Friday, December 16, 2011

Happy Birthday, Jane Austen! 236 years young!

I hope my readers and fellow authors adore the incomparable Jane as much as I do. Her novels (along with the Bronte sisters' Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre) sparked the romance genre that we all know and love today. If you haven't read Emma or Pride and Prejudice yet, do your heart a favor and start reading! The movies of the books are all wonderful, but my favorite is the Keira Knightley version.

My current "work in progress" is a Pride and Prejudice-based novel, and in honor of Miss Austen as well as begging her pardon, I'm giving you a sneak peek at one of the scenes. Hope you enjoy it!

     She closed her eyes, exhaling on the window so that her breath bounced back into her mouth, as warm as his had been. Confusion swirled through her, igniting all variety of emotion. She’d sensed a connection between them. Somehow, beyond the difference in their ages and stations, not to mention life experiences, she’d felt a kinship. As if she’d known him all her life.
     Nonsensical dreaming was all it was. Girlish fantasy and listening to Lucinda’s romantic nonsense. That was the source behind her confusing thoughts. She suddenly did something she had never done before in her life.
     “Frederick,” she whispered. Her lips relished the shape of his name, the way they parted on the consonants, as if preparing for a kiss. Her tongue pressed the back of her teeth on the d. Her breath misted the glass as she spoke his name, and she stared at it until it evaporated.
     Though she wasn’t the least bit sleepy, she climbed into bed beside Lucinda, pulling the quilt up to her chin. Colonel Parker had offered her a solitary room at the start of her visit, but she, who had always shared a room with her younger sisters, found the large, drafty house a little frightening at night. She scooted close to Lucinda, taking some comfort in her friend’s sleepy warmth.
     Lucinda mumbled in her sleep. The sweet tones of the pianoforte filtered through the closed door and the layers of carpeted floors and walls. It was a variation of his symphony. She wondered if he thought of his former love as he played.
     It was too much to think that a man such as he would ever consider playing for a simple country girl like herself.

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