Welcome
to the Wednesday Book Hooks blog hop! Today I’m sharing an
exclusive snippet from my most recent release, The LastAmanuensis. This
story is basically dystopic sci fi with an erotic edge. Not the
cheeriest thing I’ve ever written, but it’s extremely intense
from an emotional perspective – and does have redemption at the
end.
Blurb
Poetry
is
like
blood
– you
can’t
hold
it
back.
The
Emperor has
decreed
that Reason
will rule
in his
lands. Art
and
literature
are banned
in favor
of
military
technology.
The
fearsome
Preceptors
prowl the
capitol,
arresting
anyone who
dares, even
secretly,
to engage
in
forbidden
activities.
A
former
teacher
and
frustrated
writer,
Adele
is
grateful
for
her
job
as
secretary
to
the
enigmatic
Professor.
During
the
day,
she
transcribes
his
learned
treatises
on
a
vast
range
of
topics.
Then
he
calls
her
to
his
room
one
night,
to
give
her
a
more
difficult
and
intimate
assignment,
one
that
risks
both
their
lives.
The
Hook
First
he served me tea, asking me, rather perfunctorily, about my education
and previous employment. He was clearly pleased to hear about my
scientific background. As soon as my cup was empty he took me
upstairs, sat me at a typewriter, and gave me a quadrille notebook
full of handwritten scrawls.
“Type
this, please.”
I
peered at the page he indicated, which at first glance seemed totally
illegible. I had no idea how I was going to decipher his chicken
scratchings. My dismay must have shown on my face, for he laughed.
Merriment transformed his stern countenance and for the first time, I
saw the warmth that dwelt behind his intellectual's mask.
“Don't
worry. Take your time. It's far more important for you to be
accurate, as these notebooks record my lifetime of research.” He
adjusted the gas lamp so it brightly illuminated the chosen page.
“I'll leave you to the work. I'll be downstairs in the front
parlor.”
Grateful
that he'd left me alone—for he definitely made me nervous—I set
myself to the task he had imposed. At first I had significant
difficulty but as I became more familiar with his writing style, the
process became easier. Still, I needed nearly an hour to transcribe
that single page.
He
appeared delighted by the result. When he smiled I found him far less
forbidding. I concluded from his reaction that I'd gotten the job.
However, he had one more test for me.
Sitting
me down at his desk, he handed me a sheet of linen notepaper, a pen
and a bottle of ink. “Copy the first paragraph from this
typescript,” he ordered. “I need a woman with a fair hand.”
After
my ordeal at the typewriter, this assignment should have been
trivially easy. However, instead of leaving me as he had before, he
stood behind me, watching every stroke I made over my shoulder.
Rattled
by his presence, unable to concentrate, I spoiled the first piece of
paper. Shaking his head, he gave me another. “Last one, though. If
you don't have the nerves to work under my scrutiny, you're not right
for this job.”
Closing
my eyes, I centered myself. Then I took up the pen and began to
write. The ink flowed clean and smooth onto the page. After each
sentence I forced myself to pause, to summon my ability to control
the pen's trajectory.
The
professor remained at my back, a presence I could not ignore. He was
close enough that I could sense his body heat through my woolen gown.
His breath stirred the stray hairs on my neck, below my chignon.
Irrationally,
my nipples knotted under my chemise and the blood climbed into my
cheeks. I had not been this close to a man in years.
Think
about the pen, I told myself.
Only the pen.
Finally,
it was done. I released the air I'd been holding in my lungs, blotted
the page, and handed it to him for his verdict.
“Lovely,”
he murmured. “Absolutely lovely.”
I
glowed at that first praise—just as I do now.
Buy
Links
Kinky
Literature
Amazon
US
Amazon
UK
Smashwords
B&N
Kobo
GoodReads
Be
sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s event.
You’ll find their links below.
