Last updated on March 25, 2021
It’s been a while since my last series update. There hasn’t been a lot of news recently. I’ve been reviewing and editing The Most Special Chosen. I’ve been making a lot of minor edits, and even re-writing some sections completely.
I’m currently editing the last chapter before I do a final scrub-through and send it back to my publisher for round 2. I have to admit, I’m really happy with the edits. They’ve really improved the story, and the writing is much improved as well.
Part of the need for re-writes is an ever-changing society. Statements, ideas, and themes that were perfectly acceptable when I finished the story over four years ago are now somewhat iffy, so I’ve changed them. Anyone who picked up a copy of the self-published version a few years ago will want a new copy.
As a “thank you” for reading my blog, here’s a sneak peek of the story.
Chapter 1 (abridged)
It takes every ounce of my self control to not slam my books down on the table as I reach Shawn. To avoid getting thrown out of the library, I plonk them down lightly and drop into a chair with a sigh.
“Bad day?” Whispers Shawn, my best friend of eight years. “I thought it was going to be great.”
I schlump forward and rest my chin on my hand. “It was supposed to be, according to my intuition. That’s why I dressed nicely.” I gesture vaguely to my outfit with my free hand. I have on a pair of black, knee-high, leather boots; black leggings; and a lightweight, crimson sweater dress that accentuates my curvy figure. I only wear a little makeup to set off my brown, almond-shaped eyes. I’ve left my copper-colored hair long and wavy, hanging to my hips.
“The only thing special about today is that I’ve been rather hot.” Southern California just isn’t very cold in November.
“I thought you said your intuition is never wrong.”
“It’s not, I just…” I shrug, unsure how to finish that sentence. My intuition hasn’t been wrong once in my entire life, and ignoring it has always been to my detriment. I can’t understand how it’s suddenly wrong.
I watch Shawn as he turns back to his studying. He hasn’t changed much since high school. His soft, dirty-blonde hair hangs to his ears; huge, horn-rimmed glasses hide his startling green eyes; and his nose is a little too big for his face. He’s not ugly, but he’s no model, either.
My intuition, the same strange whisper I’ve heard at various points in my life, speaks again. I obey instantly. Perhaps this is the something special I’ve been waiting for.
I catch sight of the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen around the many bookcases and quickly sit up straight. He’s perfect! Imagine if he’s — No, Lys
My movement catches Shawn’s eye. He peers over his shoulder, following my line of sight, then turns back, rolling his eyes. “What is it with you and guys in black? Especially ones that look like — “
My sharp look shuts him up. He knows better than to discuss that in public. But I have to admit he has a point. I glance back at Mr. Gorgeous. He does look like — Dammit Lys! They don’t exist.
I try very hard not to stare and fail miserably. He has shoulder-length, jet-black hair that looks almost blue in the light; large, ice-blue eyes; round, sensual yet masculine lips; a square jaw that somehow doesn’t look chiseled; a mustache that grows into a short goatee; and lovely, olive skin.
He rounds the last bookcase and I can see he’s wearing a black, form-fitting shirt that hints at washboard abs; black leather pants; a floor-length, black, leather, trench coat that accentuates his broad shoulders; and combat boots. He must be at least six feet tall and he walks with a deadly purpose. He’s exactly what I’ve always imagined. Everything about him screams dangerous; and the effect is mesmerizing.
He’s obviously looking for something — or someone. Probably a girlfriend. I’m still ogling him when his gaze suddenly meets mine. I see a brief flash of recognition, but I know I’ve never seen him before. His eyes dart down and back up, and I have an irrational desire to pull my neckline down just a bit.
His grin is sinful. It promises wicked things, and I want to find out exactly what they are.
I drop my gaze to Shawn who’s making kissy faces at me. My glare could freeze fire. He stops.
The guy walks up and stops next to me. “Hello.”
Oh holy mother! His voice is deep and sensual and has an accent that sends shivers down my spine. It envelops me. I look up at him and become enraptured by his smile.