I’m going to steal from Oprah for a minute here (sorry Oprah) to say that, for me, there are two things about writing I know for sure. 1. I love love love the shitty first draft part of writing best of all. It’s why I write! And 2. If I want someone other than myself to ever read the book, I always need to edit a lot—my penance for the unadulterated glee of creative mayhem on that first draft. Given the passage of NaNoWriMo, I’ve been thinking a lot about editing *g*
The following is an excerpt from my latest fantasy romance BRIGHTARROW BURNING, which although it is a dark and angsty hot little romance, I did cackle in delight a lot while writing the first draft. Just thank the universe for my brilliant editor. Enjoy!
Excerpt from: BRIGHTARROW BURNING
“I knew I’d find you here.”
Layla Brightarrow flicked a glance over her shoulder, then returned her stare to the labyrinth of cobbled streets below. “What do you want, Ulric?”
“I’d like to know when you’re going to stop trying to kill my brother.”
“When he stops luring, capturing and selling my people.” She felt Ulric move up close behind her but refused to flinch. Her every sense, however, focused on his presence, his movements, his breathing. Her muscles instinctively tensed, preparing for action, but she forced her body to relax.
“You know I don’t condone what he’s doing…” Ulric murmured.
“So you’ve said.”
“But this is dangerous. For you.”
She snorted, still refusing to face him. Ulric of Glengowyn was beautiful, sexy, and the man she’d been in love with since she was old enough to understand what those strange feelings in her gut meant whenever she looked at him. He was also an elf, and while he wasn’t exactly an enemy now, he wasn’t an ally either. “Go away, Ulric.”
“If you’re so concerned about your brother—”
“I could care less about that traitor, and you know it.”
She turned her head just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye. “Do I?”
“Don’t play games, Layla. You know I don’t support the traitors.”
She made a vague noise in the back of her throat to keep from giving him a direct reply and looked out over the cityscape again. From her perch atop the abandoned tannery, she could see several blocks into the Sorcerers’ territory.
She tried to ignore the part of her heart whispering she could trust Ulric. The truth was, she couldn’t be certain if he sided with Althir or not. They were brothers, after all. And when Althir, along with a number of other elves, broke Glengowyn’s neutrality to side with the Sorcerers, he forced her to guard herself against Ulric’s motives as well. “Why are you here?” she asked on a sigh. “If you don’t care if I kill him, leave me be.”
Hard hands clamped onto her shoulders, and Layla found herself facing a very angry-looking Ulric. Her breath caught at the sight of him, as it always did. His dark hair was long and silky against his angular, pale face. She could just see the points of his ears poking out from his hair. His body was broad and well-muscled, bigger than the average elf, and so perfectly formed he’d been the fuel for her fantasies for years, even when she’d taken other men to her bed in an attempt to forget him. But in that moment, with the heat of his breath against her face, his eyes captured her completely. Dark blue and as sharp as lightning.
“How many times do I have to tell you this, Layla? I care if you get killed.”
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