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
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