Hello! Happy St. Paddy's Day for anyone who celebrates…and everyone should, no?
Been fighting a nasty headache all day. The kind that lingers, along the fringes, and just takes up residence. Very annoying. Bleh.
So, short post tonight. The snippet is from Blurred Lines, an urban fantasy style setting, with two very conflicted characters.
Here's the tagline:
Becca and York. Finding their way back to each other is the ultimate achievement. Working out how they'll function together is the challenge. The lines are all blurry because they've crossed back and forth so many times.
And here's the preview snippet…
The speed bag became a blur, but York kept going at it. The thoughts in his head needed an outlet and the bag had become the best recipient for punishment. He feared he'd hurt an actual person. He got like this sometimes… and didn't like it. Holding his emotions in check, burying them deep—that worked for him.
Most of the time.
Becca Wills brought out the worst in him. And the best. There never seemed to be an in between with her. She evoked strong reactions, drew him out in unexpected ways, made him feel things on a level so deep he'd never be able to purge her completely from his mind.
He'd loved her, hated her, and desperately wanted to not feel anything. In a way, things had been so much easier when he could hold Becca at arm's length, shutting everything down and locking it up. Ignore the soul deep pain her betrayal had left him with and pretend she'd become nothing more than someone he had to work with now that she'd returned from her foray to civilian life. Not that he'd been able to manage it…she could be in a different room and still be in his face. And it pissed him off even when he knew it wasn't rational.
After the bout with Becca in the ring, all his emotions erupted to the surface and spilled over into everything he did. If he let it continue and go unchecked, he'd spin out of control. His anger at her had been an anchor and now that he'd spent it—he felt tetherless. It made him antsy and restless—keyed up without an outlet…a powder keg waiting to explode.
Yep, after tearing each other apart, verbally and physically, complicated didn't even begin to describe his feelings…unless he threw in conflicted, confused and consciously aware…oh yeah, most definitely all of the above. Awake, asleep, it didn't matter. He could feel her presence seeping into his pores, getting under his skin, chipping away at his common sense.
And that should bother him, right?
But it didn't.
He'd let her back in…more or less. And it felt right and wrong all at the same time. And the thing that had him tied up in knots was the fact he welcomed it…her…Becca. And he really shouldn't. A smart, guy would gather up the scattered remnants of his defenses and walk away.
But he wouldn't. Couldn't.
Because whatever they were to each other, wherever they ended up, or however they got there…she'd become a part of his life he couldn't let go. But the thing that chafed at him the most? He didn't know where she fit anymore.
They were in a relationship…with other people…so how the hell should it work? Hell, could it? How did he feel about any of it? For that matter, how did Becca?
So many questions… no easy answers.
But the biggest question of all? Did he even want easy?
York had no idea… hence the abuse of the speed bag. He had to figure out how to navigate the choppy sea of confusion? His hands kept punching, while his brain kept churning out more questions.
The poor guy. Becca definitely has him all twisted up inside. But she's not exactly clear on what she wants either. So far, it's been a fun challenge to write them trying to figure it all out. :D
That's it for this week.