Shit, he should have offered her his jacket. The night wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t wearing much. Too late now. They’d reached his apartment building. It would have been great to take her to a real home. Forty something and living in a bachelors flat wasn’t a great look, but bitch face Sarah and the gym bunny were living in his house. A flash of rage rushed through is blood. His house. The house he’d worked his ass off to pay for while Sarah ground her skinny hips against the gym bunny’s pelvis. He clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would break.
I’m putting up the whole first draft of chapter one of my current WIP, Slit Mouth, Piece by piece of course. I’m also learning more about adding a bit of fear to my work, which is relevant to this story. Hopefully I’m getting a bit better at it. I’ve popped the links to the first two paragraph at the bottom of the post, incase you’d like to read in order.
So here we go, paragraph 3 of Slit Mouth.
As if she knew what he was thinking the girl turned her dark eyes to him and smiled, a flash of wicked red in her pale face. Her eyes were sultry, inviting. She licked her lips suggestively.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked in her clipped, nasal accent. He almost wished she wouldn’t speak. The accent was the only downfall of Asians. They always sounded like they were whining. And he could think of a far better use for those plump lips and that wet mouth.
“Hell yeah,” he said.
Her smile was pleased and she reached out and took hold of his hand. Her skin was cold, icy cold.
Last week I gave you the opening lines of a new work in progress. I’ve decided to put the entire first chapter up over the next while. This is from Slit Mouth, Sentinels book 2. The first in the series, Black Aggie, has been accepted by Totally Entwined Group. I’ll let you know when it’s up for sale.
So here is paragraph two.
Dave fingered his ring finger, still not used to the missing wedding band, although the divorce had been finalized last week. If only his cheating ex wife, Sarah, could see him now. Screw her and her muscled gym instructor. That bastard didn’t have a patch on his sweet little geisha. He may have had a body any man would envy, but with those ears he gave Dumbo a run for his money. This Asian beauty was flawless. A wet dream on legs, sex on a stick. What had she said her name was again? Onna, wasn’t it? Man he couldn’t wait to be on her. Dave smiled at his private joke.
These are the opening lines from a new horror/urban fantasy I’m writing. This is not my hero, but the first murder victim that triggers the story.
Daylight fades the evening darkness falls
Dave had always had a thing for Asian women. Like the petite beauty walking beside him. Man, she was a stunner, way out of his league. Tiny, childlike body swaying gently at his side. Pale shapely legs, bared beneath a short, flared skirt and long dark hair hanging in a thick ponytail down her spine. A schoolgirl fantasy made flesh. Why she’d picked him out at the bar was beyond him. He wasn’t anything special. A forty something, slightly tubby, slightly balding desk jockey.
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.