I thought it would be fun to whet your appetite with a little sample from Lying Eyes. If you like what you read, you can go back to my previous post, take the quiz, and enter a comment for a chance to win you own copy of the story. For now, sample this…
Blinking against the brighter daylight in the living room, Iris stumbled into the kitchen while still pulling on her bathrobe.
“Well now, if I’d known you were sleeping in the nude, I would have woken you up sooner.”
The male voice made her gasp. She fumbled with the sash on her robe, momentary terror already giving way to outrage. “Get out of here. Now!”
Mickey looked like a stalking jungle cat, his blue eyes sharp and clear behind the steaming mug he held just below his lips. “Oops, she woke up on the cranky side of the bed this morning.” From his perch on the countertop, he took a sip, as if he joined her for coffee every morning.
Wheeling about, she marched across the living room to survey the front door inside and out. Seeing no damage, she returned to the kitchen. “How do you keep getting in here?”
“Now, you wouldn’t want me to tell you all my secrets, would you?” He poured coffee into her favorite mug, added half and half until it reached that caramel color she craved and handed it to her.
He didn’t take commands, and she doubted she could scare him by losing her temper. “I’m not through yelling at you,” she said, accepting the cup. “Let’s just be clear on that.”
“A small price to pay. God, I knew you’d look good all mussed up.” He shot her a devilish smile.
Her body heated in response to his patent maleness in the close confines of her kitchen. He still wore last night’s black clothes, more rumpled now, smelling more of him than his woodsy aftershave. Their gazes locked, and for one crazy moment she thought he might kiss her. Even more frightening, she realized she wanted him to. Belatedly, she remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth. She gulped some coffee, burning her tongue.
“Were you sleeping alone in there?”
Halfway through another gulp, Iris coughed and sputtered at his question. At least the caffeine was helping her to think.
“Easy there, tiger.” His smile softened while concern tempered his eyes. “Don’t drown on me. I still need your help.”
The hint of a softer side was scarier than his ruggedness. And the idea that he might need her—for anything—was too appealing for words.
“I was just wondering if Edgar was in your bedroom. There’s no sign of him out here.”
“Oh.” So he hadn’t been worried about her sleeping with another man. And why not?
Super thanks to my editor, Deb, who made my first round of professional revisions such a treat. Thanks for keeping my modifiers from dangling, for deepening the POV by removing my filters, for liking my word-choice when I recast sentences, and the smilies. Thanks for embracing the funny and the poignant sides of these characters–especially Edgar!
Amy Atwell worked in professional theater for 15 years before turning from the stage to the page to write fiction. She now gives her imagination free rein in both contemporary and historical stories that combine adventure and romance. An Ohio native, Amy has lived all across the country and now resides on a barrier island in Florida with her husband and two Russian Blues. Visit her online at her www.amyatwell.com, What’s The Story? and Magical Musings blogs, Facebook, Twitter and/or GoodReads.