A to Z Blog Challenge 2024: Enticing the Reader

Welcome to Day 5 of this year’s challenge. As a writer, I like nothing better than hearing someone tell me they started reading one of my books and couldn’t put it down. When I hear or read that, I know I’ve done what I set out to do.

I’ve enticed the reader into my story. They’ve engaged with the plot. The letter E is all about Enticing and Engaging.

In my humble and completely inconsequential opinion, the best books are the ones that grab you right from the start. Generally, from the first few pages, you’ll meet the heroine, get a sense of the reason behind the story, recognize at least the initial incident in the plot, and have an idea about the genre.

I spend a great deal of time crafting this enticing beginning, regardless of the particular genre I’m writing at that moment. As you learned from the letter B, my latest book is Listen to the Stones, a contemporary, paranormal, romance, suspense.

The book is part of a series called Timeless Love. It has a cover and I hope to finish it this month. Here’s a taste of the scene I hope will entice readers to want to finish the book.

Harrisville, Ontario

December 31

11:40 p.m. EST

Marina stared up at the darkened ceiling in her room. Another year had come to an end without improving her lot in life. She was almost thirty, alone, struggling to make ends meet, and there didn’t seem to be any likelihood that the year starting in twenty minutes would be any better. Maybe she should’ve gone to Lenore and Jay’s party, had a few drinks, and rung in the new year in style, but she wasn’t a people person as Lenore put it, and socializing with others exhausted her.

And, make no mistake, she was exhausted. Not only was her body tired and achy, but her soul was drained, depleted of the life-giving energy only he could provide, and he hadn’t come to her in weeks. Why?

Because she couldn’t sleep.

Recently, her sleep patterns had been more erratic than ever, alternating between long periods of wakefulness during the night, couple with nightmares involving water, and the briefest glimpses to the comforting green hills with the stones in the distance—but no lover. If she didn’t know better, she would swear someone, or something, was hellbent on keeping them apart.

The harder she tried to fall asleep and call him to her, the worse the insomnia was. In desperation, she’d scoured the Internet for advice on improving the quality of her sleep beyond a new mattress, new sheets, a new pillow, and counting sheep, which hadn’t helped in the least. She’d taken a hot shower, had drunk a cup of warm milk, had turned off her television and electronics half an hour before she got into bed, had listened to soothing music, had focused on meditation, and finally had resorted to reading the dryest, most boring book she could find, but nothing worked. She’d been flipping around like a fish on dry land for the last two hours. If she didn’t get to sleep soon, tomorrow would be a disaster. How could she cater lunch for fifty people without some rest?

A tear trickled from her eye, ran down the side of her face, and landed on the pillow.

“Come to me, lover,” she whispered. “Please, I need you more than I ever have.”

The nightlight combined with the open curtains cast pale, shadow-filled light in the bedroom, and while that could occasionally send her mind soaring into the land of monsters, it was 100 percent better than the alternative of deeper darkness and the sensation of being buried alive.

She needed to go to sleep. If she didn’t, there was no way he could come to her tonight. Hell, she’d take on the fiends of the deep if she had to before being in his arms once more. But while the nightmares had grown more and more frequent, parts of them lingering in her mind long after she awakened, he came less and less often, and yet she had never felt more lost, alone, and lonely in her life. What was the point of having a phantom lover if you couldn’t conjure him when you needed him?

Light sleep calmed her restless mind. She rolled over, settling onto her right side, facing the spot where her imaginary lover should be, and yanking off the covers as his heat reached her. He’d come to her. She sensed him with every fiber of her being. If only he could be with her in real-time. The depth of love she felt for this man was far beyond what she’d felt for Bob. She’d tried—God alone knew how hard she had—but the kind of love Bob had wanted, the kind she’d needed to save her marriage, simply hadn’t been in her to give, and wishing for it hadn’t made it so. Everything in her belonged to … strange to love someone so deeply and not know his name. As the dream expanded, she opened herself to him.

The bed beneath her vanished, replaced by a woven blanket atop soft grass in a leafy grotto. He’d led her here from the stones, yet this area, located in another time and place, was as familiar to her as if she’d been here countless times in the past. Common sense told her this bower existed only inside her imagination, but that didn’t matter. It felt real, just as he did. This was as genuine as she needed it to be. The fresh scent of pine and cedar and the aroma of flowers she couldn’t identify invigorated her. The place was always shrouded, with only trickles of light permeating it, but she was never afraid here, never cold, and never alone.

She ran her hand along his muscled arm, across his tight shoulders, and down his taut stomach, trapping his legs so much longer than hers, trying to keep him with her longer, knowing he could disappear at any moment.

“I’ve missed you.”

The words didn’t come from her mouth—they never did—instead, they formed in her mind, in a language she couldn’t speak but understood, a language far older than twenty-first-century English.

She reached up and caressed his face, still shrouded from her by the darkness, as her fingers caught in the hairs of his beard. While she couldn’t see it, she sensed it was red, like his hair would be. His beard was soft and neatly groomed. Although men with beards had never attracted her, this one did. She would give anything to be able to see his eyes. The eyes were the mirror of the soul. In them, she would see the truth of his feelings for her—not that she doubted the sincerity of his love, but if he cared as deeply as he claimed to, why did he stay away from her?

“As I’ve missed you, my love,” he answered telepathically in the same strange language. “I’ve tried to find you, but … I’m here now. Let’s not waste a minute of this precious time we have together. I need you, sweetness. I’ll never get enough of you.”

She smiled. “Agreed.”

Rolling onto her back, she anticipated his touch as he took her to a magical realm of sensations that only his hands and lips could generate. His smooth hands traveled along her bare skin filling her with unparalleled desire. His lips met hers, his tongue plunging inside her mouth, battling for supremacy with hers, a battle she happily ceded.

His lips left her mouth and traveled to that delicate spot under her ear, and her entire body tensed becoming an instrument that only he could play. His hands moved along her torso, setting fires of need wherever they kneaded, caressed, and kissed. Desire built inside her, an ache only he could assuage. He moved over her, spreading her legs, and plunging into her core. Her body exploded in a thousand points of light, filling her with the energy she’d been lacking. Body shuddering in the aftermath of her climax, she reached up to put her arms around him, but he was gone.

In her mind, she heard him.

“I’m searching for you, my love, and I will find you. No one and nothing can keep us apart this time. We are destined to be together. Never doubt my love.”

A darkness settled inside the bower, so complete that it seemed to consume the light and the air. A voice she recognized filled the emptiness.

“Marina Fraser, soon, it will be time to choose. Choose wisely.”

That was the voice of the psychic Lenore had taken her to see last week, the woman repeating the words she’d said then.

Suddenly awake, Marina glanced around the empty room before settling on the spot beside her in the bed. Her body was replete, sated, and filled with the serenity only he could bring her. She could still smell the pine and the flowers. Her gaze fastened on the alarm clock. Midnight. The witching hour. It had only been a dream. If only he could be real and not a fantasy. The psychic’s words resonated inside her once more, “Marina Fraser, soon, it will be time to choose. Choose wisely.”

Choose what?

Turning onto her left side, Marina fell into a light sleep.

So, what do you think? Would you want to read more of this story? If not, why not?

I’ll see you tomorrow when we look at F.

Check out blog posts from other participants here: https://tinyurl.com/w54yupwe