This was supposed to be my WIP list post, but since all I’ve worked on since the last one is Intertwined Lives that seemed kind of daft to bother with. Intertwined Lives is now 34,442 words. I’m two weeks into a plot that will cover two years. I’m pretty sure I’m looking at a George R. R. Martin length thing here. Oh well.
(Random oddness: A suggested related article is a recipe for red velvet cake with cream cheese icing. What the fuck is this thing smoking lately?!)
Kayden, Richie, Quinn, and Rusark couldn’t be more different. One’s a future stay-at-home Dad, one’s a minor rock star, one’s a rebel-for-hire, and one’s the newest officer in the Sweytzian Special Forces. One’s quiet and shy, one’s outgoing and hyper, one’s suave and charming, and one’s forthright and pragmatic. This book follows their four, very different, stories as they simply live their lives, lives that intertwine because of family, friendship, and love.
This is a story for everyone who’s ever wondered what the heroes do when they’re not saving the day. This is a story for everyone who’s ever wondered what the ordinary people in a society with epic heroes are like.
And the excerpt, from the chapter introducing Richie and his daughters:
Somewhere out there in the tri-galaxies, one of my older sisters was headed home after fighting to free a world from a tyrant. Somewhere out there, one of my other older sisters was headed home after a bit of smuggling. I, on the other hand, was in the nursery of my own house, trying to convince my daughters to take a nap.
“Izzy, c’mon, sweety. I know you’re tired,” I said, putting her in bed for the fourth time in a nulair. “Boris is sleepy,” I said, handing her her pale purple stuffed luriset. “Why don’t you cuddle him?”
“Rosie’s up!” she argued.
“Only because you kept poking her,” I said, fighting the perfectly understandable urge to throttle my eldest daughter. She wasn’t feeling the slightest bit of remorse for waking her sister up. “Now, back in bed, both of you. You need to be well rested for tonight. We’re going to my parents’ house for dinner. You don’t want to be too sleepy to enjoy that, do you?”
“Don’t wanna sleep with her!” Rosie said, clutching the pink stuffed dragon she carried with her everywhere to her chest. “She’s meanie!”
“Fine then. You can go nap on my bed. Izzy . . . Rosie, what’s wrong, sweety?” I asked, having felt fear from my baby girl and caught a glimpse of her thoughts. There was something about monsters in them, but I couldn’t make sense out of them beyond that. There are times being only a quarter-Magvinnian is really annoying.
Rosie started to speak at the same time I noticed Izzy running off. “Isabella Gwenneth Reddige-Fine, get your butt back in here!”
Izzy looked at me and apparently decided she didn’t like what she saw, as she climbed wordlessly back into bed. “You’re cranky,” she informed me.
“Because you’re being a brat today. Now, Rosie, what’s scaring you, baby girl?”
“Monsters under bed!” she yelled, clutching her dragon tighter.
I sighed heavily, wishing once again that I was telepathic enough to know who was to blame for this. “Why do you think that?”
“James said so!”
I silently swore to kill my younger brother then said, “James is wrong. Come with me, and we can look under the bed, okay? Or you can climb up there next to your sister and sleep in here.”
She chose her sister over the monsters. “Monsters eat little girls. Izzy just pokes,” she informed me, as she scooted as far away from her sister as she could.
I ran my hands through my hair and shook my head as I walked back down to the living room.