Hey friends! I’m a little late getting this up today, but hopefully some of you will join me in the last WIP Wednesday of 2018!
For newbies, here’s the deal: on the first Wednesday of every month, I post an excerpt of something in progress, and you do the same in the comments section. 500 words or less (I’ll trim your excerpt if it goes long), nothing too sexy, and no links to works for sale (but links to fanfic sites or your blog are just fine.) We don’t critique each other’s work or make suggestions–we’re usually sharing things that aren’t ready for that–but encouraging words are welcome!
This is a snippet from book 3 in my paranormal romance trilogy that began with The Phoenix Codex. SPOILERS!
[AdSense-B]
Sophie Karakov, who ran away from Manus Sancti, has been brought back to their headquarters.
A woman with long, dark hair approached Sophie. A Knight, probably, judging from her black tee shirt, camo pants, and work boots.
“Hi! I’m Cassie, Jonathan’s girlfriend. He’s told me all about—“ She stopped and laughed. “Actually he’s only told me like three things about you, but I love your power. Is that a weird thing to say?” It was, actually. And telling her that her former lover barely mentioned her wasn’t exactly tactful. Sophie would’ve guessed it was an intentional dig if the woman hadn’t been smiling so widely. “Anyway, it’s so cool to meet you!”
So Jonathan had fallen in love with someone who was basically the human version of a golden retriever—exactly what he’d wanted her to be, and what she could never be. Why should it annoy her so much? She honestly didn’t want Jonathan back. They were about as good of an idea together as a match and a gasoline spill.
But it must be nice to be able to get this far in life and still be so sloppy and sincere. She had learned to be otherwise, so long ago. At that age, if what Sophie had heard about American childhoods was correct, Cassie had been watching Disney princess movies and planning her first sleepover. Sleepovers had meant something very different for Sophie.
Her throat constricted. Why did her mind keep going back to that lately, after all these years? It was pointless, and stupid. She was getting too soft.
Everyone was looking at her. Right. She was supposed to say, something. “Hello,” she said to Cassie. It was the best she could do, and she couldn’t smile.
Please share yours below, if you feel so inclined! And for everyone who’s shared their work this year–it’s been such a privilege reading what you’re creating, and I hope 2019 is your best writing year yet!
Great excerpt, Bryn. I like that she is comparing her life with that of the “golden retriever” and seeing that they were so different. Great job as always!
So I wrote the next novel in my paranormal/fantasy series for NaNoWriMo. It’s called Gemini Deadringer, and it’s very raw. In this book, the Zodiac Gemini had his soul ripped in two, one half going to his sister Gemma. She’s the scientist, he’s now an ingenue type, etc. In this scene, Gemma is having her first experience with sex (in a heated natural pool) but the scientist in her is all about the study. The man, Tread, is human and more than happy to be her subject.
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His hands on the pool edge, he bent his elbows until he was almost nose-to-nose, yet still not touching her. “Spread your legs,” he whispered.
Gemma shuddered. Goosebumps swept over her, covering her body. She desperately needed to cover herself, but her body made a different decision.
“No,” she said, even as her legs spread until her knees were on either side of him.
Traitorous limbs.
Tread stepped closer, his advance stopped by the outcropping. “Slide your ass forward.”
Her body jerked. She couldn’t have stopped it had she really wanted to. She slid forward until her sex was an inch from his. She looked down and gasped at the evidence of his interest in this game they were playing.
She looked into his eyes.
“Have you been with a man?” he crooned in her ear, his voice a deep rumbling bass.
She tried to answer, but her throat had constricted. She shook her head.
Tread leaned back, confusion pushing back the seduction. “Really?”
His incredulous tone jerked her out of her sex fugue. “Yes, really.”
“A beautiful woman like you? Why?”
She slid back and sat up, covering her girly bits. Not that they wanted her touch. Oh, no, they ached for Tread.
Blasted traitorous flesh.
“There is no sense in indulging in something that won’t go anywhere. I’ll never have a mate, have children. What’s the point?”
“The point is pleasure for pleasure’s sake. Sex isn’t just between mates or for procreation. I dare say recreational sex takes up a far greater amount of time than making babies.”
“I have limited amount of time outside of the stone. I have a great number of things to study and discover; sex isn’t even on the list of priorities.”
“You aren’t anywhere near your lab or your books now. Seems this would be a great time to put the study of sex at the top of your list.” He spread his arms. “Consider me at your disposal.”
Gemma watched the man, her mind skipping from one excuse to another, searching for any valid reason to say no. But, dear goddess, she didn’t want to say no. Could she do this?
Yes.
One, precisely because she would never see this human again once they escaped the fairies; two, she’d never admit it but she was blasted curious about sex and finding out what the fuss was about. Pleasuring herself was all well and good but she just knew there was so much more than just the orgasm itself. And she wanted to know what that was.
Three, this male made her itch deep inside, the kind that she instinctively understood only this man could scratch.
She was a scientist in search of truth; exploration of the unknown was her calling.
“Okay, but this is for research purposes only. I want to understand the mechanics, not the seduction. Do we have an understanding?”
Tread’s lips twitched but he offered her a hand.
They shook on it.
Hi Artemis! Okay, I’ve got to be honest, this is too sexy for WIP Wednesday! But I’m leaving it up because I like you so much 🙂 and because it’s really good. Her analytical approach makes it very fun.
My apologies for that. Are you able to take it down?
Hi Bryn! Oh, what an awkward encounter! I can just feel the discomfort Sophie must be feeling. It’s never easy meeting the new girlfriend!
I am editing my YA oracle story now and participating in Pitmad with it tomorrow. Depending how that goes, I should be querying it soon, so wish me luck!
Here’s an excerpt from it.
I shuffle past the great room, and take a right towards the staircase, only to find my way blocked.
By my mother.
I can’t speak right away. All I can do is blink and stare, my mouth suddenly dry.
Nathalie looks . . .
Hardened. Bone tired. Her green eyes have bags beneath them, and her olive skin is a leathery tan, though she’s only thirty-five. She’s clearly spent a lot of time outdoors—on the job? On the street? Do I care?
No. I don’t dare ask myself that. I’m afraid of what the answer will be.
My voice finally returns. “I have got to pay attention to where I’m going.” I duck my head, and plunge forward, heading right.
Nathalie does too. I step to the left, but she does the same thing.
“Excuse me,” I say, like she’s a stranger I’m trying to pass on the sidewalk. She might as well be, after three years apart.
I go right again, and so does Nathalie. Then she places a hand on both banisters, completely blocking my way.
You have got to be kidding. “Stop it.” I push against her arm, but her sinewy muscles are strong. “I’ll scream, I swear.”
Nathalie tilts her head. “I’m your mother. Do you think that will work?”
A couple wanders through the great room, giggling and grabbing at each other—I think I remember hearing they were newlyweds. Three sobbing preschoolers pass by, dragging their harried mother behind them as they protest they aren’t tired, they don’t want to go to bed.Oddly enough, right now that’s all I want to do.
None of them so much as glances up.
I puff air through my flared nostrils. “Real great parenting, Nathalie.” I try to push past her again, and she catches me by the forearm. I glare at her until she removes her hand.
“I’m sorry.” She shoves impatiently at her wild brown hair. “This is all going wrong.”
“I’m not surprised,” I tell her. “It’s not like you’ve had a lot of practice interacting with me.” I want it to hurt her. I want it to sting like, I don’t know, maybe being abandoned by your own mother when you were only three?
Ahh, good luck with PitMad tomorrow! And hey, if you ever want feedback on a query letter, let me know, okay? 🙂 I enjoy this story so much!
That’s so nice of you, Bryn! Thank you!
And I did get one agent like yesterday, so yay for that!
Ugh… meeting the ex is awkward at best. Here is part of my Nanowrimo:
Total carnage was the only way to describe the interior of the cabin. Chairs were splintered, glass shards from a mirror above the bar were scattered across the floor, and blood… blood was everywhere. Two unmoving bodies laid in contorted positions on the floor.
Mac crossed the room to get to Cowboy, the glass crunching under his boots. Cosmo leaned over the other body, pressed his fingers to the man’s throat, and felt for any sign of life. There was none. He turned to help Mac with Cowboy.
He laid face down, the arm of his shirt soaked in blood, and pooling around his body. They carefully turned him over, heard a soft groan, and watched with disbelief as he slowly opened his eyes. “Why aren’t you dead, Cowboy?” Mac asked with mock sternness then let a sigh of relief exhale.
“Slowed my heart rate to try to curb the blood flow. Uncle Sam spent a lot of time and money teaching me how not to die. Guess I took that as a direct order.”
As Cosmo checked for more wounds, he tore open Cowboy’s shirt, revealing the Kevlar vest underneath. “You might be brave, but at least you aren’t stupid.”
He helped him out of the body armor, careful to not further injur his shoulder. The bullet resistant vest was frayed in three places just below his heart. “You’re lucky. Looks like you may have cracked a rib and your chest is already starting to bruise. No indication of internal damage though.”
“Good. Let’s go.” He got to his feet and immediately felt his knees wobble.
Cosmo caught him by the armpit before he face planted. “Easy there, buddy. You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’d guess you are a couple of quarts low. Let’s get you to the hospital, then we can figure out how to help Ana.”
He eased back down to the ground, not by choice but because if he didn’t he was sure he would fall over. “I have to find her.”
“You almost died for her.”
“No. I lived for her.”
Hi Diana! I hope you enjoyed NaNo. Dramatic excerpt and great ending!
A small snippet of a moment with two of my favorite characters….
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Dave subtly bumped hands with Hank.
Hank’s heart raced.
He remembered…
***
Hank examined the stitches on his hip and sighed.
Score another injury from working as Caten’s guard. At least, I should get a cool looking scar this time. It’ll look like a crescent moon, if it heals nicely.
There was a knock on his door.
Hank pulled up his pajama bottoms and opened the door.
Dave stood on the other side. He was still dressed in his guard uniform: red robe, black gloves. But his hood was down and his face was unmasked.
“Hey.” Hank smiled. “What are you doing over here?”
“Are you okay?”
Hank shrugged. “Just needed a whole bunch of stitches. But, hey. I’m still alive.”
Dave lowered his gaze. “You didn’t have to take the hit. I was—”
“Dave. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“But. You did it to protect me.”
Hank looked at the cotton candy-colored streaks in Dave’s hair.
The way his hair hung in his eyes.
The way it made him look a whole lot younger and more vulnerable than he really was.
I would do anything to protect this man.
“I would gladly do it again. Just for you.”
Dave raised his gaze. “Do you mean that?”
“I mean exactly what I say.”
Dave let out a soft exhale before flinging his arms around Hank’s neck. “Eeeee! You’re so romantic!”
Hank laughed.
“I want you. I want you. I want you!”
“Now?”
Dave released him. “Unless you don’t want to. Does it still hurt? If you don’t want to—”
Hank pulled him into the room and closed the door. “I want to.”
Dave’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
And Hank just couldn’t resist.
***
Hank bumped Dave’s hand in return.
I would do it all over again. I would face any danger just for you.
I love these guys. I always get feels reading these passages.
Aww! Thank you so much! They’re a very fun couple to write.
The opening of book two of The Mojave Chronicles
The red orb of the sun breaks the horizon in the east and I spot a small dust cloud to the north; riders are coming. Even without my long glass I know they are important.
Soon the dust cloud separates as three desert hardened mustangs can be made out, their nostrils blazing a path of yellow steam in the frigid dawn air. Three children ride on two of them and, glory be, the broad frame of Upatu, my husband, emerges from the dust on the last horse. My children kick their horses to a full gallop to arrive first. Pulling hard on the hackamores they stop the agitated horses and tumble down, squealing, “Mommy!”
I squat to gather in my dear squeakers, and through tear soaked eyes, ask my oldest, “Monell, did you take care of Kendo and Wachita?”
Monell hops on her toes brandishing her little flint and bone knife. “Yes, Mommy. I kept the snakes away. I killed the mean anaconda before he could swallow Wachita. I am a real huntress now. Can I get my chin tattoo? Please?”
I look into the black pools of her hopeful eyes and shiver. “You are very brave my daughter, and no you are too young to have a tattoo.
Upatu dismouns, saying,“I was worried when you didn’t show up to be with me. It took a long time to catch a flight out of the Amazon.”
He places his palm on my belly feeling for a kick before he envelops me in the long awaited hug and kiss.
Feeling the kick, I say, “It is yours love. Come, let’s go inside; it will be hot soon, and I have so much to tell, I want to hear all about the children’s adventures. Tell me, how is my sister, Pell?”
“All in good time. First we must attend to the horses,” Upatu teases.
I can’t wait to find out about Pell and plead. At last he relents.
“Pell is doing quite well as our shaman. Her father passed away and she has three children, all boys. There have been two attempts on her life. The would-be murders have been stripped of their family rights and sent away.”
My stomach churns, for they will still try to kill her. She is a knight, as I am, and quite capable of defending herself, but still…
I order the children to change from their uniforms to the loose black garments of the Mojave and use the opportunity to inspect them for tattoos. I have forbidden it, but they might try to sneak one in, especially Monell, who fancies herself the great huntress. I shudder, it is a fool’s task; if they get a tattoo what can I do? Yelling won’t take the marks away, besides, I would be a hypocrite. Like all Mojave women I bear a bold blue tattoo on my chin and under my black shirt a large secret tattoo on my chest and back.
I think that daughter deserves a tattoo! Great passage. Thanks for sharing.
As a white woman Grace Wachinga’s chin tattoo was not exactly voluntary, (think Olive Oatman,).but she has come to accept the Mojave as her family. As a knight she has other obligations.
Thank you for the praise. Writing has become a tool to deal with Aspergers..
Excerpt from Chapter 14 (what I’m currently working on) for the Christmas novel I’m working on…Laurel is thinking about what occurred earlier that morning at the insurance office….
“I have a favor to ask, Chris—er, may I come in?” Laurel had been hanging halfway through the doorway with her upper body.
“Absolutely, my dear! Come in,” he had risen, he was a tall man—a tall white bearded man. Laurel pulled herself back, straightening herself before entering.
She shuffled herself into the high backed chair he indicated. After she’d settled herself down upon the comfortable cushions, she suddenly had found herself staring. Chris had a pile of letters in the middle of his desk distinctly marked To: Santa or some had To: Santa Claus—all directed to the North Pole destination.
Chris looked down, and had given Laurel a friendly wink. “Ah, so you’ve found out my secret.”
Laurel’s head had bobbed a little and she stared up at him, with his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry—I’ve found out what secret?” OMG.
Chris had given out a big hearty laugh and pointed to another stack on the floor behind his desk. “That I’m Santa Claus of course!”
“Oh, of course. You’re Santa Cla—” Laurel had clapped her hands over her mouth in astonishment.
At that point, Chris had leaned back in his chair chuckling uproariously.
“I’m sorry Laurel,” he settled himself down a bit, his laughter dying off, “I didn’t mean to have fun at your expense. I am Santa Claus—for these kids.These are letters from the local children’s home—one where the kids aren’t adopted or just unadoptable due to issues. Every year I get about two-hundred letters, and I do my best to fulfill each and every one of them. These have all been seen to already, but, I like to re-read some of the letters. It makes me feel like I’m part of their family.”
Chris’ face lit up with such a shine, and for the briefest of moments, Laurel could have almost believed he was indeed Father Christmas.
Chris had then given Laurel a few to read through.That experience had been many things: heartbreaking, amusing, downhearted, hopeful, and sincere—and some were almost outright demanding! It was wonderful!
In between reading some of the letters, she’d gotten to ask about taking Christmas Eve morning off. Laurel had just been ready to explain that she’d make up the time, when Chris had raised up a finger to silence her. She had almost been certain he was going to say no—and then what would she do? Instead he held up a REVISED holiday list. In large print December 24th had been added to the dates for that year.
Well, that had been a real miracle! Whatever had made Chris decide to add the 24th as a holiday had saved her a lot of worry about how to pick up Cindi if she’d had to work tomorrow.
Laurel had been so relieved that she’d almost danced out of Chris’ office, except that she had ankle booties on today and if she’d really danced the soles would grip the rug and she’d be wearing brush-burns on her face for the party tonight.
It still annoyed her about picking up Cindi. In her mind’s eye she could just see her sister Cindi holding the darling little Bertie with one arm and waving Laurel down with the other. And then Laurel would somehow have to figure out how to get the truckload of luggage that Cindi would probably be hauling along into Laurel’s limited space BMW.
Okay, for a minute I thought he really was Santa Claus! So much fun. Thanks for posting!
This is an excerpt from Book 4 of my paranormal Rawlins series. Trill is being told by her brother of an incident that happened when she was eight that she had blocked out.
Wolf cleared his throat. “There’s more.” His gaze darted to his grandmother and she gave a barely perceptible nod. He stared at Trill. “Mom died when Trill was eight. At the time, Trill thought she’d killed her.”
Trill lurched forward. “What? Mom died of cancer, didn’t she?”
Wolf reached across the table, taking Trill’s hands in his. “You blocked out her actual death, and Gram thought it was best to leave it that way.” He glanced at his grandmother and back to Trill’s scared face.
Adam didn’t want to hear what Wolf was about to explain, and he could imagine that Trill wanted it even less. Wolf must have been ten or eleven at his mother’s death.
Wolf sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Mom was days or maybe a week from dying. We spent as much time with her as we could at hospice. On this particular day, silent tears ran down your face as soon as we stepped into the room. You climbed up on her bed, and put your little hands on her temples, and said, “Mommy hurts.” It must have been really bad that day. Mom hugged you and said she was ready for you to take the pain away. I didn’t know what she meant, and I don’t think you did either.” He glanced again at Freesia. “You closed your eyes and screwed your little face up like you were concentrating. After a couple of minutes, you smiled and said, Mommy doesn’t hurt anymore. I noticed she wasn’t breathing, and when you saw she’d died, you started screaming.”
Trill’s eyes widened and she tugged one hand away from her brother and covered her mouth. “I killed Mom?” She trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Adam scooted his chair closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. What a thing to find out.
Wolf stood, draped himself across the table, and took the hand back that she’d yanked away. “No, Trill. You gave Mom the peace she needed, so she could let go. The cancer is what took her.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “What does that mean?”
“You can do more than read people’s emotions, you can influence them.”
“What? I can force people to be happy or sad?”
“Not force. You steer them towards memories that improve their mood. Of course, there’s the flip side of that. If you were mean, you could steer them toward bad memories.”
Her forehead creased. “How do you know how it works?”
“You told me. You even used it on me a few times when I was in a bad mood or mad at you.” He grinned. “It was a gentle persuasion. I kind of wish you would have used it on me after Mom died and when Dad left, but you wouldn’t do it anymore.”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember. How is this going to help with Art? I don’t even know how to do it anymore.”
Hi Deborah! Oh wow, what a thing for her to learn about herself! Thanks for sharing.
Nice one, Bryn! Love the “golden retriever” line and how her mood shifts from one unpleasant sensation to another. Kudos.
My WIP excerpt (286 words) is from Karl and Dorian’s story, The Amatus and the Altus. SPOILERS:
The dragon reared up, spitting red lyrium lightning. At the same moment, all four mages cast barrier: Dorian and Morrigan’s magic washed over Karl, along with Sera and the warriors at his side. Ava’s protection popped up over Morrigan. Abelas cast his spell on Ava.
And was devoid of protection himself when the lyrium lightning hit.
They all fell to the ground—except Cassandra, who tilted her Seeker shield to deflect the virulent magic into the ground—but Abelas went flying backward along the stone.
“No!” Morrigan ran toward where he lay, red electricity crackling along the front of his gold armor.
A rush of wind ran across the back of Karl’s neck.
Kill his dragon.
Shaking, Karl struggled to his hands and knees, reached up with his left hand.
Too late.
Just as Morrigan reached for Abelas’ hand to drag him to safety, another bolt of red lyrium blasted her off her feet, back into the shimmering pool.
Black smoke exploded from the Well, blasting over them like a tempest. It burned Karl’s eyes, made Dorian cough.
Corypheus released a wordless scream of anger, as loud as a dragon’s roar.
No, it was a dragon’s roar. There were two dragons! Corypheus’ dragon was not the only great beast on the battlefield. Another burst from the Well, the entire body of water instantly boiling into great clouds of steam. Her purple scales shimmered with white magic. Two great, curved horns rose from her giant skull. She stomped out of the empty pool, cracking the stone beneath her and roaring again.
The temple shook. The jungle trembled.
Her flashing eyes were as gold as Morrigan’s. Was this Morrigan, or some demon who had taken her into itself?
–
Thanks for reading! I’m DAfan7711 on Archive of Our Own (AO3), Dreamwidth, Discord, Pinterest, and Tumblr. I’m Paragade Blues on YouTube.
Holy smokes, friend, you are always so good at action scenes, and this is GREAT. I’m going to try to remember to read more this weekend. I love it!
Thank you! <3
Love the awkwardness of the encounter with the new girlfriend. That’s never fun, and you conveyed it wonderfully!
It’s my first time participating. This is an excerpt from my NaNoWriMo novel, which I’ve planned to the first in a series I’m calling The Millicent Chronicles.
Storme sat beside the cabinet. He had not yet deigned Millicent worthy of a greeting. She bent to stroke the soft fur on the top of his head anyway, then stood to gaze inside the antique case.
Atop the wooden shelves, lay tiny figures. They were still, but for the occasional, hardly noticable twitch. Millicent admired their exquisitely detailed period attire, which was accurate down to the buttons, hats, and shoes. Their size would have been perfect for a dollhouse, but since Millicent had been too old for dollhouses for a good many centuries, John had given her the cabinet in which to display her collection. The set remained mostly intact, less the handful she’d sold or given away when special circumstances warranted. The result was an eclectic collection assembled over many, many years.
“Thank you for watching them while I was away, Storme.”
The cat yawned.
“No, you may not have one. You know that’s not how we do things.”
Storme stood, stretched, and huffed.
“That was an accident. I never intended for you to have that one.”
Meoooow!
“No, the fact it happened once does not mean you can eat another one.” They’d had the conversation before, but Millicent still found it difficult to keep the horror out of her voice. Why couldn’t he just eat mice or kibble like a normal cat?
“Lizard Pox! You’re not goint to make this my fault. You know I had my reasons for shrinking them.”
The cat rolled onto his back.
“I swear, Storme. After all these years, I still don’t understand the way you think sometimes.”
Storme narrowed his lone copper eye to a slit and flattened his ears.
“No, this absolutely is not a situation to which Natural Selection should be applied. Look how large you are next to them.” She gestured between the cat and the cabinet. “That hardly seems sporting.”
Hi Jenni! Welcome! I love your writing style. Oh my gosh…those aren’t people, right? They’re dolls? I need to read more of this! I hope you share again next month!
Hi, Bryn. Thanks so much! Let’s just say Millicent has a *unique* method of conflict resolution–and it often lands her in trouble with the Coven Council.
By the way, I’m sure you won’t remember since you probably meet a ton of people, but we actually met when you spoke to the Joplin Writers’ Guild a year(+) ago. My friend Lisa and I walked out to the parking lot with you.
I enjoyed your excerpt, Bryn. I’m looking forward to reading everyone else’s, but if I do that first, I might chicken out on posting mine, so here it is.
This might be part of an epilogue in the print version of “The Heart of the Matter,” or it might be part of book 2. Either way, it’s the first thing I’ve written in weeks, and it was nice to let some words flow again. I cut a little hunk out to get the word count down, and . . . hmm, it looks like it might be better without the stuff I cut. SPOILERS
********
“I miss you!” Rachel exclaimed, in lieu of ‘hello.’
“I miss you too,” Laura said. “I know it’s my fault we . . .”
“Stop it!” Rachel cut her off. “I hear guilt in your voice. Just cut it out. You had a sick aunt to tend to. But if you really want something to feel guilty about . . . how long did you hold out on me about that cowboy of yours?”
“He’s not. . . “
“Oh, don’t even start that with me. Look, I wish I could have come along with Caroline and Eve. I mean, I’m glad they were there for you but . . . I should have been there too.”
“You had to work, Rachel. I know that.”
“Yeah. Well, I missed the divorce, but you can count on me to be there for the wedding.”
“Rachel, it’s . . .” Laura sputtered.
“I know. It’s Ruth and Jacob’s wedding. I just like to get you flustered. I wish I could have seen your face just now.”
“Humph.”
“I’m really looking forward to meeting this guy.”
“Which . . . “
“Both of them. But it feels like I know Jacob. You’ve talked more about him. I’m really anxious to meet Jimmy.” After a moment of silence, Rachel continued. “Laura, snap the hell out of it. Don’t go getting all love sick . . . or catatonic. Sounds like the guy’s crazy about you. Just enjoy him. Hey, he is coming to the wedding isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Laura responded firmly, but her voice quivered slightly as she added, “Well, he says he is, but . . . “
“Stop with the buts! Don’t Marines have some honor thing where they have to keep their word?”
For the first time since the call began, Laura laughed. “He’s in the Merchant Marines—not the Marine Corps. I don’t believe they have the same code. But . . . yeah, I think Jimmy has a code of his own.”
“Are Ruth and Jacob planning on living in that honeymoon cottage he’s building?”
“I think so. I guess it really depends on how comfortable they are there–and on how much they want their privacy.”
“I imagine they will want that for a while. I think it’s so sweet. They’ll be like kids in their new little love nest.”
Laura giggled.
“Hah. Made you laugh. I’m wondering how you feel about being in that big old house without your aunt and Jacob.”
“It’s going to be strange,” Laura admitted. “But I’m counting on seeing them every day. Hopefully, they’ll just spend their . . . well, their nights at the cottage.”
It was Rachel’s turn to chuckle. “Okay. Are you sure you can handle us for a couple of days before the wedding?”
“Heavens yes! You can help me keep Aunt Ruth calm and occupied.”
“What about Jimmy?”
“He won’t arrive until the day before the wedding.”
“Oooh — so I get to keep your aunt occupied on my own that last day.”
“No . . . “
“Yeeeees.”
Hi, E.J.! Welcome to WIP Wednesday. 🙂 Aww, I love the chatty friends! You can tell how much they mean to each other. Thanks for sharing!
I enjoyed your excerpt, and will order you first book. What captured my attention like a lightning rod was the reference to Lady Knights. My started out with a boy, but the idea of Lady Knights formulated in 2011. The more I have written the more important they have become, and the number of the Order of the Hatchet does increase.
Hi Donald! Oh, thank you so much — I hope you enjoy the book! It was important to me to have both female and male Knights. I love it that you’re interested in Lady Knights too.
Thank you to. Back in 2011 I realized after the first chapter of the first book I needed a lady knight. I picked Lady Knight Sir Aurora Walker Wolverine to be the older mentor. I have since been informed that the name Wolverine has been taken, and I must come up with another name. I hate the comic books.
Hi Bryn…terrific excerpt as always. Having met my husband’s first girlfriend on 2 occasions, I completely sympathize with Sophie. And I’ll add that I also loved the “golden retriever” comparison. No excerpt from me this month; my family and I are in Melbourne this week for a national interschool chess competition in which my 10-year-old competed. He placed 54th of 146 students, and we’re incredibly proud. I’ve been working on editing my manuscript, too…am breaking up the book into two parts and altering how Book 1 will end. I was so happy to have finished, and now I get to finish it again. Lol. Oh well…at least I’ll be around 110k words instead of 170k. 🙂 (And since I’m writing from my phone, I couldn’t log into my account because forgot my WordPress password.) I blame Mercury retrograde…
Lisa, thanks! Wow, congratulations to your son! That’s fantastic. I was just doing some reading about Melbourne (I fall down rabbit holes sometimes)…they were the richest city in the world in 1880…gold rush! That sounds like a great idea for your manuscript. I know I said this before, but having a lot of material is a GREAT problem to have, even if it’s a lot to edit! It only shows how creative and imaginative you are.
I feel happy about Mercury in retrograde being done today…the same day as a new moon. Fresh start.
I’m sorry I’m late to the party–work yesterday was crazy and I totally forgot! I love the description of Jonathan’s new girlfriend as a human golden retriever–as well as Cassie’s realization she could never be that.
I’m still working on the same WIP–life has slowed me down a bit–but I’m ripping along at a good pace now. Fingers crossed that I’ll finish before the end of the year! Here’s a snippet of Bishop Takes Knight. It’s set in 1955 and is the origin story for my Redclaw Security series. Fledgling agent Rhett Bishop has rescued scientist Peter Knight from a kidnapping attempt, and are hiding in Rhett’s apartment until she can contact her boss. A sound from the fire escape has brought them into the kitchen to investigate.
The flaming bird hopped a step closer to the window and cocked its head sideways, as though to get a better look at us through the glass.
“Okay, now I feel like a worm in the presence of a giant chicken.” The sourness in Knight’s voice made me snort, despite the gravity of the situation.
“A giant flamingchicken,” I reminded him.
He snapped his fingers and said, “I’ve got it—not a chicken—a Phoenix!”
That dowsed the humor in both of us.
“This can’t be good. First we’re beset by a pack of wolves in the middle of the city, and now a mythological creature is trying to break in the window? We should make a run for it,” Knight suggested, tugging me with him as he eased a step toward the door. I inched back with him. The Phoenix shook itself in the manner of a big dog and tapped on the window with its beak.
We froze, exchanging a glance.
“I don’t think the bad guys would knock, do you?” Knight asked.
“Maybe it’s a trap. Maybe he’s relying on our innate good manners to open the window and then he’ll flame us to death.”
The Phoenix seemed to give a heavy sigh and then the flames went out. The body of the bird shimmered and changed into that of a man. A naked man. One I recognized. My boss.
“Good heavens!” I exclaimed, rushing toward the window to open it.
“Thank you.” Ryker’s voice was crisp. “It’s chilly out here.”
I tried to look anywhere except at him as he climbed into my apartment.
He pulled the sash down behind him and straightened, apparently undaunted by his naked state. “Bishop,” he said in a voice still etched with frost. “I take it this is Dr. Knight?”
“You know the flaming chi—I mean this man?” Knight turned incredulous eyes on me.
“He’s my boss,” I said in a small voice. “Ryker. Er, Mr. Ryker. Head of Redclaw Security.” I stared off to the left of Ryker’s bare shoulder. “May I present Dr. Knight?”
“Charmed, I’m sure.” Knight’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Let me guess—you have to shed your clothes when you change into a Phoenix so they won’t go up in flames.”
“Among other reasons,” Ryker said smoothly. He fixed a cool stare on me. “I think some explanations are in order, Miss Bishop.”
I just keep getting more and more excited every time you share a piece from this series. It makes me so happy. I’m still working on Batter Days. I’m sure you are all sick of it by now, but I’m going to keep pounding away until it is done. I’m hoping to be very close to done by this time next year. So fingers crossed.
Let me set the scene. A former client of Ally’s, Gina, has shown up at her door in the middle of the night begging for help after her former boss ruined a cake that she had designed for Gina’s wedding. She has convinced her to come take a look at the cake, hoping that she will be able to save it.
The site that greeted me when I stepped through the door my my stomach roll. The pictures Gina had shown me didn’t even begin to do justice to the monstrosity that was sitting on the table. It was so far off the mark from what I had originally designed that Toni must have been drunk or completely stupid to have thought it would work.
“You see,” Gina said, making me realize that I was still standing there with my mouth open. “I told you it was terrible.”
“You’re not wrong.” I agreed.
“Do you think you can fix it?”
That was the billion dollar question wasn’t it? Can I take what Toni destroyed and make it workable again?
“I can try.”
That was the most I was willing to promise Gina. There wasn’t enough time for me to completely redo the cake. The wedding was in the morning, and trying to do a full reconstruction would have been like trying to paint the Sistine Chapel with a roller brush. There were too many details. My best bet was to salvage as much as possible and try to connect the dots with what was left.
“Thank you.” Gina threw her arms around me. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, anything at all, just call me. I’ll be sure you get it okay?”
She was still beaming at me as she backed out the door Robert was holding open for her. He gave the mountain of sugar a critical once over before looking at me and wishing me the best of luck. Great. Even he knows I can’t do this.
I grabbed one of the aprons resting on the hook near the door and got to work surveying the damage. The best thing I could say abut all of it was that Toni hadn’t completely destroyed the work I had already done. The base was fine, but the two tiers after that were where I started running into issues.
The piping details were all wrong. The only thing that seemed to be in the right place were the sculpted pieces I had already made before Toni kicked me out the door. Everything else was a mess. I’m amazed she even got the coloring right.
“But I’m the one that gets fired,” I said into the empty room. “Figures.” I studied the cake a moment longer before picking up a small frosting spatula they’d so kindly left out for me. “Well, let’s see what happens when I try to take some of this off shall we?”
My hand shook as I scraped at a small patch of blue and green frosting in the hopes that I’d be able to salvage the fondant base underneath.
I wish I could be working on the sequel (and second book of the trilogy) to my story Jagged Coast. But I’m job-hunting.