Sunday Snippet: Shaken Alliances (Technorati, Book One)

Hello! Happy Easter to those who celebrate.

I'm looking at the weather for tomorrow and kind of wondering if it'll warm up before Memorial Day. I sorta think it might not. LOL

Also watching Walking Dead and so far very satisfied with the finale. I'll stop now and not spoil anyone.

Tonight's post is from a new series tentatively titled The Technorati. The first book is Shaken Alliances. It's kind of an ambitious series so it'll be a while before I really get it going, but unlike the past few snippets, this one is pretty much plotted out. YAY!

Here's the tagline:

Janna Allgood, a corporal in the Alliance, is the best at what she does, bringing Technorati deceivers to justice. But when she's assigned the task of tracking down the notorious leader of the rogue technomancers, she discovers a new calling, one that puts her life in danger because it may bring down the Alliance she works for.

And here's the preview snippet…

"You're the best, Janna. That's why I'm assigning this opportunity to you."

Janna Allgood didn't care for the familiarity the Section Chief, Warren DeBerg, used when addressing her. Standard operating procedures existed for a reason. She studied the big, beefy man with a regulation Alliance buzz cut and the demeanor to match. Words like 'best' and 'opportunity' sounded foreign when they came from his mouth. He looked more the type to bust heads than run administrative circles.

Janna didn't respond. He hadn't finished his spiel yet. Sadly.

"Paxton Teller is at the top of our rogue list. You'll have whatever you need at your disposal." He walked around the desk and settled his hefty bulk on the edge. "Manpower, equipment, funds. Undercover garb." He paused for a moment and swept his gaze over her form. "You'll have to lose the uniform if you want to snag this bastard."

Janna didn't have to read Chief DeBerg's mind to know the man pictured her naked at that very moment. It pissed her off, but she held herself in check and refrained from planting an image in his brain of his balls in a vice. The rule forbidding technomancers from doing anything along those lines to Alliance officials sucked hairy ones.

But she played by the rules…even when she didn't particularly want to.

He pursed his lips together and made a tsking sound. "You understand what this means don't you, Janna?"

The continued use of her first name grated. The best deserved to be addressed by rank, didn't they? Janna worked hard to rise to the level of first attendant.

Her lips thinned. "Yes, Chief DeBerg—"

He waved his hand. "Warren."

Janna kept her face impassive, refusing to personalize the conversation. Regardless of being told differently, she always followed the regs. She wouldn't risk a black mark on her record.

She took a deep breath. "It means, Sir, I have unlimited resources and assistance to bring in Paxton Teller, your most wanted rogue TM."

His answering smile could only be described as slimy. "Yes. It also means I'm giving you carte blanche to make it happen." His voice took on an oily quality. "Starting now, standard regulations don't apply to you." He lifted his hand and slippery fingers found their way to her cheek. "At least they won't until you bring me Teller." The creepy vibe continued when he trailed one digit along her jaw line. "Tomorrow is soon enough to start on the trail. Why don't you join me for evening meal?"

Janna barely suppressed a shudder at the thought, but managed. "With all due respect, Sir." She gave him her sweetest smile. "I can use the time to pull all the data on Teller and begin prep on the mission." Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she asked for dismissal. "By your leave?"

DeBerg huffed out a sigh. "If you insist, Corporal Allgood." She turned to leave and he tacked on a warning. "Don't forget who's giving you this opportunity…or who's holding the purse strings."

Janna stopped short, but didn't look back. "No, Sir. I wouldn't dream of it." She made her exit and dashed down the corridor before he could find another reason to detain her.

Back in quarters, Janna showered—a nice, long cleansing session—and changed into workout attire. She mentally shuffled through a list of scenarios and chose a mid-level one to get started. Projecting it onto the holoscreen, she gave herself a ten count before setting it to go. She breathed deeply and cleared her mind.

The simulations got progressively harder as she ran through the known data on Paxton Teller. She had her work cut out on this one. Not only would she have to dodge DeBerg, she'd have to do it while chasing an elusive leader whose cause seemed to gain more followers by the day.

Janna's got her work cut out and has no idea what's really in store for her. So far, it's been loads of fun getting all the plot bombs set up and ready to go.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Blushing Brawler

March 24, 2013

Hello!

Watching the weather radar on my computer and tracking the nasty weather we're supposed to get. I'm thinking Mother Nature didn't get the memo that spring started what? A few days ago? LOL

Anyway…tonight's post is from The Blushing Brawler, another manuscript still in its planning stages. As mentioned over on Skylin's blog, sometimes scenes just won't leave me alone until I write them. LOL

Here's the tagline:

Yardley Holmes grew up in the fighting circuit, coaching and training alongside her dad. She likes nothing more than having a new brawler to use as a target. When Cale Scarsdale, a green recruit from Ruralsville, walks into the cage, Yardley goes after him with biting sarcasm and razor sharp innuendo to test his mettle. Cale takes it all in stride until she goes one step too far and Yardley remembers lesson number one from her dad: watch out for the quiet ones.

And here's the preview snippet…

Someday, she'd push him a little too far.

Yardley called out. "God, you're weak. And honestly, so lame. Why didn't you crack the wall like the rest?"

He didn't lack strength. He didn't add a crack to the concrete barrier because he didn't choose to do so. Not because he couldn't. Any asshole with a little power behind his fist could split a solid object.

Yardley wouldn't let it rest. "Everyone knows it's a tradition. Oh wait. You're from Bum Fuck Ruralsville. You probably aren't up on big city trends."

He'd had just about enough of her nonstop praise singing about the city. And her constant bullshit harping about where he grew up. He figured it high time to school Ms Yardley Holmes in how not to push things too far.

Cale stopped and turned around. Slowly and with great purpose. Yardley had her mouth open to say more, but wisely snapped it shut when she caught the look on his face.

Her eyes narrowed then widened when he dropped his duffel bag and silently stalked toward her with measured steps. Good. She should be afraid of what he'd do next.

Reaching out with one hand, he grabbed her loosely by the throat and with very focused and controlled precision, shoved her against the wall. She sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed convulsively. A tremor of fear ticked along her jawline.

Again. Good.

Getting up in her face, he laid down the law. "You need to understand something, Yardley." His fingers flexed, but didn't squeeze. "I'm not weak. I could crush your throat with this hand, but you'll notice I'm barely putting pressure on you. Do you have any idea how much control that takes?"

She nodded, a barely perceptible movement.

He leaned in, nuzzling her face, inhaling deeply. "Do not ever mistake a quiet man for a weak one."

She sucked in another breath and her stomach contracted when a shudder rippled through her. His head lifted and he met her gaze. Her eyes darkened and her arousal couldn't be mistaken.

Good. Cale had her exactly where he wanted her. Now he could play the game her way.

Leaning back in, his lips ghosted along her cheek, stopping just below her ear. "Think twice before you tease and tempt again, Yardley." His mouth skimmed back and hovered over hers. "And be very, very certain of what you want." His lips barely brushed over hers. "Because you won't always get your way."

He loosened his grip, letting her gently get her feet back under her. She tilted her head sideways, considering his words. The silence stretched out and he grew uncomfortable, unused to absolutely nothing coming from her mouth.

He stepped back. "What? No witty backslap? I find it hard to believe you've got nothing to say."

Yardley huffed out a breath and shuddered again. "You just made me so hot, my brain won't function. All I can think about getting naked and having sex." She grabbed his shirt and hauled him close. "Like right now." Her mouth claimed his with an almost vicious intensity. "Tell me you want this, too. If you just got me hot and bothered to prove a point, I may have to kill you."

Cale wouldn't fight what she did to his senses, or his body. He grabbed her ass and lifted her, smiling when she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against his erection. He honestly couldn't wait to be buried to hilt inside her.

But not here. "Yardley, I wouldn't dream of leaving you hanging. This, whatever it is between us, is going to happen. But do you really wanna have sex in a training room? Not that I'm against public displays, but honestly? I don't really wanna share with anyone else at the moment."

She made a low, growling sound in her throat. "Dammit." She flicked her wrist toward the door on the far wall behind him then followed up the direction of the second exit. "There. No interruptions."

He blinked, a little stunned. "Did you just use magic to lock us in here?"

Her hips bucked, the sensation hot against his hard length.

She nodded, emphatically. "Damn right I did." She wriggled out of his grasp, sliding down to her knees. "I don't play by the rules, remember?" Her hands tugged his shorts down and his cock sprang free. "Got a problem with that?" Her fingers wrapped around his girth, squeezing seductively.

Cale blew out a hard breath. "Um, no. No I don't."

Cale's not stupid. He's wanted Yardley from the day they met…one of the few things I do know about this story. LOL

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Blurred Lines

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.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Blending In

Another week, another blog post. But first…how about Walking Dead? I thought after last week I wouldn't be all that impressed, but guess what? I'm rather loving the way things are going along. Those little moments of humor have been a welcome occurrence.

But enough about TV. Let's get to writing. Tonight's snippet is from a brand new manuscript. One of my writing communities posted a few prompts and this idea sprang from one of those. I LOVE prompts to get the creative juices flowing.

Blending In has our heroic couple trying to infiltrate an underground movement to thwart some evil plans.

Here's the tagline:

Wren and Ethan go undercover in the seedy District. Ethan's by the book style clashes with Wren's off the cuff attitude, but when a powerful Mage makes a threat, they'll have to forge an unbreakable bond or go down in flames.

And here's the preview snippet…

"Look, Ethan, you're gonna need to follow my lead here." Wren crouched low, behind a dumpster, dragging Ethan down beside her.

Ethan shook off her hand, but kept his voice low. "You make it damned hard to follow anything. We have a plan. Took hours to map it out." He leaned in, hissing. "Not even thirty minutes into the op and you're deviating and changing it all around."

Wren held back a shudder. The man's voice did crazy stupid things to her. It reminded her of good whiskey. Cultured and smooth with just the right amount of heat.

She focused on the issue. "I know. But listen to me. The bar across the street? The one with the red door?" She moved her head so he had a clear view of the storefronts. "I feel it in my bones."

Ethan snorted. "We're throwing hours of planning aside because you have a gut feeling?" He made a move to stand. "I don't think so, Wren. Stick to the original parameters."

She grabbed his arm and jerked him back down. "Wait. Look."

Three men entered the bar, all wearing the red caps indicating their affiliation with Sons of Orion. Ethan made a low whistling sound of surprise and a jolt of vindication went through her.

Rocking back on his heels, he huffed out a breath. "Okay. You called that one." He met her gaze. "How?"

Wren didn't want to take the time to explain how her brain worked through the details. She tended to process things on the go, constantly shuffling known information against rumor, word on the streets, and in some cases, persuasion with brute force. Cursing the need to break in a new partner, she turned and propped her back against the brick wall of the building and tried to figure out the best way to explain.

She started simply. "Crimson. Remember? 'The crimson portal will welcome all who come in the name of Orion'."

Ethan nodded. "I remember. But how did you make the leap from that to the red door of the Hunter's Glen Tavern?" He stopped. "Never mind. I get it now."

She gave him credit for being quick on the uptake. Orion, the hunter. Hunter's Glen. Crimson portal, red door. It definitely helped their intel had the members all wearing the red beret-style hats and three chose to enter while she and Ethan lurked in the shadows. Good thing, too. Especially since he didn't trust her instincts and they didn't have the luxury of doing a slow build up.

They worked against a ticking clock. The next attack would take place in less than two weeks.

Not much time to get their job done.

I always love to write characters that seem to be polar opposites but have way more in common than they like to believe. Wren and Ethan are going to be so much fun. :D

And that's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Believe

March 3, 2013

Oh, Walking Dead, just when I think I can quit you, you suck me right back in. I've been waiting and waiting to see Morgan again, and the episode did not disappoint. We'll see if I can still stomach the show after next week's showdown with the Governor. Nothing at all against David Morrissey, but eh, I'm just not feeling the menace like I think I should be. Oh well.

Wait…one last thing. The cat? The one Michonne when back for? Oh…I laughed and laughed. But honestly, how awesome to sort of see her unbend just a smidge. Even if the whole Woodbury Wackiness falls flat, it might be worth watching just to see more of that. J

All righty then…on to the post. Tonight's preview is from Believe. I'm barely started on the actual manuscript…the silly sages are feeding me scenes in no particular order. Little imps. But that's okay, I'll get the whole thing eventually. LOL

Here's the tagline:

Shaelyn Hardwick is a talented mage, but lacks control. When she inadvertently causes another's death, she flees under the cover of darkness. Innis Talmadge goes to the mat for Shaelyn and gets dismissed for his efforts. He tracks her down and a battle ensues. Shaelyn doesn't trust her ability, but she trusts Innis and he has to show her how to believe in herself again.

And here's the preview snippet…

Shaelyn entered her room and sucked in a harsh breath.

"Shaelyn." Innis pushed away from the wall, his booted heel hitting the floor.

Innis had tracked her. She should have known. Not hard to do when she left a trail of destruction behind her wherever she went.

She tossed her bag on the bed. "Innis. What brings you all the way out to the Fringe?"

He snorted. "Like you don't know. Did you really think no one would miss you? That I wouldn't?" He crossed the room, stepping in front of the door.

Smart guy. She'd had every intention of bolting outside. Unable to leave, she sank down on the bed and waited. If he wanted to talk, he could damn well start the conversation. She had no desire to help him out.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he got right to the point. "Why run, Shaelyn? An inquiry would've cleared you." Grabbing a side chair, he spun it around and dropped down onto it, resting his arms on the back.

How to answer the question? She'd taken off because she didn't want to be let off the hook. And she couldn't face staying and having everyone afraid of her. If only she'd taken his advice and slowed down a little. But nope, she had to keep pushing and testing her limits. He'd warned her…so many times she'd lost count. Be careful. Stay focused. Don't practice in the non-designated areas. Someone could get hurt.

She sighed. "You always rode my ass. I never listened."

The rapid change of subject didn't faze him. He'd always been good at following her train of thought.

Innis wouldn't insult her by denying the truth. "No, you didn't. And you learned a hard lesson."

Shaelyn almost choked. "Hard lesson? No, Innis. I killed someone."

A friend. Someone she cared about. All because she wouldn't slow the hell down.

He shook his head. "You caused their death. There is a difference."

The truth in his words almost let her believe everything would be okay. Almost. But the cold fist of pain grabbed her heart and she shuddered.

Her voice went hard. "Not in my book." No one could let her off the hook, but her.

Innis blew out a long breath. "Well, then. I guess you're through." He scooted back and rose from the seat.

Shaelyn nodded. "Damn right I am." She started to rise, but he flung the chair across the room…without moving a muscle.

She plopped back down. "Shit. But you're not, are you?" She lifted her chin and met his gaze.

His head jerked back and forth. "No, I'm not. You can stay out here on the Fringe and hide if you want. But I give you maybe three weeks before you're climbing the walls and trying to push your boundaries again. And what then, Shae? Destroy the town? Take out a chunk of the planet? Is that how you want things to play out?"

She pressed her lips together, keeping a tight rein on her reaction. He knew her too damned well. She wouldn't be able to resist the pull for long. And she couldn't control her abilities…obviously.

Innis crouched down, resting his arms on her knees. "I know you're freaked out. I get it. But you need to think things through, Shae. Reflect on your options." He squeezed her thighs lightly then stood and made his way to the door. "I'm two doors down." He pulled the door open and exited.

Shaelyn flopped back on the bed. Think and reflect. Two things she never did well. Rolling up onto the mattress, she grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her head. She tried to let her thoughts drift, to not focus on what Innis recommended. But her brain always went back to choices. Stay on the Fringe and make her own way, or go back with Innis and face the inquiry. On top of everything, she couldn't quite shake the image of her out of control power striking down a fellow mage. And that sent another even more terrifying picture running rampant.

A vision of Innis falling in front of her, smoke flying from her fingertips, grabbed hold in her head and she could not let it go.

Sitting upright, she shook her head. "No, not him." He meant too much to everyone…to her. "I won't be responsible for his death, too."

Jumping up, she grabbed her bag, tossing in the few items she'd removed the night before. She had to leave. Escape before she caused more damage.

And she needed to do it now.

Poor Shaelyn. She's going to find out there's no place she can run to that Innis won't find her. And it will frustrate the hell out of her. :D

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye