Six Sentence Sunday 1-8-2012

Last Cole & Lara snippet for awhile. Cole's working undercover at a bar; Lara's suspicious. She's just told him if he's a bartender, she's Mother Teresa. 

             He leaned forward and stroked a casual finger across the YSL logo on her handbag. “How’s that vow of poverty working out for ya, sister?”
             Lara nearly choked as she took a sip of her black-and-tan.
            “Doing any better with those other vows, baby?”
            “Like what?”
            “Chastity,” he winked.

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Six Sentence Sunday -- New Year's Day 2012

Cole's & Lara's story is finished! It's done. At least, for now. So... synopsis, rinse once, submit. That's the New Year's Resolution!

           “You are such an altar boy.”
             In the next second he had her pinned up against a giant, leaf-bare maple tree, her arms over her head, her wrists clamped by one of his large hands.

“Take that back,” he grinned. 

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?” She met his heated gaze, purposely wiggling her body against his in a seductive fashion designed to invite his touch as much as to drive him mad. “Prove me wrong, G-man.”

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Six Sentence Sunday 12/4/11

             Cole leaned back against the deck railing, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes smoldering as they took in the hot tub bubbles lapping her naked flesh.

            “Drink your fill, G-man.”   
            Their sexual tango, the seductive approach and avoidance of their intricate mating dance, wearied her.  “Or,” she mused, “we can go on playing this game.”

            She arched back against the ledge, resting her head and shutting her eyes. "Your ball, Brannigan."

                                                          

                                

                                              

Six Sentence Sunday 11-13-11

   

“Like these better than the shoes?” Lara taunted, dangling a wisp of red nothing in front of him. “Dolce & Gabbana. Last you’ll ever see of it.” She flung it back into the drawer.

As she crossed the room for her laptop, Cole sidled closer to the bureau and dipped his fingers into the mound of jumbled undies before he could stop himself, the sensual slide of satins and silks stroking his hand and firing his libido  the same way a woman’s moans during sex caressed his ego.

He fished out the illicit red-hot treasure and buried it in Lara’s suitcase. 

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Six Sentence Sunday

      I was going to post another little snippet from Sleepy Hollow Dreams, releasing Friday, October 8, but when SHD went up on the The Scarlet Rose "Coming Soon" site yesterday, I blogged an exerpt from it then. My six sentences were all fired up and waiting to go, too.  I'd even smushed a couple together to force eight into six, like Cinderella's stepsister trying on the glass slipper.
     But since I jumped the gun and all...I decided to go with my WIP instead. So here's another little sumpin' sumpin' from Cole in Her Stocking.
     (I love Six Sentence Sundays!)

WARNING: Nothing you won't see or hear on cable TV (or even primetime network TV, really), but if you'd prefer not to have your delicate sensibilities offended or underage retinas singed, move along, nothing to see here. 

            Lara shifted in the seat, offering him a sultry view of creamy thigh as she rolled down her over-the-knee boots. Cole nearly drove off the road. Jesus. One after the other, excrutiatingly slowly, giving him plenty of time to indulge images of his hands and his mouth on her, all over her, stroking her heated flesh, suckling her soft tits, savoring the sexy taste of her as his rigid cock thrust between those leather-encased legs. He grew wood hard enough to bat one out of the ballpark.
            Gripping the steering wheel, he sucked in a breath so sharp he reclaimed Lara's full, eyebrow-raised attention.

           “Human, after all, Special Agent Brannigan?”

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Lara Lays It on the Line

 So now that Cole got his shot, it's only fair for Lara to have her turn. She's had a helluva night, though, so it may not be all that easy getting her conscious and coherent.

"Psst. Lara."
"Mmpf. Go away." [Buries head beneath pillow.]
"Wake up, Lara."
[Groans.] "God, you're annoying."
"Seriously, girlfriend.  I think you'd better get up."
"Time is it, anyway?"
"Dawn. Ish. Maybe."
[Burrows under rumpled sheets.] "Lemme sleep, wouldya? Was up all night."
"Good times?"
"Oh, yeah." [Rolls on side, glides arm across satin, inches fingers toward other pillow. Opens one eye a slit.] "Where's G-man?"
"In the living room."
"Don't tell me he's sleeping on the couch."
"No."
"Dead to the world?"
"No."
"He'd better be cooking me up one helluva breakfast then."
"Uh, no. Living room, not kitchen."
"What's he doing?"
"He's on his laptop, checking out your flash drive."
[Snaps open both eyes. Snatches tangled sheets to chest and bolts upright.] "Sonuvabitch! Where'd he find it?"
"In your bra. Where you left it."
[Glances at clothes on floor, Glock 23 on night table.]
"I don't like what you're thinking, Lara."
[Shrugs.] "I can't use that damn thing, anyway. But I've never seen him without it."
"He's not exactly dressed right now."
"Got him into the spa robe?"
"Promised I would."
"Now tell me how to get my flash drive back."
"You want to wrestle him for it?"
"Hmm. Guess I could, couldn't I? Liking where this is going."
[Heads toward bedroom door.]
"Hey, Lara?"
"Yeah?"
"You know he's a lot bigger and stronger, right?"
[Smiles.] "Yeah. But I know his weak spots."
"Uh, Lara?"
[Sighs.] "What now?
"Better let him teach you how to use that gun, girlfriend."

Cole Bares All

         Let me brag on myself.  Eight smokin' HOT pages.  No big deal to most of you but considering my typical glacial pace...zippity-doo-dah!
          Consider also that these same eight pages comprise a love scene that's been mostly in my head, perhaps a page of which has been on paper, for five freakin' weeks.

          This is not to say I've been doing nothing during all that time. What I've been doing is ... well, my usual, well, ah...tweaking.  Tweaking that this time caused the manuscript to double in size. Not that it was that big to begin with. But dialogue eats up a lot more of the screen than you might expect. Also word count.

          So how did this happen?  Zoe Winters, an indie writer I know from Twitter and Facebook and her novella, Kept, posted a funny interview with her hero,  Cole, on her web page.  He's a lot different from my Cole. For one thing, he's a werewolf. But I thought I'd give it a try.
          Before he could pencil me in for the interview, Cole had to have a talk with his boss.  Scary. Gave me new insight and perspective. Gave Cole a whole new angle, also a shorter fuse.

         "I don't answer reporter girl's questions, why should I answer yours?"

         "You want to get into her pants, Cole?"
          "Huh."
          "Your noncommittal grunts don't really translate well in this format."
          Turns out Cole did have a few things to say about the percolating, but going- nowhere-fast, sex scene.
         "You're putting me in a spa robe? That'll be the day, sister."

         "We want to get a good look at your manly chest."

         "And what? That's the best you can do?"
         "Come on,  Cole. I gave you Timberlands before."
         "The next time I slide that glass door open and step onto that deck, I'm barefoot, baby."
         "Right. Barefoot. Spa robe. See how that works?"
         "See how that DOESN'T work?"

         "Well, um, no. That's why it's been hanging me up for, like, five freakin' weeks!"

          "Robe drops. And?"
          "What do you suggest?"
          He whistles a little David Rose ditty made famous in a long ago Noxzema shaving cream commercial.
          "That is so not you, Cole."
          "Sure about that?"
          "Well..."
           "What if I'm after something?"
          "You mean besides sex?"

          "Yeah."

          "Hmm. Okay. Jeans, flannel shirt. Got it."
          "And lose the champagne bucket.  That's so not me, either."

        But here's the interesting thing about the scene now.  It's not just about the sex. Both characters have goals and those goals conflict. Even though they move closer, tension remains. And, of course, sex complicates everything. Which moves us forward. At last.

         Yay! Onto the next scene.