Writers in the Storm

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February 13, 2013

A Valentine's Present from WITS: Share Your Writing

We're all about love, here at WITS

And to prove it, we're giving our readers the opportunity to strut their stuff!  WITS bloggers are going to share a bit of their writing, and we're giving you the opportunity to show off yours! 

We want to get to know you through your writing! Simply paste your sample into the comments. RULES: one paragraph, no more than 5 lines.

And before we get carried away with that, I wanted to let you know - the winner of Laura's ARC is - - -  Julie Glover! She'll contact you, Julie!

Please feel free to comment on others' stellar writing ~ Here's ours:

Laura Drake - from my debut novel, The Sweet Spot (May 2013 release.)

She wanted to slap the solicitous look off his face. She wanted to run.

Instead, she held ground, stabbing a finger at the trailer. “Those bulls have nothing on you in the balls department. You’ve got no talking room, Jimmy. Your old life fell apart, so you just threw it away and started a new one. Your medication just leans toward blonde and brainless.”

Sharla Rae - from her American historical, How to Fell a Timberman

“Freya’s tits! You’re Noelle Bridger?”

Noelle gasped in outrage but she refused to be bullied by this . . . tree trunk. “Yes, I’m Miss Bridger, and I’d like to know --”

“You are not what I expected.”

“This place isn’t what I expected,” she shot back. Her “new beginning” no longer looked so promising.

Orly Konig-Lopez - from her Women's Fiction novel, It's Not Me, It's You

"Am I setting myself up for another fall?” I said, the words echoing in the quiet of the gallery. I whipped my head around, suddenly feeling ridiculous. No doubt looking ridiculous. Okay, I was totally ridiculous. I was talking to a suit of armor.

Fae Rowen - from her Sci-Fi Romance, Keeping Athena

Athena squinted against the brightness and gasped the precious air into her lungs.

“Eve, dim the lights.” The deep, disembodied voice sounded annoyed.

Immediately the brightness faded, backlighting a figure towering over her. He was huge. His shoulders filled her entire field of vision.

So this is life after death. Is he a demon, an angel, or God himself?

Jenny Hansen - from her Women's Fiction novel, Healing the Talent

One of them, squeezed into a pink microdress, poked the other’s left breast. “You used Dr. Hernandez-Klein? I heard she’s crazy expensive.”

The other blonde reached back and deftly unhooked her halter top. Agatha sucked in a breath as the objects of attention bobbed in front of her. “Yes, but look at the nipples!”

How could you not look at the nipples?

Okay, it's your turn - strut your stuff! For Valentine's Day, we're inviting our readers to share five lines of their writing down in the comments. We can't wait to see what you're writing.

~ Fae, Jenny, Laura, Orly and Sharla

0 comments on “A Valentine's Present from WITS: Share Your Writing”

  1. Kate Belle - from her erotic e-novella Breaking the Rules
    His other hand picked out a wavy strand of her hair and rubbed it reverently between his forefinger and thumb.
    ‘I like your hair like this. You should wear it out always.’
    His face was dangerously close to her own, his breath warm against her ear. He lifted the underwear and stroked her cheek with it. Smooth, cool satin.
    ‘Wear it,’ he whispered. ‘Please.’
    Grace quivered as her resistance crumbled.

  2. From JAR OF DREAMS, available now--and thank you!

    “Dad? Come on. Let’s get outside where it’s safe. No, let’s go out the back door. The fire’s in the front.”
    In her dreams, she was always in time, and when she woke, she grieved again because she wasn’t.
    Johnny Dolan was dead.

  3. Paula Cappa - From Night Sea Journey, A Tale of the Supernatural

    Above the grey sea, Kip sees a dark figure leaking streaks. It’s him, the firehawk. He flies, full and fast, prowling the hump-backed crests. With a chest full of orange flames, the firehawk hooks his charred wings on a nest of stars. In a hot fit of pride, he races toward Kip. A scream jams in her throat.

    Great idea, thanks so much! I really like Keeping Athena; sound very exciting.

  4. Betty Bolte - from Sunlight and Sacrifice

    “I’ll thank you to leave the ladies alone, gentlemen. And I use that word loosely.” The deep familiar voice sounded above her head, sparking nearly dead embers of feeling in her core.
    She knew that voice. She heard it in her dreams on too many nights and dreaded hearing it again in person. Its timber reverberated against her chest, a physical caress as he stepped behind her close enough his heat warmed her back. Relief mixed with despair as a jolt of recognition flowed into her body, tempting her to lean against his powerful frame.

    This is a fun way to hear each others writing voices! Thanks! I see my TBR pile growing!

  5. This is fun. I've enjoy everyone's contribution. In Alias Thomas A. Katt, a cat switches bodies with his beloved mistress' boyfriend in an accident at the Blessings of the Pet, only to discover the boyfriend is a serial killer. Written in first person from the cat's pov, I call it "feline noir."

    “Mallory . . .” I paused, tasting her name on my tongue for the first time. Not only did it sound sweet, but its three syllables tickled the tongue in a smorgasbord of visceral delight. “Everything’s going to be better, now.” I drew her into my arms. They felt like steel bands, capable of holding off an army, of protecting her forever; manly, just like I imagined Saint Expedite’s would be. I hoped rcssshe’d be reassured.

  6. It was the first time and like being lost he had no idea what would come next. The need, the urge, to place himself here with her was something so compelling he couldn't stand it. It was a physical thing making him breath hard, making him sweat, making him hard with ringing in his ears. The hair on his head was tingling, he heard the wind in his ears where there was no wind. Driving him forward, ever forward until it happened. There was a tremendous rush like an explosion and then a falling without falling. As if all the blood in his body was leaving him shrunken, weak, and wet. For several seconds his mind failed him, his body failed him, and he was collapsed. The first thing that he sensed was the odor of her, a strangely invigorating odor that ushered his mind. Come to me it said, come to me!

  7. This is from Lady Caro's Accidental Marriage.
    “You told him what?” What in God’s name was Godmama thinking? She knew Caro couldn’t marry. She rubbed her forehead and couldn’t bring herself to meet Huntley’s steady hazel gaze. “Surely there was another way.”
    Her godmother picked up a cup, then frowned at the now cold pot of tea. “Well, my love, he was insistent that you marry his grandson, and you are two and twenty.”

  8. Seeking Shelter by Morgan K Wyatt
    Women's Fiction
    setup: Abused wife is fleeing her abusive huband. She is hiding in a shelter with her tow young children.

    Ashley snuggled into the lumpy shelter mattress trying to get comfortable. The soft muffled breathing of Jenny, her six-year-old daughter, filled the tiny room. It was amazing how the children had accepted, without complaint, the sudden changes in their lives. Jenny was sound asleep on a dilapidated Army cot. Trevor wasn’t doing as well as she thought if his prayer was any indication.

    1. Sounds like an interesting premise, Morgan. I haven't seen too many stories about the journey of a woman who leaves an abusive situation. Can't wait to read it! Shar

  9. Here's my beginning of "Fireheart."

    "Can you smell your fear? Can you feel it pounding through your veins...a warning for you, but a narcotic for me? I can track you. I can feed on you anytime I choose. I can lick you out of the atmosphere, molecule by molecule, feasting on the succulence of your lust and fear...."

        1. LOL. Sharla, I'll let you know when it's available. This particular work I'm considering serializing in the Kindle store, chapter or section. I'm not really sure yet.

        1. Dark, urban fantasy meets midnight vampire style. Blue-black coloring. A white flower or symbol somewhere with the promise of light growing to fill the cover space. I'm no artist, but I take photographs, and I saw a male face with a blurry focus hovering in the left quadrant of the cover.

          Even though I don't usually buy books with that kind of cover art, I was drawn to the imaginary cover. I think you've got a powerful story going, Lara.

          -Fae

      2. Fae, it's interesting what you visualized. It's actually on another planet, but very urbane, very civilized. The female protagonist, to whom this is directed, is the heir to the Fireheart of Rassa - the Fireheart chooses who is to be the next ruler. The person who is stalking her is her favorite uncle - one of the few people she trusts utterly. She has no idea in the prologue that he's put out a contract on both her and her father. No vampires, but what some people would consider magie. Others just conscious energy manipulation.

        I'm so bad at covers.

      1. Thanks, Orly. If you liked that, then you'd really like another snippet about the luciousness of carotid arteries and being kissed by Death. But I was limited to five sentences, and that took up a bit more.

  10. From my women's fiction book Brenda's Wish, now in edits with my agent...
    After her ex-husband attacks her in front of her house then rapes her:

    Revenge tasted sweet--like eating a piece of Godiva chocolate.

    “Get out of here right now.” She paused, glared at him, eye to eye, unflinching, her hand steady now on the handle of the gun. “Don’t ever, ever come back. Next time I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

    He turned and started to walk through the doorway, stopped and twisted his torso in her direction. “Next time you won’t make it off the bed, bitch.”

    Patti Yager Delagrange

  11. This is a small snippet from my first mystery Framed in Black and White:

    Toni smiled and pried open a small portion of the lid. The light bounced off its contents and for an instant, she thought she had found buried treasure. She rubbed off the rest of the debris with the sponge, lifted the lid, and recoiled in horror. She slammed the lid shut and left it sitting on the bathroom sink. Her fingers curled to fists. Her breathing short, nausea rose in her throat. She had not found buried treasure, she had found human horror. She felt her chest tighten and caught her image in the mirror, her pallor gray, her eyes wide. Her words came as a whisper, "What the hell is that?"

    I love the short pieces being left by everyone. This is so much fun. Happy Valentine to all at WITS and all of us who are loyal readers 🙂

    1. Best line: "She had not found buried treasure, she had found human horror."

  12. I am enjoying reading these posts, thanks for a spectacular idea.

    From my memoir WIP - Tell me what He Did - this is the scene that shows one of the reasons for my title - it has a double meaning. It occurs the morning after my father's first incestuous visit to my room. I was debating telling my alcoholic mom what happened and that morning this happened:

    Using a scalding hot washcloth I scrub all the parts of my body he touched. I look in the mirror and try to make my face seem “normal” so Mommy can’t see something is wrong, then head to the kitchen.

    “I heard him in your room last night,” she says as soon as I get to the kitchen door. “Tell me what he did.”

    I lean against the doorway. What do I say? I have to tell her something; but, if she says anything to him, I’m dead.

    1. Oh Heather, the fact that I know this happened to YOU makes it more chilling. Keep writing - I find it makes the bad stuff better. Thanks for sharing such a personal memory.

  13. From The Artist's Inheritance (supernatural fantasy). Available now.
    She frowned at her flowers. Maybe there was something there, a calming feel, a wisp of dust? “What do we need charms for?”
    Love and happiness were always welcome, sure. But protection? “What do we need protecting from?”
    Beryl leaned forward and sniffed a rose. “Don’t you know by now? The gods of Annwn want his chair.”

    Thanks for this opportunity, ladies!

  14. From my futuristic romance "A Starstruck Heart"
    The neon-blue ball of light burst like a soap bubble, dissolving into the gloom. Dr. Russell Gordon ran out of the fading glow, a young woman close behind him.
    “Run!” he shouted. “They’re coming!”
    “Who’s coming?” Caldwell demanded. “What the hell is going on? Strickland, you got that detonator ready?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “Too cool!” Lijah crowed, focusing his camcorder on the white haired girl. “Who’s the Elfin space princess?”
    “Bloody fecking hell!” the strange girl screamed. “Dinnae ye hear him? Run!”
    “Wow, a foul-mouthed Elfin space princess,” said Lijah, “with a…Scottish accent?”

  15. This is a great idea. I loved reading all the excerpts. There's some really great writing here!

    Jennifer L. Oliver - from my dark urban fantasy, HAEDYN, due out in April 2013

    She closed her eyes, burying the whispers of empathy deep inside, and then re-emerged as the steel-hearted assassin which Azazel had molded her into.
    This is what she was trained to be. This is what she was trained to do. Save them. Deliver them.
    It's what kept her alive, and that’s all that mattered.

    1. Another to put on my buy list!, Jenifer. I love all these. They are mini book blurbs. And as usual, my list is getting longer and longer. 🙂

  16. This is from my first sale, VERMONT ESCAPE release date summer 2013. The heroine Jill Barlow has just arrived in Woodstock folowing deaths of her husband and father. She's considering buying a store that sells crystal.

    Her steps slowed then stopped. Her gaze traveled through the windows. This morning, the sun’s rays had caressed the stunning crystal. This morning, rainbows had floated around the room. This morning, they’d lit the fire of possibility in her. In the now closed store, spotlights focused on several pieces shooting brilliant colors in all directions. Her eyes brimmed and her breathing hitched.
    God knew her life needed some rainbows.

    Some mighty fine writing displayed her. Thanks for doing this, WITS. Nice idea.

  17. He brought the cat’s skull to their honeymoon in the Claridge Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey.
    He removed it from his small travel bag and placed it upon the desk in the officially sanctioned pseudo-deflowering room. He, then, demonstrated to his newly-petted wife the clever manner in which the cat’s jaws were articulated by a neatly-placed rubber band.

      1. Not a clue. Turned out to be an omen of what was to come - down the decades and the lost lives.

  18. From my paranormal mystery, The Shamanic Detective:
    Donovan Mosse, her lover, was under arrest.
    She remembered the shock and defiance on his face when the first cuff was snapped in place. She remembered how they’d led him down the steps of the wooden deck, hands pinioned behind his broad back. She remembered the sunlight, glinting mercilessly off the snow, off the crystalline lake, off the black window of the agents’ departing SUV.
    She remembered, and the memories, only hours old, seemed unreal.

  19. Thanks for the opportunity. There are some talented writers here and I've enjoyed reading them.

    An excerpt from my MS Waiting...

    “Ah Bastian, you were always one of my favourites, a puppet willing to do anything for me.” It moved closer, hovering over me. “And then you had to spoil everything and get mixed up with her again. Will you never learn.”

    I felt its hands burning my skin. I wanted to cry out, only, I didn’t want to satisfy its need for pain. “I’ll never be your puppet. So take my life, that’s what you want, isn’t it.”

    “Why would I do that,” it ran a bony finger along my face, “when I already own your soul.”

  20. Thanks for letting me share my upcoming release from Avon Impulse, LACHLAN'S BRIDE:
    "And did you say a prayer for me?" he asked, leaving the door to step toward her. "For this is one pagan who'd gladly throw away his idolatrous statues to worship your beautiful body instead."
    At his provocative words, her demeanor changed in an instant. "Fie," she admonished in a suffocated tone, "a silver-tongued buccaneer, who doesn't hesitate to blaspheme."

  21. Hee hee, I'm not surprised to see the plethora of comments in reply to this post. What writer could resist? 🙂 Thanks for the invite. WITS, you rock!

    In my WIP, the second book in The Records of Aden series, two of my lesser characters surprised me by falling in love. And what a pair of misfits!

    From Aden Weaver & the Sasori Empire:

    He sniffed. He squeezed his eyes together and large tears released from his eyelashes.
    Three waited while he cried. She made noises she felt would be comforting. She rubbed his thumb with her hand. His sadness and confusion seemed a bottomless lake in which he swam in endless circles. Three remembered something her Japanese mother had done when she first arrived and was homesick. She sang him a lullaby.

  22. From Eternal Nights, Book Two - Sekhmet's Guardians
    “Honey, as I was trying to explain, I just had a little accident with the china hutch… well hold on… I’m getting to that part… I was holding the knob in my hand when the drawer fell out then I guess I crushed it… and then I got mad because I knew you would be upset and I kicked the drawer... It kind of exploded into a hundred pieces… and the window broke… yes, I know… Yes, I should be more careful… un-huh… not much else… I couldn’t figure out how to open the dishwasher… Yes, Dear… anyway… it kind of fell off it’s hinges too… not much else… except your oven isn’t working right. I tried to make some pasta and the door flew open and my pasta ended up… ok, here he is… I love you… Honey, I’m really sorry… ok, here he is”
    Gabriel handed the phone back to Raphael who just stood looking at the disaster zone that was once been a kitchen, shaking his head.

    2. I had a very interesting experience with a basalt statue of Sekhmet in Egypt. You had me at the title, V.S. But then the visual of the "not much else" was hilarious!
      -Fae

  23. Then I saw the tattoo. Not the ones all over his arms that had already been quite evident, but the one on his chest. I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. I bust out laughing. “Oh. My. God. You are that guy.”
    “What?”
    I pointed at the tattoo. He looked down instinctually. Christy, it said in swirly script. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said evenly. “You can laugh all you want, except she was the love of my life.”
    Oh shit. He was serious. I tried to think of what to say to make up for my callousness. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“
    He grinned. “I’m just messing with you.”

  24. Thanks! I'm so eager to read Laura's book. My paragraph is from the upcoming Orange Karen anthology (release in April) and my YA short story, Color Me Happy:

    He glanced over at me. I leaned my body toward the passenger door, but I looked at him this time. Seth was dressed in a pair of carpenter jeans, Vans shoes, and a black tee that said Boston. Maybe his family was from Massachusetts. His straight dark hair with purple streaks fell in soft waves on his cheeks and the back of his neck. I’d hated him since fifth grade.

  25. So fun reading these!!

    From my current YA project:
    ~~~~
    He held out the pen he'd been holding in his mouth.

    “Uh, would it be possible to get one that isn’t covered in your spit?”

    He held a hand to his chest, pretending to take offense, before searching a coffee mug full of pens for another red one. “Are you always so picky?”

    “When there are body fluids involved, yes.”

      1. Thanks, everyone! This will be my first YA novel (when I get to finish it - have another project that takes precedence at the moment) so it's great to get this positive feedback!

  26. This is so fun and I've enjoyed reading what everyone has shared. I grabbed one of the first paragraphs I saw from my YA with working title Ninja Chick:

    My mood wasn’t appreciative as I approached his car. I barely admired the fact that the mustang was old, as in full-classic-cool-old, and that it had two wide black stripes running vertically down the hood. If I wasn’t so annoyed that Oliver was already ruining my life, I might have been able to enjoy being picked up in this car by a hot junior. But Oliver wasn’t hot. He was just Oliver. Ok, he was hot, but whatever.

  27. These are all such great samples of writing from some very talented writers! I thoroughly enjoyed reading them all.

    This is from the first book in my fantasy romance series -- Isles of Wonderland.

    Keoki couldn't speak. His single minded need to take her away was all he had left. He felt the cool glass at his back, his doorway home. Clutching Alice firmly in his arms, he leaned back and the glass flowed around him like a welcoming embrace. She rammed the top of her head into his chin and the sharp pain forced him to let her go as he fell backward, through the mirror and into the world on the other side.

    3. Very cool opening. I do want to see the world on the other side. I'm amazed at the creativity of writers who "update" our fairy tales. I could never figure out such entertaining scenarios and plot twists.
      -Fae

  28. From my time travel romance novella, Thoroughly Modern Amanda

    He shuffled to the bed but turned back once to scowl. "So glad I amuse you," he muttered. "As you can see, I'm fine. You can leave now."

    She giggled, then quieted. "I'm sorry, but you do look funny walking about in a sheet."

    "You wouldn't think it was so funny if I dropped it." He plopped onto the bed.

    Her face turned beet red. "You wouldn’t dare," she challenged.

    He grinned. "Don't bet on it."

  29. She laughed softly, heard the sultry rumble in her throat and his responding in-breath. His heart pounded in her ears, proclaiming how much he wanted her and he fell with her onto the bed, entwining their fingers and pulling her arms above her head. She stretched languidly beneath him, parting her legs. For him. Her jailer, the man who would put her away.

  30. What a great and generous idea! Loving the snippets so far, too. This one is from my fact-based novel, Enza...

    “If it keeps moving at the same pace, Marcus, it will be here soon. And in Michigan not long after.” He heard his friend sigh deeply. “We’re not prepared for anything like this. There aren’t enough undertakers in the whole of Philadelphia to take care of the bodies if we get hit like New York did.”

        1. I knew what you meant. The Titanic and the pandemic were pretty big events in six short years, but yes, it's about the Spanish Flu outbreak. And it was one of the most fascinating things I've ever researched. Scary stuff. The scariest thing is that scientists have dug up some of the bodies to get samples of the virus. Just what we don't need. Yikes.

  31. This is from my Navy SEAL story I added it to the opening.
    Teddy opened the door his eyes lighted in surprise and joy filled his face. Too bad, he didn’t recognize his enemy in time. The hunter stepped forward to greet Teddy with a hug. When he stepped in close enough he shoved the knife in hard. Teddy’s eyes met the hunter’s in confusion. No words escaped Teddy’s open mouth.

  33. He led her onto the parquet floor. Caught her with his eyes as the aching ballad began, pulled her in to him, caught a whiff of her scent – something soft, floral, intoxicating. He was getting a buzz from a chick. What the hell?

    Where was his tongue? He held off the panic and drew her closer. It must be there somewhere. Alex would expect conversation, he was certain, but damned if he could find his tongue. Relying on habit, he lifted her hands to his shoulders, held them there.

  35. From my novel, Therapy
    She was lost in the crowd, turning the wrong way, heading to the other side, when he reached her. He stood behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders. She flicked her shoulders away and turned around with a flash of annoyance on her face, but when she saw it was him she relaxed and smiled. It was like a bubble surrounded them and all he could see was her face, her smile. None of the other people existed and there were no sounds. He put his arms around her and kissed her. Someone shouted get a room, but he didn’t care.

  36. Such a brilliant idea and such wonderful snippets to tempt us!

    From my memoir and first book, How Was I Supposed to Know? The Adventures of a Girl Whose Name Means Lost...

    When I was about twelve, Mémé, in a surprising tea-time discussion, dove head-first into a pithy discussion about sex. English was her third and worse language, but I understood her perfectly well.

    “Anyway,” she said, “sex no good. Men want sex. Anyway. You must do sex if he say so, anyway, but only if he you husband. Anyway, just for babies. Sex not for you. Sex for man, anyway, not for you.” Mémé used “anyway” like most people use “um” or “ah”—as a vocal comma or verbal tic, a place to pause and collect her thoughts. That day when she delivered her Sex is Evil lesson, she had a piercing look in her eyes. I thought she looked like a hawk watching a field mouse. I was scared. Then she offered me a cookie, which helped to take the edge off my rattled nerves, but my “va-jay-jay” was pinched up tighter than size 9 wide feet in a pair of cute size 7 narrow heels.

  37. The ladder jingled and the stranger’s head popped out, right in line with her pink leopard undies. They matched the bra she wore the night she’d called her husband’s favorite purple comforter eggplant vomit and started a fight so horrific he’d thrown her out for good. The stranger’s hot breath tickled her legs, and their eyes met over a tenuous thread of surprise. Despite the cold, she felt the warmth of a full-body blush.

  38. It's been so much fun reading all these wonderful paragraphs. Here's a short one from my romantic suspense WIP. It's from the hero's POV.

    What he wouldn’t give to be on a simple, routine assignment. Like, say, rescuing an oil executive held hostage in a secure compound by a murderous Mexican drug cartel armed with Kalashnikovs. Instead, he was trying to get a petite thirty year old amnesiac into an SUV, without much success.

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