Daisy Abbott is an author as eccentric as she is successful. She's also used to a certain rhythm when it comes to her writing: she sits at her desk, the hero speaks, she writes. Book done. After all, that's how she wrote thirty titles and she doesn't expect anything to be different during the working of her thirty-first manuscript. Daisy is convinced the protagonist of her newest book isn’t speaking to her and when he appears in the flesh to challenge her, she is transported to his time and place to better understand things from his perspective. The question is, whose story is it?
I am a British writer of niche market fiction in the domestic discipline genre. My first duty is to write a compelling story with strong
Visit www.authorbellabryce.com for more about Bella
Facebook: Author Bella Bryce
Daisy watched William retreat down the path toward the tent and took his instructions as
“Oh, it’s you.” She looked at the tray he was holding with a further ten flutes of Champagne but when she saw the servant looking at the ones she’d stashed in the bushes, Daisy slowly lowered herself in the large gown and collected the flutes before depositing them on the tray. The servant cleared his throat and promptly turned like a toy soldier and marched away. Daisy watched the royal servant ascend a set of stone stairs nearby leading to a side entrance into the palace.
She raised her eyebrows. “Guess who will have the most accurate description of a palace in modern writing? This girl.”
Before Daisy could abandon the wall of rose bushes, but the sight of William
Daisy suddenly abandoned the practice of being interested in the roses. “You left me unattended.”
William put his hands behind his back. “I was doing my duty by greeting the King and Queen. I will soon need to speak to others in my father’s absence.”
“Do I have to stay on your arm and fan my face?”
“No. You need to observe. We will go over it all this evening after you’ve written it out.”
“Parchment and ink. There is no
Daisy knew he was referring to electricity and was even a little impressed he had the right words and intention, even though the idea wasn’t quite correct.
“So you want me to spy?”
William stepped closer. “You must stop using questionable terms, Daisy.”
“Unless you have already forgotten the year, you will keep words like Georgina, spy, my flat last night and questions like may I remove my bonnet? out of conversation, especially in public. It is not appropriate.”