Favorite Lines Friday: March 3, 2017

You’re a writer. You’re awesome. Share your favorite lines from your novel here.


*Open to published and unpublished writers*
This is a positive place for writers! A place where you can show off your writing!

In the comments, post some of your favorite lines from your work-in-progress or a book you have published. Feel free to drop in a buy link too! Encourage your friends to stop by.

*Even if you don’t enter your own words, please comment on your favorite submission! Positive words are food to a writer’s soul!


*In order to participate in Favorite Lines Friday, please follow the rules…

1. Sign up for my NEWSLETTER.
2. Keep your favorite lines to under four hundred words.
3. Keep things PG rated. Or mostly PG.
4. You can submit twice if you’d like.
5. Share this post. Feel free to use the handy Click-to-Tweet link below.

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Abbie Roads writes dark emotional novels featuring damaged characters, but always gives her hero and heroine a happy ending… after torturing them for three hundred pages. RACE THE DARKNESS and HUNT THE DAWN are available now! SAVING MERCY is available for pre-order.

RACE THE DARKNESS

HUNT THE DAWN

SAVING MERCY

About the author: abbieroads

Has one comment to “Favorite Lines Friday: March 3, 2017”

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  1. Sharon Ervin - Mar 03, 2017 Reply

    An excerpt from WEEKEND WIFE by Sharon Ervin
    Published in 2005
    ISBN-10: 1413762298, ASIN: B003F76XB0

    “Whoa,” she whispered under her breath and stiffened, suddenly alert as the BMW with the “ORourke” license tag wheeled into the parking garage across the street. Coming to full attention, she leaned forward, peering, but unable to see anything through the vehicle’s tinted glass.
    A downtown bus pulled to the curb in front of her kiosk, blocking her view. The doors on the bus slid open. Frantically, Dianna leaped to her feet and waved the driver on, straining to keep her eyes on the cavernous entrance to the parking facility across the street, which had fairly swallowed the Beemer.
    The bus hovered several ticks of the clock before the doors wheezed shut and the vehicle gasped and shivered its way back into the flow of traffic.
    Then there he was, in front of her, materializing out of the exhaust fumes like a genie rising out of a mist.
    She would have recognized Greg O’Rourke’s athletic walk anywhere. He still toed in a little, as he had all his life.
    Paralyzed for a moment, Dianna forgot to breathe.
    His navy blue blazer swung open over a chambray shirt and figured necktie. In gray slacks and polished oxfords, he effortlessly executed what still had to be the sexiest stride in the world.
    As he sauntered into the sunlight, his dark, close-cropped hair glistened. A newspaper clamped under one arm, he settled sunglasses into place on his nose with his free hand. Dianna stood unmoving, unable to take her eyes off of him. Luckily, he didn’t so much as glance her way.
    He was taller than she remembered, broader, more muscular, more male, which made him seem more threatening and, at the same time, more provocative.
    Tom said her indecision about taking their “chance-of-a-lifetime offer” had made Greg angry. She assessed his size again. Not smart to make such a powerful looking guy mad.
    She watched his long, determined stride, admiring the grim look on his handsome face. She wished he’d smile. Just once. Of course, that was ridiculous. There was no way he’d be grinning as he strode toward his office building.
    As he reached the entrance, however, a gawky adolescent girl darted directly into his path, lunging for the door before she saw Greg and stopped, looking unsure of herself. He reached for the door, opened it, then stepped back and motioned the girl in. She gulped and said a too-loud, “Sorry,” looking mortified.
    Greg grinned the easy, lopsided grin preserved in Dianna’s memories, and said “You’re all right,” then he nodded, indicating the girl should go ahead.
    Dianna clasped her hands together, bowed her head and thumbed her belt. Her movements were a ruse. She couldn’t see anything through the tears blurring her vision.
    He was still gallant, even when it wasn’t of any benefit to him. Still perfect. Oh, Lord, how could she have even considered turning down his exquisite offer?

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