Before Emma appears in their lives, two men face four months that will change their world-view forever. One has dreams outside Richmond and away from his family business. The other wants to make the business his only focus. In one summer, outside forces drive them both to make brash and irrevocable decisions that will render them at once supremely powerful yet emotionally vulnerable. How can these peers with identical pasts, as well as seemingly identical futures, reach a threshold where only one escapes with his integrity intact?You can pre-order this awesomeness on Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
Now for updates. It was a really good week for my two works-in-progress. I got through two sets of inciting incidents, and boy is my brain exhausted.
Adult Scifi: Current word count is 12,198! I patchworked some old scenes into new ones, and the entire process twisted my brain into a pretty tight knot, but so far so good. Last week I was stuck on a new "cute meet," and I have to say it turned out pretty damn cute. Makes me laugh, actually. Here it is, minus a ton of exposition...
He lie on a gray cushioned couch, arm slung across his face. According to his deep breathing, he was fast asleep. But really, the thin cotton robe, blue-striped pajamas and white T-shirt were a dead giveaway. Dark beard scruff covered the lower half of his face; at least three days’ worth. If not for the security in this building, and the clean scent coming off him, I would have thought he was homeless.
I tapped one of his feet. “Hey. You really think this is the best place to sleep?”
The man startled but didn’t otherwise move. “I’ll sleep wherever I damn well like.”
“Is that right? Well, from what I’ve heard about the prickly chief around here, you’re taking a pretty big gamble. But you go ahead and nap away. It’s not my funeral.”
I started out but the man’s gravely voice put the brakes on. “You know the ‘prickly chief’ well, do you?”
“I wouldn’t say I know him, know him, but word gets around.”
The grunt he emitted sounded as if it came from a deep barrel.
“Anyway. Good luck with that nap. Hope it’s worth it.”
He sat up and stabbed me with a set of bloodshot eyes.
“Mr. White. I didn’t realize that was you. I apologize.”
He rose to his full height, jaw set and eyes narrowed at me. “You’re right about one thing; I don’t make a habit of allowing my staff to nap during working hours.”
My hand made its way to my cocked hip. “Can you really blame me for misreading the situation? I mean, you look like—”
I cut off and straightened. I was about to be so fired.
“Like what?” he challenged.
As if he didn’t already know. He looked like a hobo. I beamed him with a smile, then straightened the collar of his robe. “So handsome.”YA Scifi: This one is at 6, 737, and I am in love with it. I think I'm just happy to be out of the ARCHETYPE world. It's refreshing. And since I've shared one "cute meet," why not the other, eh?
I glance between Malik and the ground—not too far a drop. I’ll break both legs, but…
I start kicking the pushing every button within reach. The helo turns sideways. I slide out of Malik’s lap and fall, making a desperate grab the helo’s leg and latch on. The second I look down I wish I’d thought this plan through. We’re closer to the ground, but that pavement looks painful.
The helicopter drops toward the ground so fast my stomach leaps toward my throat. Malik curses from his seat as he regains control. The helo levels out and I work my way, hand over hand, to the back end of the leg, out of his reach.
The deep rumbling sound of motorcycle engines takes my attention. We’re heading right for the sleek, black cycles, every rider clad in black leather and shielded helmets. If I let go now, they’ll run me over. If I wait, Malik will lift us too high for me to land safely.
The rider in front points at us. A second climbs to balance on the seat, daredevil style. A third pulls out a gun too large to be a handgun, but too small to be a rifle. He aims the weapon at me.
Great. Just what I need. Someone else trying to kill me.
The group draws close and the rider fires the weapon. Rope tipped with hooks propels through the air and grapples around the helicopter leg. The man on the bike brakes and yanks on the rope.
The helo angles toward the ground, and this time, my stomach drops toward my toes. The daredevil rider leaps up from under us and gets a single hand on the helo leg. The machine jostles under the added weight. My fingers slip and I yelp.
An arm circles my waist just as I start to fall. “Hang on to me,” he says, his voice muffled under his helmet.
I get an arm around his neck and wrap my legs around his waist. My opaque reflection stares back at me with wide eyes from his black visor.
Above us, Malik glares down and aims a gun at the guy holding me. “You’ve got something of mine, boy.”
“Come and get her,” he responds, then lets go.That's all for this week!
If you haven't already, don't forget I'm giving away a signed copy of PROTOTYPE. Details HERE.