Sunday, March 8, 2015

Sunday Musings: March 8 2015

How about another writing exercise :)

Without using the word, please describe:

a scoundrel

How about this:

Words and breath rumbled through the slot on the face plate of the creature's sinister black helmet.  A dark cloak swirled around the tops of black leather jack boots.  Bulging thigh muscles propelled the hulking figure forward with a grace at odds with the menace that radiated from its physical presence.

LESLEY FIELD, new HOT author

A sharp twist of the mouth, a sly grin and a glint in the eye that said he was capable of anything.  Words spoken glibly, hands that reach out and promises not kept.  A man to be avoided.

Always an eye for weakness in others, a personal advantage, a way to exploit someone else's bad luck, and immense satisfaction in sliding out from under his obligations.

I saw him across the room. His eyes followed almost every woman who passed by his table. At one time he stood up and talked to an especially attractive woman. He had those piercing eyes and a smile that would lure in any woman. Oh he was slick, but the woman he was talking with didn’t buy it. A minute later I saw another woman approach him and sit down. He held her hand across the table and brought it to his lips. Then I saw it, the wedding ring on his finger. The diamonds in his wife’s ring sparkled and she smiled. She would never know what he did when she wasn’t there.

DAWN KNOX, author

Here's my dirty rotten scoundrel!

She needed to believe his smile, the reassuring hand on her shoulder and the relentless platitudes. But they belied his eyes which raked her body and drew short of meeting her gaze.

'Trust me,' he said and still, his eyes rose no further than her throat. Her hand went to the diamond choker, covering its dazzle. Immediately, she felt shame. Perhaps she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Jane noticed that Glaser had come back into her office, hovering near the door, soundless as a snake.

“It’s a new one on me,” Jane said.  “But I certainly didn’t know all of Martha’s clients.  My mother and I weren’t even that close until the last year or so of her life.”

She immediately regretted the last gratuitous sentence.  She had meant it only for Smalley, to help him understand, but not for Glaser, who took a stride or two across the small room.

“So I guess you didn’t know that Judith was sexually abused as a child?” he asked.

Jane felt a sudden rage at the thought of this man rummaging through Judith’s life and the lives of all of them.

“Yeah,” Glaser continued.  “Her mother’s brother.  Uncle Buddy.  Everybody’s favorite.  Loved to tickle the kids . . .”

“Wait for me outside!” Smalley said, interrupting his partner.

Thanks for joining us and see you next week!
 If you have a question or comment you’d like us to muse upon, do not hesitate to contact me Christine Steeves-Speakman  at

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