So beginning next week, we’re going to be ahead of the curve by talking about publishing’s new hot romance subgenre, the Paleolithic.
This is such a fabulous era. You’ve got men dressed (scantily) in skins, the finer points (literally) of stone tool construction, exciting bison hunts, great art on cave walls, and romantic scenes around the fireside. Meanwhile, to give you a taste of what’s to come, here’s an excerpt from my WIP, The Flint and the Flower.
Who could he be, this handsome bearded stranger? He lay by the fire, chest heaving, mouth smeared with bison fat. She looked with longing at the rich fur pelt that covered his and wondered whether she should mate with him before or after she took his coverings. His eyes were the color of the sky on a summer’s day when you just knew the foodstuffs would be rich and plentiful and beneath the soil a precious bounty wiggled and twisted.
“Did you do those paintings?” he asked.
“Antelope has …” he folded down fingers, his lips moving. “Too many legs.”
Wordlessly she handed him a grub.