Sample Saturday – Chapter Two continued

December 10, 2006 | Uncategorized

For those just joining the story – chapter one can be read in its entirety on the October 21st entry and the first part of chapter two on the October 28th entry, the next segments on November 4th,11th,18th and 25th and December 2nd.

His praise failed to soothe her. “Of course I called the cops. I told them about the other notes too and got an informative lecture on stalkers. I have a case number to prove it. Anything else you need to know?”

“Did they talk to you about upgrading your locks?”

“Yes,” she fumed. She knew she was taking her bad mood out on Derrick, but it felt good to get mad at someone safe.

“Good. Forget the coffee, let’s go”

“Where are we going?” she narrowed her eyes.

“Lock shopping.”

“You know how to install locks?”

“I’m a general contractor,” he said as if that explained anything.

“Where are you going to buy locking stuff at this time of night?”

“I know this all night hardware store,” Derrick wriggled his eyebrows and stroked his mustache.

She frowned at him, trying very hard to keep a straight face, but bubbles of laughter erupted. In an instant her giggles turned into hiccupping sobs.

Derrick wrapped her in his arms, rubbing her back and letting her release the fear, anger and tension. Slightly ashamed of himself for being aroused by her. That part of him had no sense of propriety and downright perverse timing.

“Some darn pervert walked into my house. Why?” she sniffled. “I mean why me? The cops said most stalkers are someone – someone you know intimately.”

“Do you have any idea of who it might be?”

Bella shook her head. “No, and that scares the hell out of me. I’ve thought about every man I know and no one makes sense.”

Derrick thought about the weird Reverend Tom and the men at the reception, all of them ogling Bella. He didn’t have any trouble imagining anyone of them as the stalker.

Pushing away from his chest, Bella gave a shaky laugh. “I’ve ruined your shirt.”

“Nah. It’ll be fine.” He frowned at the makeup smears. “No great loss if it isn’t.”

“I need to wash my face.”

Bella disappeared down the hall. The house was too quiet. He heard the water run in the bathroom and felt like audio-voyeur. He frowned. Voyeur meant watcher, that wasn’t the word he wanted – eavesdropper, that was the word but it didn’t fit either.

He busied himself finding the decaf and starting a pot of coffee. She wasn’t back yet so he searched for the yellow pages and scanned the locksmith ads.

Locks R Us promised a fifteen-minute response 24/7. Derrick didn’t check the time but a service truck appeared by the time the coffee had brewed.

“I thought we were going to an all night hardware store.”

Bella had changed into faded jeans and an oversized t-shirt. The pretty peach dress, fancy sandals and make-up were gone. She looked younger, softer and even sexier.

“There’s a rough element hanging out in screws and fittings this time of night. I’d hate to have to mess up my fancy suit fighting to protect your honor, little lady.”

She gave him a weak smile. It had been a pretty weak John Wayne imitation so that was fair.

The locksmith went to work on replacing front and back door locks.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s decaf.” Bella offered.

“That’d be great.”

“How do you like it?”

“Like my wo – um, two sugars if you have it handy.”

The locksmith cast a speculative glance at Derrick. “None of my business bud, but locks aren’t going to do you a lot of good here. The whole doorframe is so weak a determined toddler could kick his way in. If you take my meaning.”

“I read you. Do the locks anyway, okay?”

“Right.”

Bella came back with the coffee on a damn tray. Women. Derrick didn’t think he’d ever understand them.

Reading Report

December 6, 2006 | Uncategorized

Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight Swain

This title currently holds the records for the most sticky notes. Mr. Swain packs a lot of advice into modest size paperback. This is the kind of basic craft book that makes tons of sense to me at this point. Would I have gotten as much out of it a few years ago? Maybe not. I think I would’ve found helpful hints – but it is a book that merits more than one reading. As I grow and learn more about writing craft there will be new lessons for me in the same volume.

The Purchased Wife, by Michelle Reid

I have a stack from the library that I need to dive into, but what can I say? I have a weakness for the calgon moment feeling of a Harlequin Presents Ms. Reid has deliciously tortured couples, sigh.

It used to be if you missed a category title you were out of luck. Amazon provides a real service for someone just discovering a favorite author – the backlist is available and economically priced.

Writing Life

December 5, 2006 | Uncategorized

One of the newest Blaze authors recently started a blog of her own.

http://www.loriborrill.blogspot.com/

Lori has interesting things to say that IMHO deserve a wider audience. Head on over and check her out. One of the genuine benefits to struggling with the written word is the community of amazing, talented and generous women who’ve shared the same journey.

One piece of advice I’ve heard over and over is write what you like to read – advice that always makes me want to gnash my teeth, pull out hair and pound on the floor. I read everything – there’s no help there. At least not for me. In fact – I really admire styles and craft of literary art that I have no talent for, none.

Finding a match between your voice and readers who enjoy that sub-sub-sub-genre and a publisher who is producing for those readers is a tough assignment. Still working on that one.

The biggest surprise about publishing so far? The speed – or lack of same. The industry is acquiring books for 2008 and beyond as I type. This year it took nine months to get a response (negative) on one story from one publisher. Multiple submissions are frowned on, so what’s the struggling writer to do?

Sample Saturday- Chapter Two – part six

December 2, 2006 | Uncategorized

For those just joining the story – chapter one can be read in its entirety on the October 21st entry and the first part of chapter two on the October 28th entry, the next segments on November 4th,11th,18th and 25th.

The edges of her vision blurred and she realized she was holding her breath again. Expelling the used air with a whoosh, she drug in a gulp of air and took a step closer to the door. She leaned toward the viewer, hesitating. Thumps on the door made her jump back.

“Who is it?” she croaked. Her voice catching on something tight in her throat.
Right behind her fear anger sizzled and flashed. Her house. Her sanctuary. He’d violated her domain. How dare he? She was mad enough to pummel the creep. Something one of the officers said came back to her; most stalkers were someone the victim knew intimately.

She didn’t have an ex-husband, or an ex-lover, the last date she’d had was more than a year ago. What was his name? James, no, Jason friendly, quiet man, who turned into a grabby gorilla ten seconds after they were alone. He hadn’t had the patience for wooing; she couldn’t imagine him doing something like this.

The idea one of her friends would terrorize her was incomprehensible. A stranger fixating on her made no more sense. She tried to do the right thing; to live her life according to the principles Nana held dear. She treated everyone fairly. Well, she may have been harsh with Derrick’s girlfriend but she’d deserved worse.

Another round of knocking reminded her she was still cowering behind her flimsy front door. “Who is it?” she repeated. This time her voice rang out strong and clear.

“Derrick.”

She peeked through the viewer to confirm his identity. Could he be the stalker? No. Derrick would be too busy dodging women to skulk around leaving them weird notes.

Bella cracked the door.

Derrick barged in and she gave way. “What’s going on? What are you doing still up at this hour?”

Five o’clock shadow had darkened to midnight stubble. The skin around his eyes looked tighter. His rumpled shirt, loosened tie and dangling from one finger jacket said he’d had a long day. He looked tired, solid, normal and sexy as hell.

Crossing her arms, she snapped back. “I might ask you the same thing.”

“I stayed to help with the clean up; found this in the truck,” he offered her evening bag. “I thought you might need your keys.”

“Thank you,” she took the small purse. “How did you know where I live?”

“Your driver’s license. Good picture, by the way, mine makes me look like a felon. So what’s going on here?”

“There was another note,” she admitted.

“Where?”

“In the refrigerator.” Goosebumps rose with the memory.

“Show me.”

Bella led the way to the kitchen grateful to move. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yeah sure, if you’re making some,” he examined her backdoor. “This was locked?”

She paused on her way to coffee pot to glare at him. A wasted effort since he was absorbed with the backdoor lock. “Yes the house was locked. I locked the house when I left. It was locked when I got home and to save you the trouble of asking; the police found no sign of forced entry.”

“You called the cops? Good for you.”

His praise failed to soothe her.

“Of course I called the cops. I told them about the other notes too and got an informative lecture on stalkers. I have a case number to prove it. Anything else you need to know?”

“Did they talk to you about upgrading your locks?”

“Yes,” she fumed. She knew she was taking her bad mood out on Derrick, but it felt good to get mad at someone safe.

“Good. Forget the coffee, let’s go”

“Where are we going?” she narrowed her eyes.

Writing Life

December 1, 2006 | Uncategorized

Just stopping by to whine, feel free to ignore this post. . .

I’m working on polishing up the first three chapters of Blackmailed By The Billionaire (yeah you’re right I haven’t updated the meters in a while). Back to my whine – all of the words – well maybe minus a thousand – are in place. The problem is they aren’t in quite the right order yet . . .

Honestly, it’s only a step away from chimpanzies typing sonnets.

Openings are hard, middles are tricky and ends are critical. Anyone who thinks writing is easy isn’t doing it right.