It is an exhilarating feeling to finish a story – to know that your hard work and time away from the family has been worth it. I wrote the final words to NovelTea Takes a Holiday back in November. I edited and polished that ms for two months and finally submitted it to my editor. My editor ( I love her) she decided she wanted a different ending. The one with the great big HEA and way romantic. So, you know what I did?? I rewrote it. I took her advice and changed the ending. And I really love it. :) I hope that very soon that contract will fall into my email inbox. What a great feeling that will be.
In the meantime, here is an UNEDITED Excerpt from the new ms. Hope you enjoy it.
From the end of a chapter and into another--all from Juliet's POV. NovelTea Takes a Holiday:
A thin layer of clouds crowded around the moon, making the night sky dark and eerie. My mind darted to the story about the murdered woman haunting this place. If my husband had been having an affair and bumped me off I'd be a pretty angry spirit too. The wind suddenly picked up even harder and began to swirl into my eyes. Grains of sand pelted my back as I spun to face the opposite direction. Through the quiet of night, the sound of a woman screaming echoed along the beach. A disturbing kind of scream that set prickles down my spine.
Oh, it's not a scream. It's just a…a…Why couldn't I think of something natural that it could be? Then my mind twirled around the idea that Tom Hemmings no Jeff something…Mallory that was it. He probably murdered his uncle—a US Senator. Who was next? A hand flew to my throat as I heard that same ghastly sound. Or was it ghostly. My mind was far too fanciful tonight. I'd been staying here for two weeks. Why now was my imagination out of control? My dreams were going to keep me up all night. The shrill screech cut through the air again. It still made my heart pound, but I was certain it was not a woman. It was that Eastern screech owl that Mr. Joyner spoke of this morning. Of course, it was. I breathed out a quick breath bringing myself under control.
The wind blew hard again so I clamped my eyes shut tight. Once the gust calmed, I blinked and peered across the beach to a shining light glimmering off the top of a dune far out in the distance. I stared harder. It looked like someone was standing there dressed all in white. My God! A ghost! That murdered woman! The gale shifted, sending sand my direction. Swiveling to the side, I avoided gaining more sand down my throat. I'd had enough night air. It was time to go in. Now I was starting to see things. It was only the moon reflecting off the white sand.
As I hurried across the wood planks back toward the inn, the owl screeched and I jumped, letting out a squeal of my own. I felt foolish as I paused at the top of the dune. At least, there was no one around to hear me.
"On edge, now, aren't we?"
I hopped back, my heart racing while I peered into the shadowy gazebo perched beside me. Inside, I made out the outline of a figure. It was similar to my dream this afternoon. Suddenly all the anxiety and fear which had come to life in my subconscious poured to the surface. Instead of running to the safety of the inn, I remained frozen to my spot as if a sudden ice age had come upon me. This was it…the end. My demise. There was no Grant to save me today.
The form rose from its seated position. Why didn't he say anything? In all those thriller movies, the murderer likes to talk and tell his victims exactly what he plans to do to them. It's part of their psychotic mind. Just my luck, I have a mad-man murderer who won't reveal himself to me. Isn't that just like a man?
As the intruder stepped into the light of the one and only lamppost, the rational came to me that there were no intruders on the island. This was a private island. The ferry made its last trip at five o'clock and I'd seen the people who got off. Locals. Every one of them. The yellow tint of the light bulb flashed off a familiar tint of blue eyes.
"Grant?"
Chapter Three
My fright had nearly taken over my senses so that my first inclination was to fly into Grant's arms. The emotions of my dream overcame me. In the dream state, more than anything, I had wanted to reach him and let him hold me and protect me. It was hard to push those emotions away. For some odd reason, there was moisture in my eyes. I was not going to ball like a child or worse a useless, frightened woman.
"What are you doing here, Grant?" I held my hands behind my back in the hopes that they'd stop shaking.
He smirked in his characteristic way. How many women had he used that smile on? I really didn't want to know. Leaning back against the post, he folded his arms across his black leather jacket, appearing as cool as a James Dean look-a-like. "What do you think I'm doing here, Juliet? Obviously, I missed you." He raised his chin, his mouth relaxed into a straight pose. "You missed me too, didn't you?"
"I…I've been busy and…"
"Busy?" His dark eyebrows rose in unison as he stood straight to his full six-foot-three height and inched toward me.
"Yes and, well, you didn't answer why you're here. I asked for some space. That I'd call you."
"And just when were you going to call?" He didn't seem at all like his usual humorous self. No, instead, he appeared like some sleek cat ready to pounce on me. He did have the Mr. Rochester inclination about him at times. At this moment, he reminded me of exactly how Charlotte Bronte's intense hero would have looked in this same situation—beautiful eyes glaring, kissable mouth firm, and strong hands clenched.
"I planned to call when I got back home." I stepped away from him and began teetering off the edge of the wood planking with the side of the grass speckled dune behind me. Flinging my arms out, I tried to regain my footing, but I seemed to be losing the battle against gravity—and fast. My bare feet were slipping and there was no way out of it. I would be eating sand in just a few milliseconds.
And then a hand grasped me at the waist underneath my poofed-out blouse and sweater, stabilizing my stance back onto the platform. As I stood on my flat feet once more, I plastered myself against Grant's firm form with my arms swung around his middle. I could hear his heart beating an elevated rhythm through his dark t-shirt, and it would have been fine with me if we'd stayed in that same position until the first break of dawn.
His warm hands smoothed gradually over the bare skin of my back, bringing me to shiver from stem to stern as I remembered the last time he'd touched me. The sensual memories of each and every stroke of his fingers over my body and every kiss from his lips were seared into my brain permanently. He brought his hand out from under my top and wrapped them around my shoulders, enveloping me in his warmth.
After a minute more, I released a slow breath and looked up to him. His brilliant, concerned eyes shone just as icy blue as I remembered, glowing bright under that single lamppost. Then he smiled—the over-confident one. "If you wanted me to hold you in the moonlight, all you had to do was ask, Juliet."
I pushed away and began to walk past him with my temper bristling. "Grant, don't start…"
He grabbed my hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist, forcing me back against his body. Stealthily, he stepped back until we were resting against the side of the gazebo. "Grant…"
He covered my mouth with his hand and looked up and over to the side. "Shh," he whispered.
Listening, I heard the front doors to the inn slam closed followed by the crunch of sand underfoot. Grant motioned for me to be quiet as he removed his hand and then led me down the embankment behind the gazebo. After he took a seat in the sand, I plopped silently beside him. He reminded me of a meerkat outside the den awaiting intruders. Following his lead, I remained alert, listening and awaiting our next move.
© Cindy K. Green, 2009
COMING SOON to The Wild Rose Press
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