Wednesday Words: Earth

wurkn-on-mai-plan-for-word-domination-caleb-pupToday’s #1lineWed theme over on Twitter is “Earth. Or “ground.” They sort of mean the same thing. 😆 KOD has been on a roll with themes lately. They’ve had Earth, Wind, and Fire, and Water (or ground, air, heat, and wet). I sort of combined all the elements in this snippet from DOUBLE TROUBLE. FYI, I’m almost finished with it. And yes, I’ve written more words than I planned. With luck, I’m done and editing as y’all are reading this. Without luck, I’m still working on the last two chapters. Anyway, this is a follow-on to last weeks snippet–coming just after. You can go HERE and read it, if you missed last Wednesday’s Words. And now, our story continues…

“Dammit, Duke! Take care of those damn shooters!” Dom yelled into the microphone attached to the headset he now wore.

The pistol reappeared after he buckled into the harness. He grabbed her, pulling her close. “Arms around my neck, Peni. Legs around my waist. We’re going up. Fast.”

She screamed in Dom’s ear as they whooshed skyward, the earth dropping away beneath her feet as air whistled in her ears. Fire flickered in her peripheral vision. She saw shadows dancing around a bonfire. Something whined past her cheek and she huddled closer to Dom as he grunted. In what seemed like an hour but was only seconds, they were hoisted aboard the helicopter. Peni barely had time to catch a breath before the chopper tilted and whizzed away over the ocean, the whitecaps below rolling beneath the intermittent light of the moon. She scrambled toward the stranger holding her babies, lost her balance, and was steadied by strong hands around her waist. A different man guided her onto a bench seat and buckled her into a safety harness.

Looking up, she realized Dom was arguing with the man named Brady. Evidently Dom won the argument because he climbed over a partition and settled into the co-pilot’s seat, switched his headset to headphones, and grabbed the stick. He’d told her he was a pilot. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he would want to be in charge. The other pilot, a handsome black man, looked angry, then reached through the opening and snatched something that looked like gauze pads from Brady’s outstretched hand.

Moments later, Brady settled beside the man holding her children, muttering something she couldn’t hear. “What are you saying?” She yelled above the noise filling the helicopter. “My babies? Are my babies safe?”

So, what about y’all? Do your books have their feet on the ground? Have any earthy words to share?


About Silver James

I like walks on the wild side and coffee. Lots of coffee. Warning: My Muse runs with scissors. Author of two award-winning series--Moonstruck and The Penumbra Papers, Red Dirt Royalty (Harlequin Desire) & other books! Purveyor of magic, mystery, mayhem and romance. Lots and lots of romance.
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2 Responses to Wednesday Words: Earth

  1. Yummy.

    Sorry I’m late. I had my head up my editing. Here’s my dirt snippet where we find out how Michael the law student became Michael the genie…

    Back in 1972, Michael Dodson was a young law student at Berkeley who just happened to be infatuated with a little, hippy girl majoring in archaeology. When she told him she was spending her spring break at some godsforsaken dirt hole in Arizona digging for Anasazi crap, he happily agreed to waste his vacation as well. One day, he caught her in the communal tent doing naughty communal things with her professor, and to prove that he was the better man, he decided to strike out into the ruins. I guess he figured if he found some super-cool artifact, she’d have to admit he was just as worthy of tent-banging as the prof.
    He found a super-cool artifact, all right. When he stumbled over what looked like a perfectly normal looking pewter box where none should have been, he didn’t blink over its total anachronistic placement. He snatched it up and began the trek back to camp. The sight of an Anglo-Saxon dude from the 16th century gave him a little pause, but hey, it was the ‘70s man. Even the knowledge that the stranger was a genie didn’t faze him. I suspect he might’ve wondered if someone had spiked his wheat germ with a tab of acid, but still… The same stupid thought occurred to him that had occurred to me many decades before. Why have just three wishes when you can just wish for a lot of wishes?
    Hell, why stop at a lot when you can have unlimited wishes?

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