It’s the first Wednesday of the month, so you know what that means — WIP Wednesday! I share an excerpt of what I’m working on, and I invite you to do the same in the comments. This is a critique-free zone (although I encourage positive feedback), so even if your work is rough, don’t be shy!

I’m working on The Equinox Stone, book two of my paranormal romance trilogy. It’s about a warrior with amnesia who falls in love with a woman he’s known since childhood. She had a secret crush on him for years, but he only viewed her as kind of a little sister before.

In this scene, his memories all come rushing back at once, along with all the emotions he’s ever experienced.






They wandered out past the courtyard, the scene of festivity and then tragedy not hours before. It was quiet, clean, as though nothing had happened. The light from the torches glistened on the fronds of the potted palms. They kept walking out to the sand, toward the dock.

“Did you see me kill him?” he asked.

“Yes.” When he remained silent, she added, “I’ve seen you kill lots of times, when I’ve been in your head.”

The waves lapped near their feet. He got a strange feeling, a shimmering in the edge of his consciousness. Something was familiar. “You’ve seen a lot of people do it.”

She nodded. “Sometimes it’s brutal. It can’t always be helped.”

Tristan looked out over the water. The moon hovered over the dock, and the waves sliced the light into bright slivers. “You see me do things like this, and you still like me?”

“You know I like you.” She slipped off her sandals and held them in one hand. Her bare feet were adorable, with pink polish on the toes. His body and soul ached for her.

He leaned closer to kiss her. The scent of the ocean mingled with the scent of the conditioner in her wet hair, and her perfume…

Reality shifted, fractured, and grew, like the bright shapes inside a kaleidoscope. He couldn’t see. But no, everything was moving. Valentina grabbed his arm. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just—”

Rage. Terror. Joy. Contradictory emotions tore through him, making his heart pound in a shocking triple time, closing up his throat so he couldn’t breathe.

His coach crying foul from the sidelines after his opponent struck him in the back of the head—Tristan was furious, embarrassed, and scared of losing.

His brother as a small boy, tying his shoes for him. He and his brother as teenagers, yelling at each other. The contrast between those two stabbed him in the heart. Everything muddled together—gratitude, admiration, jealousy, and regret.

The girl in the dorm room, wearing flannel pajama pants and nothing else, taking a hit from the bong.

His mother, right before she died, telling him how she wanted to adopt a cat from the shelter.

Oh, God. It was all too much. He fell on his knees on the shore as if someone had knocked him down. I’m dying. A heart couldn’t go this fast and not explode.


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Share segment of what you’ve been up to in the comments below! Or if you just want to talk about what you’re working on and how it’s going, that’s fine, too. I hope you’re having a great summer and getting a lot of writing done… and if not, now’s a great time to kick it in gear.

No matter what, thanks for reading, and happy writing!