I hope your month is off to a good start!
As most of you know, Work in Progress Wednesday is on the first Wednesday of the month. I share a little of what I’m writing, and if you want to, you can do the same in the comments section. Please note that if you’ve never commented on the blog before, I’ll need to manually approve it, but I’ll try to get to that quickly!
If you always want a heads up about future WIP Wednesdays, make sure you’re subscribed to the blog, if you aren’t already—you can sign up below. And familiarize yourself with the rules before you post!
Here are the rules:
•Limit the excerpt you share to 400 words or fewer. Otherwise, I might trim your excerpt.
•Adult language is fine, but no graphic sex or violence, please.
•Don’t share excerpts of finished, published stories. This is only for work in progress.
•Don’t offer critique—this is only for sharing, and many of us are sharing excepts that aren’t ready for that yet. However, leaving some positive words is good writer karma!
Today, I’m sharing something a little different, because it’s an excerpt to a thriller! But this excerpt is actually romantic. Zach is recalling when he first met Claudia, his live-in girlfriend. Spoilers: she is a troublemaker.
It was almost two years ago. I was at Roscoe’s, a few blocks from my condo. The bar’s been a Larchmont Village hangout for decades, and I wasn’t there to meet anyone. I wanted to watch the Dodgers game on the outdoor patio and eat some fries.
Soap bubbles drifted in front of my face. I whirled around and saw her quickly hiding something under the table. She was holding a plastic bottle between her knees, I realized, and she’d just stuck the wand back in. Her big brown eyes met mine and then she pressed her lips against a laugh, realizing I’d caught her. Then she put a finger up to her lips as if to say, Shhh. It’s our little secret.
Her sundress left her back bare: a vulnerable slope of satiny, golden skin. A waiter came to her table, and she ordered a margarita. Once he had retreated, she darted a mischievous look in my direction, and I realized I hadn’t taken my eyes off her.
She pulled the wand out and blew soap bubbles again, like a child. They drifted toward the couple at the next table, who startled, but by the time she’d turned around, she’d set the wand back down in her lap and was gazing absently at the game.
Why was she doing this? After the waiter had brought her margarita, and the couple’s attention was fixed on their burgers, she blew some more bubbles. She was sipping her drink and looking down at her phone when they looked around the patio again. That time, looking away from her, I laughed.
The man shot me a suspicious look. But I didn’t look like the guy you accuse of blowing soap bubbles. I’m six foot three and my nose has been broken twice and looks like it. And I’d just turned forty. Every time I thought about how I’d never expected to be single at forty, and about the reason I was, I felt this numb horror.
The man turned away.
You’re a troublemaker, I murmured to Claudia, surprising myself because it sounded so flirty.
She put her bottle of bubble soap in her backpack and zipped it closed. Then she got up and sat down at my table, across from me.
Well, you’re my accomplice, she said, and it was one of the most romantic, sexy things anyone had ever said to me.
My goal for May is to get to 100 pages plus the synopsis for this story. I’ll let you know next month if I get there!
If you want to, share something of your own below…
OR, tell us about your May writing goals, or whatever else is going on with your writing life! Thanks so much for stopping by, and have a great rest of your week!
I’ve been slowly but surely plugging along at my book. This scene is from Her Hidden Star, a contemporary romance about a woman hiding a secret relationship with the most famous actor in the world. Julie’s husband is staying at one hotel while she is at another because the apartment building that she manages (secretly owns) flooded. She finds that one of her tenants had an interesting night.
Julie added jeans and canvas sneakers to her breakfast outfit and walked up to the door of her hotel room. As she reached in her purse for her key card, the door next to her opened. Max stepped out, wearing just his dress shirt and work pants. Shane followed with Max’s tie in his hand.
“Don’t forget this,” Shane said. “They’ll probably charge you for it.”
Max smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Shane and Max looked at each other. Shane spoke first. “Last night was…thank you. I want to do this again.”
Max shyly smiled. “Me too.”
”Pambice sounds great. Maybe we can do that.”
Max nodded. “I can taste the margaritas already.”
A wide smile broke across Shane’s face. “Tommorrow night? Eight o’clock.”
”Will you have enough time after your shift?” Max asked.
”For you, I will make the time.”
Max held out his arms for a hug. Shane stepped into his arms. They held each other, lingering for a moment.
”Tomorrow night,” Max said. “I’ll meet you at Pambice.”
”Tomorrow night.”
Max walked down the hall, smiling at Julie in recognition, but still in a hurry.
Shane noticed Julie. “You’re back. Marinda thought you were kidnapped by sex traffickers.”
Nice! Right on for Shane and Max!
I love this so so much!
Greetings! This excerpt is from a holiday novella I’m working on that’s part of an MM Small Town romance shared world. Firefighters Arnie and Roger are an established couple who desperately wish to add real estate agent Derek to their relationship, but they’ve had some bumps. Derek sent a text the night before letting them know he will be traveling for work the next two months and Arnie is convinced he’s trying to end things with them. The scene is from Roger’s POV.
“Hey, Arnie, you okay?” Derek asked.
Arnie cleared his throat, but when he talked his voice was still raspy. “I’m okay. The fruit was really nice.”
I wanted to kick him under the blanket, but I didn’t want to let on with Derek that anything was wrong.
“You’re welcome. Oh, man, you guys look tired. I wish I was closer. I would love to be there to cook for you so you could just rest.”
“But you’re leaving.”
I sighed as Arnie put his fears out there.
“What? No, I’m not… You read my text? I’m sorry, I didn’t want to text it, but it all happened so fast and I didn’t know if I’d be able to talk to you guys today. This associate wasn’t supposed to go out for another four weeks and there was already someone lined up to take on her clients, but that didn’t work out. I hate it, I don’t want to be away, but my manager was really in a bind and she promised me that afterward, if everything goes well, I’d be up for a promotion, which would give me flexibility.” He smiled hesitantly.
Arnie blinked a couple of times. “You’re not leaving? All that wasn’t just to let us down easy?”
Derek’s eyes bugged out. “No, oh God, I knew I shouldn’t have texted it. No, absolutely not. And it’s not that I won’t see you at all for two months, I’m just going to be slammed more than usual, and I wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t think I was blowing you off. Arnie, no, I want to see you. I missed you.”
“Baby, I miss you, too. Can we come to you sometime? It doesn’t have to be for a long visit—”
“Yes. I’d love that,” Derek said and his smile was so full of longing.
Watching the two of them work this out had my heart pounding. This was the reality. There were going to be misunderstandings and hurt feelings and my men were already working through it.
Thanks Bryn! And I can’t wait… a thriller! Very exciting!
Greetings: Last week, on April 22nd I wrote the last chapter to my memoir. I am now doing the more difficult chore of editing. It is OK to accuse me of procrastination since the first page was completed in author Truman Capote’s house on April 22nd, 1976.
From the first chapter of: Unlawful Orders: Confessions of a Man Who Dissents—and Can’t Stop
I could have blocked the punch coming at my face. I certainly could have struck back and knocked out this fat bully with a left hook. Others who have tested my temper usually didn’t test it twice. But I had to let him at least land a glancing blow. I had to fall out of my chair and on the ground.
This bully was a Dade County sheriff.
And he was beating me in the Airport District Station at Miami International Airport, with twenty deputies close enough to watch.
I did not enter the station charged with a crime. I was there to sign complaint forms against a couple of thieves. It was spring break in April 1968. My friend Richie and I went to Fort Lauderdale by Greyhound bus. We met these three guys, college students from Pontiac, Michigan. It was like one of those three in a boat joke. There was Jamil, six-foot-one, émigré from Saudi Arabia, slick black hair, a karate student who broke bricks for show. His best friends were Sam, a tall Jewish student who loved chess more than his pre-med studies, or Notre Dame Football at his school and Frank, an Irish lad who drank tea at frat parties. He had diabetes and had to routinely explain to the cops he did not deal heroin. We let them stay with us at the Bon Soir motel in Fort Lauderdale.
We partied, drank, and looked for girls. I got a little wasted; enough to crawl from the pool area at the motel to the Black Angus restaurant across Route One, screw out the bulbs producing the letter “g,” and return while avoiding getting squashed by a semi.
On our last day before our return to New York, we awoke to headaches and a looted room. While Richie and I slept it off, the creeps from Detroit took off with my watch, wallet with $45.00, and transistor radio. Their mistake was leaving the keys to the motorcycle we rented. We hunted them through Ft. Lauderdale then down to Miami.
We found them at the airport. We fought, beat them up and got our stuff back in time to welcome a riot detail from the Dade County sheriff’s office. The three had additional stolen items in their possession. They were arrested. Jamil had to go to the hospital because bricks don’t fight back. I do.
We started out as witnesses.
It had only been ten days since the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King. A lieutenant popped out of his office and barked orders at a sergeant who looked like Rod Steiger from In the Heat of The Night. “Atwill, get a bunch of units to assist Beckman. They are having a memorial march for King. I need Biscayne Boulevard cleared for that vigil.”
Oh wow! This kept me riveted!
Hi, Bryn!
I loved your excerpt! I can just see that she’s gonna get that guy in trouble. 😆
And here is an excerpt from my most recent chapter:
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“Before we go, are you carrying enough stakes?” Elsie asked Hildreth as she double-checked all of the stake slots in her gauntlets.
“I sure am! And! My Bossman 550 is all loaded up and ready to rock and roll.” He held out his hand to her. “So, let’s go hit the road, Elsie baby.”
She took his hand.
The heat of his skin.
The smooth cool of his ring.
And the most obvious of things occurred to her. “This will be the first time we will hunt as a married couple.”
The playful expression in his green-blue eyes softened. “I know. It’s gonna be interesting to see if that changes anything.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The way either of us fights. The way the vampires fight us. Your jealousy if any hot vampire chicks flirt with me.”
“Well. I don’t know about the first two, but yes to the last one.”
“Oh? Does that mean that…..you’ll be less jealous?”
She scoffed. “As if!”
“Oooo! So, you’ll be more jealous of innocent damsel me.”
Elsie couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I will have you know that you are not a damsel.” Memories of him in bed flashed through her mind. “And innocent is not the word I would use to describe you.”
“Oh my! Ah am floored and gobsmacked by such slander! Where is mah fainting couch and smelling salts? Ah do feel a swoon about to happen.”
She laughed and tugged his arm. “Let’s get going. I want to see you fight again.”
“And I’m looking forward to seeing you fight as well.” It was a simple statement with an undercurrent of undeniable heat.
That was all Elsie needed to get her moving. She headed to the door with Hildreth laughing in tow.
Okay, Claudia sounds so fun. I love the idea that she brought bubbles to a bar! It’s so untypical that it makes the scene feel real. It always impresses me how you do that!
This is a snippet from my second chance romance:
When Ellie excuses herself to the restroom during one of the band’s loudest sets, Austen grabs my arm. “Hey,” he says, his eyes starting to look glassy. “Ask her to dance when she gets back.”
I shake my head; the thought of overwhelming her again leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. She’s been laughing for the last half hour or so, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. “We’ll probably head back soon.”
“C’mon, ask her. You got her here, didn’t you? You danced with her before,” he says, peering at me through squinted eyes. “Not that long ago.”
“That was different. Some guy wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“But she danced with you, man,” he says, leaning back in the booth and lifting the hat from his head.
“Hey, keep that on,” I scold.
He rolls his eyes and puts it back on. “If you don’t ask her, I will.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.” When I spot her walking back, my heart swells. I’ll never get used to seeing her here in Texas, here with me.
Some guy with red hair and steel plugs in his ears steps in front of her. As she steps to the side, he matches her and blocks her again, and I’m out of my seat before I can blink.
Not today, asshole.
I take my place beside her and slip my arm around her waist. “Hey,” I say to her, staring the dude down. “This guy’s not bothering you, is he?”
“Actually—” she starts.
“No, of course not,” Steel Plugs says, shorter than me by at least six inches. “I thought she was someone else. My mistake.”
He leaves, and I look at her. “You alright?”
Her nod is quick and tight.
Back at the table, Ellie asks about Austen’s latest movie. He gives her the basic press tour answer and pivots to talk about the boats that look like classic cars and the Peter Pan mini golf here in the city. I suppose we don’t need to go home yet.
As Ellie digs out her phone, he twitches his head toward her.
I set my jaw. I glance at her as she reads a text message, probably from Willa, and shake my head discreetly. Not right now.
He leans back, frowning at me like he’s disappointed. Then he hops out of the booth and says, “Ellie, may I have this dance?”