Authors.com

Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers

Information

Book Excerpts

Showcase your book here! Post an excerpt from you book for fellow members to read.

Members: 90
Latest Activity: Jun 26

Discussion Forum

Rehabilitation and Punishment

Started by Stanley Morris Jun 26. 0 Replies

Rehabilitation and Punishment (Tales of the Ragoon) By Stan Morris Copyright 2014The arrival of the Ragoon did not affect me. I heard about the spaceships, and I saw the destruction of the South…Continue

Tags: Ragoon, Alien, colonization, the, of

Excerpt--Chapter 1--The Girl They Sold to the Moon

Started by Chris Stevenson Jun 16. 0 Replies

            Tilly Breedlove never thought she would end up in an institution like this and hear her father utter such dreadful, embarrassing words across a counter top.            “I’m Reginald…Continue

"Thalofar the Invincible" Excerpts

Started by Stephen Jun 10. 0 Replies

This is just the beginning of the story. I'll post different parts as I write them. I need opinions about this to help me improve it in hopes that I can captivate readers. Thanks for the help!…Continue

Why do you need a.... BRAND BUMPER?

Started by Dr. Marina Kostina Jan 30. 0 Replies

Schedule your FREE 1-1 consultation here: …Continue

Tags: branding, brand, promotion, marketing, book

Comment Wall

Comment by Borislava Borissova on February 7, 2012 at 1:03pm

Hi to all!

My book "Affairs of The Heart" now is $2.24 only:

http://www.amazon.com/Affairs-Heart-Borislava-Borissova/dp/09834885...

Two love stories, two affairs of the heart in one book. In them lives all passion I have for history and adventures, time-traveling and thrillers, mysteries and great love.

Here are two excerpts from it:

From "The Last Secrets of The Ancient Island"
“I wanted to see the face, to look into the eyes of the dangerous driver who scared us with his crazy driving, caused a series of collisions and accidents on our streets and placing the life of each of us in danger and uncertainty. I still remember the squeal of the high-speed tires and the sense of an evil menace and I wanted to rage at him, to strike him. I expected…” Michael sighed sadly and, forgetting everything and everyone around him, he lapsed into the memory of that time.

“In the hospital, I ran up the stairs and I looked in the room to peer over medic’s shoulder. There were a multitude of tubes and wires. The intravenous system and respirator were attached to the body in the bed, to keep the driver alive. I saw the ashen skin, dark rings around the eyes, fragile hands—they were already powerless to hold the wheel. The body was worn, similar to a shadow. It was a young woman who wanted to die, who searched for death on the road as fast as the car would go. And to take another life with hers so she wouldn’t be alone when she drew her last breath.” 


From "A Love In Time of War"

After a while, the older white-haired man repeated in amazement, “Let’s clear this up. You fought to the death in the Balkan War against her father, her brother and her country. And she served as a nurse to Bulgarian soldiers, among blood, wounded, dead, and the smell of formaldehyde on the opposite side of the borderline. Does it mean you are coming to ask for the hand of your enemy’s daughter? The Bulgarian general, who personally led his army from the front line against the Ottoman divisions?”
“Yes. First there was the war… the love followed later. Peace was somewhere in between.”
“Yesterday, you could have killed her on the other side of the front, today you are in love and what about tomorrow?”
“She feels the same way. All our efforts to remain enemies appeared to be in vain. The border line between our ability to hate or to love appears a thin one.”
His fellow traveler shook his head distrustfully. “Your story sounds crazy. Most probably, her father will not allow her to marry you. Hmm... Kidnap her instead. Escape together as others have done many times on the Balkans.”
“Who would easily marry a Muslim man and a Christian woman in secret? If not, what would she be in my life without a legal marriage? A mistress? The woman who was born to be my wife? I cannot make a political scandal between our countries. The general is respectful and popular.”

 

Comment by Anna L. Walls on February 7, 2012 at 8:40pm

Borislava, are those stories in the same book? They are so very different, and so very awesome. I wish you all the luck.

Comment by Borislava Borissova on February 7, 2012 at 9:18pm

Thank you very much, Anna. There are two different love novellas in one book. Each of them is 35 000 words. Honestly, novellas are not very popular, readers prefer long fictions. However, I put tremendous efforts to write and find home for my work. I hope people would feel my stories. 

Comment by Anna L. Walls on February 8, 2012 at 1:14am

I'm one of those people who don't care for shorts, but mostly that's real shorts - a book of short stories. Go figure though, I have a collection of shorts that would fill a book. They all follow the theme of 'are you brave enough'. Someday, I'll get them published somewhere, either as a book of shorts or singly. Good luck with yours. After reading these samples, I'd buy it.

Comment by Borislava Borissova on February 8, 2012 at 8:25am

Dear Anna,

I would like to encourage you in all possible ways to collect and publish your short stories. It needs much more marketing efforts but our writing deserves it. I think the important is the story to be strong than wordy and perhaps it would meet readers appreciating it. About the theme, at first it seems everything is said by the great classic authors but everybody has his/her unique experience with love and there is what to be written, yet. I try to describe it as masterfully so I can.

I so hope you will enjoy my works!

Happy reading! 

Comment by Alexandria Infante on April 3, 2012 at 10:35pm

wow, seriously? I wasn't trying to self promote. It took me 4 1/2 years to get my own book published, so I feel for the un-published author, which is the reason that I want to do spotlights. I swear, only in America do people think that someone can't just help because they want to and it makes them feel good to do it.

I'll delete them and this acct. I just feel bad for the people who wanted to be. If you already contacted me about a guest spot, no worries ur on anyway.

Alie out!

Comment by Clark M. Zlotchew on April 3, 2012 at 10:51pm

Excerpt from Once Upon a Decade: Tales of the Fifties

“When they reached their ship, Ed gazed out at the bay. It was black. The sky was black, but the bay was even blacker. It was a slick, oily blackness that glowed and reflected the moonlight like a black jewel. Ed saw the tiny specks of light around the edges of the bay where he knew ships must be docked, and at different points within the bay where vessels would be anchored. The lights were pale and sickly yellow when compared with the bright blue-white sparkle of the stars overhead, but the stars glinted hard as diamonds, cold as ice. Pg. 26.”    ―      Clark Zlotchew,        Once Upon a Decade: Tales of the Fifties
     tags:             1950s       ,            adolescent-angst       ,            adventure       ,            cuba       ,            deep-south       ,            havana       ,            high-seas       ,            homophobia       ,            love       ,            navy       ,            old-days       ,            political-intrigue       ,            prostitution       ,            racism       ,            rite-of-passage       ,            savannah       ,            segregation       ,            sex       ,            sexism       ,            ships       ,            short-stories       ,            short-story-collection       ,            stories       ,            unrequited-love
Comment by David Broughton on June 9, 2012 at 7:35pm

CHAPTER SEVEN

With an exaggerated heavy sigh Alexander stood while a thousand eyes viewed him with suspicion.  Strategically placed outside a rust laden shack he shuffled his feet nervously as Dominic spoke to an old acquaintance inside. The last time Alexander was in Soweto  was during the June 1976 uprising, his vague recollection of events marred by the hurried exodus he was forced to implement while he watched blood being spilt, thirty years on it was still predominantly a shanty town. There were a few new houses being built, but nothing to stem the tide of substandard living conditions, that isolated the rich from the poor. It bothered him, as well it should. Being brought up in a fairly comfortable standard of living he could have easily turned his back on the situation, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. To loose one’s conscience as his father told him one cold, but fine day during his training in the Port of Menteith.   While those around you suffer, is the poorest excuse for turning your back on those who need help the most.

Dominic forced open the corrugated door, his eyes squinting in the sun as they adjusted to the light. “Two blocks that way,” he pointed easterly.

Alexander glanced sideways at Dominic as they began walking. “You okay?”

Dominic said nothing, his mind full of turmoil. He wanted to forget the face of the old man as he knocked gently on the door, but he couldn’t. Scarred by the past, they both had regrets they wanted to apologize for. Dominic for not being around when they buried the old man’s only son. The old man for not appreciating the sacrifices Dominic made for bringing peace to the community. In the end they both made their peace with one another.

The joyous sound of children’s laughter filled the air as they arrived at an usual looking house. Unusual as it was out of place amongst the tin filled valley shacks that were gradually being phased out. It wasn’t metal, nor did it have the ubiquitous plethora of rocks and trash in  the yard. In reality it was perfectly built, the walls perpendicular to one another, were made of pristinely cleaned red brick, while the roof had been constructed of the finest Welsh slate money could buy. A lush green lawn, watered,  and painstakingly maintained,  patch worked the cobblestoned path to the magnificent oak paneled door, which squealed as Dominic pushed it slowly open.

“Interesting,” remarked Alexander as the door shut with a hollow echo. The entrance hall, which opened up to the rest of the house, was lit by two beautiful Tiffany table lamps that sat on either side of the door, rested nefariously on a pair of small marble Rosetta tables. Instantly his eyes were drawn to a reproduction painting of The Crucifixion by Donato Montorfano that hung on the freshly painted red tinted walls. “The date on this canvas is wrong.”

 “How do you know?” Dominic asked him.

Comment by Patricia Gligor on July 11, 2012 at 12:18am

Here's an excerpt from my mystery novel, Mixed Messages.

She heard the sirens the second she stepped onto the porch. She hated the sound; it evoked too many bad memories. As she hurried down the steps and into the yard, anxious to see what was going on, the wails got progressively louder, coming closer and closer. She couldn’t tell which direction the cries were coming from but she was sure that something bad had happened to someone.

She looked up and down the tree-lined street but couldn’t see any flashing lights or emergency vehicles. Abruptly, the screams stopped. It was almost as if they’d never existed, as if she’d imagined hearing them. Everything seemed normal again.

http://www.amazon.com/Mixed-Messages-Patricia-Gligor/dp/0615603815/...

Comment by Patricia Gligor on July 25, 2012 at 3:07pm

She couldn’t breathe. He was twisting the cord around her neck, choking her, and he was pulling it tighter and tighter. She tried to swallow and her mouth filled with a bitter, metallic liquid: blood, her blood. She gasped for air and clawed at the cord that was strangling her. She tried to kick him but she couldn’t move her legs. Her head throbbed with an almost unbearable pain and she felt light-headed.

She fought as hard as she could to stay conscious but she knew that her strength was almost gone. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw white lines that looked like flashes of lightning zigzagging back and forth, on and off. She gritted her teeth in pain. Death was closing in on her; she knew it. Was this it? Was this how her life was going to end? Please God, no, she silently prayed. Please God, help me!

http://www.amazon.com/Mixed-Messages-Patricia-Gligor/dp/0615603815/...

Comment

You need to be a member of Book Excerpts to add comments!

 

Members (89)

 
 
 

© 2014   Created by Authors.com.

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service