tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28606865074078116682024-03-18T23:08:02.100-05:00Linda Morris, Sweet and Sexy RomanceWelcome to my blog, wherein I hold forth on romance, my books, writing, what I'm reading, and anything else that comes to mind.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-58892052949270438702012-11-27T18:42:00.000-06:002012-11-27T18:42:04.930-06:00New site launched!Please visit my new site at<a href="http://lindamorrisbooks.com/"> http://lindamorrisbooks.com/</a>. This blog will no longer be updated.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-20133967124829917842012-11-08T21:19:00.001-06:002012-11-08T21:19:31.722-06:00The Next Big Thing<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737;">The Next Big Thing, huh? Well, I hope so, anyway. I've been tagged for this "The Next Big Thing" interview by one of my crit partners, Alyson Reuben. (And if you like historical women's fiction, be sure to check out her <i>Castles We Build</i>. It's great!) You can find Castles <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Castles-We-Build-Alyson-Reuben/dp/1479296104/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352430702&sr=1-1&keywords=castles+we+build">here</a>, and see her responses to these questions <a href="http://www.abiteofreubensandwich.blogspot.com/">here</a>. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What is your working title of your book?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm working on a few
things. One is a New Year's novella that I'm very excited about--<i>What Are You Doing New Year's Eve</i>? It
will be coming out with Entangled in December. I can't tell you much more about
that one. Entangled likes to cultivate an air of mystery about projects until
they're officially available for purchase, so I can't really give too much
detail into that or post an excerpt, other than to say it's a funny, sexy story about two strangers who are snowbound together on New Year's Eve. Another thing I'm working on is a
full-length novel called <i>By Hook or By
Crook</i> that will come out on Wild Rose Press next spring sometime. It's a fun romantic caper. I'm also
working on a Mexican-set vacation fling romance called (for now, anyway) <i>Love to Love You, </i>but that's only in the
first-draft stage.<br />
<b>Where did the idea come from for the
book? <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For <i>By Hook or By Crook</i>, well, I love the old screwball
comedies--Howard Hawks movies, Hepburn/Tracy, and (slightly) more recently,
Doris Day/Rock Hudson movies. I wanted to incorporate that into my work--zany
characters around the fringes, witty banter, but two decent people trying to
make love work at the center of the story.<br />
<b>What genre does your book fall under?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Contemporary romance.<br />
<b>Which actors would you choose to play
your characters in a movie rendition?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A young Anthony Lapalgia
would be my choice for Joe, kind of a rumpled, sexy, weather-beaten dark-haired
guy.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRVOsXl3fZHaCnwvS1yes-vZvuu2dphdaeiXGk7m_10VW3xeRU4YY3s1yzC2Fc1BKVIcdCZBtjBx8kgAD6ruclGPJuNVqSgtG3Aa8vcAd876FQdYHcKFKKNqYwy1tz3Efgi4XZmpEBLuF/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRVOsXl3fZHaCnwvS1yes-vZvuu2dphdaeiXGk7m_10VW3xeRU4YY3s1yzC2Fc1BKVIcdCZBtjBx8kgAD6ruclGPJuNVqSgtG3Aa8vcAd876FQdYHcKFKKNqYwy1tz3Efgi4XZmpEBLuF/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A non-British Imogen
Poots would be ideal for Ivy -- she's definitely a reserved patrician beauty
like my heroine.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ9eyEkUaU4xSMc586hiykbavYfmylXRTDmij2JAY98KMTHfVXOu4ONsP5GVGbuWFJ9CxQQ2kCs_-Psk6pdBaivsG-Ktvdc5dvXzfXwZcA2-8JEzTzqQ3bsU3QNH3o6mqLSsIZYevIPu_/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ9eyEkUaU4xSMc586hiykbavYfmylXRTDmij2JAY98KMTHfVXOu4ONsP5GVGbuWFJ9CxQQ2kCs_-Psk6pdBaivsG-Ktvdc5dvXzfXwZcA2-8JEzTzqQ3bsU3QNH3o6mqLSsIZYevIPu_/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Heiress Ivy Smithson sets
out for Vegas with her father's sexy security consultant, Joe Dunham, in tow to
prevent her sister from making a disastrous marriage, but between
gangsters, MMA fighters, priceless art treasures, and her out-of-control attraction to Joe, she gets way
more than she bargained for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Neither. It's published
by the Wild Rose Press.<br />
<b>How long did it take you to write the
first draft of your manuscript? <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hmmm, probably a few
months, but I spent a lot of time on revisions. I'm still learning with every
book I write and this one was no exception. I went through two rounds of
revisions before showing it to anyone, and then made more changes (some
extensive) after each of four beta reads by critique partners.<br />
<b>What other books would you compare this
story to within your genre? <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don't really know if
I've read a lot of other stories like it, except maybe Susan Andersen's early books,
like <i>Baby, I'm Yours</i>, for example.<br />
<b>Who or what inspired you to write this
book? <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm a fan of Elmore
Leonard, author of books such as <i>Rum
Punch</i> and <i>Get Shorty</i>. I wondered
what on earth a Leonard-influenced romance, complete with comedic criminals,
might look like. Now I know! I'm pretty happy with it, and I hope readers will be too.<br />
<b>What else about your book might pique
the reader’s interest?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It's just different from
a lot of the books I'm seeing published right now. A lot of humor, a fast-paced
active story, and a poor-little-rich-girl heroine who may have money, but who
doesn't really have a clue about how to live an independent life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="color: #373737; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Include the link of who tagged you and this explanation for the
people you have tagged. Be sure to line up your people in advance.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I was tagged by my critique
partner Alyson Reuben, who was also one of my readers for By Hook or By Crook,
by the way. She offered many valuable comments and (just as important)
encouragement. While I'm on the topic of critique partners, I'm going to tag another of my CPs, Angela Quarles. Angela has a book called Beer and Groping in Las Vegas coming out from Secret Cravings Press soon. Check out Angela's responses <a href="http://angelaquarles.com/">here</a>. Take it away, Angela!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-74783716057218124012012-10-08T19:35:00.003-05:002012-10-08T19:35:52.744-05:00Trials of Marriage: The Horror Movie Edition<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPa4JUVxYf7EvS65WRf3-qDWAU9OBgOQ8RJtofb04f_k2X8bouRuYlv4s_8Gf8TxnH7VP5WMrszbfvPJoh48dio6jnP6iYVlByadqs_SFIJQJoT8xgddH-YptFzhSDb7TlTEQrjddPBN6/s1600/changelingposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPa4JUVxYf7EvS65WRf3-qDWAU9OBgOQ8RJtofb04f_k2X8bouRuYlv4s_8Gf8TxnH7VP5WMrszbfvPJoh48dio6jnP6iYVlByadqs_SFIJQJoT8xgddH-YptFzhSDb7TlTEQrjddPBN6/s1600/changelingposter.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
'Tis the time of year when scary movies come to mind. Before I met my husband, the number of horror movies I'd seen hovered in the single digits. As a movie buff, I'd seen a lot of movies, but I tried to steer clear of the scarier ones. You see, I'm what's known in the parlance of our times as a "weenie." On one of our first dates, DH and I talked about our mutual love of Hitchcock movies:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
DH: I love <i>Psycho</i>!<br />
Me: I've never seen that, but I love <i>To Catch a Thief.</i><br />
DH: Oh. Well, I've never seen that one, but <i>The Birds</i> is an amazing movie.<br />
Me: Huh. Never seen it. I loved <i>Notorious</i>, though. One of my favorite movies of all time.<br />
DH: Nope, never seen that . . . [conversation stalls] <i>Rear Window</i>?<br />
Me: Yes!!!! I love <i>Rear Window!</i></blockquote>
Relieved chatter ensued, and somehow we found enough common ground to see each other again, and again, and then to get married. (We've been married for fourteen years, as of Oct. 10th.) DH loves the scary stuff. I loved many of Hitchcock's crime capers and Gothic romances, but I'd steered clear of his true horror films.<br />
Well, marriage to my husband has changed all that. I've now seen <i>Psycho </i>and<i> The Birds</i>, but I have to confess, I still like the crime capers and Gothic romances better. My husband insisted I just <i>had </i>to watch <i>Texas Chainsaw Massacre </i>on an early date, but when he realized I really, really wasn't enjoying it, he made dumb jokes all the way through to take my mind off of it, so it wasn't too bad.<br />
<i>Texas Chainsaw</i> aside, he has introduced me to some great scary movies. We rewatched one of them this weekend. <i>The Changeling </i>(1980) is a fantastic good old-fashioned haunted house story starring George C. Scott as a bereaved widower who moves into an old house, only to quickly discover that the house has a presence that is trying to tell him something. He sets out to find out what it is.<br />
I would post a link to the trailer, but it's horribly cheesy and doesn't give you a good sense of the movie at all. Instead, here's a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaPLQidZub4">link </a>to a scary scene from the movie itself. The ball in this scene is normally stored in Scott's work desk. It belonged to his late daughter, who was struck and killed by a truck, along with Scott's wife, at the beginning of the movie:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaPLQidZub4">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaPLQidZub4</a><br />
<br />
Such a simple scene, but in the context of the movie, so effective. No gore, little violence, just a great story, a brooding atmosphere, real chills, and wonderful characters. That's the kind of horror movie even a weenie like me can love.<br />
Weenies or not, what are some of your favorite horror films? Tell me in the comments, and add a link to a scene if you like!Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-51991341501450131842012-09-19T02:05:00.000-05:002012-09-19T07:48:18.194-05:00Character Interview and Excerpt from CASTLES WE BUILD, by Alyson Reuben<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTqvx3Gwec5MlkF1m5kh7ixrYgKM0ZS6JPgHJz04vshvZu6hBBvgGoHNdLYkXoeyVOcA8xiyARU9jTr0WIAIkIqqM0vlGNSu_Y44cMxHSETqR67ty899Fo2ThDtvCdi-tVdyXZ9dcYgAp/s1600/Revised+Final+Castles+We+Build+cover+(medium).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTqvx3Gwec5MlkF1m5kh7ixrYgKM0ZS6JPgHJz04vshvZu6hBBvgGoHNdLYkXoeyVOcA8xiyARU9jTr0WIAIkIqqM0vlGNSu_Y44cMxHSETqR67ty899Fo2ThDtvCdi-tVdyXZ9dcYgAp/s320/Revised+Final+Castles+We+Build+cover+(medium).jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Today I'm excited to have </i><i>Alyson Reuben</i> as <i>a guest on my blog. Alyson is my friend, critique partner, and a fantastic writer to boot. Her first book, a terrific World War II romance called </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/A-Beautiful-Cage-ebook/dp/B005LSCAI6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347980163&sr=8-2&keywords=beautiful+cage">A Beautiful Cage</a><i>, was published last year by The Wild Rose Press. Her follow-up, a historical women's fiction novel called </i>Castles We Build<i>, is coming out this week. (Romance readers, never fear. Although it's women's fiction, this story has a strong love story at its core.) It's available now in </i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Castles-We-Build-Alyson-Reuben/dp/1479296104/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347979921&sr=8-1&keywords=castles+we+build" style="font-style: italic;">paperback </a><i>and will be available for the Kindle </i>
<i>shortly as well:</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i><a href="http://tinyurl.com/9xrobyt">http://tinyurl.com/9xrobyt </a><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div>
<i>If you haven't read Alyson's work yet, you're in for a treat! Those who love historical fiction with unusual, well-researched period settings will love her books. Without further ado, let's get right to it, a character interview with Julia, the heroine of </i>Castles We Build.<i> And keep reading after the interview to find an excerpt! The story is set in Roaring 20s Florida:</i><br />
<br />
Hi, Linda. It was so nice of you to invite me to your blog. As you know, Castle We Build is being released this week, and I’m both nervous and excited.<br />
<br />
<b>* How does it feel to have a story written about you and your life?</b><br />
<br />
Honestly, I never dreamed anyone would write a story about me. After all, I’m pretty bland. I’m a mother, a wife, a sister, and an average woman who has spent the last few years trying to adjust to being wealthy after a childhood spent in poverty.<br />
<br />
<b>* Until this story begins, what was the most remarkable thing you’d ever done?</b><br />
Hmm. All the important people in my life tell me I’m remarkable, although I can’t imagine why. It isn’t a word I’d use in reference to myself. My greatest achievements are helping to raise my younger sister and giving birth to my two children. Oh, and I can turn five cartwheels without stopping. Does that count?<br />
<br />
<b>* Do you think you represent the “roaring twenties” the way most people think of that time period?</b><br />
<br />
If you mean do I dance the Charleston while twirling beads around my neck, the answer is no. That label more aptly fits my stepdaughter, Nan, who is very much the typical flapper. While I adore wearing fashionable clothes and keeping my hair styled in a modern A-line cut, I’m not flashy. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of woman. Well, until this story, that is!<br />
<br />
<b>* At what point did you realize your life was about to change so drastically?</b><br />
<br />
Oh, that’s easy. It was when I received a letter from my first husband, Landon Sloane, who was thought dead, saying he'd been released from an overseas prison camp and wanted to see me.<br />
<br />
<b>* That came out of the blue, didn’t it?</b><br />
<br />
Very much so! Still newly wed, I was madly in love with Landon when he went off to fight in the Great War. In the ten years following his “death”, I grieved, remarried, and began a new family, never imagining that he would show up alive.<br />
<br />
<b>* In the meantime, you married to Milford Hampton. Tell us about him.</b><br />
<br />
A powerful business tycoon, Ford is the son of a sharecropper, raised poor like me. His strict orders are intimidating, and he can give someone the chills just by staring at them. Most of the time he is busy and detached. Yet, there is a very gentle side of him. Especially, where the children are concerned.<br />
<br />
<b>* Tell us about your kids.</b><br />
<br />
Landon and I have a wonderfully gifted son, Brent. He was a toddler when his father went off to fight in the Great War. Through the school year, he goes to a private academy for the gifted. My precious four-year old daughter, Grace, is seven years younger than Brent. As a baby she was diagnosed with a disease that will prevent her from walking and developing correctly. We’ve hired a special nanny nurse for her around-the-clock needs. And I also have a stepdaughter, Nanette – a beautiful girl who hosts parties at all hours of the night, wears her dresses several inches too short and her stockings far too low. That girl can really make my skin itch sometimes. In fact, she… well, now I’m getting ahead of myself.<br />
<br />
<b>* So Nan plays a major role in this story?</b><br />
<br />
Definitely. Spoiled, willful, yet undeniably fun, she was a challenge from the very first day we me, before I married her father. Yet, until this story began, I had no idea in what ways my maternal role would be tested.<br />
<br />
<b>* Speaking of maternal role, earlier you mentioned raising your sister, didn’t you?</b><br />
<br />
Yes, I helped Dad take care of Maggie after Mom left us when we were kids. Five years apart, we grew up close. Maggie barely remembers our mother, which is why when Mom shows back up again (almost at the same time as Landon), she’s ready to welcome her with open arms, in spite of my warning. She tells me I’m bossy. But, hey, what are older sisters for?<br />
<br />
<b>* What do you think is the hardest part of this story?</b><br />
<br />
You mean other than losing one of Ford’s factories in a fire, contending with Landon’s bootlegging boss, dealing with Nan’s wild shenanigans, nearly drowning on a sinking ship, and being scared out of my mind when Brent is kidnapped? It would have to be trying to figure out what my heart is telling me.<br />
<br />
<b>* What three words would you use to sum up this story?</b><br />
Only three? That’s not easy. How about passionate, intricate, and gut-wrenching?<br />
<br />
Again, thank you, Linda, for inviting me to be here today. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b><i>No problem! It's been a delight. Here's an excerpt from </i>Castles We Build<i>:</i></b></div>
<div>
<b><i><br /></i></b>
Suddenly, the front door swings open.<br />
<br />
And there he is. A man whose memory I desperately tried to lay to rest at his memorial site in Westbrook Cemetery. <br />
<br />
Landon Sloane.<br />
<br />
For a few seconds, I wobble, my peripheral vision closing in. I’m about to pass out….<br />
<br />
Suddenly, he grins. And the grin does the same thing to me now that it did nine years ago, saving me from losing consciousness. Saving me, period.<br />
<br />
He holds out his arms, and I rush into them, moaning as his mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s like a drowning man clutching a lifesaver. Pulling me inside and reaching behind me to slam the door shut, his hands grip at my clothes and my hair, tangling in them as if hoping to extract the essence of everything I am.<br />
<br />
Now he’s kissing my cheeks. My forehead. My chin. The places behind my ears. The hollow of my neck. The skin above my lace collar. My breasts through the voile fabric. My legs as he pushes up the hem of my frock. <br />
<br />
And I’m falling backward on a bed that seems to have appeared like magic. Calling his name. Over and over. He answers me with a voice tinted by a slight brogue, as familiar as the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. Yes. Yes, he’s really Landon Sloane. Alive. Very alive. And my name is also on his lips, coming out in hoarse whispers, pressed against my skin, branding me with what’s always been there, never disappearing completely, but only lying dormant — my love for him.<br />
<br />
Rising above me, his body comes down over mine in the ancient way that has coupled countless lovers. In the same way that summoned us in the past with pleasure and intoxication. I grip him, pulling him closer, needing him to complete what’s lacking. To satiate me with his heat and energy….<br />
<br />
A little girl’s cry floats through the room. <br />
<br />
Gracie! Just that suddenly, I push Landon back, forcing his flushed face away from mine. No, I’m not thinking clearly. That wasn’t a girl’s voice. Just a bird outside the open window. One that has a trill similar to a child’s outburst.<br />
<br />
For several seconds Landon and I stare at each other, saying nothing. He looks the same. Yet, different in several ways. Slimmer…a little too slim. A leathery tan that makes his eyes brighter, as potent as midnight’s navy sky in a flash of lightning.<br />
<br />
I’m lying here half naked. With a husband I thought would never return from the war he left to fight nine years ago. And the question hits me like a rock to the stomach. “Why, Landon? Why didn’t you come home? Where have you been?”<br />
<br />
He visibly swallows, his face glistening with perspiration and what might very well be tears. “My ship sank off the coast of South Africa. Most of the men didn’t…. Anyway, me and my lieutenant were rescued by natives. They had bartering friends who traded with them. Local radicals who supported the enemy forces. I think a few of them even had direct ties with Germany.”<br />
<br />
His voice has deepened, grown huskier with age. I try to concentrate on his words, needing desperately to understand. To make sense of this unexpected phenomenon: the miracle of his rise from the dead. <br />
<br />
“So me and the lieutenant were arrested and held in an encampment. Seventeen straw huts surrounded by a high fence. Guards with guns and long pikes. Shared it with criminals and other detainees. We didn’t even know when the war was over. Guess they liked having free laborers too much to set us free. Or maybe they just liked trapping us like mice in a maze.” His voice is hard now. Gritty. Full of hatred and anger. In a tone I don’t recognize. <br />
<br />
“They finally released us last month. Because of some new political uprising, I think. I don’t know exactly who or what…. I only care that I’m free. Back where I can see you. Hold you. And…oh, God, if I can just get all this filth out of my head.” He sits up beside me, gripping the sides of his head.<br />
<br />
The hair at his temples is peppered with silver.<br />
<br />
It used to be completely dark, the color of coffee with no creamer. <br />
<br />
Like Brent’s.<br />
<br />
I reach for him, pulling him to me. Prison. For almost a decade. What a nightmare that must’ve been. The hurt is palpable, transferring between us. “It’s over, darling,” I whisper near his ear. “And I’m so glad you’re back, safe and sound. Alive.”<br />
<br />
He folds his arms around me so that we’re huddled in a ball. And we stay that way. Unmoving. Quiet. For a very long time.<br />
<br />
His heavy breathing steadies to a hoarse snore; the sound of a man who hasn’t had good, clean rest for a long time. He shifts, spreading out his arms in unconscious freedom. And I release him, sitting up gently in order not to wake him. <br />
<br />
The bedroom is mostly bare. A utilitarian iron bed. A dresser. A shabby club chair. But nothing else. I stare at the open window where the cage hangs, dangling slightly in the breeze. There are no finches in it. Or any other birds. The door is hanging open, facing the outside.<br />
<br />
He won’t cage anything again.<br />
<br />
I push my tousled hair from my face, combing both hands through the chin-length strands.<br />
<br />
None of this is the way it should be. <br />
<br />
It’s all messed up somehow.<br />
<br />
Ford’s face enters my mind. Just the way he looked last night, smiling at me from the dinner table.<br />
<br />
Oh, God.<br />
<br />
I’m married to someone else.<br />
<br />
And I have a family.<br />
<br />
Two men. <br />
<br />
Two husbands.</div>
</div>
</div>
Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-75065967984220856242012-09-02T02:02:00.000-05:002012-09-02T02:02:00.351-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, 9/2/12<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" /><br />
<br />
At last, my News of Awesome can be told: I sold a novella to Entangled! It's the New Year's Eve story I've been excerpting here at Six Sentence Sunday. (Although, for the curious, you can't go back and look for the old posts--Entangled prefers no excerpts be posted until release day, so I took them down.) Tentatively titled, <i>What Are You Doing New Year's Eve</i>?, it will come out in December. Entangled is super-hot right now and I can't believe I sold to them. Squeee! I'm so excited!<br />
In the meantime, here's another bit from my Playa del Carmen story,<i> Love to Love You</i>. This is in the heroine's POV as she talks with the hero. She's just told him he shouldn't play dumb about how to handle women -- he's a smart guy with a successful business:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I'm a smart guy in some ways," he allowed with a nod. "But there are different kinds of smart. Also, there are different kinds of stupid," he said with a rueful laugh. "And I definitely have the kind of stupid that makes women unhappy."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
He really believed it. He was good-looking, successful, and smart, and he was certain he didn't have what it took to maintain a real relationship.</blockquote>
For more Six Sentence Sunday, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-72777756208215045062012-08-27T19:56:00.002-05:002012-08-27T19:56:59.691-05:00And now it can be told . . . I sold a story to Entangled!My sooper sekrit news is sekrit no more! I sold a New Year's Eve novella to Entangled. Tentatively titled WHAT ARE YOU DOING NEW YEAR'S EVE?, it will publish as an ebook in December. I couldn't be happier.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-83167387583632756992012-08-26T02:57:00.000-05:002012-08-26T02:57:00.389-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, Aug. 26, Love to Love You<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
Hello, my loves! Yes, I've got some good news to announce soon, but I'm still waiting on the Ts to be crossed and the lowercase Js to be dotted before I can spill the beans. Let's just say that when I got the happy news, I may have spontaneously begun singing the theme to "The Jeffersons." (Dating myself with that one, I know.) And that just goes to show how excited I was, because I. Never. Sing.<br />
Anyway, here's my six from my WIP,<i> Love to Love You</i>. My hero and heroine are, well, shacked up in a room in Playa Del Carmen after getting to know each other while sightseeing at a Mayan ruin:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I'd like to spend the rest of our time together with you, in this room, as much as possible. Are you okay with that?"<br />
"What about sightseeing?" she asked, a slow smile curving her lips.<br />
"I've got a number of sights to show you, baby," he said with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.<br />
"Anything that can compete with Mayan ruins?" she teased. She'd already seen the sights he was talking about, and frankly, they put pre-columbian artifacts to shame.</blockquote>
For more Six Sunday snippets, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-30244207224759706012012-08-19T02:06:00.000-05:002012-08-19T09:29:28.364-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, August 19<div class="tr_bq">
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
</div>
<div class="tr_bq">
<br /></div>
Taps fingers . . . I might have some very good news to share soon, Six Sunday-ers! Can't spill the beans yet, though, so in the meantime . . .<br />
Here's a little dialogue from my contemporary WIP set in Playa Del Carmen. I'm tentatively calling it <i>Love to Love You</i>. The heroine, Ally, and her best friend are visiting the Mayan ruins at Chichen Itza. Her friend in particular is interested in the giant natural well that was once used for human sacrifices:<br />
<blockquote>
"The guidebook says that when the well was dredged years ago, they found bones of hundreds of men, women, and children in the water, along with pottery, copper, bells . . . all things that were used in their religious ceremonies."<br />
<br />
"And I thought having to sit through a full mass every Sunday when I was a kid was a pain," Ally said.<br />
<br />
"We had it easy."</blockquote>
<blockquote>
"I don’t know about that. Remember Father Lopez? His penances were basically the South Chicago equivalent of a human sacrifice."</blockquote>
<br />
This well and its grisly history is for real, BTW. Here it is:<br />
<br />
<img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5e/Cenote_en_Chich%C3%A9n_Itz%C3%A1._Quintana_Roo._M%C3%A9xico-2.jpg/512px-Cenote_en_Chich%C3%A9n_Itz%C3%A1._Quintana_Roo._M%C3%A9xico-2.jpg" /><br />
<br />
For more (probably less gruesome) Six Sentence Sunday goodness, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-70286202818353692672012-08-12T08:25:00.000-05:002012-08-12T08:26:12.858-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, Aug 12<div class="tr_bq">
<br /></div>
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
Welcome, Six Sentence Sunday-ers! This is another tidbit from my WIP, a vacation fling story set in Playa Del Carmen. This comes from the very beginning of the story, when my heroine, Ally, is trying to escape the cloud of gloom hanging over her. Ally has cared for her ailing grandmother for years, and the elderly woman died six months ago. This trip is supposed to be Ally's reintroduction to the larger world, but it's not going so well. Ally and her friend are sunbathing by the pool at their hotel:<br />
<blockquote>
Flamingos and scarlet macaws dipped their heads to drink at the nearby fountain, and the occasional slow-moving iguana wandered between the chaise lounges. One approached and fixed Ally with its unblinking stare, so she offered it the maraschino cherry from her drink. Testing it with a cautious swipe of its tongue, it deemed her offering acceptable and retreated under a nearby table to devour its prize.<br />
<br />
This was paradise. She ought to drink her cocktail and savor the beauty of the place.<br />
<br />
She couldn't.</blockquote>
<br />
For more Six Sentence Sunday, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-32521427130021670252012-08-05T03:05:00.000-05:002012-08-05T07:53:35.914-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, August 5<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
Glad to be back--I missed Six Sentence Sunday last week due to vacation. This is another tidbit from my Playa Del Carmen-set WIP, which I retooled and am now happier with. It's a conversation between my workaholic hero Andrew and his best friend Ben:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Why can't you be a normal human being?" Ben asked, shaking his head. "You know, work eight or nine hours, hit the bar on the way home, go out with a girl once in a while?"<br />
"I go out with girls," Andrew said.<br />
"You meet pretty girls and bang them. That's not the same as going out with them."<br />
"Jesus, what are you now, my mom?"</blockquote>
<br />
You can check out more great Six Sunday-ness <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-10604962892942710462012-07-22T02:48:00.000-05:002012-07-22T02:48:00.961-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, July 22<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
This is a continuation of my story set in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico. The heroine, Ally, is trying to work up the nerve to go talk to two good-looking guys at a cabana bar. Her traveling companion is her best friend, an attractive model who has a boyfriend back home. Ally wants her friend to approach the guys with her, but her friend wants no part of it and has urged Ally to approach the guys on her own. Ally's just a tad insecure for that:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
When her beautiful friend accompanied her, few guys looked twice at Ally.<br />
On the upside, if she went over there to chat these guys up by herself, she would have their undivided attention.<br />
On the downside, if she went over there to chat these guys up by herself, she would have their undivided attention.<br />
She wasn't fat, she knew that much. She just wasn't skinny. Her doctor had once described her as a "strong, solid woman," which made her feel like a cross between a dairy maid from a Thomas Hardy novel and a roller derby chick.</blockquote>
For more snippets, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-27147940809967234012012-07-15T00:30:00.000-05:002012-07-15T00:30:00.446-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, July 15<div class="tr_bq">
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
</div>
<div class="tr_bq">
<br /></div>
Here's a tidbit from something new I'm working on, a contemporary set in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, at a destination wedding. It's giving me fits, so who knows what will become of this one. Here's a bit of dialogue I like, though. The bride is trying to fix Ally, the maid of honor, our heroine, up with the best man, but she's more interested in Andrew, another member of the wedding party. Andrew knows about the fix-up and can tell she's tepid about it, so he asks her what she thinks of the best man:<br />
<blockquote>
"I just met him, obviously, but he seems nice," Ally said.<br /> <br />"Oh, come on."<br /> <br />"What?"<br /> <br />"You don't describe a guy you're interested in as 'nice.' 'Nice' is the lady at the flu clinic when you're a kid. She lies and tells you the shot won't hurt a bit, and then gives you a sucker after you scream your head off."</blockquote>
For more Six Sentence Sunday, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-2407798030683496892012-06-16T00:14:00.000-05:002012-06-16T00:14:00.311-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, June 17<div class="tr_bq">
Some very good news: I sold BY HOOK OR BY CROOK! Yay-uh! My comic contemporary romance with gangsters will be published by The Wild Rose Press. The contract is signed but I don't have a release date or any other info. In celebration, here's a snippet from that book. My h/h, Joe and Ivy, are in a remote cabin, on the run from gangsters, when they hear an ominous noise outside and realize they may not be alone:</div>
<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
Joe disappeared into the bedroom. A minute later, he came out, tucking a handgun into the back waistband of his jeans.<br />"You have a gun?" Ivy was shocked. "Why did you bring a gun just to help find my sister?"<br /> "It comes in handy in case I need to shoot somebody," he said, his expression grim.</blockquote>
<br />For more Six Sentence Sunday, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-40182982587019316232012-06-15T17:37:00.002-05:002012-06-15T17:37:36.985-05:00Lucky SevenI've been tagged for Lucky Seven by Donna Cummings. Thanks, Donna! In keeping with the Lucky Seven meme, here are seven sentences from my current WIP, a comic New Year's Eve-themed story. Our heroine, Kayla, is stranded on a snowy rural road at night, on New Year's Eve, after a car accident caused by a raccoon and a poorly timed text message. (Don't ask. Long story.) She's freezing and late for a party with Dr. Dunne, her boss, and her coworker Carolyn, when a car appears on the isolated road:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
She’d just decided to give up her dignity and call Dr. Dunne to plead for rescue when the sound of an engine caught her attention. She turned to see headlights cutting through the darkness. She didn’t know whether to rejoice or panic. She was desperate to get out of this weather, but getting into a car with a stranger was a dumb idea.<br /> <br /> On the other hand, dying of hypothermia because she’d seen one too many PSAs about Stranger Danger as a kid struck her as even dumber. She nervously gripped the cell phone in her purse. If the driver looked like a pervert, she’d text Carolyn really fast.</blockquote>
Here are the other authors I'm tagging for Lucky Seven:<br />
<br />
Emma Lai<br />
Sandra Sookoo<br />
Sharon Buchbinder<br />
Amy Lillard<br />
Emily Tippetts<br />
Kelli Scott<br />
Debra KaynLinda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-12856269803166425722012-06-13T10:30:00.002-05:002012-06-13T10:30:47.194-05:00BY HOOK OR BY CROOK, Sold to The Wild Rose Press!Just a quick note to let everybody know that this comic contemporary romance sold today! I have no details or info about a release date yet, but happy dancing is in progress!<br />
<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-41913917841740016882012-06-03T00:02:00.000-05:002012-06-03T00:02:00.445-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, June 3<div class="tr_bq">
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
</div>
<br />
And now, for something completely different. . .<br />
I'm finishing the revision of my historical western, <i>Nobody's Bride</i>, but out of nowhere this week, I got a good idea for a novella that might work for a couple of New Years' Eve-themed anthologies out there. The bad news: The first deadline is mid-June. So, I'm going to try to write this in a couple of weeks and roll the dice.<br />
In this scene, my hero and heroine are stranded together, snowbound on New Years' Eve:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“Are you flirting with me?” he challenged.<br />
“Maybe.”<br />
A dimple appeared in his left cheek. Whoa, he was adorable. If her mother hadn’t raised her right, she’d be tempted to lean forward right now and explore that cute little indentation with the tip of her tongue. Maybe she would, later -- she couldn’t rule it out.</blockquote>
<br />
I'm having fun with this one. For more Six Sentence Sunday, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-91909433851530528652012-05-27T00:16:00.000-05:002012-05-27T00:16:00.148-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, May 27th<div class="tr_bq">
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
</div>
<br />
Happy Memorial Day weekend. (And for those of us in Indy, Happy Race Day!) I've got a very long six sentences this week. Just some description from my historical western,<i> Nobody's Bride</i>. This comes when the heroine, Maddy, realizes her time on the Chisholm Trail with the hero, William, is coming to an end, never to be repeated:<br />
<blockquote>
She loved the open air and the smells of clean wind, sunbaked grasses, and stirring cattle. She loved watching the wildflowers change with the season and seeing the bees bumble from one to the other, gathering nectar. She loved the dip and sway of the wagon, the broad backs of the oxen pulling in tandem, and the dusty score across the prairie that marked where ten thousand cattle had trod already this summer, and twenty thousand more would tread before winter came. She even loved the thick choking dust, the mud of the river crossings, and the sound of crickets and grasshoppers sawing away at their instruments late into the night.<br />
<br />
But most of all, she loved to look over and see William riding point, sitting so naturally in the saddle that he looked like a part of Arion, and they weren't horse and rider any more, but some mythical beast that combined the two, like something out of a storybook. She loved his holler and the sweep of his arm that set them moving in the morning, and its reverse that brought them to a halt at night.</blockquote>
<br />
As always, you can find more great snippets <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-41973079475565780332012-05-20T00:05:00.000-05:002012-05-20T05:45:22.673-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, May 20th<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
Another tidbit from my contemporary, <i>By Hook or By Crook</i>. Joe and Ivy wagered on a game of pool. When she won, she got to claim her prize: dancing together to the old Aaron Neville tune, "Tell It Like It Is." In this scene, they're on the dance floor of a tiny bar and the sexual tension is rising.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"You
should tell it like it is, Ivy." She could barely hear his hoarse voice
over the music, but she understood him loud and clear. "Do you want
me?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">His honest
question demanded an honest answer. She swallowed and decided to be braver
than she felt. "You know that I do," she returned, unable to look
away.</span></div>
<br /><br />For other Six Sentence Sunday selections, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.<br />And if you want to hear Aaron Neville's swooningly romantic "Tell It Like It Is," go <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG-OcDj0nb4">here</a>.Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-46174808960942676952012-05-13T00:04:00.000-05:002012-05-13T00:04:00.362-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, May 13<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day! Between a Mother's Day event and some work I have to do for the day job, I won't be commenting much today. I'll be back next week though!<br />
Here's another tidbit from the contemporary I'm shopping, <i>By Hook or By Crook</i>. Ivy and Joe (an heiress and her security consultant) had a romantic dalliance while stranded in a mountain cabin during a blizzard. Now that they're free, Ivy is trying to put the genie back in the bottle again:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"Now that
we're back in the real world, I think we ought to try to put things between us
on a more professional footing once again," Ivy said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"The
real world? I didn't know we'd ever left it. Tell me about this distinction.
Why is this motel parking lot the real world, but a cabin an hour or so away </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">magically</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">isn't?" His jaw had that pugnacious angle that it took on when he made
her life difficult, and Ivy sighed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">For more Six Sentence Sunday, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.</span></div>
<br />
<br />Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-35134039285233947242012-05-11T13:49:00.001-05:002012-05-11T13:54:41.534-05:00Second excerpt from Nobody's Bride<img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRUrlSyjX-3xoetyQ9r8-iYcfdd0ud4O0xOVjds16X3Y2AkTWDo" />
<br />
<br />
Another excerpt from my western WIP, <i>Nobody's Bride. </i>I'm in revisions and will be looking for beta readers in a few weeks, so let me know in the comments if you're interested. This is unedited, as usual, so forgive any errors:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">The stench of burning railroad ties seared William Hadley’s nose and made his head throb. He should be used to the smell of destruction by now. He’d ordered the burning of strategic Union railroads himself. His men pulled up rails, heated them in bonfires, and twisted them beyond recognition. His men called the distorted rails “Old Mrs. Lincoln’s hair pins.”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">He wasn’t used to it yet.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">They’d arrived at Goldsborough Bridge yesterday, with orders to hold it. The railroad bridge formed a vital link in the supply chain from the port of Wilmington. His brigade’s reconnaissance had spotted the Yankee Maj. Gen. John Foster leading an expedition to the bridge. Outnumbered, they’d been overpowered quickly, losing dozens to death, injury, and capture. He and his surviving men had been forced to retreat and then watch while Union troops pulled down the bridge, tumbled the stone support columns, burned the ties, and melted the rails.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">An acrid taste filled his mouth, coating his tongue. He couldn’t tell if it was from breathing the blackened air or from watching Yankees romp over the remains of the Goldsborough Bridge.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">He and five or six of his men had taken shelter behind a little rise when the order came to pursue and harass Foster’s men on the way back to New Bern.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">And then things had gone wrong. Awfully, utterly wrong. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">He didn’t want to remember, but he didn’t have a choice. Corporal Neely’s pale, sweaty face. The atrocity below it that he tried not to see. “Please,” Neely had begged. “Please.”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">William raised his Colt. The man was begging him. What else could he do?”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">“Oh, God. Don’t tell my mama it happened like this. Please.”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">“I won’t.” He would never tell anyone about this.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">Now the boy was saying something else, but William couldn’t hear it. The sounds of battle had faded now, leaving only this moment, this boy, and what he had to do. He battled a shiver. December nights in North Carolina could be frigid. He’d better order the men to build the fires high tonight as a hedge against the cold.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">His hand made a motion, such a tiny motion, really, he still found it hard to imagine it had much consequence. The roar of his revolver sounded in his ears. Too late, he made sense of what Corporal Neely had been trying to say.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">“Please don’t shoot.”</span></div>Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-23916967175026776422012-05-07T05:54:00.003-05:002012-05-07T05:55:31.475-05:00Guesting on Alyson Reuben's blog, giveawayI'm a guest on Alyson Reuben's blog today. Stop by to have a chance to win an ecopy of <i>Montana Belle</i>!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://abiteofreubensandwich.blogspot.com/2012/05/guest-author-linda-morris-by-hook-or-by.html">http://abiteofreubensandwich.blogspot.com/2012/05/guest-author-linda-morris-by-hook-or-by.html</a>Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-10417961640832595282012-05-06T00:09:00.000-05:002012-05-06T05:53:18.673-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, May 6th<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
I've been excerpting <i>Nobody's Bride</i> for a while, but for the heck of it, I'm giving you six sentences from <i>By Hook or By Crook</i>, the comic contemporary romance I'm shopping around. (And by the way, I finally finished the first draft of <i>Nobody's Bride</i> and have been in revision mode all week. If anybody's interested in being a beta reader for my western historical with a tormented hero and a sassy heroine, let me know in the comments.)<br />
Anyway, back to <i>By Hook or By Crook</i>. In this scene, hero Joe has just returned from a casino gaming floor. He's checking out heroine Ivy and contrasting her to the scantily clad women he saw in the casino:<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Somehow
none of them had Ivy's elegant but very real sensuality, with her little heeled
sandals and her subdued dress. She had left her legs bare, and if he wasn't
mistaken, they had a slight sheen. He realized she'd caught him staring when
she cleared her throat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Are
your legs . . . sparkling?" he managed to ask, feeling like an idiot but wanting
to explain since he'd been caught leering.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"My
body lotion has a little bit of glitter in it," she said with a trace of
diffidence. For some reason, she didn't seem mad at having caught him staring.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-list-ins: Kelly 20110411T0851; mso-list: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For more Six Sentence Sunday goodness, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a><span style="font-size: small;">. </span></span></span></div>Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-33190613063860242172012-05-02T12:55:00.002-05:002012-05-02T12:55:15.992-05:00Western WIP updateSaddle up, boys and girls. It's revision time on my western historical WIP, Nobody's Bride. I've finished my first draft and have been working on revisions for the last couple of days. After I finish that, I'll send it out to some beta readers and possibly make revisions based on that feedback. I hope to have it ready for submission in a month or two. (If you're interested in being a beta reader, DM me on Twitter at LMorrisWriter, or leave a comment on this post.) After that, I'm considering writing a contemporary for a New Years' Eve-themed anthology.<br />
Happy trails, everybody!Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-53867765448581914872012-04-29T00:04:00.000-05:002012-04-29T10:05:34.793-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, Apr. 29th<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Another snippet from my western WIP, </i>Nobody's Bride<i>. I'm finally reaching near the end of my first draft on this one. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;"><i>This is my hero getting a gash stitched up after they've been attacked by bandits: </i></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">Liquid warmth trickled down his temple and he realized the stitches had made fresh blood well. He heard a moan from the other side of the fire and wondered at it, but didn’t have the strength to look up. He felt the sustained tug of the thread being pulled through the hole in his skin. Finally the pressure stopped, leaving him just the agony. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">Hopefully Maddy had knotted her thread good and tight. He’d hate for his head to come unraveled like the toe of an old sock.</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">For other Six Sentence Sunday snippets, click <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.</span></div>Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860686507407811668.post-85455135408229030442012-04-22T00:37:00.000-05:002012-04-22T00:37:00.201-05:00Six Sentence Sunday, Apr. 22nd<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA14cjWmG7bNt8owhh1pfmaBiO99u13fky6BSFPYWTAyKU6b79Jnmahw8yv2GXbISvxAqJHENVO8f4yFo143F7gFfdYH-bNQy1dfxenyW4U_BcGatzsq13OFiCjxcQdbae2RUwVGC0u6n4/s1600/sixsundayheader.jpg" /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11pt;"><i>From my historical western WIP, </i>Nobody's Bride<i>. I'll leave you to figure out what the H/h are doing: </i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<br />
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">He gripped her hand and wouldn’t let her pull away. </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">“No!” she said in a panic. “It’s a sin!”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">“I hate to tell you, honey, but everything we’ve done tonight is a sin. What’s one more?” </span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;">“But that’s an <i>especially </i>bad one.”</span></div>
<div style="text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 11pt;">To partake of more Six Sentence Sunday goodness, go <a href="http://www.sixsunday.com/">here</a>.</span></div>Linda Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05113981098789732198noreply@blogger.com9