#NaNoWriMo Sneak Peek #2!

Don’t worry, never fear–no spoilers here, just little sneak peeks of my NaNoWriMo project, The Soldier’s Wife. If you missed the first one, you can hop over and read the prologue here. Here’s a sneak peek from Chapter 1.

The sound of a slamming door reverberated in Barbara Ann Seward’s spine, and she leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the kitchen sink. Tinkling glass echoed from the foyer–he’d knocked one of the pictures off the wall. Again. She fought the urge to pluck one of the glass tumblers from the soapy water and toss it out the window at the retreating black Jeep.

Hot, angry tears stung her eyelids as she blinked them back. She would not cry. She would not give him that satisfaction, even if he wasn’t here to see it.

Bile bubbled in her throat, and she swallowed hard. Things with Ryan had been tense since he came back from his tour in Afghanistan, but this morning–well, this morning was different.

For a brief second there, Barbara was sure Ryan was going to hit her. She saw it in his eyes, just the slightest flicker of uncontrolled rage before he slammed a fist into the wall and stomped out of the house.

She stepped away from the sink and walked over to the wall. Slowly, she traced a finger on the indentation his clenched fist had made in the fussy wallpaper she’d always hated anyway. He’d come home later, flowers or something like that in hand, and they’d make up, sort of.

They never completely made up anymore.


#NaNoWriMo Sneak Peek! (The Soldier’s Wife)

Hey there, fellow readers and Wrimos! I’m working on a new project this year that I’m really excited about. It’s called The Soldier’s Wife, and I’m going to share a preview below!

Before we get in to the preview, though, I have to take the opportunity to remind you of a previous work I wrote during a NaNoWriMo–Don’t Ask Me to Leave, which is available on Amazon and in select stores (and other online retailers, but I prefer Amazon).

And now, without further adieu…your preview. 🙂

An ominous rumble of thunder rolled through the hills, but he did not move. A fat raindrop landed squarely in the center of his brow, but he did not lift a hand to brush it away. Instead, he watched.

She was young. He could tell that, even though the falling rain and waving leaves obscured her face from his view. Pretty, too, from his best guess. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled back in one of those intricate plaits that made his fingers hurt just thinking about the time it would take, and her figure was shapely in her jeans and damp long-sleeved tee shirt.

They were alone on the mountain. The remnants of Hurricane Whosits practically assured that. He paused, straining his ears against the sounds of the approaching storm, and could hear the faint sounds of sniffling.

The blonde beauty was crying, he realized, and paying little attention to the slippery trail. As it sloped upward, he watched her footing slip and she pitched forward, arms outstretched to catch herself.

But he did not move.

He stayed in his hiding place off the edge of the trail and simply watched as she pushed herself to a kneeling position and brushed her hands clean on her jeans, now sporting a few snags. She turned her face to the sky and let out an anguished wail.

He cocked his head to one side. She wasn’t injured, but she was clearly upset. Distracted, and alone on the mountain in a storm. Interesting.

She got to her feet and staggered forward, her crying more audible now. Around them, the raindrops increased their attack. The sky was splintered with lightning, and he made his decision.

Slowly, he uncurled his legs and slipped from the rock. The storm masked what little sound he made as he crept forward through the brush toward the trail. She never looked back as he fell into step behind her retreating form.