RRJ 1/29

We are rolling right along. 62k words as of finishing this morning's writing block, and lots more left to write. Sequels are my favorites because that's when I get to really crack the characters open like eggs on the side of a bowl and see what they're made of. 

I wanted to share some of my favorite lines from last week's writing:

Red Rooster

Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Gilley 

“Lanny,” Steve said, brows knitting in concern. “How did this – are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lanny shrugged, and Nikita could tell his bravado was entirely fake – in the part of his brain that was managing to catalogue all of this and read emotions. “I’m cool. I mean, I wasn’t. This guy” – he jerked a thumb at Alexei beside him – “didn’t even ask, or anything. I was pissed. But. Yeah, so I had cancer…? Was kinda dying. I guess it all worked out.” He shrugged again, inelegant caveman that he was.

***

"You’re having second thoughts.” She smiled a fraction when she said it, pleased that she’d figured him out. “Why?”

Jake held her gaze stubbornly for a long moment, and then caved, glancing away, exhaling tiredly through his nose. He’d never before been the one to back down first in a game of chicken; but he guessed he wasn’t the same man he’d been then. The Major Treadwell who’d sacrificed himself for his unit had died in a desert inferno; the blind man who’d crawled back, who’d been given a second chance and the leadership of this hackneyed team, wasn’t so unwaveringly sure of himself. 

***

“Do vampires eat breakfast? ‘Cause we’re making a literal ton of food.”

“I dunno about him, but this one does,” Lanny said, and smiled wide enough to show his fangs.

Mom blinked at him, then sighed, expression becoming resigned. “Young lady.” Her gaze came back to Trina. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

Another Bit

“…and I was like, I was totally on, man. You know? You know? I was, like…whoa.”

            Gym guys and their vocabularies. Beautiful. Lisa bit her lip against a sudden laugh and decided stopping by TKO had been a good idea, if for no other reason than it was a distraction. She threw a wave at Don as she passed the front desk – and the two twenty-something meatheads discussing their workouts – and headed straight for the back, where private lessons were held.

Thursday Snippet - "God Love Her"

*Reminder that this is still in rough draft stage. Apologies for any typos!*

 

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked like this with a woman. Scratch that – he remembered with acute clarity the exact last conversation he’d had with a beautiful girl he gave a damn about. But it had been almost eighteen years since then, and save the time he’d spent around Cheryl and Lisa, he hadn’t been interested in what a woman had to say about anything. He didn’t share Eddie’s affliction – he wasn’t punching too many holes in a trophy belt – but he had a bad case of apathy.

            He loved the Russells, though. And the black-eyed, concussion-addled girl sitting on the bed with him was a Russell. That counted for a lot. That made small talk, mysteriously, important.

A Look at "God Love Her"

It's my plan to share some of this chapter by chapter at some point - still shooting for a December release. But I wanted to share this little bit today. Happy Saturday, all! Hope it's as blue and beautiful where you are as it is here. Spoilers for Made for Breaking.

 

 

Dinner was stir fry, risotto, and fried apples. Layla offered to help and was finally allowed to prep the rolls, so long as she stayed sitting down and promised not to “overwork” herself. Ellen and Cheryl were delighted to learn that, unlike Lisa, she could cook and liked to. Lisa made a face at that.

            After, Layla was denied her wish to help clean up, and instead slipped out the backdoor. The evening was all in grays and purples, the ancient oaks throwing lace shadows across the silver stretch of lawn. Security lamps on their power poles were flickering to life around the drive. Crickets called to one another, and above them, in the trees, the cicadas. It smelled like sun and grass and hot pavement, and the heady sweetness of Cheryl’s gardens. Layla wandered in the shelter of the shadows, and finally found a bench beside a koi pond; she had a view of the driveway, the back of the house, and, if she squinted, the ghostly pale shapes of the fish slipping beneath the lily pads down at her feet. It was the loveliest thing she’d seen in over a year. The peace of it was drugging; she could feel her headache ebb, the stress bleed out of her muscles.

            It lasted about five minutes before the pine straw crunched behind her.

Sunday Snippet: from God Love Her

A quick peek at what I'm working on today. Happy Sunday. Don't forget that today is the last day to get Better Than You, Fix You, and Whatever Remains for 99 cents.

 

 

He was in the living room when he sensed someone coming down the stairs. He slid into the foyer shadows and waited, listening, nerves itching as he felt more than heard a presence enter the darkness around him. By the time he’d made his move, he’d figured out who it was, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

            His hands closed over Layla’s wrists. To her credit, she didn’t scream, but gasped; he heard the sound get stuck in her throat as he steered her backward into a pale rectangle of light coming in through the drawing room window. A white glow fell over her face, gilding her hair, skimming down the little slope of her nose, painting sparks in her giant green eyes. He watched her gaze dart to his face, and felt the tension leave her arms, though her pulse still hammered against his palms.