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Best First Line Contest Final Round!
This contest is closed to new entries! Only those whose entries are posted below are invited to post again.
This is it, the final round of our best first line contest. We’re moving forward 22 lines, who will post a total of five lines each. Next Monday, July 9th, I will post the ten people who have been chosen by the editors to submit their work for consideration of publication at Samhain.
I did say ten! And if I happen to hire any more editors between now and next Monday, that number will go up. Just as a note, all of you who entered the contest over the past weeks will, of course, be welcome to submit your work to Samhain Publishing when we reopen to submissions this summer.
I’ve made one small change to the directions so please read carefully. Below, I’ve posted the comment # and the line. If your line is one of those posted, you have until noon on Friday to post, in the comments, the genre of your book and then your five lines. You must post both the first four lines, as well as the fifth line, but no more than that or your entry will be disqualified. You may not change the first four lines. They must be as posted in the first through fourth rounds. Please be very careful when posting—look for typos and errors before posting your entry. Please remember that this contest is for unpublished, uncontracted work, as the “prize” is the chance to submit the work to the requesting editor at the end of the competition.
1 “How the hell am I gonna explain a dead body in the middle of my lawn?” I watched the fur fall from his broken corpse in thick clumps. Did I mention I hate werewolves? I sucked in a breath and all I could smell was the blood soaked earth, my own sweat, and the rest of the pack skulking in.
2 The early spring day started out sunny and normal – not the kind of day that would end with me soaking wet and curled up in the trunk of my own car. But my life lately has been anything but normal. I’m Elizabeth Montgomery Peacock – I know – I’ve heard all the jokes and even made up a few myself. My parents are to blame for the first two names, not knowing that by the time their daughter was in elementary school, a more famous Elizabeth Montgomery would be twitching her witchy nose on TV.
4 Alexa Ranger knew when she was three years old that one day she’d meet a dragon. A gold one.
So when he materialized out of the mist in the deserted back alleys of whatever North Suck-istan war zone she was in, she didn’t scream. Of course, a well-trained spy wouldn’t scream anyway.
5 Smoke snaked on languid currents around the sweat-glistening bodies of his clan-more than the people of his blood, they were now his responsibility. With the council in transition, Croma was claiming his rightful place as a tribal guardian. He hid his triumphant smile with his usual shallow sneer before anyone else in the common house noticed
They swayed, chanting in their ceremonial dress, oblivious to his thoughts.
6 Aneirin saved my life the day I met him, and saved it twice again before he finally killed me. It’s a chance encounter: I’m in a seedy little pub on the edge of Montmartre, drowning my sorrows in a pint of ale, when a stranger sits down next to me and slings his arm around my shoulders like we’re old friends. Beneath the table, I feel the point of a dagger press against my ribs.
I know what he wants, of course — money — and it’s a pity for us both that I have none.
9 Bubble bath made terrible camouflage. Myra St. James tilted her legs, trying to get the fast- disappearing bubbles to better cover her lower half.
“Come on, love, there’s nothing there I haven’t seen before,” Miles said in his smarmy British accent.
Drawing her knees to her chest, Myra shifted uncomfortably as her ex-fiance grinned, folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head as if to get a better look.
10 The Reverend Mother used to tell acolytes that if men were going to brawl, they should at least be naked and glistening with oil.
Leda’s money was on the hulking brute with the Cydian blade, but right now she needed the other guy to win. That one had information she needed, and she wasn’t going to get it if he got himself killed. She was just about to intercede when her quarry tripped on his feet and knocked himself out cold.
12 Half awake, Sabine felt incredibly relaxed — until a lazy stretch nearly toppled her off the sturdy tree branch supporting her naked body.
Naked?
Her eyes snapped open and she grabbed frantically at the trunk of the rough-barked tree. What the hell was happening to her?
13: It was the kind of day that poets never write about. Jimothy could think of half a dozen ballads, at least four epic poems, two sonnets, and a limerick, all of which related to the weather, but none of them recounted the sort of relentless drizzle that had assailed him since before dawn. He knew the tale of a blasted, desert country, cursed by its own gods. He was positive that he could sing at least a song apiece about hail, sunshine, snow, and even ordinary overcast skies.
15 The child on the bench puzzled me. Her long, powder blue party dress and matching bonnet did not seem appropriate for the carnival at all. Looking more intently, I realized the dress did not fit the decade either—perhaps not even the century. Platinum blond curls touched the sash on the back of the dress as her delicate legs bounced with the rhythm of the calliope music coming from the carousel in front of her.
16: Claw marks separated the shirt into three pieces. Dark green blood dripped from the ends, hitting the cement in an annoyingly cheerful beat. Meg Summers rolled up the mess and tossed it into the nearest dumpster before shrugging back into her leather jacket. A slight cut down its left sleeve and a broken zipper were the extent of the damage the ghoul managed before she’d killed it.
17 On an average day in the US, you would never walk out your front door and find a llama waiting for you. The sun shone like a ball of white fire overhead, making me squint at the tequila bottle in my hand for a moment, but no, not a hallucination — he still stood right beside my trailer, wearing a straw hat and aviator glasses. This could mean only one thing.
My archenemy, Finneas Q. Rucker, (well, if I cared enough these days to devote myself to a nemesis, it would be him) was back in town.
19: The greatest king of Scotland, dead for nearly a thousand years, would be reborn in a woman’s dreams.
Malise looped her needle through the glittering warp and weft of her tapestry, embroidering the resurrection of her favorite monarch. “It’s been nine-hundred and fifty years since we lost the great ard righ.” She paused and traced a fingertip over the stitched profile of a kneeling woman with long red hair and the shadow of a sarcophagus behind her.
22 Sam felt the engine sputter and then die — exactly according to plan.
Of course, this may not have been his best plan ever.
Through the windshield he could see the deserted country road shimmer in the afternoon heat, the nearest gas station at least a mile away — why the hell was he doing this?
He knew the answer though, and it wasn’t the need for gas that had him walking down the road, empty gas can swinging at his side.
23 An ordinary person would consider a lack of vampires to be a good thing. I, however, could only think of three increasingly terrifying reasons for their disappearance.
Lowest on the panic scale was the possibility they’d found out about me – and I was only clinging to that piece of self-importance because I really hated the other options.
If vampires were being drawn to another place – were flocking somewhere – then the human population might be about to wink out, one town at a time.
26 It’s frightening how similar a wistful smile is to a bitter one. A small turn of the lips, a twinkle of the eye hardening to glass. And yet we can still decipher the difference. The human mind is terrifyingly perceptive.
28 If there was one thing that Kelly Rawlins knew, it was that when you got home from work on a Friday night, you were not supposed to find the man that took your virginity and dumped you the next day sitting on your couch. So when she saw Jake Caine lounging against the cushions, his eyes caressing her with wicked delight, she froze for what felt like an eternity before her gaping mouth closed with an audible snap.
“It’s good to see you, Kelly,” he said, standing to approach her with a long, lazy stride. His voice was just as deep and husky as she remembered and her breath caught at the sound of it.
29. I forgot to breathe the minute I set eyes on him, as if by not exhaling I could savor the image. Crazy, maybe, but if you’d seen him in the hotel that day, you would have been breathless, too. Slim hips, broad shoulders, confident smile… one dimple — all packaged in a dark, tailored suit and posed in front of a picture window, late afternoon sunlight shimmering over his blond hair. You can’t get better than that on a platter.
31 Seated across the bar from Mariana was her target, the most dangerous pirate in the galaxy. He was here now, weeks before she’d expected him to take the bait, and neither his decade-long reputation nor the grainy holos in his Unipol dossier had prepared her for the sheer physical presence of the man. Jared LaFleur wasn’t the tallest or the strongest man she’d ever met, but his implacable air of command and wintry dark gray eyes had her fidgeting in her borrowed waitress’ uniform and wishing she were anywhere but here.
Mariana cursed the slight tremble in her hand as she slid a shot of whiskey across the bar to him, remembering at the last moment to rotate her wrist so he could see her alexandrite signet ring.
32 When the media called Michael Brannon the big bad wolf of the courtroom, they had no idea just how close to the truth they were. The crowd parted automatically as he stalked me, the nightclub patrons scurrying out of his way like prey they didn’t realize they were. Even though Michael hadn’t been Two-Natured long, he treated humans the same way most of our kind did.
Not saying that he treated them badly, he just didn’t have much use for them.
35 Do you think I won’t find you?
Kendra Douglas jerked awake, almost feeling Adam’s heavy breath on her neck. She froze, listening for any movement, and heard only her own jagged breaths. Her gaze scanned the room.
Thank you!
Genre: Paranormal romance
Smoke snaked on languid currents around the sweat-glistening bodies of his clan-more than the people of his blood, they were now his responsibility. With the council in transition, Croma was claiming his rightful place as a tribal guardian. He hid his triumphant smile with his usual shallow sneer before anyone else in the common house noticed. They swayed, chanting in their ceremonial dress, oblivious to his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes to see through the fragrant haze hanging in the air.
Dogs of War: Urban Fantasy Romance
“The dog shoplifts.”
Sandra Morton eyeballed the German Shepherd sitting on the sidewalk outside her house — a glossy black-and-tan, big-boned beauty and, according to Seeing Eye liaison Tom Crane, a terminal kleptomaniac.
Tom shifted his weight from foot to foot precisely twenty times and pleaded, “Don’t say you can’t cure him.”
Over the past several months, her Powwower’s empathy had already alerted Sandra that in the revitalizing neighborhoods of Philadelphia and beyond, anxiety disorders were the new black.
There was something in the air, and on this placid spring day, Sandra precognized it bore no resemblance to love.
This has been an incredibly rewarding experience. Thank you to Samhain, and good luck to my fellow finalists!
Soul of the Dragon: Paranormal Romantic Adventure
Alexa Ranger knew when she was three years old that one day she’d meet a dragon. A gold one.
So when he materialized out of the mist in the deserted back alleys of whatever North Suck-istan war zone she was in, she didn’t scream. Of course, a well-trained spy wouldn’t scream anyway. Not that her training had included dragons.
Yay! This is so awesome…Good luck to all! :)
Between Love and War – sexy romance
#9 Bubble bath made terrible camouflage. Myra St. James tilted her legs, trying to get the fast- disappearing bubbles to better cover her lower half.
“Come on, love, there’s nothing there I haven’t seen before,” Miles said in his smarmy British accent.
Drawing her knees to her chest, Myra shifted uncomfortably as her ex-fiance grinned, folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head as if to get a better look.
“Saw, past tense, as in before you started boffing your secretary,” Myra said, cursing the bursting bubbles, the need to pamper herself before meeting Blind Date #3 at Pier W, and that stupid ceramic frog hide-a-key she knew wouldn’t keep a burglar – or anyone else – out of her condo if they really wanted in.
I’m honored. Good luck to the finalists.
Genre: Urban Fantasy
“How the hell am I gonna explain a dead body in the middle of my lawn?” I watched the fur fall from his broken corpse in thick clumps. Did I mention I hate werewolves? I sucked in a breath and all I could smell was the blood soaked earth, my own sweat, and the rest of the pack skulking in. This was not my night.
Genre: Historical paranormal romance
Aneirin saved my life the day I met him, and saved it twice again before he finally killed me. It’s a chance encounter: I’m in a seedy little pub on the edge of Montmartre, drowning my sorrows in a pint of ale, when a stranger sits down next to me and slings his arm around my shoulders like we’re old friends. Beneath the table, I feel the point of a dagger press against my ribs.
I know what he wants, of course — money — and it’s a pity for us both that I have none.
He decides to rough me up as punishment for my poverty, and that’s when Aneirin steps in, though neither of us saw him coming.
#19
Genre: Historical paranormal romance
The greatest king of Scotland, dead for nearly a thousand years, would be reborn in a woman’s dreams.
Malise looped her needle through the glittering warp and weft of her tapestry, embroidering the resurrection of her favorite monarch. “It’s been nine-hundred and fifty years since we lost the great ard righ.” She paused and traced a fingertip over the stitched profile of a kneeling woman with long red hair and the shadow of a sarcophagus behind her. “Sometimes I hear his restless spirit call out her name.”
Genre: M/M fantasy romance, red hot
It was the kind of day that poets never write about. Jimothy could think of half a dozen ballads, at least four epic poems, two sonnets, and a limerick, all of which related to the weather, but none of them recounted the sort of relentless drizzle that had assailed him since before dawn. He knew the tale of a blasted, desert country, cursed by its own gods. He was positive that he could sing at least a song apiece about hail, sunshine, snow, and even ordinary overcast skies. This, though…this frankly sucked.
#12
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Half awake, Sabine felt incredibly relaxed — until a lazy stretch nearly toppled her off the sturdy tree branch supporting her naked body.
Naked?
Her eyes snapped open and she grabbed frantically at the trunk of the rough-barked tree. What the hell was happening to her?
Apparently, her subconscious wasn’t content with first stripping her while she slept, then sleep-walking outside, but had now decided to add tree-climbing to her nighttime antics.
#10
Genre: Fantasy w/ romantic elements
The Reverend Mother used to tell acolytes that if men were going to brawl, they should at least be naked and glistening with oil.
Leda’s money was on the hulking brute with the Cydian blade, but right now she needed the other guy to win. That one had information she needed, and she wasn’t going to get it if he got himself killed. She was just about to intercede when her quarry tripped on his feet and knocked himself out cold.
Idiot.
OMGs!!!!! Wow! Ok, now the hard part: genre…..lol
Genre: Horror/paranormal, romance/erotic(?)
#15
The child on the bench puzzled me. Her long, powder blue party dress and matching bonnet did not seem appropriate for the carnival at all. Looking more intently, I realized the dress did not fit the decade either—perhaps not even the century. Platinum blond curls touched the sash on the back of the dress as her delicate legs bounced with the rhythm of the calliope music coming from the carousel in front of her. I took a step toward her, intent on finding out why she was not on the ride with everyone else.
Genre: Urban Fantasy
An ordinary person would consider a lack of vampires to be a good thing. I, however, could only think of three increasingly terrifying reasons for their disappearance.
Lowest on the panic scale was the possibility they’d found out about me – and I was only clinging to that piece of self-importance because I really hated the other options.
If vampires were being drawn to another place – were flocking somewhere – then the human population might be about to wink out, one town at a time.
And if they weren’t being drawn away, then they were being driven away… and anything that gave mass orders to vampires could only be unimaginably bad news.
*Genre: Paranormal Romance *
Claw marks separated the shirt into three pieces. Dark green blood dripped from the ends, hitting the cement in an annoyingly cheerful beat. Meg Summers rolled up the mess and tossed it into the nearest dumpster before shrugging back into her leather jacket. A slight cut down its left sleeve and a broken zipper were the extent of the damage the ghoul managed before she’d killed it. She half-heartedly attempted to wipe away the splotches of rancid blood decorating her jeans while keeping an eye on her surroundings.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Do you think I won’t find you?
Kendra Douglas jerked awake, almost feeling Adam’s heavy breath on her neck. She froze, listening for any movement, and heard only her own jagged breaths. Her gaze scanned the room. Wood nightstand, pastel painting over the bed, suitcase by the door—yep, another hotel room.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
I forgot to breathe the minute I set eyes on him, as if by not exhaling I could savor the image. Crazy, maybe, but if you’d seen him in the hotel that day, you would have been breathless, too. Slim hips, broad shoulders, confident smile… one dimple — all packaged in a dark, tailored suit and posed in front of a picture window, late afternoon sunlight shimmering over his blond hair. I had an immediate flight of fantasy in which I rendezvoused with him on the pink sand beach of a deserted island.
Genre: fantasy (Kurt Vonnegut meets Terry Pratchett)
#17
On an average day in the US, you would never walk out your front door and find a llama waiting for you. The sun shone like a ball of white fire overhead, making me squint at the tequila bottle in my hand for a moment, but no, not a hallucination — he still stood right beside my trailer, wearing a straw hat and aviator glasses. This could mean only one thing.
My archenemy, Finneas Q. Rucker, (well, if I cared enough these days to devote myself to a nemesis, it would be him) was back in town.
The llama curled back its lips and spat; for once, we were in complete agreement.
Genre: m/m contemporary erotic romance
Sam felt the engine sputter and then die — exactly according to plan.
Of course, this may not have been his best plan ever.
Through the windshield he could see the deserted country road shimmer in the afternoon heat, the nearest gas station at least a mile away — why the hell was he doing this?
He knew the answer though, and it wasn’t the need for gas that had him walking down the road, empty gas can swinging at his side.
It was a second chance and, flawed plan or not, this time he wasn’t going to play it safe.
Genre: Contemporary Romance
If there was one thing that Kelly Rawlins knew, it was that when you got home from work on a Friday night, you were not supposed to find the man that took your virginity and dumped you the next day sitting on your couch. So when she saw Jake Caine lounging against the cushions, his eyes caressing her with wicked delight, she froze for what felt like an eternity before her gaping mouth closed with an audible snap.
“It’s good to see you, Kelly,” he said, standing to approach her with a long, lazy stride. His voice was just as deep and husky as she remembered and her breath caught at the sound of it.
Making sure her own tone was laced with just the right amount of sardonic amusement, she replied, “I’d say the same to you, but we both know I’d be lying.”
Genre: Paranormal Mystery with Romantic Elements
The early spring day started out sunny and normal – not the kind of day that would end with me soaking wet and curled up in the trunk of my own car. But my life lately has been anything but normal. I’m Elizabeth Montgomery Peacock – I know – I’ve heard all the jokes and even made up a few myself. My parents are to blame for the first two names, not knowing that by the time their daughter was in elementary school, a more famous Elizabeth Montgomery would be twitching her witchy nose on TV. The last name came from my late husband, George – George Peacock, accountant extraordinaire, or at least I’d thought until he died and left us virtually penniless.Genre: Contemporary Romance
It’s frightening how similar a wistful smile is to a bitter one. A small turn of the lips, a twinkle of the eye hardening to glass. And yet we can still decipher the difference. The human mind is terrifyingly perceptive.
Except when it comes to the opposite sex.
Good luck, everyone! :-)
#31
Genre: Futuristic Romance
Seated across the bar from Mariana was her target, the most dangerous pirate in the galaxy. He was here now, weeks before she’d expected him to take the bait, and neither his decade-long reputation nor the grainy holos in his Unipol dossier had prepared her for the sheer physical presence of the man. Jared LaFleur wasn’t the tallest or the strongest man she’d ever met, but his implacable air of command and wintry dark gray eyes had her fidgeting in her borrowed waitress’ uniform and wishing she were anywhere but here.
Mariana cursed the slight tremble in her hand as she slid a shot of whiskey across the bar to him, remembering at the last moment to rotate her wrist so he could see her alexandrite signet ring.
His eyes narrowed, and a wolfish grin spread across his face as he called to the bartender, “Logan, how much for an hour upstairs with this Imaran?”
General: Paranormal Romance
32
When the media called Michael Brannon the big bad wolf of the courtroom, they had no idea just how close to the truth they were. The crowd parted automatically as he stalked me, the nightclub patrons scurrying out of his way like prey they didn’t realize they were. Even though Michael hadn’t been Two-Natured long, he treated humans the same way most of our kind did. Not saying that he treated them badly, he just didn’t have much use for them.
Then again, while he was human he didn’t have use for much of anyone besides his little sister, my once best friend Sammie.