Goodreads Authors/Readers discussion

I found this topic at another forum and thought it quite interesting.

So, share your first three sentences of your latest work!

My contribution...

The Gloriosa was burning.
And a pirated ship set ablaze at sea was usually a bad predicament for its crew’s survival. And climbing aboard it in a daring rescue didn’t help anyone’s odds either, especially when the pirates were heading back.

As I slowly pack my small, battered suitcase for the long journey, my older sister dusts, hoping to make our cottage look presentable for the next residents. I'm making this last as long as possible, picking up each item and pondering it carefully before deciding whether to keep it.
“Hurry up,” Agnes says, an edge of impatience to her voice.
--The Home For Wayward Children

Great idea!
Here are my three sentences:

She sighed.
"Lorena,” David said, so softly that she could barely hear him.
The quiet pleading in his voice swayed her, but she didn't dare turn around and look at him.

"Bring her over here, quickly" I heard someone shout. The ambulance men who were carrying my stretcher responded immediately to the doctor's request. "Suspected broken collarbone, head trauma, concussion, possible spinal injuries, a badly broken leg and probably some broken ribs," I heard the paramedic reel off as they transferred me to a bed.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...

Evil can destroy many things. Love is not one of them. Footsteps echoed on a sidewalk as he moved under the light of a street lamp, one hand hidden in the pocket of his beige coat. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...

"Daena looked over Tetra’s shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her friend’s waist as the two plummeted through the sky. A quiet exclamation of fear escaped her lips while Tetra laughed aloud. It was a beautiful day."

"Reapers of Souls and Magic - A Rohrlands Saga"

My seventeenth birthday passed unnoticed. The only reason I knew it had occurred was that the cold, early spring storms that traditionally mark this time of year had dwindled to nothing. My tribe, the Sakita, has no precise means to mark and record time’s passing, so we measure that passing by the seasons.

These opening lines come from the book I am currently writing, Bones of the Gods .

Michael wrote: "My seventeenth birthday passed unnoticed. The only reason I knew it had occurred was that the cold, early spring storms that traditionally mark this time of year had dwindled to nothing. My tribe, ..." Fantasy Novel?

"Chief Johnson has full faith on us. Which means if I can complete this task and hunt down the murderer, not only does the chief won't feel any uncertainty on Anthony and I, but the spirits of the victims can move on. It sounds silly to believe that the undead is still around, but it is the truth." Eliza Thorne from my first book, The White Sirens

R.E. wrote: "Michael wrote: "My seventeenth birthday passed unnoticed. The only reason I knew it had occurred was that the cold, early spring storms that traditionally mark this time of year had dwindled to not..."

Action/adventure/fantasy. Part of my Sanyel series, featuring a teenage female shaman.

Thanks Michael! I may take a look when I get some time. (writing two books at once, currently.)

Congratulations on buying NAKED REVIEW: How to Get Book Reviews.
Though it’s become customary that nonfiction authors congratulate readers on buying their books as a “feel-good stimulator,” NAKED REVIEW is not one of those books.

It is a strategy book.

Naked Review: How To Get Book Reviews

From my newly completed "Vampire Tech 3" :

Viktor Tiranul smiled in satisfaction at his handiwork even as his body transmuted back into human form. The crumpled and broken corpse of Don Salvatore Morello lay at his feet, the dead man's blood streaming off of his hands, repelled by the alien nanites, which were actually more like an intelligent colony, that resided in his bloodstream and which made him a werewolf. In fact the entire luxurious living room was a charnel house, with great splashes of blood defiling the walls, ceiling and floor, and soaking the human bodies that lay all around, some of which were mostly whole while others were dreadfully torn and shredded.

From my fantasy novel 'The Gifted: The four Kingdoms':

I woke up with a start. Another night of restless, nightmare-filled sleep had ended abruptly for me. It had been like that for quite a while now and I couldn't figure out why this happened to me.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...

I was nine years old, and staying with Daddy's parents, as I always did in the summer. I remember Grandma answering the phone. She said "What?" In a disturbing tone and shut the door to the room I was playing in.

From my true life story, "Unraveled, Time to Tell."

Carolelgilbert.com

Unraveled, Time to Tell

From my zombie Novella, Zombie Playlist.

If I had to imagine the opening scene of a film based on my life in a zombie apocalypse, I’d have the camera follow little ol’ me down a deserted motorway littered with abandoned cars. There’d be an obvious skip in my step, a metal baseball bat in my hand called Lucille… wait. Only joking, I’m not pretentious enough to name my bat.

Zombie Playlist

Their routine had been the same for years, practically their entire marriage. Each morning when they awoke, Sheyla and Tobias Marchand would kneel beside their bed to pray. When times had been particularly difficult, they held hands and prayed aloud together before moving forward.
Twisted Virtues: Complicated Matters

Hetrick rounded the bend and spied a man striding across the stubble-field towards him.
The detective pulled off the road and parked. Hetrick knew Clay Stoneroad by reputation, though they’d never met and he had no idea why the writer wanted to meet out here in the country.
(In Silence Sealed, coming soon from Torrid Books).

Shakira’s life was changing. She had changed her location, she had changed her job, and now she felt as if she were changing herself into a new woman.
One thing wasn’t changing though. Shakira rubbed her back again; she was in agony, but she was starting to get used to it.


Love Bites

From my hardboiled crime fiasco, The Famous Well-Equipped Twins.

They were standing in front of the old boarded-up church on Bristol Street.
“Gimme a light,” said Kitty, leaning toward Isley, cigarette trembling in the corner of her mouth. Isley snapped a flame from his big silver lighter after three false starts and held it to the tip of her cigarette.



Hank Kirton

Denise wrote: "From my current crime mystery manuscript, Artful Revenge.

"I didn’t choose to kill; it chose me. Murder brings a great sense of relief. I consider myself a curator of souls.""

It's so deep :) Very good

From my first novel, Valqis: The Search, which I hope to have ready for release late this year or early next year:

"The first of Edus’ two moons are just cresting the horizon as the rider spurs his steed towards the walls of the capital city of Dotard, his long brown trench coat flaps in the easterly breeze as he. He drops his body toward the horse’s mane, pushing it faster, trying to close the gap between him and his long forgotten home. As he does so, a high-powered halogen light perched on top of the wall catches the movement of the horse and rider and the intense beam of white light focuses in on the stranger, who pulls his hat down to shield his eyes from the ray."

J.R. wrote: "Hetrick rounded the bend and spied a man striding across the stubble-field towards him.
The detective pulled off the road and parked. Hetrick knew Clay Stoneroad by reputation, though they’d never..."

Hi J.R.,

I would place a comma after the word "met". Just trying to be helpful. :)

Cathy wrote: "J.R. wrote: "Hetrick rounded the bend and spied a man striding across the stubble-field towards him.
The detective pulled off the road and parked. Hetrick knew Clay Stoneroad by reputation, though..."

Thanks, Cathy. Agreed.

J.R. wrote: "Cathy wrote: "J.R. wrote: "Hetrick rounded the bend and spied a man striding across the stubble-field towards him.
The detective pulled off the road and parked. Hetrick knew Clay Stoneroad by repu..."

You're quite welcome, J.R. I'm offering really great start-up rates for copy editing, but I don't want to break any TOS here, lol. Good luck with your book!

I sat in our garden, staring at the closed flower buds. It was one thing I missed about being human – seeing the vast array of colors produced by plants. I was never awake early enough to see the beautiful blooms.

Pursuit into Darkness

YA short story

Josie stared at the empty canvas. She felt trapped; her heart beat too fast and beads of sweat began to pop out on her forehead.
“Survivor.”

Survivor

this is from my WIP, the sequel to Acre's Bastard...
Even in a city as dirty, crowded and generally stinky as Acre the smell of smoke stands out from the other odors around you. The good kind promises a warm charcoal fire on a cold, rainy winter day, or a hot meal pretty much any time.
This was the bad kind, which was far more exciting.

From my forthcoming thriller Lying in Vengeance (giveaway scheduled here on Goodreads Sept 14):

Peter Robertson bolted upright in his darkened bedroom, awakened by Santana blasting “Black Magic Woman” on scratchy, poorly-amplified speakers. Why, he wondered in his melatonin-aided stupor, would an aging seventies band break into his ninety-year-old Portland bungalow and wake him at this hour? And why on such awful sound equipment?

“If you leave me today, I won’t hate you. No hard feelings.”

My boyfriend's head fell onto my bare stomach, his scruffy chin tickling the soft skin below my navel as he dragged exasperated hazel blue eyes toward my face. “You’re offering this now?” He readjusted so his left arm unhooked from beneath my thigh and stretched upward along my torso. “Am I doing something wrong here?”

(From my new short story in the Sin City Supernaturals series.)

What a great discussion strand. Okay, here goes:



Poor Wealthy, Y/A SciFi- Coming Soon.
Chapter 1- NOW


“Mayday, mayday,” Weltha Jane Johnson desperately punched the call button on the communication panel. “This is the Tug Waterloo. Please help. There is blood everywhere and they’re all dead.” Ok, the first order of business, she told herself, is survival.

From my romantic comedy novel, Apoca[hot]lips:

The mirror. The goddamn, bloody mirror. A ‘transportation system’ like no other. Looking at it could be a moving experience, but too often it had taken me down. Not so long ago, it took me into hell. Then it brought me back.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...

A Cry Among Men

The sun at Teterboro Airport shown bright, yet the air held firmly to its caustic late winter bite. People felt relief to be out of the clutches of a winter that had overstayed its welcome. They had uncovered freedom to enjoy an extended recess that didn’t include ­grating wind, constant snowstorms, and mounds of snow polluted with dirt, dog pee, and pale yellow sputum.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...

He sat at the old walnut desk, the ancient parchment strewn across its worn and scratched surface. Picking up one of the fragile pages he scanned the words written on its surface, the pitch-black ink highlighting the perfect script of his ancestors. The letters seemed to waiver slightly as he read the one line it contained-one world born from another will share an equal fate.

The Scrying

"Edge of the Stars" by Andria Stone

“You move—you die.”
Doctor Mark Warren froze. The man’s voice had come from behind him. Whoever was there could see Mark kneeling over a body with a gun in his hand. A dead body. Lying in a pool of blood.

Path of a Novice

From Path of a Novice, The Silvan Book I

She called him Fel’annár, Green Sun, immortal child with the heart of a Silvan and the face of an Alpine; it was a face that would garner hatred, kindle love, inspire loyalty, bring persecution, a face Amareth of Lan Taria had protected for fifty-one years.

R.K.Lander

THE ENTRY ABOVE THIS ONE IS DEFECTIVE AND I CAN'T FIX IT!!!



"Coffee?" asked the serving bot.

"Please," replied Neil.

After breakfast Neil strolled across the parking lot to the motel. There weren't many motels in the town of John Day.Neil figured this motel was as good as any.

For the rest, please goto http://www.aphelion-webzine.com/short...

Here I am, spinning and falling.
The man with no past and the past as my future.
Weedgie’s grinning face floated past. Oh, yes, and now I had a son…with four legs, a bushy tail, Elvis quiff, too-big eyes, human teeth and lips like Mick Jagger.

Okay, technically that was the first four lines from the 8th book in my Marty & Weedgie series. The first time-travelling adventures can be sampled here:

www.angelacowan.com

Last Train from Earth:

“You’re fired!”

I looked up from the report I’d been studying as Eric crashed into the room, a huge, sheathed, broadsword resting on his left shoulder and steadied by his left hand.

He slapped the door shut with his right hand, blocking off my view of Susan, who shrugged her helplessness.

"In a magical dreamtime, a foot-long, purple-scaled beastie spiraled through the gothic college campus towards a glowing blue dome. The harmless sprite was an unforeseen and displaced mutation created by a recent exotic ‘accident’ like many besetting the mid-22nd century world, although this was one of the more harmless and curious offshoots. There were others much worse."

Time-travel from dystopian Oxridge College to ancient mythic England with the novella "Bards of Fantasia Ver. 2.0," Paperback $4.25. Kindle just 99cents, on pre-release until Sept. 16: https://www.amazon.com/BARDS-FANTASIA...

"My mother and every other woman who lives on Muriel Avenue gets paid to have sex; that’s just how it is. When I was in the fourth grade and just beginning to grasp the true nature of my family’s business, snot-nosed Tyler Williams had shoved it in my face. "

from Muriel Avenue Sluts, contemporary, coming -of-age, suspense https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...

Wayne wrote: "this is from my WIP, the sequel to Acre's Bastard...
Even in a city as dirty, crowded and generally stinky as Acre the smell of smoke stands out from the other odors around you. The good kind promi..."
I LIKE it!

From Bridge of Sighs and Dreams
A flock of boisterous geese muffled the twigs snapping underfoot, as the intruder crept through the orchard and took cover behind a vine-choked well. Dressed in black shirt and pants that trapped heat from the noonday sun, he wiped sweat from his brow, tried to steady his hands, and raised his rifle.
Angelina Rosini ignored the spark of light from the nearby well; reflections off the metal pulleys were as predictable as the noisy geese en route for a lunchtime snack.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01...

Paula wrote: "From my romantic comedy novel, Apoca[hot]lips:

The mirror. The goddamn, bloody mirror. A ‘transportation system’ like no other. Looking at it could be a moving experience, but too often it had tak..."
Great beginning!

Pamela wrote: "Paula wrote: "From my romantic comedy novel, Apoca[hot]lips:

The mirror. The goddamn, bloody mirror. A ‘transportation system’ like no other. Looking at it could be a moving experience, but too of..."

Thank you, Pamela!

Thanks, Pamela!

From my supernatural thriller 'And Soon The Song'

Richard’s red hair flamed in the hot sun, his double-handed sword flashing like a turning salmon against the cloudless sky.

Behind him the solid bulk of St Anthony’s Gate rose and around him the bodies of black clad warriors tumbled, arms gone, heads cleaved, as the sword hewed them into the afterlife with righteous passion.

Spread for a mile across the field of conflict, beneath the massive walls, the knights of eight Christian nations and their armies drove the enemy back, back to the desert, back to the mountains, into the sea, away from the gates of the recaptured city of Acre.

Denise wrote: "From my current crime mystery manuscript, Artful Revenge.

"I didn’t choose to kill; it chose me. Murder brings a great sense of relief. I consider myself a curator of souls.""

Nice and tight.

Jaci wrote: "He sat at the old walnut desk, the ancient parchment strewn across its worn and scratched surface. Picking up one of the fragile pages he scanned the words written on its surface, the pitch-black i..."

Intriguing intro, should be a page turner.

Wayne wrote: "this is from my WIP, the sequel to Acre's Bastard...
Even in a city as dirty, crowded and generally stinky as Acre the smell of smoke stands out from the other odors around you. The good kind promi..."

As a fan of stinks, I enjoyed this.