Sunday Snippet: Promise to Keep

Hello!

All right, people, I have dire thinky thoughts about two of my favorite shows, Strike Back and Sons of Anarchy, which I won't share here, but suffice to say, it's not looking good for a few characters. EEK!

Thank goodness, Arrow returns in two weeks and I can get my superhero fix again soon. Whew.

Tonight's post is from Promise to Keep and has something of a darker tone than I usually write. It's not quite a HEA, but it does have a star-crossed, moment in time, don't waste an opportunity flavor. I'm truly hoping it'll turn out exactly the way I want and eventually get published. :D

Here's the tagline:

Two elite marines try to forge a relationship during a time of war. But when a worse than usual dangerous situation ups the ante, a promise is made and must be kept, regardless of the personal toll. After all, the marine motto is anytime, anyplace, always ready.

And a sneaky peek…

Daniel Makepeace cracked a grin. On the run in a war torn galaxy, two people who'd normally never meet under most circumstances—being assigned to different divisions—could end up working together to keep order among the survivors. Mutual rank, of all things, brought them into each other's orbit to help hold the remnants of a battered military together. Respect, admiration, and a shared love of the absurd might be a strange way to start a relationship, but more bizarre things had happened. Daniel could write an entire series of novels about some of the more interesting occurrences he'd lived through during his time in the marine corp. Hell, he could write a second series on the last three years alone.

And he knew exactly where he'd start if he ever put pen to paper. The night he shared his first drink with gunnery sergeant, Jillian Mathison. A woman who had no equal. They hadn't known each other that well back then, but she'd done a fellow soldier a solid and kept him from going bug ass insane.

An out of commission marine oughtta be a dead one. The motto of his branch of the military: anytime, anyplace, always ready. Ready at a moment's notice to do the grunt work, haul officers out of danger, protect and keep the peace. A marine could pretty much do it all.

Daniel had grown up knowing he'd enlist—not much a guy with his upbringing could do. But he had no idea he'd make selection to the marine unit. The military had rigidly high standards for the process. Physical stamina, an aptitude for combat, and the ability to follow orders to the letter ranked high on the qualification scale.

But the number one thing the recommendation tribunal held out for had nothing to do with brute force. They looked for applicants with a keen intellect who could keep it in check for the chain of command, but use their smarts when in a tricky situation. And what else did marines do, but dive headfirst into insane drama?

Out of the seventy-five candidates he got lumped in with, only a dozen made the cut. Twelve people. They'd formed a tight bond and stood together to face whatever the enemy threw their way. Regular military, even the elite pilots, command officers and the admiralty just didn't get it. They weren't supposed to, not really. But Jillian did. She'd gone through the same trial by fire to earn her rank. Even though he didn't know her well, she already had an 'in' of being a marine.

Jillian Mathison hailed from a different ship, the Perseus, but her team worked exactly like his. She held the same rank, played the same role, used the same techniques. Would figure she'd have the best inkling to what made him tick.

When his R&R got cut short by a bullet to the thigh, she knew exactly what he needed.

And she'd saved the day.

He marked that as the beginning of a wonderful friendship. One he'd never allow himself to forget…

As if he ever could.

And so it begins… the story of Daniel and Jillian. :D The manuscript is coming together nicely. Here's hoping the sages keep cooperating. :D :D

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip!

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Power Play

Greetings!

Okay, I have to take a break from mentioning what's going on during my favorite shows to completely toot my horn over making apple butter for the first time and having it turn out totally awesome! Seriously, if it passes the man and kids test, it's pretty much a 'write it down for posterity' kind of deal. LOL

Tonight's post is from Power Play where the main characters get to deal with all sorts of shifting dynamics and the fallout from the changes. The challenge pulls them apart and binds them together. Fun stuff. :D

Here's the tagline:

Hailey March, a dedicated officer, receives a plum assignment she's wanted for a long time. But when she has to give orders to Rab McKee, she must ignore their long friendship, which is impossible because she needs him on her side.

And a sneaky peek…

Rab's world tilted on its axis. Hailey March had gone rank and file military on him? She wanted him to help her plan a stupid mission?

He blinked and shook his head to clear it. "Who are you?" He folded his arms and shifted his position. "And where did you put Raver?" This wasn't the Hails he knew…the one who'd be leading the charge to get her friends out of being executed.

Hailey tossed the pen down on the table and narrowed her eyes. "What the flaming hell does that mean?" She leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

Taking a step toward her, Rab placed his hands on the table and leaned in. "The Hailey March I know would be more concerned that two of her shipmates had been condemned to death than planning some stupid God damned op." It had to be the Eugenia… maybe something in the recycled air made people go insane.

Clearly, he didn't act the way she expected. She heaved a sigh and muttered. "Only you would pick now to go rogue." Her head snapped up. "What do you want from me?" She stayed seated but sat up straight in the chair, ready to throw down.

What did he want from her? What a loaded question. He didn't want this Hailey—the one who seemed to be a completely different person. Right now… he didn't recognize her…

Unless… something didn't add up. Rab's brain spun with possibilities. He decided to push Hailey for answers… by taking away what she needed. Him.

Giving her a measured look he responded. "I don't want a damned thing…" He swallowed hard then added tersely. "Sir." Rolling his eyes he swung around to make his way to the door.

If she stopped him, they had hope. If not…

**

Hailey knew he was getting a raw deal from Kidwell but her instincts told her the admiral wouldn't budge on the decision to demote him.

Still, his attitude pissed her off. "You're not dismissed yet," Wincing inwardly, she added, "Lieutenant."

Oh yeah, that got his attention.

Of all the things she expected, Rab bailing wasn't one of them. She really did need his help planning the op. More than that, she wanted it.

He stopped abruptly, pivoting around, his posture rigid. He made his way back to the table to stand in front of her, staring, his eyes hot with anger.

Ah geez, she hated the tension. She had so much to say and no time to say it. How did she tell him she'd left a piece of herself back on the Caprice? That if they pulled this off she would be able to keep a promise she'd made?

How did she explain it was important to her to follow through because she'd given her word and for once she wanted to do it right? Had to do it right, so she could prove to herself she could move forward while still keeping a promise.

The fact was, right now she didn't have the luxury of time and Rab needed to just deal with it. "Dammit, Rab. Kidwell's not going to back down from any of this. She's determined to carry off this mission." Glancing down at the table, her stomach churned with adrenaline and a healthy dose of fear.

Admiral Kidwell ran things so differently from the old man… Hailey wouldn't let herself forget that. "This op needs to be planned now and I've got a bunch of prima donnas to mix in with Kalliope pilots and all of them were ready to shoot each other out of the sky not so long ago." She looked up from the charts and rosters and met his angry gaze.

She raised her eyebrows giving him a pointed look. "I need to focus here." And she did or the rapidly closing walls would crush each of them with their weight.

Whew. Hailey and Rab have some serious stuff to get through. And writing their navigation is extremely fun!

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Poetry in Motion

Howdy,

Remember when I said I was ready to start marking the death toll on Sons of Anarchy? Totally didn't know it would include so many. Will have to wait until next week's post to note the number, if that's even possible. I admire Kurt Sutter's willingness to make a bold choice and stand by it. He always claims his show doesn't flinch from showing the ugly side of things and honestly, I'm thrilled to see what happens when something the club is involved in bites them on the ass. Hopefully I've made my thoughts clear without giving away too many details. J

Strike Back is almost halfway through its run and my head sorta spins with everything going on. It's one of the things I love about watching. Stonebridge better catch a break soon and he needs to figure out what the hell he got into when he slashed his arm open. Something tells me that seemingly small injury will end up being the key to everything about whatever attack is being planned.

GAH! My shows are eating up too much of my brain. LOL

Moving on…

Tonight's post is from Poetry in Motion. I'm not sure if this will end up as a short story or novella, but I love how it started. A single random scene where description sort of became the main character. Right, that probably doesn't make sense, but Reagan pretty much needed me to write it and get it on the page. J

Here's the tagline:

Ian Flannigan, a talented athlete, wants to take the crown on the planetary Sky Dawg circuit. But when he inadvertently causes the death of a competitor, he has to decide if he can keep it together enough to win, which won't be easy with the coach's daughter constantly pushing for him to lose control.

And a sneaky peek…

The quick punch-jab-shuffle rhythm coming from across the gym drew her attention. Reagan loved a good bout. She finished up her workout and made her way over. The sparring session would be fun to watch. Whoever had the ring—they weren’t holding back.

Approaching the squared off area, her breath hitched… her pulse leapt… hell, her heart skipped a beat when she discovered who wore the gloves today.

Ian.

With the old man—who held his own—not that she expected less from the elder Ramsey. She’d spent hours listening to him talk about impromptu matches aboard the freighter he and Sal Moreno used to haul for. Her dad had chops.

But Ian?

Ian fought by the numbers. Technically. Mechanically. No heart. No heat. Hence the reason the old man usually won.

Except now?

Form and function met passionate intensity.

The bunch and flex of muscle under his skin with each jab—

—the measured shuffle of his feet keeping time with a rhythmic cadence—

—accented by the rapid-fire thud of leather hitting skin when his gloves found their mark—

—all mixed up with the staccato breath sounds with each connection made or absorbed.

He’s poetry in motion. She watched Ian move through the sparring match with her father, thinking Ian had finally found the way to let go.

Nothing wasted. Ian gave his all. Every movement fluid, Ian fought with controlled precision tempered by instinctive reaction. Slowly and methodically, he chipped away at Ramsey's defenses, making surprise moves that caught her father off guard. Intuitively, he blocked and made shots he’d never been able to pull off before.

Ian finally sparred the way he should in the ring, the way he rode when it didn't matter, when he hopped on a sked for the sheer joy of riding. Holding nothing back. Using pure instinct. Going full out until the old man—winded and worn out—stopped the bout.

Magnificent.

Not that she’d ever tell Ian. Once had been enough.

But damn. He'd become a pleasure to watch.

Reagan melted back into the shadows and left unnoticed.

Or so she thought.

Yep. Ian is as hyper-aware of her as she is of him. Seriously, this one is so much fun to write. J

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Personal Involvement

Hi!

Okay, I can't discuss Strike Back just yet, but I will say I love shows where NOBODY is safe. Speaking of no one being safe, Sons of Anarchy returns Tuesday and I'm ready to start marking the death toll. LOL

Now for something a little less morbid. J Tonight's post is from Personal Involvement and features one of my favorite angsty set-ups…personal involvement in the military and the fallout that smacks the characters in the face. J

Here's the tagline:

Tarin Glade gets caught up in a nightmare when she's brought before a disciplinary council for her personal involvement with a student who failed basic flight. When Ellis Spector, the brother of the complainant, speaks on Tarin's behalf, it rocks the foundation of his family—especially since the commandant who brought the charges is Ellis's father.

And a sneaky peek…

Ellis rose from his spot behind Tarin and strode to the docket. "Admiral Chekwick, Ellis Spector for the defense."

The admiral blinked and cocked his head. "Just a moment, Lieutenant Spector, you're here to give testimony on behalf of the defendant?" He shuffled the pages in the file folder. "But your brother is the complainant."

Ellis gave a terse nod. "Yes, Admiral."

Chekwick lifted a brow. "Care to explain that one, young man?"

Ellis heaved an inward sigh. "Sir, Ensign Glade, upheld her sworn duty. She recognized a lack of true commitment on Cadet Spector's part and wouldn't forward him on to the qualifications test." He paused. "She did this in spite of being under pressure from Commandant Spector to send his boy to earn his wings."

Ellis kept as much heat out of his voice as he could and prayed he'd succeeded.

The admiral studied Ellis. "You have strong feelings about this."

He made it a statement, but Ellis clarified. "I have strong feelings about my brother's life—which Ensign Glade saved by not passing him." He glanced toward his brother. "Regardless of the cost to her career, she wouldn't cave on her decision."

The admiral's mouth thinned to a straight slash across his face. "Lieutenant, are you daring to assume you know the outcome of this tribunal?"

Ellis shook his head. "Quite the contrary, Admiral. I'm speaking solely about the fact she'll suffer a black mark on her record whether she's cleared here or not." Ellis shot his father a direct look.

The admiral took notice. "Your old man has a lot of pull, Lieutenant."

Ellis nodded. "Yes, Sir, he does. And he's earned every bit of it." He stopped there, keeping his tone respectful.

The admiral's lips quirked. "He has. Let's hope he chooses to use that sway to the betterment of Ensign Glade's career instead of making it detrimental."

Ellis wanted to pump his fist in the air. Tarin would walk away from the tribunal free and clear. And the admiral basically laid it out for the old man. Don't screw with her—even commandants can earn black marks.

Checkwick asked an additional question. "Lieutenant, can you confirm, for the record, that the break-up between Ensign Glade and Cadet Spector has nothing to do with the flight qualifications?"

An unexpected turn, and possibly a tricky situation to avert. Ellis took a moment and gathered his words carefully. "If I may speak freely, Sir?"

The admiral nodded. "Go ahead, young man."

Ellis nodded toward his brother. "My brother entered Ensign Glade's class after they started dating. I can't state why he kept his enrollment a secret from her, but I can confirm she had no preconception he'd be there on the first day, and was, in fact, shocked to see him."

So shocked she'd all but dragged him out of the classroom to dress him down for not being where he should be.

Ellis continued. "From that first day, she informed Cadet Spector he wouldn't receive any kind of preferential treatment and would have to pull his weight or risk failure. I was headed for the classroom to wish Cadet Spector luck when I witnessed that conversation."

The admiral inclined his head. "Go on, Lieutenant."

Ellis finished his statement. "I can't, in good faith, say the break-up has nothing to do with the qualifications. I think it has everything to do with Eddie not being allowed to go forward. But he's the one who initiated the split—after Ensign Glade refused to sign off on his simulation scores."

Eddie stood up. "I never told you I'm the one who broke up with Ensign Glade."

Ellis prayed the admiral would take the opening provided.

The superior officer asked. "Were you, Cadet?"

Eddie realized his mistake too late. He had no choice but to answer truthfully or risk court martial for lying under oath.

Shoulders slumped, he answered. "Yes, Sir."

The admiral pressed forward. "When, exactly, did you inform Ensign Glade you no longer wanted to be in a relationship, Cadet?"

Eddie shot the elder Spector a sideways glance. "The same day Commandant Spector spoke with her and she refused to let me take the flight test."

Ephram rose, turned on his heel, and exited the room. Ellis had hoped for the reaction, wanting his dad to understand Eddie's deceit and put Tarin in the absolute clear. Ellis met the admiral's gaze, hoping the man understood why Ellis had taken some liberty with how he presented the facts. His old man needed to have his eyes opened and realize Eddie played both sides against the middle. And couldn't be allowed to do it anymore.

The admiral motioned for Ellis to be seated. "Ensign Glade."

Tarin rose from her seat and faced the admiral.

"The charges before me are hereby dismissed and you'll return to active duty at 0700 tomorrow morning." He lifted the gavel, ended the proceeding.

Ellis risked a glance toward Tarin. She kept her eyes ahead and shoulders straight even though she'd been cleared. Ellis admired the discipline she exhibited. So not her style, but maybe she'd learned a little something from tangled aftermath of dealing with his brother.

Once the admiral exited the room, Tarin turned and made her way to Ellis. "You're an idiot, but I can't thank you enough."

Ellis grinned. "Yes, you can. Have dinner with me then come to my place for movies and popcorn."

She chuckled. "A free meal and entertainment? How can I refuse?"

Ellis shook his head. "You can't. I'll pick you up at seven."

She laughed. "Make it five. I have an early day tomorrow."

He smiled. "Five it is." He started for the exit. "Carpathian seafood?"

Tarin nodded. "It's my favorite. And action movies. None of those lame comedies."

Ellis paused by the door. "I have an entire shelf of them. We'll go alphabetically."

He left to the sound of Tarin's peals of laughter.

Ahhh, seems like all is well, right? It's not. LOL But that's another post on a different day.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Perfect Conversation

Hello!

Yeesh, first day of September. That means the holidays are just around the corner. I know, right? How is that possible? According to our local Dollar General, Halloween stuff has to be displayed before the kids even go back to school the third week of August. *shakes head* I fully expect to see Christmas stuff out within the next two weeks. *shudder*

Thankfully, my post tonight isn't about holiday stuff. Perfect Conversation features two characters who know each other so well they sometimes forget how important speaking about the big stuff truly is.

Here's the tagline:

Gigi Morse ran away from Scott Alamead because she didn't want to risk losing him. But when she returns, a very different Scott greets her and Gigi realizes she's right back on the hot seat.

And the sneaky peek…

"Wow. That was some kiss." Gigi touched her fingertips to her bottom lip.

Scott's mouth curved, but didn't make a full on smile. A flash of black hair caught his attention and Scott didn't spare another glance for Gigi Morse, freshly back from an information gathering mission. He only had eyes for the woman she brought back. Riva Dinari. Enemy agent, betrayer, evil bitch. Scott snarled, low in his throat, and grabbed the prisoner, shoving her up against the wall and wrapping his hand around her throat. He drew his sidearm and cocked the gun, aiming it at Riva's head.

Three guards grabbed hold of Scott, trying to drag him away from the prisoner, stripping the gun from him, but Scott held firm with the death grip.

Gigi leapt forward. "Scott, what the hell?"

He kept his eyes on Riva. "This piece of garbage you brought back had her group shoot the commander at point blank range." The rage still burned in his gut and the three guys trying to pry his fingers from around the prisoner's throat and yank him back could go down with her. Scott didn't care anymore.

Gigi sucked in a breath. "Is he—" She broke off, unable to ask the question. Stan Alamead meant a lot to her, too.

Didn't mean Scott would be quick to forgive Gigi. She had a long list of transgressions.

Scott finally slid his gaze in her direction. "Don't know. Dead, not dead. Doesn't matter. She should die either way." He focused back on the prisoner.

Gigi grasped his arm. "Maybe." Her voice dropped to lower tones. "But you're not exactly the poster boy for logical decisions right now, are you?" Her hand gripped his arm harder and tugged him closer to her. "Mutiny? Geez, Scott. Again, I ask, what the hell? At least I was under orders for my little adventure."

He jerked his free arm away. "You have no idea. No idea what it's been like since you left, dammit." He leaned in close and snarled. "So back off." He tightened his grip on Riva's throat and aimed the weapon again.

Gigi grabbed both arms this time. "God dammit, Scott. Think about this. We should interrogate her. Get whatever intel we can." Her voice dipped again. "She's got important information."

Scott shot her a hard look. "You better be sure about that." He loosened his fingers, but didn't move his hand.

"She's not. But I am." The minister of defense entered the holding area. "Take a walk, Captain Alamead. I'll handle things from here."

Scott opened his mouth to argue, but Gigi snagged his hand and dragged him from the room.

She stopped at the end of the corridor. "Criminy Scott. Were you seriously going to argue with the minister of defense? Things really have changed around here." She shook her head. "I was only gone six weeks."

Scott let out a heavy sigh. "It was a long six weeks, Geege."

He truly wanted to unload, but he held back. She'd left him—high and dry—and while happy to see her, he also had a strong urge to snap and snarl at her. At the moment, with each close to their limit, having a chat would probably get violent.

She snorted. "I'll say. You're chummy enough with the MoD to be out here instead of back with the fleet."  She leveled her gaze on him. "It's insane. What the hell are you thinking?" She spun around, started pacing and shook her head back and forth.

She'd walked into a viper pit and didn't quite know how to handle it. Good heaven knew he had a buttload of recent experience with that feeling.

He should tell her everything. Explain about the 2IC declaring martial law. Fill her in on why he'd left even though his uncle's life hung in the balance. But he wouldn't.

He couldn't get into it. Not right now. But she had a point. His crap decisions were all about being too close to the situation. And not her fault.

"You know what? I'm not thinking right now." He pushed off from the wall. "It's good to have you back, Gigi." He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before moving away from her side.

Shoving his hands in his pockets he started down the corridor, leaving Gigi to go back in with the minister or get some sleep, whichever she preferred.  

Don't worry, it won't take long for Gigi to get up to speed and start making things happen. She'll get Scott back on track, even if blood has to be shed to make it happen. J

That's all for this week. Catch everyone on the flip.

ML Skye