I’ve been a slug about reporting on the progress of my Work In
Progress. I’m not stalled, but I haven’t made a giant leap in the last two
months either. Life gets in the way. I am happy to report FDW is now fully
capable with two hands. His only therapy is at home and he’s as good as new. Other
stuff has gotten me sidetracked, but I won’t bore you.
Two months ago, when I last updated, I’d just started Chapter
Twenty-One. Today, I’ll start Twenty-Three. Now, that sounds horrendous, but I’ve
done a fair number of re-writes and edits in addition. Still…I’m going to have
some marathon writing to do to get to “the end” by the close of August, which
is my self-imposed deadline.
To refresh your memory, the setting for this new WIP is based
on a real-life mining town turned ghost town turned tourist town. I've named
the town Joshua. The working title is Magpie MacKenzie, a Joshua,
Arizona Novel. It’s the first of a trilogy about the MacKenzie family. There
is suspense, mystery, old murders, romance...plenty to keep you turning the
pages.
Today, I’ll share a partial scene with you from Chapter One.
“I guess that means we’ll see
you later, Magpie.” Zack followed his friends, but glanced over his shoulder
with an unreadable expression before he disappeared out the door and into the
chilly wind.
Slightly lightheaded, Magpie
braced herself on the counter. “Honestly, Phaedra, I could—”
“Now, Mags, you haven’t been
this tongue tied over a guy in years.” She scooped her purse from behind the
counter where she’d set it when she came in. “I need to get going, and you need
to enjoy the quivers that guy is obviously giving you. He’s probably only
thirty or close to it, but what the hell, he’s hot. Every man should fill his
jeans like that, not to mention his shoulders.” She stopped by the door. “You
two were looking at each other like—”
“Like we know each other?”
“Know each other? I agree he
bore a resemblance to Mark, but that’s all.”
“Is it? Sacrebleu, Phaedra. When I stared into that face, I saw Mark…a
soul…from twenty-eight years ago.” The soul of someone she’d loved.
Who
might have been a murderer…or murdered by my father.
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