Sunday Snippet: Ugly Drunk

September 15, 2013

Howdy,

Remember when I said I was ready to start marking the death toll on Sons of Anarchy? Totally didn't know it would include so many. Will have to wait until next week's post to note the number, if that's even possible. I admire Kurt Sutter's willingness to make a bold choice and stand by it. He always claims his show doesn't flinch from showing the ugly side of things and honestly, I'm thrilled to see what happens when something the club is involved in bites them on the ass. Hopefully I've made my thoughts clear without giving away too many details. J

Strike Back is almost halfway through its run and my head sorta spins with everything going on. It's one of the things I love about watching. Stonebridge better catch a break soon and he needs to figure out what the hell he got into when he slashed his arm open. Something tells me that seemingly small injury will end up being the key to everything about whatever attack is being planned.

GAH! My shows are eating up too much of my brain. LOL

Moving on…

Tonight's post is from Ugly Drunk, a short story where Pippa and Wood have to figure their roles out and how to mix business with pleasure. :D Another of my favorite tropes.

Here's the tagline:

Pippa Rice is a problem solver and when she takes a job at a local watering hole, her natural skill defuses quite a few tricky situations. Too bad she can't quite figure out how to fix her boss, Wood Finnian. The guy has more baggage than an airport, but Pippa isn't one to give up on people, ever.

And a snippety peek…

Pippa entered the darkened bar after cleaning the kitchen. She grabbed her coat and draped it over her shoulders, ready to exit and head home. The scrape and thud of a chair's legs hitting the floor had her turning towards the sound. Shit. Wood. Alone. Drinking whiskey? Vodka? Didn't matter what he imbibed, the damage would be done. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her jacket off, hanging it back up on the hook by the door then made her way to the lonely table illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window.

Wood faced away from her and she laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Wood, it's past closing. Kitchen's scoured and scrubbed. You need anything else?"

He huffed out a harsh breath. "Of course. How could I forget? The great Pippa Rice does it all and does it right." He poured another tumbler of vodka. "The one who makes no mistakes and gets the gold star." He glanced around. "Don't have one ready to give out, so you'll just have to leave empty-handed."

His words slurred a little and Pippa wondered how long he'd been sitting out in the bar while she finished up for the night. Judging by the almost empty bottle, he'd been there since last call.

She sighed. "You're ugly drunk, Wood. We should probably get you upstairs and into your bed." She grasped his arm, hoping to help him up and keep him steady.

Wood snorted. "Now she wants to drag me into the sack." He jerked away. "You know what, Pippa. I don't think so. I'm gonna sit right here and go from ugly to stupid drunk." He picked the tumbler up and drained half the contents. "Go. Away."

She couldn't leave him. The shit day combined with bad news about his brother. Yeah, not a good mix. She walked around the table and plopped down across from him. "I don't think so, Wood. If habit holds true, you'll hit stupid drunk and then trash the place. You can't really afford to replace everything."

He directed a scathing glance her way. "Nah, I'm not gonna trash the place. But after stupid comes mean and not even you can withstand the shit I'll throw your way."

Pippa tilted her head to the side. "Is that a challenge, Wood? Try me."

He laughed—empty and humorless. "Pippa, do not say something like 'try me' to a man who wants you as badly as I do. And never, ever think of me as a challenge. I'm not yours to fix, you made that very clear." He drained his glass. "Do us both a favor and get out. Now. Before I take your presence as an invitation."

Pippa leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not leaving. Say what you will." She dropped her hands and leaned forward. "Do what you will, but I'm staying."

Wood studied her for a moment then nodded slowly. "You're not a stupid woman, Pip. None of my trouble is gonna disappear because you offer a warm cunt to ease my hurt."

Pippa flinched, the crude reference stinging, but held her ground. "And you're a smart guy, Wood. You should know by now that being an asshat and a ginormous dickhead isn't going to send me running."

Wood moved fast, scooting his chair back and rising. "Fine." He nodded towards the steps. "Let's go." He swayed slightly but remained upright.

Finally. Progress. Pippa got up and eased around the table, wrapping an arm around his waist. She planned to haul his ass upstairs, dump him onto his bed, and head home. She got him up the steps and opened his door, dragging him in behind her. She glanced around, looking for his room and after finding it, started to lead him in the right direction. Wood stopped and kicked the door shut with his booted heel then grasped her hips, hauling her close. His head lowered and his lips meshed with hers, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip, thoroughly exploring her mouth. Her hands skimmed over his arms to wrap around his neck and she lost the ability to think coherent thoughts—after realizing her plan had gone straight to hell.

And she didn't care one damned bit.

Pippa will definitely care later, but even she has to throw caution to the wind sometimes. J

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: A Simple Thing

Hi!

Okay, I can't discuss Strike Back just yet, but I will say I love shows where NOBODY is safe. Speaking of no one being safe, Sons of Anarchy returns Tuesday and I'm ready to start marking the death toll. LOL

Now for something a little less morbid. J Tonight's post is from A Simple Thing, where a single kiss shouldn't be a big deal. But it is.

Here's the tagline:

River Cyd loses a bet and has to have a lip lock with Gus Berkeley. No big deal—they've shared them before. But the simple kiss goes from zero to smokin' in less than a second flat and River isn't quite sure when complicated became the norm between her and Gus.

And a snippety peek…

River stood frozen and uncertain. It should have been a simple thing. She lost a bet and had to kiss Gus. Not like she'd never done that before—with and without an audience.

So why did the thought freak her out? She completely discounted the fact she'd seen him in the shower last week and dreamed of him every night since. It had to be because Gus stood apart from everyone, over by the table beside the exit. He heard the bet. He couldn't have not heard it. Yet he didn't try to leave. Nope. He remained standing, fiddling with the coffee carafe, going nowhere.

She couldn't back down. Losing the bet—who knew Kat could actually pull off the tying a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue thing? River had to make good on her promise and have a lip-lock with Gus.

She exhaled slowly and nodded towards her audience. She walked over, figuring she'd give Gus a quick peck on the lips.

Grasping his arm, she gave it a squeeze. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind being a good sport." She tilted her chin and her plan for quick and easy went to hell.

The brief movement of her mouth over his didn't play out that way. She brushed her lips over his and wanted more. Meshing her mouth with his, her tongue slid past his lips, not what she'd planned, but oh… damn… it felt so good.

And he responded, exploring slowly, in no hurry for the embrace to end. It needed to stop, but her hands traveled upward, cupping his face, hauling him closer. The kiss deepened and she leaned into him, molding her body to his. She got completely lost in the moment… moments… minutes.

She didn't know how long they stood there, but one kiss slid into another, and another. Everything faded—the room full of people, the catcalls and whistles, nothing existed but her, and Gus, and a powerful need to see what else might happen.

When her hand slid down to his ass, he eased away, breaking contact.

His forehead rested against hers. "I'd be very willing to continue, but not in front of an audience." He spoke quietly so only she could hear.

River's face flamed hot, but not from embarrassment. The idea of acting out some of her recent dreams about him made her wet with anticipation. She wanted Gus and sort of didn't care, at the moment, about the fact they worked together. Hook-ups between co-workers didn't always end well, but the desire to see what happened outweighed her concern.

She leaned back to meet his gaze. "Wanna get out of here?" Her head jerked toward the still rowdy group. "They're not gonna miss us."

A slow, wide smile spread over Gus's face. "Upstairs? My place?" He turned and wrapped an arm around her waist. "It's close, convenient, and actually clean, for once." He directed her through the open doorway and around the side of the bar to the back steps.

River leaned into his warmth and nodded. "Yeah, upstairs is good." She glanced upward and the raw desire in his eyes made her hot with need. "Stop looking at me like that or we won't make it up the stairs."

Gus chuckled. "It's not my fault—you started it with that kiss."

River grinned and started up the first step. "Who knew, right?" She paused and angled her head around. "You're sure, yeah? I can leave now—no harm done."

Gus brushed past her. "Oh, I'm sure." He grabbed her hand, tugging her up behind him. "You and me? Are definitely finishing what we started."

He quickly unlocked the door and hurried her inside. Grasping her hips, he turned her, lowering his head to meet her mouth. His booted foot kicked the door shut and closed out everything but them and the rapidly building need arcing between them.

Gus broke the kiss and nodded toward the hallway. "Bedroom's that way." He grabbed her hand and led her in the direction.

River held back a shudder. She had a feeling Gus might just rock her world down to the foundation.

She couldn't wait to find out.

Heh, heh. And find out she does. Let's just leave it there, okay?

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Harshing the Calm

June 30, 2013

Hello!

Holy crap. It's the last day of June and half the year is gone. How on earth did that happen? LOL I shouldn't complain. I've got green stuff growing in my tiny garden and the mild weather. Can't really ask for more. J

Tonight's post is from Harshing the Calm, a novella/novel featuring a couple who break up because they think they're toxic for each other, but find out maybe they just needed some room to grow. J

Here's the tagline:

Gentry and Rayce have a volatile past, one they walk away from to start over. But old habits are hard to break and when their paths cross again, they discover they can repeat their mistakes, or change and grow into something so much better.

And the snippety peek…

Gentry walked into the bar and immediately spotted Rayce. Dammit. Back two months and she couldn't stop from bumping into him. She really wished he'd stayed on the other side of the city. Their paths rarely crossed then.

Whatever. She wanted a drink and her favorite bartender, Bart, would be more than happy to keep them coming.

Heaving a sigh, she glared at the dispatcher sitting on 'her' barstool. He wisely got up and moved three places down.

Gentry eased up onto the stool and tapped the counter. Twice.

Bart's eyes widened. "Starting with a double, Detective? Must've been a shit day." He flipped over a glass and poured her brand of whiskey—neat, no ice.

Gentry rolled her eyes. "Wasn't until I walked in." She jerked her head toward Rayce's table. "My past is back to haunt me."

Bart lifted a brow. "And the hot, sweet thing locking lips with him? What's her role?"

Gentry whipped her head around. Son of a bitch. Sure enough, Catie the Cutie, had her mouth smacking all over Rayce. Gentry snorted. The perky beat cop looked like a teenager with her hair caught up in a ponytail full of bouncy curls. Swiftly facing forward, she drained the contents of her drink and nodded for another round.

Bart shook his head. "Better slow down, Detective. Might be a short walk to your place, but you have to be upright to get there."

Gentry shrugged. "Someone will make sure I get home."

Bart refilled her tumbler and his gaze followed the exit of someone through the main entrance. "Lips just left. Mr Used to Be is all alone." His head jerked toward Rayce. "Go. Park yourself in the empty chair at his table and I'll bring you the bottle."

Gentry frowned. "Why the hell would I want to do that?" No way would she get within three feet of Rayce.

Bart leaned in and spoke quietly. "Because I didn't put my bullet proof snark vest on tonight and you clearly need to vent your spleen." He glanced over her head. "He's a better target."

The man had a point. "Fine. But give me one to go."

Bart huffed out a breath, but poured more alcohol into her glass.

Gentry smirked and slid off the barstool. She made her way through the crowded bar and dropped down onto the empty chair at Rayce's table.

Lost in thought, he sent a startled glance in her direction then quickly schooled his features into an unreadable mask. "Gentry." He gave her a cool nod and clammed up.

Figured. They'd parted on bad terms and she'd had the last word. He would leave it up to her to open any conversation they'd have now.

She set her glass on the table and leaned back in the chair. "Rayce. Why are you here?" Bars weren't private property, but the place belonged to her, at least in her mind it did.

Rayce shrugged. "It's conveniently located close to work."

Gentry snorted. "And apparently a good place for public displays of affection."

Rayce frowned. "What are you talking about?" He paused. "Oh."

Gentry nodded. "Yeah. Probably better be more cautious, Rayce. I mean people know about you and Catie, but geez, between the age difference and your status as a detective, it could harm her career."

Rayce settled against the back rest and crossed his arms over his chest. "Gentry, you don't get to comment on my social life anymore. You made that perfectly clear when you announced Cal Brynley was your personal property and everyone needed to keep their hands off." He jabbed a finger in her direction. "You don't have a right to say anything about my relationships or who I sleep with. Not anymore."

Gentry quirked a brow. "Wow. How quaint. Defending your woman's honor." She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. "She's a beat cop, Rayce. She can protect herself."

Rayce snarled. "It's not about protection. It's about you stirring the shit pot." He moved forward, invading her personal space. "I mean what the hell was that personal property thing, Gentry? Your way of making the minor league ball player feel worthy to be in your presence?"

Ouch. That stung. Mainly because truth laced his words.

Her shoulders slumped. "Yeah, not my best moment." She met Rayce's gaze. "Look, I heard about you and Catie, and I wanted something, I don't know, to call mine." Okay, coming clean didn't make the world implode.

Rayce studied her a moment, probably trying to gauge the honesty of her words. "Gentry, sometimes you're your own worst enemy." He leaned back again. "And for your information, my status with Catie is of the former variety. Pretty much for the reasons you listed."

Her eyes widened. "Wait, what? Why the lip-lock when she left?"

Rayce chuckled. "You know, she might be seven years younger, but she has a maturity you have yet to achieve." He lifted a shoulder. "She noticed you walk in and gave me a kiss for luck." His brows knit. "Not sure why. She knows you're with Brynley."

Gentry made a quick decision to go with the whole truth. "Yeah, well, not so sure about that." She shrugged. "Cal got traded to another team and has to move. We're not sure about trying to do the long distance deal."

Rayce, to his credit, nodded. "That's a tough call. You can't just hop a plane to visit, not with your schedule. And it's a long time until the off season."

She didn't have a witty comeback, or even a snarky one. Rayce's unexpected empathy tilted her perspective sideways. An awkward, on her end, silence stretched out between them. Until Bart brought the promised bottle of whiskey.

He nudged her shoulder. "I put it on your tab. Don't be stingy. Make sure you share." With a quick salute to Rayce, Bart turned and headed back to the bar.

Gentry refilled her glass and lifted a questioning brow. "Any objections to helping me drink this?"

Rayce narrowed his gaze, pondering a moment. "None that I can think of at the moment." He took the alcohol and topped off his tumbler.

Raising his glass, he gave a silent toast and drained the contents. Gentry relaxed and decided to go with the flow. He'd made an effort and she could do the same.

Who knew where it might lead.

And it definitely leads somewhere, just not to a place Gentry expected. :D

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin