Today’s #1lineWed theme is appropriate. It’s Wednesday. The middle of a normal work week. Of course, writers wouldn’t know about anything remotely resembling a normal work week. Sort of like anyone working retail! Anyway, it’s Hump Day and the theme is **MIDDLE**. Here’s another peek at the Irish Mob Wolves WIP, as things “heat up” between Mick and Shannon.
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“You’re a broody one tonight.”

Mick ignored his brother. “I need t’run.”

“Aye, we all need some wild time,” Ronan agreed. “What’s got you in a twist?” He followed Mick’s gaze and flashed sly smile.

“Don’t think ya know any bloody thing.”

“Why don’t you—”

“Shut it, Ronan. Ya might be older’n me and ya might be the boss o’me when it comes to business but ya don’t know shite about nothin’ else.”

Ronan’s smirk just deepened. “When your Irish comes out, you’re feelin’ it deep, boyo.”

“Shut up.”

Ronan leaned back in his chair and sipped his glass of Irish whiskey, noting that his younger brother never took his eyes off the waitress. Shannon was a pretty woman.

Mick watched her intently. She returned from break and there was something…different about her. Pink cheeks. A breathlessness. Lips…swollen. Some gobshite had kissed her. She approached with his ale, and his nose flared. “Who touched you?” he snarled.

“How do you know someone did?” Shannon’s chin jutted, her whole body screaming defiance.

“And why do you care?” She slammed the glass on the table and the creamy foam on the top of the Guinness sloshed over the sides. “I may work for you, Michael O’Connor, but you don’t get a say in my private life.”

Mick swallowed his growl and forced his wolf to settle down. Ours! the animal insisted. She wasn’t theirs. Not by a long shot. And she couldn’t be. He had no room in his life for a woman. Especially not one who threatened to take up permanent residence in his heart. She stormed away before he could retort. Turning to his brother for help, Ronan shook his head.

“You’ll not be puttin’ me in the middle of this. I’ve told ya before—and often—that if you want the girl, go and get her.”

Mick slammed back the dark ale, gulping down half of it. “She drives me bloody bonkers.”

“What’s your wolf have to say about it?”

Mick shot Ronan a glare then deliberately finished off his Guinness. “I’ll find the bloody wanker and—”

“Do nothing,” Ronan cut him off. “You haven’t claimed her, Mick. She can do whoever she pleases.”

And damn if he wasn’t right.
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And damn if Mick isn’t going to try to coerce Bowie (Shannon’s brother) into getting right in the middle of Shannon’s business. Too bad, because Bowie’s up to his eyebrows with the flame-haired (and tempered) Fiona. Fun times ahead! Readers, what book are you in the middle of reading right now? Writers, got any middle words to share?