It’s First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday! Hosted by Socrates Book Reviews this is where you share the first paragraph of one (or in my case sometimes several) of the books that you are currently reading.
When books are your life–or in my case, your job–you get pretty good at guessing where a story is going. The tropes, the archetypes, the common plot twists all start to organize themselves into a catalogue inside your brain, divided by category and genre.”
Book Lovers by Emily Henry
It’s First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday! Hosted by Socrates Book Reviews this is where you share the first paragraph of one (or in my case sometimes several) of the books that you are currently reading.
She ran. The thing was after her again. She could sense it. From the day of her birth–or her creation, or her evolution, or whatever process had belched her into existence–the gigantic phallus in the center of the fiery arena had wanted her for its own. But she was more intelligent than the other who cavorted around its base, the dogs begging for scraps. Any scrap. Mostly she lurked along the circle’s edge near the line where the charred forest of tree corpses began. This spot lay outside the reach of the ever-flowing fountain of acidic pre-cum streaming down the sides of the enormous crimson glans.”
Hell Spring by Isaac Thorne
It’s First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday! Hosted by Socrates Book Reviews this is where you share the first paragraph of one (or in my case sometimes several) of the books that you are currently reading.
Let me say this: bein a idiot is no box of chocolates. People laugh, lose patience, treat you shabby. Now they say folks sposed to be kind to the afflicted, but let me tell you–it ain’t always that way. Even so, I got no complaints, cause I reckon I done live a pretty interestin life, so to speak.”
Forrest Gump by Winston Groom
It’s First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday! Hosted by Socrates Book Reviews this is where you share the first paragraph of one (or in my case sometimes several) of the books that you are currently reading.
I hear the crack of his skill before the spattering of blood reaches me.
I gasp and take a quick step back onto the sidewalk. One of my heels doesn’t clear the curb, so I grip the pole of a No Parking sign to steady myself.
The man was in front of me a matter of seconds ago. We were standing in a crowd of people waiting for the crosswalk light to illuminate when he stepped into the street prematurely, resulting in a run-in with a truck. I lunged forward in an attempt to stop him–grasping at nothing as he went down. I closed my eyes before his head went under the tire, but I heard it pop like the cork of a champagne bottle.”
Verity by Colleen Hoover
It’s First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday! Hosted by Socrates Book Reviews this is where you share the first paragraph of one (or in my case sometimes several) of the books that you are currently reading.
Kneeling in the fragrant moist grass of the village green Clara Morrow carefully hid the Easter egg and thought about raising the dead, which she planned to do right after supper. Wiping a strand of hair from her face, she smeared bits of grass, mud and some other brown stuff that might not be mud into her tangled hair. All around, villagers wandered with their baskets of brightly colored eggs, looking for the perfect hiding places. Ruth Zardo sat on the bench in the middle of the green tossing the eggs at random, though occasionally she’d haul off and peg someone in the back of the head or on the bottom. She had disconcertingly good aim for someone so old and so nuts, thought Clara.”
The Cruelest Month by Louise Penny
It’s First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday! Hosted by Socrates Book Reviews this is where you share the first paragraph of one (or in my case several) of the books that you are currently reading.
In the cavernous marble hall that serves as an office, the Big Boss sits back against the plush velvet of his golden throne. He appears large and menacing on the platform above me. The glowing red coals deep within his hollow sockets pulse with displeasure as he stares down. He raises an old, creaking arm and points his bony finger at me. His bones are yellowed with age, and micro-cracks lace an intricate pattern up to his arm. I imagine a musty smell coming off him. He’s ancient, and whatever is left of his vocal cords grinds with effort as he speaks.”
The Reaper’s Quota by Sarah McKnight
The room was full of bad things. Three wooden crates stacked in one corner contained zip-locked bags of drugs. The lid had slipped from the top crate, and no one seemed concerned. There was nothing hidden here. The table pushed against the opposite wall was strewn with empty liquor bottles, overflowing ashtrays, a cracked mirror dusted with what looked like heroin, a fat roll of dollar bills stained with something that wasn’t water, and a handgun. Propped against the table was an AR15 with a bump stock. Jesse wondered if it was there to intimidate him. It was probably just there.”
The Last Storm by Tim Lebbon
I knew my brother would turn into a panther before he did. As I drove to the remote crossroads community of Hotshot, my brother watched the sunset in silence. Jason was dressed in old clothes, and he had a plastic Wal-Mart bag containing a few things he might need–toothbrush, clean underwear. He hunched inside his bulky camo jacket, looking straight ahead. His face was tense with the need to control his fear and his excitement.”
Dead as a Doornail by Charlaine Harris
The Legal Alien 