Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

This week I am reading Suzanne Brockmann’s Identity: Unknown. Her books aren’t something I normally read, but lately I’ve been in military mode – reading about SEALs and Marines and Rangers. I don’t know why, but there you go. And just like last week, her writing is a little too tame for me, but I’m enjoying it and taking a break from my routine.

Here are the last two lines I read from Identity: Unknown:

The guard shoved him and he stumbled, but he forced himself not to react, to find serenity from deep inside, that same serenity that had saved him so many times before. He was here.

And two lines I just edited from my WIP:

She crossed the cracked asphalt and each pool of light beckoned to her, making her feel safe. A chill crept up her spine as she left one circle of light and stared ahead at the next. Tingling at the back of her neck told her she wasn’t alone. She sped up and counted the steps to the next halo of sick yellow illumination.

Hope you enjoyed, and head over to Women of Mystery for more Two Sentence fun.

Thursday, February 18, 2010


The prompts at 3WW this week are: Occur, Ragged and Tidy. Here is my continuation of last weeks 3WW.

It wasn’t hard to find Paul Smith after all. He was sitting alone at the end of the bar hammering back drinks as fast as he could.

His hair was ragged and greasy strands fell forward to cover his eyes. I got closer and realized exactly why he was alone. Paulie was in desperate need of a bath. Body odor and booze leaked out of his pores, creating an almost tangible haze around him, leaving very little breathable air.

I slid a tidy sum of money down the bar to him. “Talk.”

He never glanced up at me, but his dirty hand covered the bills. “I knew Marie. She volunteered on Thursdays at the mission downtown.”

Homeless. I figured as much if his hygiene was anything to go by. “I didn’t just give you money for you to tell me something I already knew.”

I caught the bartenders eye and waited while he strolled over. He was polishing a glass with a dirty bar towel and had a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Beer for me. Whatever’s on tap, and I’ll buy his next round.” Maybe if I lubed him up some, Paulie would stop wasting my time. The bartender ambled away and I wondered if we’d get our drinks in the next hour.

I leaned over the counted to yell at his back, “And none of that light shit!”

“She talked to me. Marie did. She talked to me about growing up in her perfect family, with her perfect parents and her perfect brothers and sisters. She asked about how I grew up and I told her some make-believe story about having a great home life, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t believe me, ya’ know?”

A beer slid in front of me and I looked up to see the bartender’s grin around his cigarette. “Five bucks.”

I pulled a ten out of my pocket and told him to keep the change. Paulie waited until the other man left before he started talking again. “I used to follow her out of the neighborhood after she got done with her shift at the mission. To watch out for her, ya’ know? She was sweet.”

The thought occurred to me that he’d had a crush on little Marie. “So, you followed her the night she died?”

“Yeah. I saw the freak who did it.”

The nerves in my body sang out and my muscles tensed. “So, Paul Smith, who killed Marie?”

Come back next week to find out who killed Marie Francis O'Malley. And check out 3WW for more writing.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Two Sentence Tuesday

It’s time for Two Sentence Tuesday!

Right now, I’m reading something out of the ordinary for me. Suzanne Brockmann’s Frisco’s Kid. Normally, I’m all for a hot and steamy romance, but while there are some sex scenes, they are pretty tame, tastefully done, and not very compelling to me. That’s just my opinion though. Ask the people who know me, I write porn (I swear it’s tasteful though!).

And on that note, here are the last two lines I read this morning before I had to go to my actual day job:

“I’d never seen a miracle before, but I saw one that day. And when Lucky put that tiny baby in my hands…She was all red and wrinkly, and so alive – this little new life, only a few seconds old.”

The hero is a Navy SEAL and is describing to the heroine they day he and his swim buddy delivered his sister’s baby. It is kind of sweet.

Now, on to my WIP. Here are the last two lines I wrote. They are actually additions to the beginning of the story line. I really needed my two main characters to meet before they “officially” meet. She’s in a bar, a little freaked out because she thinks her ex is stalking her, and runs into (literally) the hero. She’d just spent ten minutes with her slightly tipsy friends discussing the fact that none can find a …. Satisfying relationship. (I say that with a HUGE grin on my face!)

“Most women don’t scream when they see me.” His grin made her forget how to speak. This was a man she was certain would give her an orgasm she didn’t have to provide on her own. And, she bet he would last longer than ten minutes before rolling over and going to sleep.

Hope you have a wonderful day, and head over to the Women of Mystery for more two sentence teasers!

I also noticed that David Cranmer has two sentences up on his blog, too.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Theme Thursday and Thursday 13

The theme at Theme Thursday this week is mirror. I used the mirror for the foundation of both of my pieces today.

He would never forget the look on her face when she saw him in the mirror. The emotions played swiftly through her eyes. Confusion. Fear. Anger. Resignation.

She knew he was here to kill her, and this time there was no quick escape. She’d taken everything from him. Family, home and career were jerked away with three bullets.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked his reflection.

He raised his eyebrow and looked at her pale face in the shimmery surface. “I’m waiting for you to beg me not to kill you. I’m waiting for you to apologize.”

She smirked, “Not going to happen.”

His expression shifted behind her from smug boredom to pulsing rage. “I’m waiting for my life back, you bitch!”

She saw his hand lift behind her and flinched away, but not fast enough. He wrapped his fist in her hair and shoved her face closer to the mirror. “Why? That’s all I want to know. Why kill my family and frame me?”

“I told you when we got together. I don’t share. Not with your wife. Not with your boys. Once you slept with me, you were mine.” She ended on a gasp when he ground her face into the glass, and the muzzle of his gun pressed into her spine.

“I ought to kill you where you stand, you evil, soul-sucking-.”

She cut him off with a grin when she rubbed her butt against his crotch. “You may hate me, but you still want me, don’t you?”

He stepped back until the only thing touching her with the barrel of his gun. “You took everything away from me.”

“So kill me!” Her screamed words bounced around the tiled room. “Do it!”

For an instant, the finger on the trigger tightened before he lowered the gun. “No.”

“Why not?” She was truly bewildered. Why didn’t he kill her?

She watched as his eyes left her reflection in the mirror and locked onto his own. “I still have to look at myself.”

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, never hearing the quiet click of the door behind her.

Head over to Theme Thursday for more writing from this prompt.

I continued the mirror theme with my 13 things for Thursday 13.

13 Things in the Mirror

Hazel eyes that go bright green when filled with tears. They sparkle when I laugh and reflect my fears when I’m lonely.

Hair that once was deep dark chocolate has started to streak with silver. Not gray, not white, but shiny silver I no longer have the patience to cover.

Tiny lines feather from the corners of my eyelids, testifying to the millions of times I’ve laughed in the last 31 years, echoing the humor in my soul.

A normal sized nose rides in the middle of my face. It’s served me well, letting me smell the baby smell of my son just after his bath or the deeper scent of my husband when he holds me close and whispers his love to me.

Lips that are perhaps a bit to thin, but often stretch into a wide smile or pinch into a frown when I am concentrating on a particularly difficult task, cover straight white teeth with a small gap between the front two. They’ve formed words of encouragement, love and occasionally scorn, and held words that changed my life over and over again.

There is a neck that is not long or graceful, but holds my head high, even when I feel defeated.

My breasts are soft and rounded, even though they have relaxed a little over the years. They have pillowed the head of my love when I offered comfort, and provided endless amounts of humor among my not so bountifully gifted relatives.

There are curves in all the right places, and some of the not so right places to. Curves that have come and gone and come back again.

My arms are strong enough to hold onto my family with all I have, and comfort my friends when things are wrong.

The hands I have are small, but have conquered so many great tasks. They have helped me learn to cook and feed my family. They’ve worked tirelessly to master the art of playing the flute well enough to make some people cry. They’ve cramped in pain after hours of writing to help me express my creativity or to just let the darkness lingering in my soul out.

I have hips that are larger than I want, but what woman doesn’t? I try not to worry about that too much.

Then there is the foundation, my support, my legs. They are not long, but they are strong. They carry me forward even when I want to run away. They are marked with scars from my youth and tattoos that tell a story of me growing up.

When I close my eyes and block out what I see in the mirror, I can see the beauty my husband sees when he touches me. I can see the reason my son says, “Mommy pretty,” when he looks up at me. When I close my eyes and look deep inside I can see the creative writer my friends see and I encourage her. When I look away from the mirror, I can see the hunger for a better life for my family searching for a way to escape, and I can see the sliver of darkness left in my soul from disappointment, hurt, fear and anger, looking for a way to grow large and take over. When I open my eyes and look back into the mirror I see a strong, capable woman where before stood a fearful, ashamed girl.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Three Word Wednesday

It is that time again! Today's prompt words are: Lucid, Righteous and Salvage. I continued last week's story line with this week's words.

A week later, I was still no closer to finding out who killed Marie Francis O’Malley. Her friends and neighbors all loved her. She was a sweet Irish Catholic girl who always had a kind word, did volunteer work at the homeless shelter and the animal rescue shelter, was attending classes at the local community college and wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.

She was so sweet, it made my teeth hurt. Her parents and siblings – all fourteen of them – had descended on me time and time again, but there was nothing else I could tell them.

Lurch, I mean, the coroner, had found that cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation. She fought though, and the traces of hair and skin under her nails, and the semen inside her had been sent for a DNA profile.

The phone rang and I jumped. “Detective’s Squad.”

“I need to speak with Detective Luna.” The connection was horrible. I could barely make out the caller’s words under the static.

“This is Luna.” For a moment there was only the pops and hisses on the line.

“I have some information about Marie O’Malley.”

I ripped off the top sheet of my notepad, quickly discarding my distracted doodling, and switched into interrogation mode. “What’s your name?”

“Uh…It’s Paul. Paul Smith.”

Sure. Whatever. “Okay, Paul, what information do you have about Miss O’Malley?”
The connection worsened and I couldn’t make out his words. “Paul, can you still hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear ya’.” His voice sounded tinny and far away.

“Can we meet?” I was sick of trying to decode his words.

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

“If your info’s good, there may be something in it for your, Paulie.”

“Fine. Meet me at Sabine’s in an hour.”

“How will I know who you are, Paul?”

“I know who you are. I’ll wait for you.”

Sabine’s was one of the city’s newest hotspots. Everyone who was anyone wanted in, so the line stretched down the sidewalk for over half a block. I scanned the crowd with cop eyes, knowing instinctively which ones were doing drugs, selling drugs or had something heavy in their jacket pocket or ruining the line of their clothes. I wasn’t here for that tonight, but I’d definitely give vice a head’s up – if I could salvage my own case.

I thought briefly about standing in line, but hell, I have a badge, and what fun is it to have if you don’t use it? The spike heels on my black leather boots sounded like gunshots as I strode past all of the vacant stares and hostile voices, right up to the bouncer guarding the entrance.

“Sorry lady. Back of the line.” He crossed his arms – or attempted to cross his arms – over his massive chest. “You gotta wait like everybody else.”

He turned away, clearly dismissing me until I shoved my badge in his face. “I think I’ll just go on in, unless you have a problem with that?”

“Listen, I don’t want no trouble. I’m just doin’ my job.” His voice was so deep it almost hurt to hear.

“I’m not trying to wad you up, Tiny. I’m meeting someone.” He looked at me for a few more seconds before motioning me past. I flashed him a quick grin when I heard all of the moans from the waiting crowd.

The music smashed into me. Hard. It felt like a heartbeat throbbing all over my body. I stopped just inside the door and let my eyes adjust to the dim light and overpowering strobe lights.

The dance floor was packed and around the outskirts were tables overflowing with people. In a single sweep of the room I counted seven different drug deals and at least ten times as many underage drinkers. I could only pray my Paul Smith was lucid enough to tell me anything, and that he had something good.

If not I was going to shoot him. And, by God, it would be a righteous shoot. No one makes me miss Monday night football with my dad.

Head over to 3WW to check out what everyone else is writing today!

On a personal note... We had our final adoption hearing on Monday, and Aaron is officially ours now! Big family happiness!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Theme Thursday and Thursday 13

So, I'm going to try my hand at two new prompts this week. What I came up with are two entries that are polar opposites.

This week, Theme Thursday's prompt is Red.


The blush stole across her cheeks as I plied her with nonsense endearments and frothy fruity drinks. Too easy. She’s a little…curvy for my taste, but I don’t want to be alone tonight. In a few days I won’t even remember her so her size doesn’t really matter.

I glance at her in the passenger seat to avoid the splashes of color the headlights flash in my eyes. Almost there. Almost home. I don’t want to waste money on a cheap hotel room. I’ll call a cab and have it waiting in an hour. She’ll probably cry when she realizes I don’t want her to stay. Oh, well.

She stumbled through the door in those fire engine fuck me pumps. Who does she think she is wearing shoes that sexy? She didn’t even notice how fast I pulled off her shirt to see what she had hidden under there. Not bad. Not bad at all.

No? She thinks she can tell me no? I paid for her drinks all night. She should be thrilled I even looked at her. She’s begging for it with those damn shoes.

No! How the hell did she get the knife out of the butcher block so fast? Oh, Christ. I’m sorry! Please!

I’m cold. I need to get to the phone. Why is the floor so slick? Oh, God. I’m going to die. Someone is outside honking. Maybe I can make it out the door. They’ll help me.

Don’t leave me like this! I’m going to die and the last thing I’ll ever see is those fucking shoes inching backward to stay out of the pool of blood leaking out of me.

Skip over to Theme Thursday to see more fabulous writing from this prompt.

And here is what I wrote for Thursday 13.

Thirteen things:
1. I love the way my baby boy’s eyes look first thing in the morning – sleepy and happy to see mommy.
2. I love the way my husband smells right where his shoulder meets his neck – warm and male and mine.
3. I love the way my mother says she’s proud of me – sweet smiles and happy tears.
4. I love the way my dad shows he loves me – strong and silent.
5. I love the way my friends encourage my writing – harsh critique and demanding expectations.
6. I love the way my dog trusts me no matter what – wagging tail and soulful eyes.
7. I love the way cold mornings feel on my skin – fresh and exhilarating.
8. I love the way the sheets feel when I first slide into bed – cool and clean.
9. I love the way it feels to get my hair cut – out with the old and in with the new.
10. I love the way it feels when my cat curls up in my arms – heavy warmth and deep purring.
11. I love the way my husband slips his fingers through mine – secure and loved.
12. I love the way my sweet son hugs me – sticky fingers in my hair and love you whispered in my ear.
13. I love the way my heart feels when I look at my family – full of love and leaping with joy.

For more 13's, head on over to Thursday 13.

Hope you enjoyed!

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

3 Word Wednesday

Today's words over at 3WW are: frantic, lurch and odor. Head on over to 3WW and check out all the others.

“The maintenance man noticed it first. Said he thought 3B’s fridge was on the fritz and the food inside spoiled.”

I nodded to the uniform standing in front of me, not really listening – I’d already heard the story from the two uni’s outside and the maintenance man himself. “So, who actually found the body?”

“Well, see Detective, that’s kinda a funny story - .”

“Oddly enough, I’m not here for the comedy hour, officer. Who the fuck found the body?” I managed to keep my voice low and not scream in the face of the newbie shuffling around in front of me.

“Sorry, ma’am. The next door neighbor’s dog found the body.”

“What? The dog?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’d just busted in the door to the apartment when the old woman next door opened her door to see what all the noise was and her yappy little dog ran out and straight into our crime scene, and right onto the body.”

“And nobody thought to stop the dog?” I could feel the blood rushing in my ears and a headache made itself known behind my right eye.

“Well, ma’am, he was fast.”

“Whatever.” I left him sputtering to a stop in the middle of the dingy hallway.

Two steps from the victim’s door, the odor hit me like a sledgehammer to the face. Jesus, whoever’s in there is frickin’ ripe.

“Well, hello, Detective.”

To my left stood the coroner - six and a half feet of skin and bones with a freakishly large nose. “Got any idea of when this one bit it?”

“I’d say about a week. Thermostat’s turned way up, so that sped up decomp. And then there was an unfortunate incident with the neighbor’s dog.” He gestured to a place on the vic’s cheek that had a chunk missing. “Guess the little pooch was hungry.”

I turned and slowly surveyed the room. Someone had trashed the place. “Maybe an interrupted burglary?”

“Maybe.” I could hear the frantic yipping of the neighbor’s dog through the thin apartment walls. “Or, maybe she offed herself. Couldn’t stand listening to that damn mutt any longer.”

“Doubt it. She was strangled.”

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, I counted to ten and reminded myself to breathe. “So, got anything else for me?”

He looked up from the body and leered at me. There really was no other word for it, other than creepy and disgusting. “Honey, I sure do have something else for you.”

I spun on my heel and walked away when he grabbed his crotch. “Fuck off, Lurch.”

His laughter followed me into the hallway. Just another fun filled Monday morning.