It’s Wednesday. Again. Why does this keep happening? It’s like Monday. We just can’t get away from it! 😆 Okay, today’s writing challenge is to pull a #1lineWed from pages 16, 62, or 162 of your WIP. Or in this case, my WIP, unless, of course, you want to share in the comments. So…DOUBLE CROSS, book one in the Hard Target series. Oh, and I’ve added two new pages under the Moonstruck tab–one for Nightriders and another for Hard Target. There are crappy banners I made (until Only takes pity on me and makes good ones), but they aren’t bad given my limited graphics abilities.
Wait. Oh, yes. #1lineWed. Here you go…And the lines I’ll be using on Twitter is highlighted.
A quick FYI, Duke and SEAL Team Atlantis have been dispatched to Africa to take out a warlord (think Boka Haram). He didn’t expect to find an American pediatrician in the midst of the operation. This snippet is from Cory’s POV before her path crosses with the team.
Cory curled into a fetal ball, her silent screams still echoing in her memory. Her heart thudded, pounding a rhythm far too erratic to be healthy. Damn nightmares. She held onto her sanity and sense of self by her torn and bloody fingernails. Dr. Coreen Prince, MD. Doctors for International Children’s Aid. DICA was supposed to keep her safe. Keep the clinic safe. Yeah, right. The guards deserted her at the first sign of trouble and here she was, on a forced march across the African wilds, cut off from any chance of help.
And a bit later in the same scene:
A boot to her ribs jerked her awake. Rough hands hauled her to her feet. She shouldered the medical pack and blindly stumbled the direction her guard pointed. One foot in front of the other. If she was to survive, she had to walk.
And now a longer bit from Duke’s POV. This is six months later and will be somewhere around page 62. Close enough for government work and #1lineWed, anyway. LOL Duke’s been discharged from a military hospital AND the Navy. He’s back on Key West, sitting on his favorite stool in his favorite bar–Mother Goose’s.
“Here. Have a glass of self-pity.” Mother Goose slid a glass of single-malt scotch in front of Duke. He knew what she was doing by the sound of glass scraping on wood and the smoky scent of the alcohol.
“Not what I’m drinking.” He couldn’t even work up the energy to reach for the sweating beer bottle at his elbow.
“Oh? Could have fooled me.”
“Dammit, Mother. I didn’t come in here for this crap.”
“Then get your ass off my barstool and get the hell out, Duke.”
“I’m fucking blind, Mother.”
And I’ll leave that as a big, ol’ tease! Because I’m all evil like that. *bwahaha*