Hook Your Readers by Janice Seagraves

Hi, my name is, Janice Seagraves. I’m a romance writer.

I write romances of various genres. My depute novel, Windswept Shores, is an erotic contemporary romance. It’s published through, Pink Petal books.

I’m delighted to tell you that I’m the new contributing author for Romance Books “R” Us blog.

If you’re a fellow writer, that’s wonderful. If your finished your first full manuscript--congratulations. That in itself is a feat only a few of us can claim. A lot of people say they want to write, but only a few start and a fewer still ever finish.

But now the hard part really begins. The revision process and refining the beginning hook.

Let’s get a look at a beginning hook, shall we?

You'll need to start where everything changes for your characters. What they call in media res – in the middle of things.

At this point everything else is back-story. And the rule about back-story is no back-story in the first chapter. The first chapter is strictly for hooking your reader. Save the back-story for the third chapter. That way your reader is hooked into reading further to find out more.

However, you will need some kind of setup for the beginning scene, before you set the beginning hook. If you feel you need something of the back-story to help set the scene, then use a single sentence.

In this scene I do use a little back-story to help set the scene, but I used the rule of one sentence.

Here's the breakdown of my hook from my book, Windswept Shores:

Setting the scene:
Breathing hard, Megan flicked a glance at the teal-colored sea.


One sentence back-story: 
She’d thought a vacation to the Bahamas would be the perfect getaway, would be a solution to the problems she and Jonathan had faced. She’d been wrong—dead wrong.

This part is for reader sympathy:
Tears of grief filled her eyes. The never-ending crash of the waves on the beach and the cries of the seagulls seemed to mock her with the reminder she was utterly alone.

She’d felt like a tiny speck of sand last night when a violent storm had swept across the island. It had made a mess of her meager campsite, which had taken all morning to fix, and had demolished her seaweed SOS sign. She’ll have to recreate her SOS. Sighing, Megan trudged toward a pile of kelp. As she got closer, she saw a figure wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. Her stomach lurched.

Oh, God, it’s another body washed up from the plane wreck. That would be number twelve. As always, she couldn’t help but wonder if the next one would be Jonathan. He hadn’t been wearing jeans on the plane, so she knew she’d been spared seeing his corpse this time. Thank God. She approached the body with dread. Tightening her resolve, she knelt.

The hook: 
Suddenly the “dead body” coughed and rolled over. With a scream, Megan jumped back. She clutched her chest and pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.

And now I reel my reader in:
He’s alive!

This part is to describe the hero: 
His drenched t-shirt molded against his broad shoulders and well developed upper body. Short, golden brown hair stuck out in all directions. Biting her lip, she stared down at the still-breathing man.

Add little humor:
Megan, get control of yourself. Don’t wet your pants the first time you finally see a living person. She got on her knees, plucked the seaweed from him and wiped the sand from his face.

Then add a little spice: His day-old whiskers scratched her palm. Reddened skin stretched across both cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. Her thumb caressed his parched full bottom lip.

She patted the side of his face. “Hey, are you okay?”

Note:
I didn't start where Megan got washed up on Windswept Shores. No, I started when the hero did. Because for a romance this is where the story really begins. Everything else is back-story, which I do add but well after the first chapter.

Now let's put it all together:
Breathing hard, Megan flicked a glance at the teal-colored sea. She’d thought a vacation to the Bahamas would be the perfect getaway, would be a solution to the problems she and Jonathan had faced. She’d been wrong—dead wrong. Tears of grief filled her eyes. The never-ending crash of the waves on the beach and the cries of the seagulls seemed to mock her with the reminder she was utterly alone.

She’d felt like a tiny speck of sand last night when a violent storm had swept across the island. It had made a mess of her meager campsite, which had taken all morning to fix, and had demolished her seaweed SOS sign. She’ll have to recreate her SOS. Sighing, Megan trudged toward a pile of kelp. As she got closer, she saw a figure wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. Her stomach lurched.

Oh, God, it’s another body washed up from the plane wreck. That would be number twelve. As always, she couldn’t help but wonder if the next one would be Jonathan. He hadn’t been wearing jeans on the plane, so she knew she’d been spared seeing his corpse this time. Thank God. She approached the body with dread. Tightening her resolve, she knelt. Suddenly the “dead body” coughed and rolled over. With a scream, Megan jumped back. She clutched her chest and pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.

He’s alive!

Biting her lip, she stared down at the still-breathing man. His drenched t-shirt molded against his broad shoulders and well developed upper body. Short, golden brown hair stuck out in all directions.
Megan, get control of yourself. Don’t wet your pants the first time you finally see a living person. She got on her knees, plucked the seaweed from him and wiped the sand from his face. His day-old whiskers scratched her palm. Reddened skin stretched across both cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. Her thumb caressed his parched full bottom lip.

She patted the side of his face. “Hey, are you okay?” That’s a dumb question. He isn’t okay.

“Hmm?” Gray eyes fluttered open. He stared at her a long moment, frowning slightly. “G’day.”

“Hello there.” She hated the sound of her voice. It sounded rusty, unused.

Abruptly he rolled away from her to heave onto the sand, making a loud, ugly retching noise.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at her. “Sorry, mate, I swallowed too much sea.” His gaze went over her shoulder in the direction of the bonfire which crackled and popped not far from them. “Mite big for a barbie.”

Sitting back on her heels with her hands folded in her lap, Megan followed his gaze, then back to him. “My signal fire.”

“Signal for what?”

“Help.”

His accent intrigued her. Was he English or Australian?

“G’darn,” he looked around, “where the bloody hell am I?”

“Don’t know. There’s no one here to ask.” Megan shrugged helplessly, but couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Are you from England?”

“Naw,” he rubbed his eyes, “I hail from Sydney, but my port of call these days is Fort Lauderdale.” He blinked up at her. “You?”

Ah, he’s an Aussie. “I’m Megan Lorry, from Anaheim, California,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard above the sounds of the surf and the roar from the fire. “Are you a survivor of Air Bahamas flight 227, too?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Janice's blog: http://ladyjanice.blogspot.com/
Janice's website: http://janiceseagraves.org/
Find Windswept Shores at: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Windswept-Shores-Janice-Seagraves.html

Characters Come to Life

My DH (Rott) and I watched Inkheart the other night. At first, it didn't capture my attention much. Of course, that could be cause I was drooling over Brendan Fraser. Then the premise of the story began to get to me. The hero of the story (Fraser) is a Silvertongue. When he reads aloud, the characters in the books are brought into the real world. That means the good ones and the bad ones too. And the bad ones that came alive when he read have now imprisoned his wife and kidnapped him and his daughter. Some of the characters just want to go home (back into their book) and others would rather stay in this world because it's more advantageous for them. And in the end, the author of Inkheart gets his wish to be transported into the world he created.

What struck home for me as I watched this movie was that I think the best romance authors DO want to be transported to the worlds they create. Maybe not forever, but for the time it takes to tell the story and put forth the happy ending. Also, some of us want to bring our characters to life. We want them to feel so real that the reader almost expects to run into them on the street one day.

Rott and I laughed a little at what it would be like if the characters in my books were brought into this world by a Silvertongue. I tried to imagine what it would be like to go to work and discover I was at Granville Cemetery with Colin, Marius, and Elysia. I wondered how I would feel staring up at the uber tall Declan Antaeus, gazing at the sinfully handsome Holden Antaeus, or trying to match stares with the forceful Sean Antaeus. I figured I'd laugh my ass off with Max the Pixie Prince and his snarkastic side kick Alexa Harte. I knew that Brenna Thorne's familiar Rambo would look just like my own Rambo. I could sit and eat lobster at Jason Rockham's Rockport restaurant. I'd visit the BDSM club Insolence and drool over Aric Calderwood or go for a motorcyle ride down the coast with Zander and Voth. I know that I'd certainly never feel another lonely or boring moment if my characters lived in my world.

In a very real sense, writers - good writers - deliver this to readers with every release. My Darkworld is meant to suck you in and give you the sense that it's real, that you're there with the characters. I want to rip you from the world that gives you stress and deliver you to a place where the heroes are men you would want to be with and where you can identify with the heroines. I want to make you believe in dragons and vampires as much as love and happy endings. I want the characters to be real. I want to be an Antaeus and know that Sean will do his best to see that I find my mate and spend the rest of my days blissfully happy and sexually replete. And I strive to give that sense to everyone who picks up one of my books.

To say that Inkheart struck a chord within me isn't exactly correct. It wasn't the movie or the hotties (Paul Bettany shirt off with flaming sticks rotating in the air oh baybee) in it. It is what the story itself represents to readers and writers. Finding that story that takes you away from the mundane and serves you up the thing you want most whether it's love, adventure, sex, or happiness.

Now, here's a taste of my latest release. You tell me if Marius and Sair don't invite you to leave this world for theirs...

Tales of the Darkworld Book 5, Common Ground
Pink Petal Books

BUY LINK

BLURB:
Werewolf Sair McCallan escapes the confines of her brother’s pack with the help of a mated werewolf couple who believe in open sexuality and relationships. With Weylyn and Keir Randall, Sair experiences freedom in all things for the first time in her life. When she meets her mate, she’s shocked to find he’s a boring, broody vampire. Uptight Marius Granville has his staid and orderly life completely shattered by the arrival of his bloodmate, a beautiful werewolf who steals his heart and expects him to join in her kinky play with the Randalls. Marius is forced out of his hum drum existence and opens himself to new sexual experiences to please Sair. As her new mate strives to give her everything she needs, Sair battles internal demons that threaten their fragile new relationship.

Warning: This book includes sex on a washing machine, a make out session ala From Here to Eternity, sex between best friends (F/F), double penetration of a female (oh, baby!), and the best blowjob in the world (M/M) all within the confines of the hottest ménage a quatre the Darkworld has ever seen.

EXCERPT:

Sair shoved at him and Marius stumbled back a step. She dropped to the floor and slipped around him, trotting out of the bathroom. He followed her down the stairs and onto the deck at the back of the house. With a graceful leap, she jumped from the deck into the thick grass.

Marius came to an abrupt halt. With the silvery moonlight gilding her skin, naked Sair was a sight to behold. He sucked in a breath, his cock becoming even harder at the erotic tableau of his bloodmate stroking her hands over her moon dappled flesh.

“By the gods, Sair! You’ve no clue what you’re doing to me,” he complained as he stepped down into the grass.

Grinning wickedly, she backed away from him. “Yes, I do.” She laughed softly and darted around a tree as Marius took the shortest path toward her.

“You’re going to make me fuck you out here, aren’t you?”

She laughed again and skipped easily away from him when he tried to catch her arm. “What’s wrong with that? Are you allergic to grass?”

“No.” He stopped in a beam of moonlight, his head turning to watch her cavort naked in the dark, flitting between the trees. “But won’t the moon turn you furry?” he joked. “I don’t think I’d like to find myself coming inside a wolf.”

Momentarily startled, she stopped weaving in and out of the trees and turned to look at him. “You’d best be joking, my biter,” she said sternly. “You don’t see me assumin’ you can turn into a bat or become a pile of ash in the sun. Or, the gods forbid, sparkle.”

Her face scrunched up in an exaggerated grimace and Marius laughed. “I’m teasing about the moon. But you still haven’t shown me your wolf. Does she not wish to meet me?”

The grimace turned to a frown on her beautiful moon gilded features. “Do you ever go to the pet store and play with the puppies?” she asked in a cautious tone.

Shit, Marius thought. I’m caught.

Sair’s brows rose and he knew she’d heard his thoughts. “Yeeeeesss,” he replied, drawing out the single syllable of the word.

“This isn’t the same.”

Her sharply humorous statement hadn’t even faded from his ears before the outlines of her body began to shimmer. Marius had seen dragons shift before, their bodies becoming golden confetti in the air before solidifying. Sair’s shift didn’t take that long. The shimmer of her form took a split second and in the next moment, her human form disappeared, replaced by a grey wolf.

The wolf’s tail wagged and Marius smiled. Sair trotted over and thrust her cold, wet nose into his palm. He stroked her soft head and sank his fingers into her thick coat. Just like her human form, her wolf wasn’t big. Larger than a German Shepherd, but not nearly as large as other wolves he’d seen. She bumped against his legs, pushing him as her tail brushed his ass.

“You are all stuck on my ass tonight, aren’t you?” he teased.

You don’t like me admirin’ that firm masculine flesh?

“I didn’t say that. It’s just that other firm masculine flesh is crying out for attention.” With his free hand he stroked his cock.

You better hope no one sees you like this. Standin’ naked in the moonlight, pettin’ a wolf and strokin’ your dick. You’d get arrested and maybe sent to the psych ward.

Marius laughed and let go of his cock. “You’re right.”

When his fingers loosened on her fur, she dropped down to the ground and rolled to her back, displaying her belly. The fur there was lighter and he knew it would be softer. Kneeling beside her, her rubbed her belly with both hands, knowing that she had put herself in that vulnerable position to show him that she trusted him.

She whined as he stroked her and then shimmered. Instantly, her human form returned and Marius found himself stroking her naked belly, just above her mons. He grinned.

“Now, isn’t this convenient?” he murmured and slipped a hand between her thighs. He found her wet, her delicate folds slippery with arousal. She whimpered as he stroked her lightly.

Fitting his body between her thighs, he rubbed the tip of his erection in her wetness. She moaned, her hips surging toward him. With a hand on her belly, he held her down as she squirmed, trying to take his cock inside her.

“No, I don’t think so, my beautiful wolf.”

She gazed at him wide-eyed and moved urgently beneath his hands. “Yes. I want you. Please, Marius.”

“Oh, you’ll have me, just not like this.”

Deftly, with a swiftness and strength that gave away his preternatural nature, Marius flipped her onto her belly, then pulled her up on her hands and knees. Briefly, his palms caressed her ass cheeks. He pushed them apart and rubbed the head of his cock against the pink pucker of her anus. Her moans grew louder and she thrust her hips backward, silently begging him to take her in the ass.

“Not tonight, little wolf. But soon,” he whispered.

Thanks for coming by!




Author Website: lexvalentine.com
Personal Blog: sunlightsucks.com
Series Website: talesofthedarkworld.com
Twitter: lexvalentine
Facebook: Lex Valentine Fan Page