Still buried...

Vivian August 27, 2010 0 Comments

But I missed you guys. 😉

I'm at that point in the story where all I can see are the faults. I want to make it all bright and shiny before my editor gets it, en route to reaching you. Sometimes the absolutely brilliant moments I saw while I was writing, now as I go through for the umpteenth time, don't look as smart, or as clever.

For you writers out there? Don't give up. I'm shaking my head a little, but still finding the fun in the process even if, damn it all, this time it's a lot more work than usual. And that's the reality. Sometimes a story springs onto the page and proceeds from beginning to end without a quiver of protest. This time? I'm hauling it along by the scruff of the neck as it curses at me to let it sleep for just a lettle teeny bit longer.

Bad week to have given up coffee, that's all I can say!

Here's a tiny unedited snippet from Turn It Up. Hopefully by next week I can announce the successful reining in of the project.

~~~

A slight motion rocked her and she sat upright with a jerk. She must have fallen into a daze—half asleep, half still drunk. Maybe Max would agree to call off the rest of the morning and they could pick this up in the future once she’d gotten her brain back.

Tasha fumbled for the seat belt release as he opened her door. She didn’t need his hands on her again, thank you. She was committed to this path. No men in her life. No more having to defend her heart. Just because her body reacted didn’t mean she had to give in.

She did accept his hand out of the vehicle, only to stop in confusion. “Why are we…? Max, you brought me to my building site. I asked you to take me home.”

“And I will. But this is one of your homes, so strictly speaking I did what you asked.”

His grin was back and the urge to smack him one grew larger by the minute. “You are so annoying.”

Maxwell opened the trunk and pulled out a couple of lawn chairs. “Come on, let’s talk.”

She followed behind as he paced toward the skeleton frame of what would be her home. After years of working for other people, she’d finally gotten the chance to take her own desires and put them down on paper. The architectural designs she’d created were slowly being turned into a reality. The foundation was poured, the weeping tile and backfill completed. The framers were hard at it now with most of the outer walls up and the sheeting closing it in so it actually looked like a house.

He unfolded the lawn chairs in the future living room and gestured to one. She shook her head. Standing would be better, especially when he arranged his long limbs into one chair. That allowed her to get the upper hand, right? Being taller than him for once?

“What did I tell you?” she blurted out. Oh, that was controlled and dignified. Not. He raised a brow and grinned wider and she bit back a smart comment. “I mean, tell me what happened last night, please.”

Max crossed his ankles and placed his elbows on the armrests, looking entirely too relaxed and comfortable. He wasn’t suffering at all, not nearly as much as she was.

“You explained to me how stupid men were, and I had to agree, since you were discussing the idiots you’ve dated over the past couple years. Then you informed me this being the modern world there was no reason for you to try to find a Prince Charming anymore.” He made little quote-unquote motions with his fingers, his dark eyes fixed on hers as he spoke. “I agreed with you on that one as well, in case you’re interested.”

“I thought you liked to argue with me.”

“Only when you’re wrong. Most of your revelations last night were amazingly accurate.”

She dragged the second lawn chair farther from him and collapsed into it. “Last night… Umm, what else did I say? Or do? Because I was too drunk for you to think I was serious. It must have been the alcohol talking.”

He tapped his fingers together as he considered. “No, the alcohol influenced bit came when you stripped off your clothes right after we walked in the door.”

Dear lord, no.

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