Excerpt Week

#ExcerptWeek #FindingHunter WIP by #MarciaMeara

/ Marcia Meara / 6 Comments

It’s good to see these wonderful excerpts popping up. I’ve got another to post for a new member shortly, but first, here’s a little surprise. This is the “prologue” though it isn’t called that, from my current WIP, Finding Hunter. This is Book 2 of the Riverbend series, and those who have read Book 1, Swamp Ghosts, will know who the Hunter in question is. The book is in edit, currently, and we are working toward a September release date. So, without further ado, you can be the first to read the opening lines of Finding Hunter.

The Traveling Man
~~~ 

Dawn, August 1, 2013 

EVERYTHING WAS PAIN. Everything he felt, everything he remembered. Pain, and pain, and pain. His dreams echoed with sounds of agony, screams ricocheting through his head. Pain—and blood. Rivers of blood. Scarlet, coppery-scented puddles spreading in front of him.

He woke on his knees, vomiting in the grass. Afterward, he crawled back up onto the park bench, mouth sour, and head throbbing. Shivering, he tried to push the dreams away, but they weren’t ready to let him go.

He had done something bad. That was the problem. Worse than bad—something unthinkable. This crime was the root of all his dreams, and if only he could remember, he’d know what he needed to do next. But every time he tried to get it straight in his head, the screams would start again, followed by that God-awful, unrelenting pain.

As the day woke up around him, he huddled on the bench, with the smell of rotgut whiskey on his breath, and sledgehammers pounding inside his skull. He scrubbed at his eyes, as if that would wipe away the images of all that blood, and make the last echoes of those tortured screams disappear. It didn’t work.

There had to be a way to make it all end. When it came to him, he was surprised at the simplicity of the solution. Something—someone—needed to die. Fight fire with fire, blood with blood, pain with pain. Oh, yes. That was the answer.

Shuffling to his unsteady feet, he stumbled through the morning mist. He had no idea where he was—not even which state he was in, let alone the name of this little town—but he heard the unmistakable whoosh of cars speeding down a highway. In five minutes, he stood by the edge of the southbound lane, holding out his thumb. Instinct told him the direction to travel, and desperation kept him upright, as he waited for the ride that would take him where he needed to go.

His plan was simple. If death would bring an end to this pain, then someone was going to die.

 

Hey, Guys! Don’t Forget…

/ Marcia Meara / Leave a comment

1. If you’ve shared (or are planning to share) an excerpt, don’t forget to add your BUY LINKS under your post, and a photo of your cover is good, too. (If you’ve already posted without, feel free to go in and edit to add those things).

2. Please, please share the excerpts posted this week. Tweet them, post them on your blogs or FB pages. Whatever. Just pass them along, if you would, and we will do the same for YOU, any time you share excerpts, news, promos, and the like. One of the main purposes of this blog is to share with each other, and everyone else in the Immediate World. 😀

Thanks so much, and guys…this is more like it. I’m thrilled to see you sharing. Remember, there’s no limit on how much or how often this week. Have at it, and hopefully, you’ll garner some new readers!

Carry on!!

Excerpt from Urban Fantasy short story, SPRITE NIGHT, by Deborah Jay

/ Deborah Jay / Debby Lush / 10 Comments

To set the scene: the DNA that water sprite Cassie uses to create her body has been damaged, so she can only partially materialise…

Sprite Night CompleteDuncan frowned. “But lass, you’re a wee bit lacking in substance just now; how do you normally harvest your DNA?”

My gaze dropped involuntarily to his crotch. Mortified, I jerked my head back up to see red blossoming in Duncan’s cheeks.

“Ah. So that’s what you were after last night.”

“No! Yes. Well, not really. Before all this blew up I had plenty; it wasn’t that I needed any more.”

He chuckled. “No worries, I fancied you too, but that’s not going to happen now, so we’d better find another solution.”

He was so right; dawn was shedding ever more light on the scene, and sooner or later an early riser was going to make a horrific discovery. Finding a druid talking to a floating head wasn’t going to help.

“Saliva would do the job,” I suggested, an odd attack of bashfulness overcoming me as I waited for his reaction. Continue reading →

#ExcerptWeek The Last Rose by #MarciaMeara

/ Marcia Meara / Leave a comment

faded rose

The Last Rose

Late July, and
The day drowses,
Air heavy and still.
Bees moving slowly from
Flower to flower,
In a dance weighed down by heat.
Sleepy hours spent dreaming, longing
For other places, other chances.
Anything better
Than one more day
Spent under this weight,
With movements made slow,
Like easy prey.

He walked out of the dust
And into the garden,
The answer to a prayer.
Wickedly handsome, he came to her with
A smile full of promises she chose to believe.
Take me away, she begged.
Yes, he whispered, of course.
Whatever you want, my beautiful girl.
He gave her dreams of cool, green hills
And kisses that tasted of summer peaches.
Sweet lies on a sweeter tongue,
Promises whispered with hot breath,
Against already burning skin,
And everywhere, the smell of roses
Thick on the summer air.

But winter came,
Bringing brittle wind
Seeping under the sill,
As cold as hungry lies
Told when the sun was warm.
Her heart is a frozen stone
In the center of her breast,
The chance of rescue,
Gone. Forgotten.
A faded rose in a dry vase
Drops one last petal to the floor,
As gray as her life
In this barren room.
Empty promises fled
With the summer sun,
And left nothing behind
But dead dreams and dying hope,
Gasping and huddled
Against the bitter
Cold.

  – Marcia Meara –

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Excerpt/Teaser Week Is Here!

/ Marcia Meara / 1 Comment

snakereading

You are all hereby invited to share short teasers or full-on excerpts from any or all of your books or WIP’s all week, here on The Write Stuff. This is your chance to give everyone a taste of what your writing is like, and what your books are about. Feel free to share as often as you like throughout the week. I promise to tweet and share everywhere I can, and to encourage all members to do the same.

If you share a longer excerpt, please use the “More” button to break it up after 2 or 3 paragraphs, so it doesn’t fill up the whole front page. If you don’t know how to do that, I can do it for you. That way, we can have more authors visible on our Home Page. And if you aren’t already a contributor, able to post your own new thread, just email me for help. I’ll either make you one, or I’ll post for you. It’s all good. The only thing that matters is getting your words in front of as many people as possible, and thus convincing them they can’t possibly get through this summer without buying your book. 😀

So, join in and share a scene, or teaser, or whole chapter, if you like. I can’t wait to see your work. I’m going to start us off shortly, and then I expect to see lots of good stuff coming through here. 😉

Thank You All!

/ Marcia Meara / 1 Comment

You guys are the BEST! In response to Excerpt Week, we had over 30 excerpts shared here on TWS! I call that an unqualified success, and believe me, we’ll be doing this again. Maybe quarterly or so. But between now and the next “official” Excerpt Week, please know that you can share excerpts with us at any time you wish, particularly in conjunction with promos or blog tours, etc. Don’t be shy! This blog is meant to be a place where we can learn from each other, AND share our good news, our works in progress, and selections from our books already “out there.” Anything we can do here to promote writing and writers is ALL GOOD!

Now, have a great week, everyone! You’ve earned it!

Excerpt from Rough Draft of “Hunter”, Book 2 of the Riverbend Series

/ Marcia Meara / 4 Comments

 

Slipping in here in the last couple of hours of Excerpt Week, with a longish scene from the rough draft of Chapter 4 of Hunter, my sequel to Swamp Ghosts. Hunter Painter is Gunnar Wolfe’s best friend, though even  Gunn doesn’t really understand him. Hunter marches to a very different drummer than most of the folks in Riverbend, Florida. In an unguarded moment, Hunter confesses to Gunn that he has loved Willow Greene since the 11th grade, over 16 years ago, and Gunn advised him strongly to call her. After much internal agonizing, he does and finds himself having lunch with Willow at her cottage, when things take a surprising turn, scaring Hunter away in a panic. (He still lives at home, btw, helping care for his ailing mother.)

***

HUNTER GROANED, PULLING his feather pillow over his head not only to block out the world, but just in case he started shouting in frustration, which is what he felt like doing.

What the hell happened? What the bloody hell just happened? Everything was fine. It was going better than I ever thought it would, and then suddenly it all went crazy. She kissed me! Why the hell did she kiss me like that? How the hell was I supposed to resist that?

The memory of that kiss rocketed into him so hot and fast, it scorched path through his soul. Never in his life had a kiss transported him that way. He could still feel her mouth under his, sweet and yielding, and burning like fire. The raspberry scent of her hair lingered on his hands, and he would never, ever forget the taste of her skin. Every nerve ending in his body felt burned raw from the experience—so sensitive, the slightest breeze sliding over it might cause unbearable pain.

But somewhere in his torment, he also remembered how she had responded to him, moaning into that kiss, and whispering his name over and over as they clung to each other. She had wanted him, too, a concept that had never once seemed a possibility to him in all the years he had loved her.

Doesn’t make it any better, does it, you stupid fool? Still never gonna happen. You don’t belong with Willow Greene, and nothing’s going to change that. All you’re doin’ here is torturing yourself. Continue reading →

Excerpt from A Boy Named Rabbit CH 16

/ Marcia Meara / 8 Comments

 

Just want to get in one or two more short excerpts before the night is over. These two brief scenes from A Boy Named Rabbit come about after some very tense and frightening things happen to Rabbit. Mac wanted to give him a few hours of fun, so he took him to the waterfall and  pool where Rabbit first camped upon reaching Wake-Robin Ridge. Rabbit doesn’t believe for one minute that Mac can be crazy, having mostly seen him in serious mode. And since Mac is notoriously angsty and always worried about something, Rabbit has good reason for his doubts. This is his response after finding out Mac does have his moments.

***

Scene 1

…I closed my eyes, braced for Rabbit’s reaction, but to my surprise, he didn’t start crying again. Instead, he squared his shoulders and with a determined nod of his head, announced, “Well, then—I reckon we need us a plan.”

 “I think you’re right. We do need a plan. But what we need even more right this minute, is a break from all this worrying. Why don’t we do something fun for a couple of hours, and then come back and tackle the problem when we’ve cleared our heads a bit? Nothing like looking at things with fresh eyes, you know. What do you think, partner? Want to go have some laughs?”

The boy stared at Mac like he’d grown another head.

“Why are you giving me that look? I know how to laugh, Rabbit. I do.”

“You ain’t laughed much that I’ve seen.”

“Well, maybe that’s because there hasn’t been a lot to laugh about. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have a good time. Tell him, Sarah.”

I rolled my eyes, and grinned. “Um, yeah, okay. Mac knows how to have fun. Sort of.”

Grabbing his heart, Mac slumped down on the couch. “Et tu, Sarah? Why does everyone think I’m so anti-fun? Am I really that bad?”

He was pathetic, and I had to work to keep a straight face, while Rabbit glanced back and forth between the two of us, not knowing what to expect. “Not always, but you’ll have to admit, it’s been a long time since you’ve done anything really crazy.”

“Crazy? You want crazy? I can do crazy, you know.” Continue reading →

#Excerpt week finale – SPRITE NIGHT by Deborah Jay #UrbanFantasy #ecology #fracking

/ Deborah Jay / Debby Lush / 8 Comments

Sprite Night Complete

Here is my last contribution to excerpt week – and a fun and informative week it has been 😀

This little offering is from a short story that has not yet been released – maybe next month if I can find the time, once I have the anthology (excerpt here) all sorted.

Back to Urban Fantasy today, and a bit more of Cassie, the Caledonian Sprite, who has a tendency to get tangled up in ecological issues, seeing as they have potentially devastating implications for her element.

This story takes place just after DESPRITE MEASURES, (excerpts here and here), and finds our sassy sprite involved in a fracking protest near Stirling, Scotland.

NOTE: there are live links scattered throughout the Caledonian Sprite stories, taking readers who choose to follow them to informative pages and photographs of all things quintessentially Scottish. My stab at a (slightly) interactive experience.

Excerpt from SPRITE NIGHT

The inn was typical of its type; old, creaky and in need of renovation, but warm with hospitality and a reputation for excellent food and choice of single malts. It’s one of the more frustrating aspects of my human body that consuming food or alcohol is a futile exercise; I can eat, but solid food needs disposing of—let’s not go there—and alcohol, whilst I can take pleasure in the taste, has no affect on me.

Companionship though—that I can, and do, enjoy.

I pushed open the swing doors to the lounge and glanced around. Most of the crowd were locals I’d come to know over the past few weeks, but a rather delectable-looking stranger sat in the snug beside the chimney. My body perked up with interest.

Right now, my DNA stores were high, and harvesting more would be an indulgence, but this guy had the makings of a pleasing dalliance, with or without extra benefits. His shaggy brown hair melded into a luxuriant beard, above which shone a pair of the brightest blue eyes I’d seen in a long while. He was dressed in a heavy woollen sweater, with a thick, quilted jacket and thermal beanie discarded beside him on the bench. Continue reading →

Excerpt from CH 5 of Swamp Ghosts

/ Marcia Meara / 13 Comments

T1small

Kind of quiet tonight, so here’s a longish one from Swamp Ghosts. (Thought I’d show you that I do know how to write scenes that aren’t totally weird and disturbing.) Gunnar Wolfe is a wildlife photographer who has hired Maggie Devlin to guide him into some pretty inaccessible backwater areas, in search of rare birds and animals. He’s never set foot in a canoe before, and denies he’s afraid of boats, but he admits he does not want to end up in that black, black water. This is his first canoe lesson with Maggie, who was raised on the river, and knows it like the back of her hand. So far, she’s less than impressed with Gunn, immense size and Norwegian good looks notwithstanding.

*****

SUNDAY MORNING arrived looking like a picture out of a travel brochure. A buttery yellow sun beamed down from a cloudless swath of blue sky, and the trees along the river were that jewel-like shade of green you only see in early summer. I watched Gunn as he surveyed the boat launch. “You sure you don’t want to do a dry run on land first?”

“Maggie, I’d feel silly standing over there under a tree, getting in and out of the canoe, instead of just launching it here, like anyone else. I’m sure I can do this.”

“Okay, Thor. Your funeral,” I muttered.

Gunn’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? Thor? Did you just call me Thor?”

I looked up from the cooler I was arranging in the stern of the canoe in order to offset his weight in the front. “Oh, please don’t tell me I’m the only one to ever call you that.”

He was put out. More so than I expected, though to be honest, I had been trying to get a rise out of him. His perpetual good humor was getting on my nerves this early in the morning.

“Actually, you are.” Now he had a definite scowl on his face.

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, look at you.”

He was growing redder, and his smile was ancient history, now. Hmmm. This was a different, and unexpected, side to Gunnar Wolfe.

“I beg your pardon? Look at me? What are you talking about?”

“Gunn, for Pete’s sake. You look just like the guy. You know? The guy from the Avenger movies?” Continue reading →