First chapter of my book.

Genevieve was perched on a tree branch, a copy of “Jane Eyre” balanced on her knee. The sun was shining heavily upon her, warming her to the very core. Yawning, she closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth and relaxation. She hadn’t been able to relax since her father had passed away; she’d been too preoccupied with helping her mother around the house and keeping her from going into depression. But on days like this, when her Aunt came to visit, she could sneak away for a few hours. Her mother didn’t know about the old tree in the woods in their backyard, or the long tree branch that was perfect for sitting and reading on. If she had known, she’d have forbidden it, cut it down, insisted that it was too dangerous. Genevieve didn’t want to lie to her, and say she was just going for a walk; but she couldn’t bear the thought of giving up her one place to escape. A sudden cracking sound made her jerk up, her book falling down to the forest floor. She felt the branch bend from underneath her; and before she could scream, the branch broke and downward she plunged, her dress billowing around her. She squeezed her eyes closed, and waited for the impact. But instead of hitting the forest floor and breaking into a million pieces, she fell into someone’s arms.
  Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked up at her savior and gaped. She was dead, she decided, she must be. For the devastatingly handsome face gazing down at her could not have been anything but an angel.
“Am I dead,” she blurted. The angel laughed lightly, his tone carefree, but the worry in his eyes gave him away. Genevieve's vision began to darken, her body slackening. She tried to ask him who he was, but her speech was slurring, as if she were drunk. Then everything went silent, and her world was black.