Tension in Every Scene

"Shh." He came around the front of Duke, pausing to rub the horse's nose. He resumed his deliberate observation, this time beginning at her feet, pausing at her hips with his expression growing knowing when his gaze rested on her bosom briefly before standing in front of her, his attention on her lips.

"You are a lecherous man," Porsche accused.

"If I'm not mistaken, you are the lascivious vixen that hinted at more of my brand of 'doctoring' a few minutes ago. Do you know what you want?"

Porsche knew better than to tease him with her answer, but she owed him an answer. She wanted more of his kisses, but she didn't want him to take advantage of her. "Yes and no ."

The preceeding is the last bit written in my WIP today.

Natasaza Waters reminds me and many of her other author friends of this today.

Another WIP Update

Don't you hate it when an author and blogger (in this case, me) hides in their writing cave for weeks without out a sound?

My apologizes. But I don't promise it will never happen again. (I've been fighting with Blogger you know.) Blogger has won but I think I've figured it out. Don't hold your breath.

Some of you have watched me share tidbits of what I'm working on over at Facebook and it dawned on me that I re3ally should share here as well. So recently I've been tagged to share the last paragraph that I've completed in my WIP. Tough in my situation as I'm cutting, pasting and rewriting to back it stronger, bigger faster than it was before…oh wait, that might have been the Six Million Dollar Man.

Joking aside, here are a couple of paragraphs from Porsche's Prologue, book one in the Arbon Trilogy.

"I remember a horse squealing, you know that shrill scream between a whinny and a stallion's whistling call?  It made my hair stand on end. It still does. I found out later it was Buckle. She had step on a hollow lava bomb, she must have busted through and broken her leg," her voice hitched.

"I was lucky she couldn't break free. She probably would have trampled me. I couldn't move. I tried to, until I saw the snakes. Hundreds of them slithering and coiling to rattle. I couldn't move then and I knew. I knew they were going to get me." She stared at the ground several feet away as if the snakes were there and yet her tone remained calm, her expression vacant. "I don't know why they didn't bite me. They should have. I should have been bitten a hundred times or more, but I wasn't."

Before you stone me, this is the manuscript with the flying or is it dancing(?) goat.

WIP Update

Today is a BIG day for me. I have completed the rough draft of "Torrid Summer Heat."
This is my most recent romance novel with just a hint of PTSD. I'm so excited to learn more about PTSD and how it isn't limited to those who have served or are currently serving in the armed forces.
From here it is time to start the polishing process, not always a pretty task but totally necessary to bring you, the readers a novel you can get lost in.
With a list of things to watch for, reminders to KISS (Keep It Simple Stupid) (Okay, that isn't what veterans know it as), a submission guideline to tweek the manuscript to, and a colledtion of notes to myself, I'm headed back to my writing hole. I promise to come up for air and sustenance as needed.

Even death holds Dark Days of Promise…

Newly widowed Vicki Laramie is struggling to make ends meet. While her three children grapple with the death of their father, she must find a way to support her family and find a role model for her boys.

When her best friend's, brawny son, Kelly Chase, returns from the sand box of war it doesn't take long for Vicki's children to encompass him with their affections. But Kelly has secrets that could harm those who love him most.

When tender empathy meets deadly reflexes, the attraction explodes into lethal violence between opposing forces. Vicki must choose who she will trust, with her strongest ally absent; she has no one to lean on but herself. If she chooses poorly her children will be deprived of both parents.

One of those days in which I'm wishing I were somewhere else but know I'm where I should be. Life is tough.
Where do I want to be? you might be asking. At the RONE's in Las Vegas of course!
Where am I instead? In front of my laptop dropping a bombshell on my main character for your entertainment. (Does it count that the character is in Las Vegas?)
The question now is: How long should I make the poor guy suffer? Of course on another plate, he has suffered a lot. (On more pages than I want to let you know at this point!)
So who is this character? Funny you should ask, his name is Trevor Palmer, eligible bachelor at 26 and retired CEO of Prestige Pool Company. He's got nothing to lose...or does he? Could it be that his dream has already cost him too much?
I'm toying with the title of this one still. my latest brainstorm that fits the best? Loves Cost
Thoughts?