Jacqueline C. Thomas - Romance Novelist

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The Irony of a Query Letter

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(Like the perfect cocktail, the ingredients for the perfect query letter must be just right)

 

When I wrote The Lake Michigan Affair, the book I am currently querying, I didn’t set out to write a book that I would want to publish. I had written my first book, ever and had loved the process. My husband encouraged me to do it again, to write another book. I wrote The Lake Michigan Affair during NaNoWriMo. I had a loose idea of the story and the first sentence when I started. I knew Rosalie, the main character really well, her voice was strong.

When I finished the book, I walked away in awe of what I had created. I never thought I would write a book, let alone two, up to that point, and in a month no less! I edited the book and handed it out to my two trusted beta readers. I braced myself, just because I thought it was good, didn’t mean they would. They both came back with constructive criticism, a sign of a true beta reader, but overall said I needed to publish the book, it was more than good enough.

I have spent the past two years, editing and revising, making it as perfect as I possibly can to go out in the wide world. Finally, after much prodding, I decided to try to publish the book. I knew I wanted to go the traditional route. Leave it to me to take the more difficult route, not that any publishing route is easy. I began to read any resource I could get my hands on to start crafting my query letter.

The query letter is the letter that you send to a potential agent about the book you have created and who you are. Basically, it is the sales pitch for your book, the first of many. I started back in February, naively thinking I had written a great letter. I sent the letter out in earnest. The first draft of the letter held most of the components needed, in a loose order as they should have been put. If I am being honest, it was a trainwreck.

Here is where the irony comes in, I am working on a Master’s in Public Relations, I know how to study and learn, I write marketing pieces every day, yet I cannot seem to get this letter correct. I was commenting to my husband my distress at not getting that magical cocktail that is the query letter correct, and my deepest fear that my query letter is destroying any real chance that the book will even get looked at.

What is even more ironic is not being able to sell my own work in a letter. I write marketing pieces almost daily.  I know that I really only have to get it right once! If an agent asks for the entire book or more pages, I know I have got the “query cocktail” right. Now, I am speaking completely out of my depth here, but I am hoping to only have to ever query an agent once. I have several books finished, and I do not want to go through this process for each one, I would like to be a wealth of work for my agent. This idea may be completely absurd, maybe each book has to go through the process each time.

As painful as it is, I could handle the work not being good enough but my fear is that the agents aren’t even getting past the letter. I continue to scour the internet for advice, tips, tricks. I am not a quitter and I know that the best things in life are earned. I am earning this, hopefully, each letter revision at a time. I feel like that famous line from, Game of Thrones, “You know nothing, John Snow,” but more like “You know nothing Jackie Thomas.”

There are no shortcuts to where I want to be, well maybe there are a few, but they are not in my reach. I can’t buy my way in, nor am I the child of any celebrity, so I am going to have to keep plugging away, head up, shoulders back and onward.

McKinley Park Chapter 10

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Ben woke to his phone vibrating on the nightstand. The night before with Rachel was his first thing that went through his head, followed by the buzzing noise from his phone. He rolled over to grab it, burring his face in the pillow, it still held the scent of her hair. His phone demanded his attention, he picked it up.

“Ben, we have another one, he fucked up this time though! We have another victim, but she is alive and there is DNA everywhere! I am on my way now, I don’t have the whole story yet, one of the neighbours called it in.”

“Tell me what you do know so far? Talk while I get dressed.”

Ben pulled up to Clyde Ave. just north of Irving Park, not too far from where he lived. He flashed his badge as a uniformed officer pulled the tape back so he could pull onto the street. Already the street was swarming with other cops, as reporters vied eagerly to gain any information they could from the sidelines. Ben hated the press except for when they were helpful. He pulled up to the address Marty had given. 414 Clyde Ave. It was a small brick bungalow with flower boxes and a bright green mailbox on the porch.

He parked his car and spotted his partner waiting for him.

“He really fucked up this time. Are you ready for me to make your day?”

“Yes, tell me we’ve got him.”

“Next best thing, we have a witness.”

“No shit!”

“Yep.”

They walked up the steps of the porch and into the bungalow, the house was crawling with people.

“You, who are you?”Marty said to an officer in uniform.

“O’Leary.”

“O’Leary get all of these  people out of here, you guys are contaminating the hell out of this crime scene.”

The cop nodded. “You all heard the detectives, everyone out of here.”

“Thanks,” Ben said. “You keep the door O’Leary. No one unnecessary in or out, okay?”

“Got it.”

They carefully made their way through the bungalow to the back bedroom. Ben walked up to where the attack had taken place, the bed. The room with its soft green walls didn’t feel warm and inviting, the air in the room had changed, the aftermath of a brutal attack hung heavy. One of the crime scene investigators nodded as Ben and Marty walked into the room, careful of where they stepped.

“We’re dusting down everything. He came in through the window in the bathroom.” The tech motioned to the en-suite bathroom. “He didn’t have time to clean up, there is going to be DNA everywhere.”

“Where is our witness?”

“In the kitchen, I haven’t talked to him yet. The girl was leaving in a bus when I got here. She’s alive, barely. They are taking her to Methodist, she’s in bad shape. It will be a miracle if she survives.”

“Raped?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, the EMT’s thought so,” Marty said.

“Let’s go talk to our witness”

Ben and Marty wanted to look around the room but didn’t want to risk contaminating the scene. They wanted the crime scene techs to do their work then they would come in and poke around afterwards.

“This doesn’t sound like our guy at all, our guy has never been sloppy. Are we sure this is connected?”

“He branded her Ben, same brand, same spot.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“I saw it myself before she left.”

“You are sure that was the exact brand?”

“Certain.”

Ben and Marty walked back into the empty living room. O’Leary had done a good job clearing the house. Two uniformed cops stood in the kitchen where a thin man sat at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands.

“The witness?”

“Yeah,” Marty said.

Both detectives walked into the kitchen, their dress shirts sticking to their bodies. The air conditioning in the house was turned off by the crime scene team.  It was hot and humid, another impending storm charged the air with electricity.

“Has anyone talked to him yet?” Ben asked quietly.

“No. Our guy’s a little sketchy with us. I don’t think he was here to be law-abiding himself.”

“B. & E?”

“That’s what it was called in for.”

“What are the chances a perp breaks in during an assault?”

Both detectives looked at each other.

They stepped further into the kitchen, walking up the table where the man sat. His clothes dirty and old and hung from his frail frame. He wore a face of stubble and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. His body language gave away that he was jonesing for another fix of whatever his drug of choice was. He wasn’t an ideal witness, but it was the best they had so far.

“Mr Daniels, I am Detective Ben Carter.” Ben held out his hand as he took a seat.

“John,” the man shook Ben’s hand.

“Hi, John. Can we talk to you about what you witnessed this morning?”

John shifted as nervousness radiated from him. Marty sat a recorder on the middle of the table. As he took a seat and moved in closer. It made John nervous, his body language giving away his unease.

“John, we can help you if you cooperate with us. Can you tell us why you were breaking in here, and can you tell us what you saw?”

“I didn’t hurt her, I swear. I had no idea.”

“Can you tell us why you broke in?”

The man stayed silent.

“Dispatch said you called the ambulance, is that correct?”

He nodded.

“John, it sounds like this girl is alive because of you. You have saved someone’s life this morning.”

The man rubbed the back of his neck again, beads of sweat had appeared on his brow. He looked down at the started to speak.

“I was told to come here, that no one would be here.”

“Who told you to come here?”

“This guy I met in a bar, I was asking for money in the bar. The bartender threw me out.”

“When did this happen?”

“Two nights ago at Smithy’s in Pilsen.”

“Did you catch the guy’s name?”

“It was something royal, knight or something.”

“Duke?”

“Yeah, that’s it. He came out of the bar, saw I was needing a fix. He handed me some money. Then he told me about this house. Said I could crash here, he told this story about how this guy who lives here helped him get clean and all. He told me to come over anytime.”

“Is that why you came here?”

“At first yeah, but I jumped the fence and the back door was open so I let myself in. I thought if I could find something to sell, get a fix then I could come back and I would be ready to get help from this guy.”

“Okay. Did you hear anything when you walked in, see anything odd?”

“I tried to be quiet when I came in, I didn’t want to get caught. I spotted the lady’s purse on the counter. I was going to grab it and go but then I heard something, like grunting. I knew what the sound was. I wanted to.. I just wondered, you know… I snuck down the hall and peeked through the gap between the door doorjamb.”

“What did you see? We need you to be as detailed as you can. This is really important John.”

“They couldn’t see me. This guy was mad. He was hitting her, hard, over and over again. I knew this wasn’t right, something was wrong, this wasn’t normal rough shit. She stopped fighting him and just went kind of limp, but he kept going. I went to move away and the floor creaked, the noise spooked the guy. He hit her hard, like really hard on the head. It sounded like a melon cracking. He was going to hit her again. I started shouting at him, I didn’t want to see this chick’s head split open. I’m not a good person, but I ain’t going to sit by and watch some girl get murdered. He took off past me and pushed me out of the way.

I thought he killed her. I really did. I was going to leave, you know, grab her purse and get the hell out of here. She didn’t move and I didn’t want any part of a dead girl  I don’t need no trouble. I turned to go, and I thought I heard her. I turned back around and she moaned a little, she was alive. I went over and turned her over. She was bleeding from her face everywhere man. I’ve never seen anyone bleed from their eyes, that’s some creepy shit. She was naked, he beat the shit out of her. I couldn’t leave her there. I put my jacket over her and went to the neighbours over there and told them to call you guys. I went back to her and waited so you all would find her. She wasn’t awake when I got back. I thought she was dead, but then the ambulance guys said she wasn’t so I don’t know. Then your cop buddies arrested me for breaking and entering. Sure I came in but I didn’t steal anything.”

“We’ll see what we can do if this information helps us catch this guy. Can you tell us what he looked like? Was it the guy from the bar?”

“ No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, this guy was built different. It wasn’t the same guy.”

“Can you describe what this guy from this morning looked like?”

“The sun had only just come up so it wasn’t real light out yet.”

“Was he a big guy, a little guy, fat, skinny?”

“He was taller than me, not fat.”

“Was he black or white?”

“White I think?”

“Why do you think he was white?”

“Well he had on a black sweater shirt thing and black pants, and well, his ass was white, so..”

“Did you see his face or his hair?”

“No, he had on one of those ski masks things.”

“How about eye color?”

“It was too dark to see.”

“How tall are you John?”

“About six feet.”

“Was he taller or shorter than you?”

“A little taller I think.”

John began to pick at the scabs on his arms. He was jonesing hard.

“Can you tell us a little more about what he was wearing?” Marty asked.

“It was hard to see, a black shirt or sweater, black pants and boots, black boots and a mask on his face.”

John picked harder at a large scab on the back of his hand.

“Did you see the guy leave? Was he on foot, or did he leave in a car?”

John stayed silent.

“Look, John, I’ll level with you, If you were here to get some cash to score, we can help. Maybe help you get in a treatment center.”

John looked at Ben then at Marty.

“As my partner said, John, we really need your help here.”

John stayed quiet, so did Ben and Marty. The air became uncomfortable between the three men. John continued to pick at his arms even now that they were bleeding in several spots.

“He got in a car I think. It pulled away when I got to the front door.”

“Was it a car, a van, a truck?” Marty asked, impatience thick in his voice.

“There was a car. I thought it was a cop at first.”

“What color was the car?”

“White.”

“Did it look like a police car?”

“Shit, man, I don’t know, my head is killing me. I just need to get out of here and go home, man.”

“Look we are almost done, I promise. You said you thought it looked like a police car?”

“No, shit, I don’t know.”

“How many doors did it have?”

“Four I think.” John rubbed the back of his neck. He was becoming more agitated by the minute.

“Was it American made? Like police cars? Was it old or new?”

“Old I think. Maybe a Ford. Like a Ford Focus maybe?”

“That’s great John.”

“Did you see the plate?” Ben asked.

“No. I just didn’t look. I wasn’t here to car shop.”

Ben’s phone rang and he looked down at the number. It was Methodist Hospital. He nodded to Marty communicating that he needed to take it. Ben walked out of the kitchen to take the call and returned just as Marty finished questioning John. Two cops walked in to arrest John.

“Thank you, John. You saved that girl’s life today.”

“I helped you, I thought you said I could go if I helped you.”

“I said we’d get you some help if you wanted. We also need to get some fingerprints from you and that sort of thing.”

“That is bullshit. Let me go.”

John started to buck away from the cop who had cuffed him.

“John if you want help this is how we have to start the process. You have to go before a judge.”

“Fuck you man,” John shouted as he was led out of the house in cuffs.

“His brain is mush until he scores again. He’s spent. Who was on the phone?” Marty said.

“The hospital, our victim is in a coma. You were right about the brand, by the way, they’re less than 24 hours old. I am going to head over there. I want to be there when she wakes up. No one should wake from that alone, at least until we can locate her family.”

“Good idea. I will find her family and let them know.  We are going to finally get this sick bastard.”

“Yeah, we are. After her family gets there I have to go find Stephen Duke, the bastard knows more than he’s saying. This is the second victim he’s connected to.”

My Top Ten Tips for Writing Sex (Revised Post!)

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The first sex scene I ever wrote, read more like a PG13 movie then what the scene needed to convey. One of my first beta readers said it best, she said, “I want to know what the rug under her feels like.” The scene was where two characters were going at it on the bathroom floor. I knew she was right. I sat in front of my computer the cursor blinking at me, saying you can’t do this. Frustrated I walked away. I needed help. I am by no means prudish. I grew up in a house where sex was never a taboo subject. Why couldn’t I write it? I realized I needed to educate myself. Here are my top ten tips for writing sex scenes.

Read Sex:

I thought I had read a lot of sex in various works of fiction and that would be enough. My beta reader who made the comment about feeling the rug suggested reading some of Christine Feehan’s work. I read the first book in eight hours I couldn’t put it down. It was sexy but still told a story. This is how sex should be written. The sex scenes in Christine Feehan’s books and Maya Bank’s books help move the plot along. The scenes convey emotional growth and character development.

Watch Sex:

I know this is a controversial idea for some, and I respect that. I highly encourage watching sex, not just pornography, but favorite love scenes in movies. It isn’t about watching the act of sex, it is for the purpose of watching body movement. It is so important to get body movement correct when writing a sex scene. Pay extra close attention to where the participant’s hands are, this is so important. Watch the body movement. The best sex scenes are detailed, where the author has taken the time, to describe body placement and movement. Vague sex scenes don’t carry the same weight in my opinion.

Read online:

I have always read a lot of fiction, but in doing research to write sex scenes, I didn’t have the time to read an entire book to get to a steamy scene. There are great websites that have compiled all sorts of sex scenes. You can search for the type of sex scene you want to write about and read examples of it done really well. Seriously, Google is your friend here. If you are a little shy, open an incognito window and go for it.

Tone:

I love to read a good steamy love scene but as a reader, nothing is more jarring than when the scene doesn’t seem to fit the characters or the tone of the story. Set the mood for the scene and stick to it, is it passionate, lustful, tender, awkward? My point here is to know the mood literally in the room between the two (or more) characters engaging with each other. It would be jarring to read of a couple who need to make love to each other for character development, going at it against the bathroom wall in a club. I am not saying it can’t be done, but the tone is so important here! Here is an example:

Virginia is timid, quiet, reserved. Carl, her love interest is also meek. This is their first time together, neither with a lot of sexual experience. The scene is in her bedroom. They are young and nervous.

Tone Done Correctly:

Virginia couldn’t believe the moment had finally come. She had waited for so long to be with Carl. Her body shook, she wasn’t sure if it was the anticipation or nerves, either way, she wanted him. 

“I love you so much,” Carl said as he leant down and kissed her soft lips.

“Please make love to me Carl, I want to do this,” Virginia said, her voice cracking.

Tone Done Incorrectly:

We are going to use the same characters and the same setting.

Virginia stipped her clothes from her body, she couldn’t get them off fast enough. She needed Carl inside of her, she missed the feeling. (it is her first time! how would she know what he feels like?)

“I am going to wreck you, I won’t stop until you beg me for mercy,” Carl said as he grabbed the back of her head.

She wasn’t leaving that room until she belonged to him and only him. She would take all he had to give and then beg for more.

 

Does this illustrate the difference? Carl and Virginia are young, and it is their first time. The second example while steamy is out of place for two young, inexperienced partners. See, tone matters.

 

Message:

What are you trying to tell your reader in the scene? I think this is why I love writing romance so much. Romance is a time of great joy usually, that feeling of falling in love is magical. Sex, on the other hand, can hold a lot of different emotions. We are our most vulnerable when we are naked in front of another person. I think when sex is written correctly in a romance novel, there is so much more going on in the scene then just the body mechanics, there is massive character development. My favorite scenes are when characters really fall for each other in the moment of sex, or one partner is tender to another.

Pay attention:

This sounds so stupid to say but it is true. As a writer, you must pay attention to body movement. I follow a lot of fellow romance writers and readers, their number one complaint that the author did not pay attention to the scene. Let me give an example.

Carl swept Virginia up in his arms, he was carrying her to his bedroom. Tonight would be the night that they had both waited for, longed for, imagined. Carl looked down at Virginia’s long flowing locks.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

He reached up and stroked her cheek.

Wait, what? Did he just drop Virginia or does Carl have a third arm? Nothing is more jarring to a reader than something like this. Pay attention to your characters!

 

Have fun:

Let go, have fun, write out your wildest fantasies. Writing sex is fun. When I first started writing sex, it wasn’t fun. It took me a while to learn the advice I am giving here to you today. I wish I would have come across this article as a resource. My suggestion is don’t get hung up on the technicalities the first time you write the scene. Go back and edit using the technicalities, tone, mechanics and message. Let your character’s really “feel” not just physically but emotionally too.

Read what you wrote:

You are the first reader of the story your characters are telling. Read the sex scene you just wrote. Does it make sense to you? Pay attention to the mechanics, did one of the characters grow another arm like in the example above? Doe the tone of the scene fit with the story you are trying to tell? I have written the steamiest scenes and then went back to re-read the scene and it just doesn’t fit. This is where a good note app does wonder. I have scrapped scenes for this reason, and archived it, for later use.

Vivid imagination helps:

I love to put myself in the scene, not necessarily as a participant but more like a fly on the wall. Before I write the scene and during, I like to imagine the setting, the characters, all of it. I think of it this way, if it were a movie would the audience want to watch it?

Don’t be embarrassed:

I am not a prude. I was raised in a house where the topic of sex was an open and ongoing conversation. I consider myself very blessed to come up in a house with such a liberal attitude towards sex, yet when it came to reading and writing sex for the first few times, I was nervous, even embarrassed. I didn’t realize this at first but after I did, I knew I was going to have to overcome it to really write the scenes my characters.

 

I really hope this article helps those of you who are looking for tips on how to write sex. I know these tips have helped me hone the craft of writing truly great sex scenes. If you have a tip that you have not seen here, please share it in the comments.

McKinley Park Chapter 9

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Ben pulled his car back onto their street and drove past his driveway to pull into Rachel’s driveway.

“Wait, I’m not ready to go home. My sister is staying over and I know if I walk in now, it will be chaos. She is having her house painted. She has her kids and my kids tonight. They were at Super Dawg when you showed up.”

Ben laughed.

“Okay, how about mine then?”

“Good choice, I don’t think we are in any shape to go out anywhere public.” Rachel picked at the skirt of her wet dress.

Ben pulled the car around the block and came back around parking the car in his driveway.

“Will your sister notice the car here?”

“I doubt it. She doesn’t know exactly where you live.”

He unlocked the front door and let her in first as he switched on the light next to him. His house was very similar to hers, just much smaller. There was a staircase in front of her, and the living room was off to the left, with the kitchen behind it. His house did not have a dining room and was more open than hers.

“I’ve always wondered what the inside of this house looked like.”

“Would you like to see it?”

“Sure if you don’t mind. I don’t want to be nosey.”

“You’re not. Hold on.”

Ben walked back towards the kitchen as Rachel took a step into the living room to watch him. The room had a couch, coffee table and television in it but not much else. The place needed a woman’s touch. There was a painting on the wall of a river. She walked over to look at it. As she looked at it, she felt something fuzzy on her leg. She looked down to see Felix wrapping around her leg, his back up against her as he purred. She bent down to pet the orange striped cat.

“Ah, that’s Felix. He’s normally pretty skittish.”

Rachel looked up and smiled.

“He’s sweet.”

“It’s an act.” Ben laughed as he handed Rachel a fluffy white towel.

She began to dry her hair.

“You don’t strike me as a cat person.”

“More of a dog person?”

“Not a pet person.”

“Good call. I’m really not but I brought this guy home one night as somewhere temporary and he stayed.”

“That sounds like a fun story, maybe?”

“Um.”

“Okay?” Rachel laughed.

“No, it isn’t so bad. I found him left behind at a crime scene. It was late and he was friendly. I couldn’t just leave him there. I had planned to take him to the shelter in the morning but every shelter I tried was full, so he just stayed here with me. We get along alright.”

“Well, he looks very happy here.”

Rachel took off his suit jacket and laid it over the couch. Her dress had dried mostly, once again hiding her body underneath.

“Would you like something to drink or a change of clothes?”

“I’ll have a cup of coffee if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all.”

She followed Ben into the kitchen. It had tall ceilings and was larger than her kitchen. There were two massive windows at the back. He set the coffee pot to brew.

“Would you like to see the house?”

“Sure.”

Ben showed her the downstairs, powder room, laundry room, kitchen and living room on the ground floor before they headed upstairs. He took her upstairs to his home office at the back of the house, over the kitchen. She was mesmerized by the large built-in bookcases filled with books.

“You read a lot?”

“I do.”

“Me too. I would have loved to have had shelves like this in my house.”

She turned and looked at him. There was something in the way she looked at him, that he knew she wanted to be kissed. He didn’t want to miss the signal but he didn’t want to frighten her either. He took a step towards her and she did not retreat. He closed the gap between them as he wrapped his arms around her small waist.

“Is that a record player?” She pointed to the corner.

He turned to look.

“Yeah, I am kind of a vinyl nut.”

“Really? What album is your favorite?

Her question intrigued him. He pulled out of her embrace and went over to the large closet. He opened the door and turned on the light from the pull cord that hung above. The small closet was lined with vinyl albums. She could see him searching his collection.

“Don’t look. Can you guess the artist?” He said as he pulled the record out of the sleeve.

She liked seeing his playful side. He lifted the lid on the record player and set it onto the turntable. He put the needle down and she listened to that familiar popping noise, one only heard on a vinyl record. The music started to fill the room. It had a gospel sound to it, and a blues sound to it at the same time. A woman’s voice sang out,” I’m loving you more..” Rachel listened, she knew the voice but couldn’t place it.

“Um, is it..?”She stopped afraid she might get it wrong.

“Go ahead, take a guess.” Ben coaxed.

“Is it,” she paused again, Is it Etta James?”

“Bingo! Well done. This is an original pressing. They just don’t make singers like this.”

She crossed the room and reached her hand out.

“Well then, let’s do Ms. James the honor she deserves.”

Ben took Rachel into his arms again as the two of them began to dance in the middle of the office. Both of them were still damp and the smell of the coffee downstairs wafted up through the house. Rachel put her head on Ben’s chest. They felt like they were the only two people in the world, dancing up in his office. She looked up at him and Ben couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and kissed her. He had to have that soft full, bottom lip on his. She kissed him back, as her tongue caressed his, Ben was nervous that she would feel his arousal through his pants. They swayed to the music and kissed. Their kisses became needier, Ben hoped this would happen, he wanted her naked in his arms. He wanted to hold her. Soon they were breathless, as the record played on in the background.

“Ben.”

He kissed down her neck. She leaned her head back.

“Ben.”

He stopped.

“Do we need to stop?”

“I just need a minute to freshen up.”

He kissed her again, the taste of her mouth was addictive. She pulled away gently, remembering that the bathroom was at the top of the stairs. She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Ben walked quickly into his bedroom, pulling the blankets back over the bed. He never made his bed before work. He shooed Felix off of the end as he straightened the pillows and made sure the nightstands were clean. As he finished picking up the few pieces of dirty laundry, he realized that Rachel was taking a long time. He wasn’t sure if he should check on her, he didn’t want to seem overly eager. He stood in the middle of his bedroom, unsure of what to do. He turned at the noise of the bathroom door opening. Rachel walked into his bedroom.

“Ben,” she took a deep breath, “I’m nervous.”

He crossed the room.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I.. It’s…Can we please turn the lights out? I think that will make it easier.”

“We can do whatever you like. Rachel we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do want to. I am just a little nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous. If I am being honest, I am a little nervous myself.”

“Really?”

Ben smiled and walked over to her. She reached out for him, the noise of the record still playing in the background. He wrapped one arm around her and switched off the light on the switch on the wall. She wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“Why don’t we lay down, we can lay next to each other?”

“Ben, I want to do more than lay next to you.” He could hear the playful tone in her voice.

He led her to the bed and he climbed on first holding his hands out for her. She climbed on top of the bed. Both of them still on their knees on top of the bed, grabbed on to each other. Ben pulled her close with one hand and ran his other hand through her hair. It was softer than silk and had a slight wave to it from drying from the rain. Rachel laid down with her back on the bed and pulled Ben on top of her. She opened her legs and Ben laid his body between them as his mouth found her’s in the dark. There was something that told him, he needed to take it slow with her, he could feel it, even though his body was saying the opposite.

Rachel reached between them and undid the buttons that opened the dress across her chest. Ben reached down with one hand, the skin of his hand caressing over her bra. He wanted to desperately for her to remove it but he was trying to be restrained.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered in her ear.

He kissed her ear and then her neck, as she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck. She ran her fingers through is thick dark hair. He kissed her collarbone and slowly kissed his way down her chest. He found the mound of her nipple through the simple silk fabric of the bra and took it into his mouth. He heard her moan in pleasure as his tongue swirled over it.

“Hold on.” She said breathless.

She reached down and opened the clasp that sat between her breasts, the two cups falling to the sides and her beautiful breasts slipped forth. Ben took one into his hand as he cupped the other and took the nipple back into his mouth. She moaned again, this time deeper, her thigh rose up at his side. He moved his other hand from her breast to her leg that was moving. He cupped it at the back of the leg and proceeded to run his hand up the outside of her thigh.  Her body tensed, not in a good way. She pulled his hand away from her leg. He stopped right away.

“What’s wrong? Do we need to stop?”

“I don’t like to be touched there.”

“Okay.”

“I.. I have poison ivy in a few patches from the boys.” She said.

Ben had been a detective long enough to spot a lame lie when he heard one. He didn’t call her out on it. He knew she had a reason, and whatever it was was good enough for him.

“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed her again, getting lost with the movement of her tongue.

Her body was still tense, he knew something was off, something wasn’t right.

“Rachel?” His voice was soft. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.” Her voice said no but her body disagreed.

He reached his hands back up near her face and took it into his hands as he kissed her again. She pulled away from his mouth.

“Ben, actually, I think…Can we stop?”

“Of course.”

Ben stopped kissing her and looked her in the eye, the whites of them shining in the dark room. He could see the glisten of tears in her eyes from the streetlamp light that came in through the window. As long as he lived he didn’t want to be the one to put tears there. He rolled off of her and laid down next to her. He felt her start to get up.

“Rachel, honey wait.”

She stopped.

“Just lay here with me. I promise I am not asking for anything more. I just want to hold you, if it is okay with you?”

She paused and then laid down next to him.

“I need to stay on my back.” She said.

“Whatever is most comfortable for you. You don’t have to lay here either if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s been a long time since I have been held.”

“Now that is a crime, a woman as beautiful as you. Trust me I am a detective.”

He felt her laugh as he wrapped his arm around her, the other tucked under his head. She smelled incredible as he snuggled up close. She wrapped her arms around his, as she laid looking up at the ceiling. She tilted her heard towards Ben as he kissed the side of it, inhaling her scent as he did. Together they fell asleep in his bed.

Ben woke to movement in his bed, he heard whimpering. He had forgotten Rachel was in his bed, still in his arms. He could feel her body shake. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her face was twisted in fear, still asleep, but still so full of fear. He looked at it and wondered who could hurt such a beautiful woman. He wanted to rip open that report in his desk drawer. What had that son of a bitch done to her, he wondered. She whimpered, the noise was like a stab to his heart. He kissed the top of her forehead to wake her. Her body tensed instantly, and he regretted that choice of action to wake her.

“Rachel, honey, wake up. You’re safe.” Ben said gently.

She didn’t wake, her body still filled with the chemical reaction terror produced.

“Rachel, wake up, you’re safe.”

Her eyes shot open and she pushed his arm away from her in a violent motion.

“Rachel it’s okay, you are safe,” Ben said as he sat up.

She sat up as well, trying to make sense of where she was. He watched her gain recognition and remember. She reached out for him and hugged him, hard.

“Honey are you okay? I think you were having a nightmare.”

She didn’t say anything but still clung to him.

After a minute she let go slowly.

“I’m sorry. That happens sometimes. I’m embarrassed. I feel like one of my kids.”

“Don’t be. I get them too, it’s the nature of the job.”

“I bet. Thank you for being so kind. What time is it?”

Ben looked over at the clock on his nightstand.

“It’s 2:46”

“Oh my God, my sister has to be worried sick. I should go.”

“You are more than welcome to stay.”

“That’s sweet but I should go. I want to be home when the boys wake up.”

“Okay. I’ll walk you.”

“It’s only across the street.”

“There are a lot of sickos out there.” He regretted bringing that up.

“You’re right about that.”

She got up out of the bed, the room still dark with just enough room to see where she was going. Ben was grateful for the darkness as his cock was ready to burst through his pants. It seemed just being in the same room with her this evening did that to him. The darkness let him hide it. They made their way out of his house and across the street. He walked her up the stairs to her front door. She turned and wrapped her hands around his neck.

“Thank you for tonight.” She leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was sweet and sensual at the same time. It was almost painful to let her out of his arms as she pulled away and turned towards the door.

“Rachel, his voice low, “let’s do this again.”

“Okay,” she said, he could hear the smile in her voice. She kissed his cheek and then went inside, closing the door quietly behind her. Ben seemed to float off of her front porch.

McKinley Park Chapter 8

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Ben knocked on Rachel’s door as his palms began to sweat. He had been looking forward to this night with Rachel since she called. He wasn’t sure if they were going as friends or it was a date, but it didn’t matter. He was just happy to be with her. Marty had pulled the report on Rhett, Rachel’s ex. He had handed it to Ben in a brown envelope, as he handed it to him, he reiterated that it was Rachel’s story to tell. Ben knew he was right. He took the report but didn’t open the envelope. He stuck in his top desk drawer and tried to forget about it.

He heard the door open and Rachel smiled when she saw him.

“Hello. You’re on time tonight.”

Ben smiled. “Yes, I am. Sorry about last time, being late.”

“I was just teasing.” Her face was kind as she said it.

“Are you ready to go?”

“I am. Let me just grab my purse.”

Rachel grabbed it off of the entryway table and stepped out onto the porch. She closed the door and locked it behind her. She had on a white cotton dress, which was perfect for a hot summer evening. The hem hit just past her knees, but the fabric was light and moved with her body. The air was humid again but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She wore her hair half up with her long bangs pulled back into a clip and espadrille sandals. They walked down her porch and out onto the sidewalk.

“What do you have a taste for?” Ben asked.

“Take me to your favorite place to eat,” Rachel said.

“My favorite place? That’s a hard choice. What kind of food do you like?” Ben asked as they got into his car. He made sure to hold the door open for her.

“I am not a huge fan of sushi or anything that is still alive, but other than that, I am pretty adventurous.”

“Do you like fried chicken, spicy fried chicken?”

“Sure.”

“Marty was telling me about this place near the loop that supposedly has really good fried chicken. A lot of the guys at the station have been talking about it.”

“That sounds great.”

Ben felt like this had been a test. He wasn’t sure if Rachel wanted to get to know him better as a friend, or something more. If he picked somewhere romantic, it could have backfired. The chicken place was supposed to be causal and food was supposed to be delicious. It was the kind of summer evening, that Chicagoans dreamt of come February, hot and humid. Ben wondered if Rachel minded being in his unmarked police car. He looked over as the sunlight shone through her brown hair, she was gorgeous. She noticed him looking at her and turned to smile at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ben said, embarrassed he had been caught. Thinking quickly to change the subject, he said, “What a nice night.”

“It is, I love this time of year and hate it too. I know the summer is winding down to an end and school will be back in session in a few weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but I will miss the freedom of the summer. Getting the boys back on a routine can be rough. Last summer I tried to stick to a routine but gave up halfway through. This summer I didn’t even bother. I figure they have the rest of their lives to stick to a schedule, let them be kids for now. But man, I am going to pay for it.” She laughed.

“That makes sense.”

“Everything was so regimented with Rhett, that I just knew I wanted my boys to know fun and freedom, to play and get dirty. I know that it makes my job as a mom harder but it is worth it.”

“Boys should be outside getting dirty. That is what summer is for.”

Ten minutes later, Ben parked his car on a side street. During the day, this part of the city would have been busy with office workers, but it had emptied out for the day. Rachel walked next to Ben as they headed towards the restaurant, he could smell the light scent of her perfume. He wanted to touch her, hold her hand, but he didn’t want to scare her off. They rounded the corner and saw a line in front of the restaurant.

“I guess it is really good. Look at the line.” Rachel said.

“I think it might be for the bar next door?”

As they walked closer they found that Ben was correct. They walked in and the place was much more casual than he had intended, but the air smelled of fried chicken. His stomach rumbled. They sat themselves.  The red and white checkered vinyl tablecloth was slightly sticky. Rachel pretended not to notice.

“If you want to go somewhere else we can.”

“Why?”

“I just wasn’t sure if this was what you had in mind. If it’s too casual.”

“I’m game if you are.”

She pulled a menu from the middle of the table.

“Mmmm, this all looks really good.”

The waitress came up to the table.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a Beer, one of the artisan ones on tap.” Rachel said.

“I’ll have the same,” Ben said.

They both ordered the spicy fried chicken for dinner and she told him about how she learned to play the cello.  Ben would have listened to anything she had to tell him; he could have listened to her for hours. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the shape of her mouth, with its slight square shape, and full bottom lip. She was beautiful. He felt like he could not put his finger on the one thing that made her beautiful. She was perfection in his eyes. Her deep brown eyes and chocolate brown hair that sat just past her shoulders, he wanted to run his fingers through it, and kiss those soft pink lips. As they sat and talked, he remembered her sitting on his lap and became aroused at the thought of it.

The waitress came and brought both dinners at the same time, on styrofoam plates along with plastic cutlery. After the waitress walked away Rachel looked down at her plate.

“It smells spicy.”

“It does,” Ben said as he took a large bite.

He nodded, as the peppery spice radiated across his tongue and enflamed his lips. Rachel followed suit and took a bite herself, he could hear the breading crunch on the breast she took a bite out of.  She nodded in agreement, as she placed her hand in front of her mouth.

“Now I get what the bread underneath is for,” She said after she swallowed.

“Is it too hot for you?” Ben asked, concerned.

“No, it is just right. It’s delicious. Thanks for bringing me here. Are you okay?”

It was too spicy for Ben, but he wasn’t going to fess up to it as he felt beads of sweat on his forehead.

“It’s delicious.”

They both laughed.

They finished their meal and had planned to go see a movie. As they walked out into the warm evening, Rachel turned towards Ben.

“Do you think, I mean would you rather do something else outside instead of going to a movie? It is such a nice night.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

Ben looked down at his watch. It was only 8:30, still pretty early.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Want to go for a walk in Grant Park? We can go see the fountain? I haven’t done that in forever, and I don’t think I’ve ever done it at night.”

“That sounds great.”

It was a long walk but neither of them seemed to mind. It was the sort of night where one craved to be outside. Rachel felt safe walking next to Ben. As they crossed Wacker, two men began to shout at each other on the opposite corner. Rachel reached out for Ben’s arm. As her skin made contact with his, it felt like a warm jolt of electricity ran through his body. He reached over and put his hand on top of hers. She looked up at him, trying to hide her fear. They turned the corner again and could see the park across Michigan Avenue. The breeze off  Lake Michigan blew past, bringing its briny smell and cool air. Rachel shivered.

“Are you cold?” Ben asked.

“No, it was the change in temperature. Sorry,” She pulled her hand off of his arm realizing she was still touching him.

“I didn’t mind.”

“Do you think those guys will hurt each other?” She looked back in the direction they had come from as she asked.

“Probably not. The police are on their way, I am sure.”

“Are you supposed to go? I mean like the nearest cop thing?”

“No, not really in this case. I mean if there was an imminent threat, then yes. But it didn’t look like it was going to be violent.”

“Can I ask you a question?” She said as they crossed into the park.

“Of course.”

“Why did you choose to join law enforcement?”

“It was just something I always wanted to do, even from a young age.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I have always just had a strong sense of justice. I hate it when someone is wronged or hurt. I want to help make it right if I can.” Ben noticed Rachel put a small distance between the two of them as he said the last part.

An old black and white movie played in the bandshell as they walked past continuing on towards the fountain. The small gravel crunched under their feet as they got closer to the fountain.

“Thanks for agreeing to come out with me tonight,” Rachel said.

“I was glad you asked. I was hoping to get to see you again.”

Rachel stopped walking and Ben turned back to face her.

“Not to keep bringing this up but; I feel like I owe you an explanation about the last time we had dinner together.”

“You don’t,” Ben said, knowing he had to be polite and not pry. He remembered Marty’s words. It was her story to tell.

“No, I do. I hope I am not being too forward, but… I like you Ben and there hasn’t been anyone since Rhett. Ugh, that’s not what I wanted to say. I am making a mess of this.”

Ben stepped closer to her and she did not step away. He reached out gently and caressed the side of her face as he leaned down to kiss her. Her tongue caressed his. It was a shallow, soft kiss but it packed a punch. He wanted to keep kissing her and never stop. It took every ounce of self-control he had to stop. He pulled back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes visible under the lamplight in the park.

“Rachel, I like you too. I have for a long time. I don’t want to scare you off. You don’t owe me any explanations. I am happy to be with you however you want to or need to do it.”

She leaned forward and embraced him, putting her head next to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“I practiced this. This whole speech with my sister. I still messed it up,” She said, still in his embrace.

“It was perfect.”

He pulled her away slightly and looked down at her.

“Rachel, you are in the driver’s seat here. If this ever becomes too much just tell me. I really want to give this a try if you are open to it.”

“I really want to be. I’m, it’s just that… I am scared.”

“I don’t have any expectations. We will take it one day at a time.”

“Thank you Ben.”

She pulled out of his embrace completely, his arms now felt emptier than they ever had. They started to walk slowly again.

“All I was trying to say was that in the end, my ex ended up not being the man I married. He turned out not to be a nice man. I thought after my marriage ended, I would never date again. I didn’t want to trust anyone else again.”

Ben stopped and grabbed her hand softly.

“I am sorry you had to go through that. I would love to say that I understand what you went through, but that is only one of those things that you do understand if you’ve lived it. I will promise you this, right here, at the start, I will not hurt you, Rachel. I know I am asking for your trust, that is a gift I won’t abuse it.”

Rachel took a deep breath and looked away. Ben’s words had brought up emotion she wasn’t prepared for. Ben walked closer to her and hugged her.

“Thank you, Ben,” She whispered.

As they approached the fountain the first few drops of rain began to fall. They were so engrossed in each other that they had missed the incoming storm. Rachel reached out her hand, catching the raindrops, it made her giggle. The soft drizzle instantly became a deluge, as others in the park scurried for dry shelter. Ben would have given Rachel his coat, had he been wearing on. They ran for cover under a tree but knew they had to move on as lightning streaked across the sky.

“Wait here,” Ben shouted over the barrage of the rain.

Rachel watched him run down to Michigan Avenue and hail a cab. He signalled to her to come as he opened the door to the cab. She ran from under the tree but in the twenty feet from the tree to the curb she was soaked, her dress stuck to her body as it turned opaque. Her wet dress slid against the vinyl seat in the cab as Ben slid in next to her. Ben gave the location of his car and the cabbie sped off in that direction. Rachel looked at Ben, who was just as wet as she was. She started laughing at the sight of the two of them.

“What’s so funny?”

“We look like we’ve been drowned.”

Ben had to laugh at her observation. It was correct. She reached over and slid her hand around Ben’s neck and kissed him. He pulled her warm, wet body to his. The wet clothes made the barrier of clothing feel even thinner between the two of them. Ben was instantly aroused. Their soft kisses deepened and grew more intense. The cab stopped at the corner of the street that Ben had given the location for, where the car was parked.

“Sir. We are here.”

Ben pulled away, embarrassed he had gotten so carried away. He grabbed Rachel’s hand and squeezed it softly. She smiled, feeling embarrassed as well.

They got into Ben’s car and he noticed chill bumps on her arms. He turned on the heat even though the evening was still warm. He got back out of the car and retrieved a suit jacket that he kept in the trunk.

“Here, this will help keep you warm,” he said as he handed it to her.

He could see her nipples through her wet cotton dress and he had to physically bite his bottom lip, to resist the impulse to reach out and kiss her again.

Top Ten Ways I Procrastinate When Writing….

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I am not a procrastinator by nature. I am a planner, but it seems the older I get the more laid back I become and then before I know it, I am up against a deadline.  I always make my deadline, whether it is for writing or other obligations in my life. As I was thinking about how I procrastinate to avoid writing from time to time, I thought it would be a funny list to share… because let’s be honest, we’ve all been there.

  1. Twitter– If I have actually got myself to sit down at my computer when I am procrastinating, I usually fall for the lie that I tell myself, “I’ll just pop onto Twitter for a second and see what is going on in the world..” Ha ha ha, silly me, a half hour later I am still scrolling through Twitter and NOT writing.
  2. Homework– I am working on my graduate degree in Public Relations- I will be done in the fall. This is a lame way to procrastinate but, since this post is about outing myself.. yeah sometimes I use homework as an excuse to not write. The bummer is, I actually have to do homework, and end up wishing I was writing instead.
  3. Housework- Yes you read that right, sometimes I would rather clean my house than write. I have been known to organize the closet in the kid’s playroom to avoid writing, this is a multi-day project.
  4. Work Out- I am giggling at myself at this point, writing is turning me into a runner for the first time in my life.
  5. Getting Trapped By TV.- At the end of the day, after a full day of work, dinner, kid’s homework, bath, and bed I am exhausted. My husband will be watching something on television and I will sit just for a second. Two hours later, I am still sitting there, wondering where the hell the past two hours went, but now I am too tired to actually write.
  6. Home Project- I seriously, kid you not. I tiled an entire kitchen backsplash to get out of writing a chapter one weekend. That is a lot of work not to write.
  7. I am Too Tired- Between my full-time job, owning a business with my husband, being a grad school student, raising two energetic children, being a wife to a wonderful man and caring for our zoo full of housepets I am exhausted. Man, I am tired just writing that.
  8. It Isn’t Very Good- I think this is the excuse I hate most of all. I think every writer has that period of self-doubt while working on a project. I sure know I have on just about every project I have completed. It is that little voice in the back of my head that says, “you don’t have to keep working on this project, it isn’t very good anyway.”  Well, that little voice can go to hell, because I don’t quit, but I do procrastinate.
  9. I Need to Run and Errand- “We need cinnamon for the french toast for brunch two weeks from now, I’d better go get it.” Yeah, the important errand that needs to run right away, but in reality can wait for a good ten days at least… that one is a gem.
  10. I Just Need A Break- If I am in the middle of a project and I am really working hard at it, this is a good excuse to pull out. However, it is a trick. I don’t fall for it much anymore because that is when the voice from number 8 comes out. Writing only gets better the more you do it. Plus, if you walk away, you stand a good chance of losing your momentum.

In the end, more often than not, I do end up making myself sit down and write. It is the best feeling when I do write and get those words down. When I block out the world around me and stop thinking about all of the obligations I have, and just immerse myself in the work I am creating..that is magic. How do you procrastinate, from one procrastinator to another? Let me know in the comments below.