Tag: romance

Double Seduction (6)

~ Meg ~ 91 Comments

The latest chapter in my collaboration with Fictional Kevin:  Double Seduction. If you missed the opening chapters, find them here: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five.  And now…

Chapter 6 – Connection

Mel hauled the groceries out to her Acura and stowed them in the trunk. She was sore from this morning’s workout with Anton — he’d been tough on her because she’d been distracted. He’d taken her down enough times that she was suffering the consequences. She relished the thought of a nice long soak in the tub, a glass of wine and the steak she’d just had the butcher wrap up for her.

Ten minutes later she turned onto the tree-lined avenue where her home office was located. A beater of a Ford Taurus was parked across from her driveway. Probably a commuter student, too cheap to pay for parking in the Bryn Mawr College lot several blocks away. She pulled around to the back door of the home and parked. After hauling the bags inside, she turned on lamps to dissipate the gloom from the approaching twilight.

While the grill heated, she opened the wine —an old vine Zinfandel— poured herself a glass. Some music would be nice. Powering the stereo on with her phone, she scrolled through her collection until she found just the right thing. Anita O’Day. Perfect. A sip of wine. Savoring, she closed her eyes and swayed to the first song in the playlist: “When Sunny Gets Blue.” She glided sound the living room, humming along to the song and drawing the curtains closed on her front windows. The old Taurus was gone from in front of her house.

She grilled the steak till it was seared on the outside, still red and juicy within, and ate it with a fresh spinach salad, while Anita’s sad voice serenaded her. The music and the wine were making her maudlin. It was this time of day, eating and drinking alone, that squeezed her broken heart all over again.

“Get a grip,” she grumbled.

She rose, left her plate in the sink and refilled her glass. She’d been ignoring her blog and her blogging buddies. It was high time she got caught up. Not to mention David. She had decided to confront him about the nasty comment and the image from that other guy’s Facebook. Maybe he could explain. She‘d give him the chance, anyway. He had to know she’d check him out. Any woman would be a fool not to. If he didn’t like it, well… then she’d have her answer. Stay away.

Her study was at the back of the house, facing the trees that separated her from the neighbor on the next street over. Switching on the desk lamp, she settled into her leather chair and powered up her iMac. She opened her e-mail, found a new post from David. It was titled “Heartbreak.” She clicked on it to take her to his blog.

The phone call was devastating. He hadn’t seen it coming.
“I’ve met someone else. I’m so sorry.”
She returned his heart, slightly damaged and not in the original packaging, and like a beautiful moment, she was gone. He cried. He yelled. But no one cared, no one heard. He was alone, once again.

It was tagged “Savannah,” and he’d turned off comments. “Oh, David,” she whispered. “I know just how you feel.”

“Well, this changes everything,” she murmured. She re-read the post, sipped her wine. “But I still need to know…” she thought.

Flash. Mel jumped as the lights from the motion sensors illuminated the back yard. Probably an animal, she thought. They’d go out in a few minutes.

She opened a new e-mail, began typing.

David,

Sorry I took so long to respond. I’ve been trying to find the words to ask you something. First of all, I want you to know how much I enjoy our online banter. I’ve really felt a connection to you over the last few months. So it’s not easy for me to ask this. You must know that out of curiosity and for my own protection, I did some checking on you. I found a few things that troubled me.  On the surface at least. I wanted to give you a chance to explain…

Flash. The lights flared on again. Frowning, Mel rose and went to the window. She peeked through the blinds at the grassy expanse. Nothing. She watched for a few minutes to make sure. The lights winked out again. She returned to the e-mail.

She asked about the comment first.

I came across a comment you made on another blog. It was from a couple months ago. Bread and Roses. Sound familiar? You called the blogger an ugly bitch. Insinuated she couldn’t get a man. It was completely inappropriate. Not to mention totally out of touch with the tone of the article. Which, by the way, I happen to completely agree with. Why would you attack another blogger like that? For providing a balanced commentary on a legitimate women’s issue? I couldn’t reconcile the hateful remarks with the David I know. Please enlighten me.

Then she asked about the Facebook page she had found.

I searched your image, thought maybe I’d find your Facebook or Twitter. Instead, I found a man named Kevin Campbell from Upstate New York with a wife and two children using the same pencil drawing you use for your blog. I am going to assume that’s not you. But I’d feel a lot better if you could confirm it. Or is the image yours and this guy borrowed it from you? If that’s the case, I thought you should know.

Finally, I also want to tell you that I read your post today. I’m so sorry. My heart goes out to you. I’ve been in that situation myself. A wound like that doesn’t heal easily or quickly. I’m here for you if you need to talk.

Melody

Crash. Mel gripped the arms of the chair, goosebumps rising on her skin. Had she set the alarm? She couldn’t remember. Pressing a fist to her sternum to steady her heart rate, she hit ‘send’ on the e-mail and hurried from the study to check the control panel. Anita was singing “The Party’s Over.” The panel lights were off. Damn. She checked the front door. Locked.

“Ok, ok, relax,” she sighed in relief. “You are fine. It’s all good.”

Just to reassure herself, she rushed to the kitchen to check the sliding doors that led to her patio. They were locked as well. She laughed out loud, relieved. “Shit.”

Crash.

“What the hell?” she muttered, as angry as she was scared.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to calm down. She grabbed her flashlight and strode toward the patio doors, intending to investigate. Just as she was sliding the door open, the e-mail alert pinged.

Continue reading…

Double Seduction (4) Switch

~ Meg ~ 72 Comments

Fictional Kevin and I are collaborating on a novella of suspense that we hope you all will enjoy. We are alternating writing and posting a chapter a week until the conclusion of Double Seduction.  If you missed the opening chapters, find them here:  Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three.  And now…

Chapter Four:  Switch

Something wasn’t right. Mel had tossed and turned all night worrying about it. Thinking she would get a little background on David before things went any further, she Googled him. She began by searching the e-mail address he’d given her. It led back to his blog. No surprise there. Next, she searched “Fictional David” and again she was directed to the blog. But as she scrolled down, she discovered the list also included comments he’d made on other blog posts, and mentions other bloggers made of him. Interesting. He was a frequent commenter. Mel soon realized she wasn’t the only female blogger David had been flirting with. Not cool.

And then…

Her eyes were drawn to a comment he had made on a post written by a blogger who called herself “Bread and Roses” – an obvious homage to Rose Schneiderman, a pioneering feminist. Mel clicked on the article to see what had provoked such a venomous response – “Don’t blame men, just because you’re an ugly bitch.” What the hell? That didn’t sound like the David she knew. The thoughtful article championed work equality for women. The comment was way out of line. Mel was surprised the author hadn’t deleted it. She kept scrolling through more of the comments and mentions. Nothing else grabbed her attention. Still, Mel was unsettled.

This week, things had changed with David. Last evening’s e-mail was more personal than ever before. He had told her more about himself than he’d revealed in his blog and asked her the same. And he’d compared her to Savannah. Favorably. She blushed, thinking about it. Nevertheless, the vile comment left Mel feeling a little shaky. She’d mention it to Anton later this morning.

As soon as the sky lightened, she gave up on sleep. It was a day off from work but that didn’t mean a day of relaxation. She pulled on her cold weather running gear, laced up her Asics and set off at a brisk walk to warm up. Four fast miles later, she had burned off the nervous energy that had kept her awake last night.

Coffee, an apple and a bowl of oatmeal and she was ready for the rest of the day.

She was early for her session but she knocked anyway. Anton would be ready for her. She was his first client of the day —the way she was every Tuesday and Thursday.

Anton Petrescue opened to her with a smile. “Melody, please come in,” he said, standing back to let her pass.

She entered the foyer of his workspace and took off her shoes. After leading the way into the main room, he gestured for her to have a seat on the comfortable sofa against the far wall.

“I’m finishing up an important live chat. It won’t be more than a few more minutes, my dear. Make yourself comfortable or help yourself to tea, if you like. You know where to find everything.”

“I’m fine, Anton. Thank you,” she said.

Mel folded her legs beneath her and sat at the end of the sofa closest to where Anton’s desk was situated. She watched him walk gracefully around the large modern table and drape himself into the oversized chair behind it. The sleek monitor blocked her view of his face as he nimbly typed on the keyboard before it. True to his word, he finished up within a few minutes.

“Melody,” he said, sliding out from behind the desk. “Tell me what worries you.”

He strode over and in one fluid move, lowered himself to sit cross-legged before her.

Melody chewed her lower lip. “Is it that obvious?”

Anton nodded sagely. “Yes. That little line that forms between your brows…” he said, pointing. “It gives you away.” He reached for her left foot, began massaging it gently. “Tell me.”

He was hitting all the tender spots in her foot, surely a sign of stress. She winced and he eased up the pressure. With a sigh, she began, “I’ve met someone…” And she told him all about David, the blog, the recent escalation in their communication and sharing her private information.

Anton frowned. “You say he already has a girlfriend? What are you thinking? You of all people should know how that feels, Melody.”

She grimaced. “I know. I know. It’s just that we… we clicked. Maybe it will remain just a friendship, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I came across something weird and I don’t really know what to make of it.”

She explained about the hateful comment. “Should I be worried, Anton?”

He pursed his lips and stroked his full beard. He was quiet for a moment. “Why don’t you show me?”

Mel followed him to the computer where he reawakened it from sleep. He gestured for her to have a seat. “Go ahead. Log in,” he instructed.

She did as she was told and slid aside so Anton could have a look. He scrolled through the list, frowning as he moved the mouse. “I must admit, it doesn’t inspire confidence.”

He glanced at Mel sideways. “What about social media? Does he have a Facebook or Twitter?”

Mel shook her head. “I didn’t find anything like that.”

Anton shrugged. “Well, I suppose he could have it under his real name with a different e-mail, keeping it separate from his blog. You know, for privacy reasons.” He paused, concentrating. “Let me try something.”

Mel rose from the chair to let Anton have a seat. She paced while Anton stared at the screen, clicking, scanning, clicking, scanning. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Anton, what are you doing?” she asked.

He held a finger up. “Wait.”

She waited.

“Hmm. This is interesting,”

“What? What is it?”

“I searched the image. The one he uses for his blog avatar.” He gestured to the monitor. “I found a Facebook page. Is this your man?”

He slid away from the desk so Mel could have a look. There was the familiar pencil drawing. She scrolled through the Facebook posts. Photos of a handsome dark haired man, a striking resemblance to the avatar. A lovely woman? Two little children? What the hell was this?

“Look, Melody, it’s a different name. Kevin Campbell. Husband of Marion, father to Sean and Sarah….”

“Oh my god.” She kept reading. “Wait a minute. It says he lives in upstate New York. David lives in Pennsylvania. Not that far from me, actually. This can’t be him.”

“Ah, well then,” Anton said. “Perhaps David came across the image and decided to use it for his blog profile. So he could remain anonymous. There are many reasons —legitimate reasons— he might choose to do that.” He reached for her hand, squeezed it. “Just be careful, my dear.”

“What’s wrong with me, Anton?” Mel asked, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know this guy. And yet I’ve opened myself up to him and I’m not really sure why.”

“Melody, there’s nothing wrong with you. You want what we all want — a chance to connect with another soul on a deep and personal level. Sometimes that means taking risks.” He stood and took her hands from her face and held them between both of his. “You see the best in people — an admirable quality. But you aren’t naive, my dear. Just honest, open, gentle. And thanks to your ex-husband, you’ve learned to protect your heart. I am not worried about you. Now, come with me,” he said, leading her to the center of the room. “You don’t pay me to be your therapist, Melody. You pay me to teach you to fight. Are you ready?”

Melody took a deep breath, braced herself and raised her arms. She nodded. “I’m ready.”

Continue reading:  Chapter Five

Places, everyone! Writing Action!

~ Meg ~ 35 Comments

Working out the issues in novel writing.

“And… Action!” the director orders.

The actors, already in position and waiting, begin to play out they parts in the scene. Perhaps they are fleeing for their lives, preparing to engage in hand-to-hand combat or in a steamy, passionate, heart-stopping kiss. A good director will shoot a scene over and over, coaching the actors until it plays just the want he or she wants it. The movements, the facial expressions, the gestures all have to be absolutely perfect for the scene to ring true, to be authentic. The very same principles can be applied to creating the action scenes in the written form. An author must visualize –watch the scene unfold in the imagination– then write. What works? What reads awkwardly?

In writing, we talk about SHOW versus TELL. In other words, don’t just say “Mary made a cup of tea.” Show Mary filling the kettle, lighting the stove, spooning tea leaves into the pot… and so forth. It makes for much more interesting reading because all these little actions help the reader “see” what the characters are doing. The best way to illustrate is by example, so let’s practice, shall we?

The fight:

Instead of saying: Brad punched Kerry in the nose….

Brad stood staring Kerry down, his fists clenched at his side. Kerry just didn’t know when to shut up. Insinuating that Brad’s intentions toward Maya were less than honorable was the last straw. And now he was laughing about it. Brad pivoted, putting most of his weight on his right foot. When his arm shot out, Kerry didn’t have time to react. As the clenched fist connected, Kerry felt as well as heard the crunch of bone, tasted blood in his mouth. His head spun as his neck whipped around from the impact and he stumbled. He grabbed the back of the chair to keep from falling when the next blow landed. All the air was sucked out of his lungs with the punch to the gut. The blood was pouring from his nose now. He was choking on it. He raised a hand in surrender. “Please,” he managed in a hoarse whisper.

Ok, that’s enough. You get the idea. Not my best writing, but good enough for our purposes. The point is that action sequences have to have, well, action! There has to be movement. Describe smells, tastes, textures and sounds: the taste of blood, the crunch of bone, for example. The reader can visualize the scene because of the detail the writer has provided. I know that some writers actually make up story boards for action scenes. It helps because it breaks a scene into its component parts. A caution — don’t get all listy.  By that I mean, don’t list the components of a scene like: First, Brad put all his weight on his right foot, then he pivoted, then he threw the first punch and then…  Get it? Listy – not good.

You might even want to watch a fight scene from film or TV to find some inspiration. The same would be true of a car chase, an attack by aliens or giant radioactive monsters… (All of which I may address in future posts.  I know — you can’t wait.) Nevertheless, the principles apply.

Now let’s go to the complete other end of the spectrum to an example of a smaller, more subtle kind of action.

The kiss:

Instead of saying:  Brad kissed Maya tenderly…

Tears streamed down Maya’s cheeks and it broke his heart. Brad crossed the room in three strides and took her in his arms. “Maya,” he whispered, framing her face with his hands. With his thumbs, he gently swept away the last of her tears. Her blue eyes were bottomless pools and he found himself sinking into them. With his heart thudding in his chest, he lowered his lips to hers, softly at first. Tentatively, he deepened the kiss as she responded. She sighed against him, parting her lips slightly, letting him in. She tasted like the salt of her tears but he didn’t mind.  He teased with his tongue, slowly, languidly as if he could make this kiss last forever…

Ok, romantic drivel, I know. Sorry, dudes. There are things to consider when writing the perfect kiss. What are the kissers doing with their hands? Is it a chaste, first-time kiss or a passionate kiss between long time lovers? Do they angle their heads one way or another? (The nose gets in the way, after all!) How long does it go on? They may be out of breath when they finally break apart.

Speaking of breath, I know we don’t like to talk about it, but is it minty fresh, taste like cigarette smoke, coffee or the shot of whiskey he or she just tossed back? Think about textures again: his soft flannel shirt, her silky blouse, his rough and calloused hands, her glossy, swollen lips, his strong arms, her lustrous hair, blah, blah, blah.

You see what I’m saying, though, right? You, the reader, have the movie of the scene playing in your head while your eyes scan those words. Every time you write action, think about how the five senses are impacted. That is how you SHOW action, instead of just TELLing us that it happened.

I hope you found this to be useful! Happy writing, my dears!