Wednesday. Once again. Time for new words! Today’s #1lineWed is brought to you by the page numbers 14, 47, or 147. After launching the finalists for the National Readers Choice Awards, I’m finally back to work on DOUBLE CROSS/Hard Target. I hope you enjoy the snippets!
This is the last paragraph of Chapter 2, which is approximately page 14, thereabouts, maybe… The team is bedded down waiting for their emergency extraction–still two hours away and the scene is Duke’s POV.
The sound was a soft one, barely registering on the outer limits of his hearing. A whoosh, like air escaping from a balloon. Fuck. Griffin missile. His body erupted into instinctive action even as he yelled orders. What the fuck? His voice got lost in the roaring blast as the damn thing hit. The night lit up and everything went to shit.
This next bit is further on in the story…maybe around page 47 (or a bit earlier but…)
He squeezed her shoulder so hard she winced.
“I may be blind, princess—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m still a fucking Navy SEAL, princess. I’ll get your pampered ass back to the States.”
And finally, a snippet from later in the book–the in between not filled in yet because of that whole Puzzler writing process thing. 😆 In this scene, Duke is in the employ of Mother Goose and her merry band of misfit special operators. The Hard Target team is in the middle of a South American jungle and Duke has recognized the good doctor through his sniper scope–seemingly a guest of the chief of the local drug cartel. He’s speaking to a Wolf shifter by the name of Fraser “Kin” Kincaid, a name some of you might remember… *shhhhh* 😉
“Your call, mate.”
Yeah. His call. He was the damn mission boss. Part of him wanted to put a bullet in her brain. The rest wanted to strip her down and fuck her blind. Decisions, decisions. “Extract her before we blow the hacienda.”
“I’ll retrieve her then. What is it American cowboys say? Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers?”
“No, that would be John McClane, the cop character in the Die Hard movies.” And didn’t that just sum up his personal hell. Duke scrubbed at his forehead. The team was out of options. They had to cut the head off the cartel and no matter how much part of him might want to leave Dr. Cory Prince there to suffer the consequences of her actions, he couldn’t do it. Not and face himself in the mirror every morning for the rest of his life. “Get her out, Kin. I’ll cover your six.”
“My arse appreciates that, Duke.” The cocky Scot gave him a one-fingered salute before disappearing into the underbrush.
Who has words to share from their own WIP or a book you’re reading?