I blogged a bit about my second novel in January.
Currently, I’m slogging through the revision process (and getting that much closer to editing – wheeee!).
Right now, revisions are going fairly well. I’m still in the “major renovations” stage of revising – chopping characters, rewriting entire sections, that sort of thing. If a novel were a house, I’d be knocking down walls and saying, “Hey, wouldn’t a window look good there?” Fine-tuning – painting the walls, hanging curtains, deciding if a character “sighed” or “exhaled” – is still a ways off.
But hey, I’m getting really excited about this one, so I’ll share another excerpt with you, my lovely reader…
The Wolf’s Lover Excerpt
My dreams were unsettled and disturbing. I woke tangled in the sheets, my heart pounding, certain I’d been running from something low and dark and close behind my back.
I stared at the ceiling and took a few deep breaths as my heart knocked frantically against my rib cage. My alarm clock said it was barely past three in the morning. I sighed. Sleep just may not happen tonight.
And then I heard someone in my kitchen.
It was impossible, but I heard the soft tsh of a cabinet drawer closing. Then the low hiss of the kitchen faucet.
I froze as my body flooded with adrenaline, my muscles tensed, and my fingers knotted into fists. Susan? Who else has a key?
I looked around my darkened bedroom. I didn’t own a gun, and all my knives were in the kitchen. Something heavy, something solid… I finally settled on a lumpy, oversized coffee mug I’d gotten from a local artist at the farmer’s market.
I came to my feet as silently as possible and wrapped my fingers around the coffee mug, my heart racing. The back of my mouth tasted metallic and bitter. I took a deep breath and crept toward the kitchen.
There was someone standing at my kitchen counter. Someone tall. A man. My fingers tightened around the coffee mug as I prepared to bring it down on his skull. I held my breath. This didn’t make any sense; he wasn’t going through my stuff. He wasn’t stealing anything. He was just standing there, at my stove, watching the red glow of the burner under my tea kettle. I frowned.
The dark figure turned to me. “Karen,” he said. “Lovely to see you again.”
I heard the click of the light switch, and my kitchen flooded with white. I blinked. He smiled. Tall, red hair. Wearing a dark suit.
The last time I saw him, he’d been pulling himself out of the blood-stained snow in Yellowstone.
“What the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?” I yelled.
He looked from my stove to my counter. There were three mugs in a neat row on the speckled countertop. “I’m making tea. Or would you prefer the scotch?” He gestured to the bottle on my kitchen table.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “What the fuck are you doing here? Now?”
“Making tea,” he said again. He gave me a disarmingly handsome smile, and I had to fight the urge to smash the coffee cup into his face.
My tea kettle whistled and Loki moved to the stovetop, pouring hot water into the three mugs. My kitchen filled with steam and the scent of lavender and camomile. Loki picked up my white coffee mug with MAINE written on the side and offered it to me. I shook my head. Then I stared back at the kitchen counter, and my heart jumped.
“Why are there three?”
Check out the first excerpt here, and stay tuned for more news!
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