Eurydice (eurydice72) wrote,

WIP Meme

I can't resist that WIP meme that I've seen all over my friends list. :)

If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).

LUMINOSITY - an original novella

“Pardon me for staring,” Josh said. His voice was a velvet baritone, another trademark that brought him a world of recognition. There were jokes that he could read even Martha Stewart’s grocery list and make it sound sexy. Currently, it was directed at her, and he took a few steps closer to the ladder as he spoke. “It’s just that I’ve seen your name in credits before, and I always assumed---.”

“That I was a guy?” She immediately bristled. She’d been credited as Georgie Wilkes on every professional gig she’d ever had; based on her father’s advice, it had been a deliberate choice of hers when she’d first started out. This was hardly the first time someone had screwed up knowing what her sex was, but the fact that it was now Josh Madding doing the screwing somehow made all that righteous anger fresh again.

“You’ve seen her work?” Isaac asked smoothly.

Georgie scowled. She knew what he was doing. Ever the diplomat, Isaac was trying to get Josh to flatter her, to throw her off her indignation. She had to bite her tongue to stop from saying that it wasn’t going to work.

“Not before signing on,” he admitted. She had almost smiled in triumph to Isaac when Josh added, “I saw the name on the call sheets and checked out her CV. As it turned out, there were a couple titles I could get copies of, so I watched them before flying out.” He returned his dark gaze to her, a small smile curling his lips. “You see the world like Seurat did, Ms.Wilkes.”

There was absolutely nothing she could say to that. The man had literally stunned her into silence.



Her fingers trembled as she pulled aside the curtain. The travel agent had tried to sell her a different hotel, but Carina had had very definite ideas about what she wanted with her trip, all the way down to what kind of view she wanted from her room. There was a reason for all of this, after all, and if the money she was going to spend was going to be worth it, she couldn’t afford to let any detail go astray.

The biggest reason greeted her from the Buenos Aires vista.

The Teatro Colon.

The central backdrop for her dreams. A building she had never seen nor knew existed until that night two years previous. And there it was, in all its glory.

Though not nearly as tall as the office buildings that surrounded it, the Teatro Colon commanded attention from all who passed. It was a full square block wide, with heavy, classical architecture, arched windows, and balconies ringing its circumference. She had seen it by day when she’d first arrived, but at night, with all its lights shining up the ornate edifice, it made her stomach clench, her nerves race. She had yet to venture any closer than de Julio Avenue, but she knew that the theater’s entrance faced a plaza on the opposite side, and that if she wished to go into the grand salon, she would first have to climb a wide, marble staircase.

She knew. Because she’d dreamed it.


A MAIDEN ASTRAY, sequel to CHASE OF THE SILVER MAIDEN written with pepperlandgirl4

With his arms folded across his broad chest, Isaac McGuire stared at the red taillights, fading away down the street and around the corner. The entire neighborhood was awash with color, from the Christmas decorations lashed to the lampposts to the strobes from the emergency vehicles, but all he saw was the charred body that had just been carted off. The fire had burned away most of the man’s face, blackening skin, searing flesh. It hadn’t touched the tattoo on the man’s wrist, though. That had been trapped beneath the body long enough to escape burning before fire trucks showed up. It was how the attending officer had identified the victim. Gang member. Specifically, Gabriel del los Rios’ gang.

That was when they’d called Isaac.

Gawkers stood behind the police tape, watching the flames sputter as the experts got the fire in the storage facility under control. Smoke hung heavy in the air, but with the December chill, each inhalation went straight to Isaac’s lungs. It made thinking difficult, made his eyes burn. With a sharp shake of his head, he turned, ready to go back to his car, and ran straight into the tiny policewoman who had called him to the scene.

His eyes flickered to her badge. Kahl. Wasn’t familiar. She had to be new.

“They’re taking in the office manager for questioning,” she said. “Did you want to follow?”

He felt like a Neanderthal looming over her. It didn’t help that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Did they lower the height requirement? In response to her query, he shook his head.


CRAVING KISMET, an original erotic romance

Turning off the TV, Jenny tossed the remote aside as she stretched out along the couch. She rested one leg along the back of the couch, the t-shirt she wore to sleep in riding up to her waist, while her other leg slipped over the edge so that her foot rested on the floor. It exposed the still damp crotch of her black thong, and her hand idly began touching her inner thighs.

Maybe it was the eyes, the way they glittered when they met hers. Or maybe it was his wicked grin, or the energy that seemed to come off him in waves, palpable from the very first touch of his hand on hers. Or maybe it was just the fact that Ashley Edwards had as much charm as he did looks and he was playing her for a quick lay.

Jenny didn’t care. The end result was the same. Her body was already bow-string tight thinking of what it could have been like if, for just one night, she could be the woman who said to hell with anybody else’s feelings and took exactly what she wanted…


A LYRIC FOR LYDIA, an original erotic romance

What happened?

Lydia didn’t know. The last thing she remembered was reading aloud the verse that had come with her music boxes. There had been thunder and lightning and the earthquake, and then…

She blanked on what came next.

There was no then. Then she was here. Wherever here was.

Falling back against the snow, Lydia groaned as something sharp poked into her side. Her fingers scrabbled through the snow and hit frozen earth before curling around a broken twig, plucking it free from where it jabbed through her thin shirt. It took all her strength to toss it aside, and the first itch of fear began to crawl over her skin. Whatever had happened to her had left her weak as a kitten, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with only the clothes on her back. It had to be up north somewhere if there was snow. Was it still California? Rolling onto her back, she lifted her lashes to stare up at the trees again, trying to recall every biology lesson she might have had. There weren’t many, and they had been over half her life ago. Her concerted efforts fell far short of anything resembling success.

Could be California. Could be Canada. To a city girl like Lydia, a tree was a tree.


CALYPSO BLUE, an original novel

For a long moment, she just stared at him, green meeting blue in a steady scrutiny. Like Josie had before she’d started spouting off about supernatural skills and evil plots to destroy the world, Etienne seemed normal---OK, rich normal, but normal nonetheless---likeable, extremely likeable, with more than a little bit of a beguiling way about him. In fact, if she hadn’t known about the other, Calypso didn’t doubt that this was a man from whom she would’ve eagerly accepted a date, even entertaining the notion of more if she’d lingered in London any longer.

“You don’t seem as much of a nutjob as Kit,” she finally said out loud.

“Since I’m thinking you meant that as a compliment,” he said, taking a small step toward her, “I’m going to take it as such.”

“You know I don’t believe a word of what you guys are saying.”

“That’ll come. In time. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still in danger.”

“And I don’t see that,” she argued. “His little…whatever it was didn’t work. Shouldn’t Dag’s use for me be done?”

“We’d like to hope so, but we also like to err on the side of caution, especially when it comes to one of our own.” Another small step, closing the distance between them almost imperceptibly. “Look, I can see that you’re probably starving for a good hot shower right about now, maybe some clean clothes.” He gestured toward the jacket she was no longer fighting to keep closed, his eyes lingering for a moment on the smooth exposed flesh of her abdomen beneath the rend in her dress. “What say we get you over to your apartment, get you fixed up, then get a bite to eat? My treat. You can ask me questions, yell at me, call me Mr. Monkeypants, whatever. I don’t really care. I’d just feel a helluva lot better if you’d let me keep an eye on you for a bit. Make sure Dag’s not lurking about, just waiting for another chance to have a go at making you shish kebab.”


RIDDLE ME WICKED, an original novel

Calvin reached the foot of the tree and scrambled to his knees to get to its other side. He was brought up short by a pair of black boots and khaki-covered legs.

“There is nowhere to go, Mr. Traynor,” said a soft, accented voice. A foot lashed out and slammed into Calvin’s stomach, driving him back against the tree trunk.

The force knocked the wind out of his lungs, making him gulp for air. Looking up, Calvin saw the unsmiling face of a burly, dark-haired man, sleek hair pulled back into a ponytail, a corduroy coat unable to cover his paunch. The sound of dry branches cracking tried to drag his attention away from the man in front of him, but he kept his eyes steady, knowing that it would be the others who had been shooting who approached.

“My apologies if my survival instincts got in your way,” Calvin said as soon as his breathing had calmed enough for him to speak. “I have a rather averse reaction to guns, you see. They tend to make me do irrational things. Such as run for my life.”

“Who ever said your life was in danger?”

Calvin stiffened. There was no way he had imagined the attack on the camp. “Perhaps it was the random gunfire around my head, and, oh yes, the fact that you killed my team.”

“A necessary cost.”



Dawn had to sit up a little straighter in order to see over the edge of the window sill, but then the other guard was blocking her view, crowding over her sister’s downed form. A knife appeared from nowhere, and before Dawn could breathe, it plunged into Buffy’s neck.

“No!” Dawn screamed, straining forward.

Her guard yanked her back and slapped a hand over her mouth. A blade he must have had at the ready suddenly appeared at her throat, and he leaned down to hiss directly into her ear.


Tears stung Dawn’s eyes as the man in the adjoining room knelt by Buffy’s unmoving body. When he finally stood up, something metallic dangled from his hands. She didn’t see what it was until he closed the distance to the window and held it up so that it was clearly visible.

Buffy’s cross. The one she always wore. Blood dripped from the fine gold chain and rolled down the glass.

“You will do as you are told,” the other guard said in heavily accented English. She wasn’t sure if he could see her or not, and shrank back into her chair. “Or you will die, too.”



“Tell me again why me and Ahn have to be the ones to do this,” Xander complained.

“’Cause the Slayer got the both of us blacklisted with her born free agenda,” Spike said.

She ignored his sarcasm, focusing instead on Xander. “We need to know if Spike’s sources are right,” she said. “If there’s some big mojo going down tonight, we need to find out where it’s going on so that we can stop it.”

“And Dave knows everything that goes on in this town,” Spike added. “You tell him what I told you, and he’ll answer any questions you ask.”

Xander jabbed a finger into the vampire’s chest. “See, this is the part of the plan I don’t get. He won’t even let you into his bar, but he’s going to spill on the next big bad rising on the horizon just because I know you? Am I the only one seeing the flaw in this logic?”

Buffy saw the muscles start twitching in Spike’s jaw, his blue eyes growing darker with rising irritation. She knew he still burned about getting banned from his favorite bar and weekly poker game, and while she didn’t feel bad about rescuing the kittens or the damage that had followed when the fights had broken out, she did feel marginally guilty about the inconvenience her intervention had created for Spike. He had only been trying to help her forget what a crappy day she’d had.

“Just do it,” Buffy said, stepping between the two men. “We’ll be right out here in case anything goes wrong.”

“Do we have a signal for that?” Anya asked.

“Our bloodcurdling screams.” Xander curled his fingers around her elbow, guiding her to the front door of the bar. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”


I have more WIP's, but these are the ones I'm most likely to actually be working on, lol. The two taking most of my time right now are Craving Kismet, which I'm writing with pepperlandgirl4, and A Lyric for Lydia. One of the two Spuffy fics will be my next project after Beg, but it will likely be my Seasonal Spuffy contribution. I just haven't decided which one yet.

And obviously I have too many bunnies. :)

And I've wasted too much time putting this together instead of actually writing, lol.
Tags: writing

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