Excerpt from the manuscript I have currently submitted. My heroines first impression of my hero.
Bette wasn’t buying the sales pitch. No way was he FBI or homeland security, not dressed like that, not looking like he did. There was an edge about his raw boned face, a hard set to his stormy gray eyes. This guy was on the other side of the law, without a doubt. What was he doing asking about Jason? Did he know something about her nephews death and was here digging to find out how much she suspected?
Her heart banged in her throat and she had to work not to let her nerves show through her facade of niceness. The need to know what had happened was the only thing stopping her from throwing him out on his scruffy ass.
“How come Jason lived with you?”Agent Jameson asked. Like that was his real name.
My tenth installment in Weekend Warriors. That’s something to celebrate.
This little snippet is from my about to be released novel, Scar Tissue.
Their glazes met, luminosity flashing in his. He raised the mug
to his mouth and sipped, never taking his demanding stare off her.
Parry didn’t need the blood scent to tell her exactly what he drank.
Was he trying to creep her out? No, he was challenging her with his
hard gaze and the arrogant tilt of his stubble shadowed jaw. He
wanted her fully aware of what he was. As if she could ever forget
that. Or what it had felt like when the savage had kissed her that night
in the alley.
I haven’t done this for a couple of weeks. Life has been a bit frantic with children, dogs, goats and horses. Sometimes I think it’s odd that such a country girl writes such urban stories. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it’s because I can’t imagine my world of monsters staying hidden in less populated areas.
Anyway this one is once again from my WIP.
Something fluttered in Parry stomach. A warning? “How come?”
“His kind, they need to find their Ves’ tacha. She’s like this fated mate or something. Meant to save him from the final fall.” Quinn’s voice was conversational, light and easy as if she wasn’t saying something so frightening. As if her words weren’t making a cold sweat break out over Parry’s skin and her throat close tight in a fisted knot. This wasn’t happening. No way, no how. Abso-fucken-lutely not.
My sixth 8 sentence installment, well nine in this case, but I’m counting the dialogue as one because this snippet needs the last sentence. So, this is from my WIP, very early in the budding relationship between my two main characters. Hope you enjoy.
Just when she was thinking he might be…safe…he reached forward and dipped his finger in the blood and lifted it to his mouth. Her gut rolled when his tongue darted out and he tasted it. His jaw clenched and a subtle shudder ran through his body. Her panic was almost instantaneous and it was all she could do not to take a step away from him. Hell she wanted to run as fast and as far as she could. She forced herself to stand still, to not react to the fear hammering through her body.
“It’s human,” he said.
“Oh.” What was she supposed to say? Thanks for the info, dude, but could have lived without the visuals?
Don’t swallow. He forced himself to let go and spit the mouthful into the bowl he’d used to carry the first aid supplies. His whole body shook with the strain of controlling himself. Over and over he repeated the process. Latch, suck, spit. And then the taste changed, it got deeper, complex. A flavor that was both sweet and savory. Earth and magic and thunderstorms. Her taste, unmuted by revenant poison.
He tried not to, but… A mouthful of her blood slid down his throat and pooled in his belly.
My main characters, Luna and Aveon, didn’t really hit it off to start with.
“Arms up, leech, against the wall,” she said.
He did as she directed, raising them above his head and laying his hands against the bricks. She steeled herself, pulled a wall of detachment around her heart and, quick as lightning, stabbed out. He howled when the knife sliced through his wrist and into the mortar, pinning him to the wall. The sound ripped at her insides. She pulled a second blade from a leg sheath.
“Please don’t.” She drove it through the other wrist anyway. Crimson bloomed around the blade and ran in rivers down his arms.