Sunday Snippet: Fantasy Exchange

Hello!

Okay, gotta say it. I totally didn't see the finale for Sleepy Hollow coming at all. I had a working theory that the sheriff would somehow be a descendant of Crane's. The sin eater? Not so much. Good crap, I love this show.

Let's see, what else? Arrow rocked it, per usual. I've seen a number of 'meh, this felt like a season one episode' on twitter and tumblr, and that's cool, but I like the episodes that slow down a little and focus on, or spotlight, specific characters. I completely see how others can consider it a hot mess of an episode, but I almost always find something interesting that comes into play later or a seemingly insignificant moment that ends up being big later. So yeah, I kinda love what I've come to call 'groundwork' episodes. J Arrow writers… you just keep doing what you're doing.

Banshee still has me looking forward to Friday nights. Lost Girl is changing up the game with everyone and I kinda love it. I also gave Bitten a whirl and well, I'm in. Didn't know if I would like the premise, but oddly found myself thinking about the episodes at random points during the day. Always a sign I'm hooked. J

That's it in television news. Writing has been good this week. Maybe it's the weather, with six to nine inches of snow, the sweeping, shoveling, and blowing gives me time to ponder storylines. LOL Tonight's post is from Fantasy Exchange, a novella where a group of cops or soldiers (the sages won't settle on which one) have some downtime and decide to name their ultimate fantasy. My main characters try really hard NOT to name each other. J

Here's the tagline:

Kelsey Drum and Vas Batista harbor sexy feelings about each other. When they're in a position to exchange fantasies Kelsey goes for it, but Vas is the team leader and holds back, which doesn't make Kelsey a happy second in command.

And the snippety peek…

Kelsey kicked back, downing a shot of bourbon. She couldn't wait to hear who Mal Birdman fantasized about. Wait. Unless she topped the list. She held back a shudder. She might have to punch him in the face if he named her.

Howie nodded toward Mal. "Bird Dog? Who's your ultimate fantasy?"

Mal lifted a shoulder. "I've got a bunch, but that master of arms on base is who I dreamed about last night."

Howie's eyes widened. "Dude, she's a lesbian. You don’t stand a chance."

Mal snorted. "Tell that to my dick. She's been popping in and out of my nighttime escapades for weeks now."

Kelsey rolled her eyes. "Too much information, Bird Dog." She nudged Sherri. "Change the subject, Sher. Who's your top fantasy man?"

Sherri grinned and pointed to Howie. "Come on. I live with mine."

Howie gave a smug smile. "Back at you, babe."

Nolan made a gagging sound. "Geez, you two suck."

Maggie chimed in. "You're disgustingly predictable. Always the same answer."

Sherri cackled. "Well, come on, he's perfection." She waited a beat. "And super kinky, so no need to look elsewhere."

Kelsey sputtered. "Dammit. Too much information." She jabbed a finger in Maggie's direction. "Mags, save us."

Maggie chuckled. "Well… there's a certain barista at the coffee shop on Market Road." She leaned in. "I'm not naming a name because there's a chance I might actually hook up with her."

Catcalls and whistles went out around the table.

Vas lifted a brow. "You're into women? Seriously?"

Maggie blushed and shrugged. "I'd don't know. It's a fantasy, right? I'd like to try and make it happen."

Kelsey nodded. "You go for it, Mags." She downed another shot, looking for the next victim. "Nolan. Ultimate fantasy."

Nolan didn't hesitate. "Mine's from the academy. A red hot instructor by the name of Martina Escaba. I always drooled in her class."

Howie snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah. I remember her… she was super-hot."

Marsha downed a shot and added her fantasy. "On Nolan's riff. I had it bad for my recruiter." She bit into a wedge of lime. "Hell, he was the reason I signed on the dotted line. I wanted to take him home and handcuff him to the bed for a week."

Sherri waved her finger back and forth. "Awww… shame on you Marsh. Not even through basic and you were already thinking about fraternization."

Marsha shot her a pointed glance. "The guy was smokin', Sher. I'm just saying."

A round of ribbing started and Vas brought out another bottle of bourbon.

He broke the seal and nodded toward the most senior officer in the room. "Stingray? It's your turn." He poured a shot for the man.

Stingray, Stiver Raynald, smiled. "Mine goes all the way back to high school. My chemistry teacher wore these really sexy cateye glasses and had leg that wouldn't quit."

Vas chuckled. "Did she wear those clinging skirts? The ones that show off a woman's curves."

Stiver gave a lopsided grin. "Oh yeah. I swear she had one in every color of the rainbow." He downed his liquor.

Kathi spoke up. "My ultimate fantasy is in the room."

All eyes turned toward her.

She blushed but continued. "Yeah, I'd totally do Natcho."

Nolan sputtered and blinked. "What?" He tilted his head to the side. "Why, Kit Kat, I had no idea I ranked on your fantasy list."

Her lips curved upward. "At the top, Nolan, in the number one spot."

He narrowed his eyes, downed his shot, and stood up. "In that case, I know a super-secret spot where you can tell me exactly how you see this fantasy going." He held out a hand. "Shall we?"

Kathi jumped up and grabbed his palm. "Hell yeah. Thought you'd never ask."

The couple exited the rec room to catcalls and wolf whistles. Kelsey shook her head. She totally hadn't seen that one coming.

Stiver held up a hand and everyone quieted. "Kels, you and Vas are the only ones left." He topped off her glass. "Spill it. Who's your ultimate fantasy?"

Kelsey fought the urge to glance in Vas's direction. He'd been her prime fantasy fodder since they'd been assigned to the same base. But his rank prevented them from ever hooking up.

Stick close to the truth, Kels.

She shrugged. "Eh, mine would be a superior officer." She grinned. "No one in particular, but if I'm gonna go for it, I'd have to at least break regs."

Sherri laughed. "Because…"

Kelsey finished. "Not worth it, otherwise." She cast a quick glance in Vas's direction.

Sherri high-fived Kelsey. "Kels, you never change. Always gotta push the envelope."

Stingray jerked his head toward Vas. "Okay, Batista, you're it. Who's your fantasy woman?"

Vas shook his head. "Uh uh. If I name a name, there's no fantasy anymore."

Howie called bullshit. "Yeah, yeah. Or maybe she hits too close to home, my man."

Vas lifted a shoulder. "Look, the whole point of having a fantasy is to know what you want in a person, right? What if your perfect match doesn't have the same fantasy? Make it tangible and the dream's over."

He slid his gaze toward Kelsey and she jolted. Holy shit. Did Vas consider her his fantasy woman?

Maggie nodded. "Okay, I get what you mean, but it sucks balls you won't at least give us a clue about what gets you going."

Vas settled back in his seat. "Strong women turn me on. Is that good enough?"

Kelsey leaned in. "That could be any female in this room. Care to elaborate a little more?"

Vas gave her a long look. "Not really, no." He downed his drink. "I'll let you guys use your imaginations."

He rose and gave the table a salute. "And on that interesting note, I've got paperwork to do. Later, all."

Kelsey picked up her tumbler, swirling the amber liquid. Vas played his answer almost as cagily as she had. She had to wonder if he tried to hide a secret attraction, too. Her lips quirked. Wouldn't it be crazy if he wanted her as badly as she wanted him?

She didn't know how, but she aimed to find out.

Tossing back the liquid, Kelsey placed her glass on the table and got up. "Okay, people. I've got first watch. I'm heading to my rack."

A round of waves and farewells later, she slowly made her way to quarters, her brain spinning with ideas of how to stealthily find out if she fit Vas's fantasy ideal.

Even if she didn't, she'd have a lot of fun trying to get it out of him.

Ha! Vas better run. Once Kelsey makes decides something will happen… it will happen. Good luck, buddy. J

That's it for this week. Happy reading.

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Exit Stage Left

Hiya!

Whew. What a week. I've been wearing my editor hat, trying to keep up with some pressing deadlines. But I have had a little time to write on some current WIPs AND keep up with my heavy slate of TV shows.

First… Arrow returned! Great episode. Seriously, I feel like I'm watching a movie every time it's on. And Banshee did not disappoint either. Also, Lost Girl? I'm sooooo happy it's back. I love the cast to bits!

So, tonight's post is from Exit Stage Left, a novella where my two main characters butt heads until, well… they don't. LOL Actually, it's sort of a case of instant attraction, very unwanted, but there nonetheless. J

Here's the tagline:

Sage Winesboro, the production director of his local playhouse theater, doesn't always see eye to eye with his new set designer, Georgie Freed. When she proves her worth, but decides to exit stage left, he realizes he's missing out on what could be a great working and personal relationship.

And the snippety peek…

Georgie exited her car and grabbed her designs for the set from the backseat. She dreaded meeting with the new director, Sage something or the other. His reputation for being a pain in the ass had filtered down through the grapevine and she hated working with prima donna morons.

You're not exactly Miss Merry Sunshine, Georgio.

She ruthlessly squashed her inner voice. Just because Georgie didn't suffer fools gladly, didn't mean she brought doom and gloom wherever she went. She loved her work, but hated the backstage politics.

She entered the theater through the backdoor and made her way through the darkened 'tombs'. Where the actors came up with their witty nicknames, she'd never know. She dropped by her workspace, a tiny, cramped space no bigger than a broom closet. Hell, it might have been one in a former lifetime. Unlocking the door, she deposited her bag, kicked off her flip-flops and slid her feet into her work clogs. She grabbed her portfolio, locked the door and headed for the backstage area.

A loud voice met her ears when she climbed the short set of steps leading to the right portion of the stage where the director and is production crew usually set up shop. Finding the space empty, she followed along the backdrop toward the deep, booming vocal coming from the main stage. Peering around the curtain, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

The new director, she assumed, stood center floor calling out names of actors, actresses, and crew. Geez, the guy could project. He didn't have a headset on, yet she heard him loud and clear. The assistant director darted out from stage left and he turned, leaning in to listen to her.

Holy shit. Georgie tried not to gape. The guy had leading man looks—strong jaw, gorgeous cheekbones, and just the right amount of stubble to pull off 'tumbled out of bed' sexy. She sucked in a breath and fought an urge to fan herself.

Why would he work behind the scenes?

Maybe he's shy.

Georgie rolled her eyes. With an asshat rep, he couldn't be shy.

Stagefright? Lack of talent? Just because he can project his voice doesn't mean he can remember lines for shit.

Cripes, when did her inner voice but her bitch face on?

The moment you walked through the door, sweet cheeks.

Georgie tilted her head, admiring Sage's toned muscles. His jeans clung to his thighs and his shirt stretched across a well-defined chest. The man had really great arms, the kind she had a weakness for. She bit back a sigh. Too bad he had a nasty disposition. She could already imagine how great the sex would be with him.

Whoa there, Georgio, jumping the gun, aren't you? Besides, with your luck, he's probably gay.

She chastised her inner voice. "Shut. Up!"

The theater went silent.

Georgie's eyes slid shut and her head fell back. Shit. Her extremely bad habit of talking to herself would pick now to rear its ugly head.

Blinking, she straightened and found herself pinned by an angry blue gaze.

Sage lifted a brow. "Excuse me? Did you just tell me to shut up?"

Seriously? Georgie's inner voice is like writing a full-fledged character of its own. LOL

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Enforced Confinement

Greetings!

Well, off to a wacky weather start to the new year. Minus single digit degrees to fifty within forty-eight hours. Welcome to Ohio. LOL

TV shows are back this week, or at least most of them are. Have to wait until February for The Walking Dead, and April for Orphan Black.

But… Banshee returned Friday and, as usual, didn't disappoint. I honestly have no idea why the show is one of my must sees, but it totally is. And, holy crap, they jam a lot into a single hour, less than, actually. Caught Helix on Syfy, and it sufficiently creeped me out enough to keep watching. Lost Girl comes back on Monday, and I'm definitely up for some Bitten, which looks kind of awesome. Almost Human was pretty great, too.

Sleepy Hollow and Arrow return this week. I can't wait!! Looking for to The Tomorrow People, too.

Tonight's post is from Enforced Confinement, a short story giving the main characters a much needed chance to work out their issues. Have I mentioned the getting trapped in a tight space trope is one of my favorites? J

Here's the tagline:

After a break-up, Baylee and Noah get trapped in a confined space and neither are happy about the situation. But the enforced intimacy gives them a chance to meet their issues head on in a place they can't take each other for granted.

And a snippety peek…

"Son of a bitch!" Noah pushed hard against the door, cursing again when it didn't budge.

Baylee rubbed her arms. "No go?" She shivered a little, but not from the cold.

The storage area had lots of artificial light, but being underground made it a little chilly. Yet the goose bumps on her skin had nothing to do with the cool air and everything to do with being trapped with Noah.

He kicked the door, hard, then growled. "There's gotta be something I can use to open the damn thing." He strode to a metal shelving unit and dumped several boxes, rifling through each one. "Nothing. Not one damn thing, even a screwdriver." He paced back and forth, frustration oozing off him in waves.

Baylee leaned against a huge crate. "Give it up, Noah. Relax and take a load off." She narrowed her eyes. "When did you get twitchy about being closed in a small space?"

He swung around and met her gaze. "I'm not." He arched a brow. "I don't wanna spend any more time with you than necessary."

She huffed out a harsh breath. "Ouch. That hurt." She pushed away from the wood. "We spend what? Three nights apart and you're already happy I'm gone?" She snorted. "So much for absence making the heart grow fonder."

Noah sent her a bland look. "That's bullshit and you know it." He dragged a five gallon bucket off the shelf, dumped the contents, and flipped it over to sit on. "But if you're not going to talk about the big list of issues we have—and I know you won't—it's gonna be a long, agonizing wait until someone starts missing us."

Gah! She should've known he'd go right for the 'talking' thing. But he'd called it. She had absolutely zero desire to get all chatty about some of their recent drama.

Finding a small, wooden box, she plopped down. "Um, yeah, no thanks. Talking sucks." She shot him a sideways glance. "Nothing gets accomplished."

Noah inclined his head. "Ah, that's right. You're a woman of action. No need to actually communicate with words, or hell, even a note. A text is too much to ask for from you."

Baylee sighed. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

Noah spread his arms wide. "We've got nothing but time, Bay." He folded his limbs across his chest. "Maybe you can take five minutes to explain how sending a text, or geez, maybe even leaving a note, cramps your style to the point of thinking it's just dandy to leave me hanging."

Baylee rolled her eyes. "I didn't say it cramped my style. I said we're not married and I shouldn't have to check in with you all the time."

Noah snot up. "It's not all the time, Bay. We, you and I, had plans. It's not too much to expect a heads up when they change." He blew out a frustrated breath. "At least it shouldn't be."

Baylee glanced away. He had a right to be pissed. He did. But good Christ, they weren't joined at the hip. And she'd sent word—okay, two hours after the fact, but she'd made an effort. If you hadn't left your stupid phone at work, you could've sent a text. She tuned out the stab of conscience. If he didn't ride her ass all the time about always forgetting her cell, she might have apologized.

But no. He'd gone off on a tangent and she'd walked out the door.

And look where that landed them.

Here. In a storage room under a mansion. At an impasse.

Happy fun times.

Honestly, I love writing characters working through conflict… especially when it's of their own creation. :D

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Elective Campaign

Happy New Year!!

I hope 2014 is filled with everyone my readers want and, of course, lots of reading!

I'm not a big fan of resolutions, but I do love setting goals. This year, my hope is to publish at least six manuscripts and learn more about the graphic end of the business. Luckily, my oldest kidlet is something of a whiz when it comes to creating great designs, so I have a built-in tutor.

I'm also feeling a strong pull to get back into crafting and being creative. My youngest is all for this and wants to help out. I'm looking forward to the bonding time we'll have.

And my middle child is my TV buddy. We watch a lot of the same shows and spend quality time chatting and dissecting the episodes. All in all, a good time.

The husband is an avid golfer and I'm hoping we'll get to spend some time on the course together. Even when I only go along for the ride, which is about half the time, it's a nice way to relax and catch up with each other.

On the television show front, Sherlock is back!! The convergence of acting, writing, and filming just makes me so happy. New episodes of my other favorite shows start soon. Banshee returns this Friday and I'm excited and on edge just thinking about it. I have no idea why that show sucks me in, but it completely does. J

Tonight's post is from Elective Campaign, a contemporary novella featuring something I don't write very often—a teenager as a secondary character. J So far, she's been fun to write and gives her former wild child mom a run for her money in acting like an adult.

Here's the tagline:

Mac is running for reelection and needs a logistical planner on his roster to win. Yancy has the training and background but she presents a problem… Mac is very attracted to her. They fight the pull but give in and once it's discovered, he might lose more than the election.

And a snippety peek…

Yancy flung herself on the couch and banged her head against the cushion.

"Mom, you're not going to solve anything by giving yourself a headache."

Yancy shot her daughter a sideways glance. "I already have a headache, Viv. It started about an hour after I applied for the job."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen." She got up and walked into the kitchen. "Isn't that supposed to be my territory? I'm the sixteen-year-old." Pulling the freezer door open, she grabbed some ice and filled a glass. "Let me guess. Mac asked you out for dinner again, right?"

Yancy heaved a sigh. "No, he wanted to see a movie this time."

Vivian made her way back to the couch and handed Yancy a glass of water. "Mom, I say this with the love of a daughter—you're an idiot." She plopped down on the sofa. "That guy's a keeper. I'm a teenager, but even I know he's good people."

Yancy snorted. "Are you sure you're not the mom in this relationship?"

Vivian had a gift for boiling shit down to the bone and getting to the marrow.

Yancy drained the glass, then held it to her forehead, letting the cool surface calm the pounding throb. "Viv, it's not about how good he is. There's already talk about us and we've gone out one time." She placed the glass on the table. "I want and need this job. He's up for reelection. Rumors can kill both."

Vivian reached out and grasped Yancy's hand. "Mom, if you'll excuse the language, that's bullshit." She squeezed Yancy's fingers. "You're thinking about the guy who donated his sperm to make me—"

Yancy interrupted. "You know I don't like it when you refer to your dad in those terms."

Vivian shrugged. "Too bad. That's how I think of him. And I'm old enough to have an opinion now, Mom."

Yancy wouldn't argue the point. Vivian had been old enough to have opinions from the age of four. And unafraid to voice those pearls of wisdom.

Vivian is turning out to be an awesome character. She's a good balance for her mom, Yancy. And Mac's lucky to have Viv in his corner. :D

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin