years I have learnt a great deal about the craft of writing and (hopefully) my writing has grown to reflect this.
Following from this I thought I'd share with you the openings of two stories - the first I wrote in September 2008 and the other which was rejected by Mills and Boon in May 2010 (my more recent writing is still being entered in contests so cannot be posted):
SHERIDAN glanced around the almost empty room, sighed, and wondered again over the events that had pushed her to this life.
Running a speed dating agency in the backwater of Garagula was a far cry from the affluent lifestyle she had led as a
Prescott in
Brisbane.
She missed the Café lifestyle, the designer clothes, partying with the rich and famous.
The easy life, she reminded herself.
It was her impulsive nature that had got her into this, and her pride that was stopping her from returning home. It had all come to a head a month earlier, when she’d had another fight with her soon-to-be-husband Richard. He was so unreasonable, just because she’d wanted Cooktown Orchids for her bouquet. Alright, it was out of season, and it was going to cost three times as much – but surely a girl should be able to have the best for her wedding day? Their relationship had become more and more hostile of late, but this time it just got ugly. The memory of those last bitter words that had been hurled by her fiancé… ex-fiancé, still hurt, it panged her to admit. She wasn’t a spoilt little rich girl and she didn’t need Richard Delaney telling her she was.
PRINCESS Brigitta Von Vasa’s stomach churned as she glimpsed the dark suited man striding down the aisle of the Boeing 737. Peering between the seats in front of her, she tried to see his face, but the gap gave her nothing but a view of his torso. Even so, familiar broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist were enough to cause her worry.
He was almost upon her.
She buried herself behind her glossy magazine, oblivious to the words, but well aware of every movement behind the pages.
The footsteps stilled beside her. Flicking her eyes to the aisle, she could just make out gleaming leather shoes below sharply creased black trousers. Had her uncle already discovered her ruse? With heightened senses, she felt the cold chill of air-conditioning on her sweat drenched body. Heard the muted chatter of her fellow passengers, and smelt the spicy cinnamon fragrance of cologne.
