Nov 28, 2012

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

Cynthia Books, Writing 1

I was tagged by the awesome Kat Cantrell to participate in The Next Big Thing blog hop. If you haven’t read her Next Big Thing post about her upcoming book, MARRIAGE WITH BENEFITS, you must check it out here!

The Next Big Thing gives writers the opportunity to answer ten questions about their current WIP. Then, they tag four more people to post about their WIPs, who in turn tag four more writers to keep The Next Big Thing going.

In all the NaNoWriMo craze, I…uh…completely forgot about this, which means I forgot to ask who was available to participate (can we say brain fry?), so would it be really lame if I just say, if you read this post and haven’t participated yet, consider yourself tagged? Yeah, that is lame. But I’m doing it anyway.

What is the title of your book?

Edge of Recall

Where did the idea come from for the book?

From my scary brain. Well, okay, more specifically, I wanted to write a follow-up book to Edge of Light, and so I thought, hmm…what if Matt (a brief secondary character in the book), didn’t die like Jocelyn thought. What if he’s really alive somewhere, but he doesn’t remember who he is and how he got there. Who should he be paired up with? How about a woman with eidetic memory, who can’t forget anything she sees. Voila! The idea was born…

What genre does your book fall under?

Romantic thriller

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

This is hard, since I don’t generally use actors as visual prompts for my characters. Sidney, my heroine, is a tough, take-no-prisoners NCIS agent with black curly hair and grey eyes. If I *had* to pick someone…I guess I’d go with someone like Julianna Marguiles.

 

 

 

 

 

But for Matt? I don’t know that I can pick. He’s brown-haired, brown eyed, quick to smile and joke, but with a very serious side. He believes the past dictates the future, and for someone who now can’t remember the past…well, you can imagine what kind of conflict this causes him.

What is a one sentence synopsis of your book?

When NCIS agent Sidney Gallagher’s best friend is kidnapped she embarks on an overseas investigation to find her, but an ambush gone wrong lands her on-board a hijacked ship with a single ally: Army sergeant Matt Landis, a man with no recollection of who he is or how he got there. Now, Sidney must delve deep into her eidetic memory (an unusually vivid form of visual recall) to rescue her friend before it’s too late.

I realize this two sentences and doesn’t tell you a whole lot about the book, but I’m still feeling my way around it!

Will your book be self published or represented by an agency?

The book will hopefully (*fingers crossed*) be picked up by Carina Press. Right now it’s a WIP, so there’s still a lot more work to be done before it’s ready to submit!

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I’m still in the middle of it. All I can say is, it’s taking far too long.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre.

That’s a hard one, but I like to say I’d love to be the Tom Clancy of romantic thrillers.

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

The desire to write something that would tie into Edge of Light motivated me to write this book.

What else about your book might interest the reader?

The book takes place in the Philippines. I promise it will be an action-packed read. And it’s my first time writing a female villain. Which is fun.

Mini Excerpt:

(Please note this is a work-in-progress, which means it is ROUGH and subject to change!)

She was taller than him.

It shouldn’t have been the first thing Matt noticed about her, but somehow that one small detail lodged in his brain and wouldn’t let go. She stared at him, her feet braced shoulder width apart, her harsh breath visible by the rise and fall of her chest. He vaulted the last remaining step up to the deck. She raised the pistol. Her rock steady arm took aim at his chest.

He flinched. Damn it, since when did looking down a barrel of a gun make him nervous?

Since you can’t remember what it feels like.

He lifted his hands. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

“Yeah?” Her voice matched her ironclad stance. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Because.” He barely survived the last time? Two bullet holes was enough redecorating of his skin? Because she’d kneed him in the nuts, and damn it, it had hurt? Because he deserved to live?

He frowned. He wished he could say with absolute certainty that was true. But he didn’t know, did he? He took one large step closer to the woman and finally let the truth slip past his lip. “I don’t have one.”

Her eyes widened. “What?” Her aim slipped.

Matt lunged, dragging the woman against his body and tightening his hold on her waist. He wrested her pistol from her fingers and sent it sailing across the deck. She cried out. The wind picked up one of her wild black curls and whipped it across his face. The smell of apples, so potent in that one single strand of hair, surrounded him, jarring a memory loose.

An apple orchard. A dare. A fall. The jagged edge of bone sticking out of his arm.

He shifted his hold on the woman to glance at his forearm.

Smooth. No scar.

No scar? How could that be?

She broke through his fingers and whirled on him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I don’t know.” Panic gripped his throat, digging sharp, painful nails into his skin. “I don’t know who I am.”

She stumbled back a step. “Someone had a knife. Not a butter knife, but a—was it you? Did you…kill Jeremy?”

The strangled whisper tugged at him. Jeremy. The dead man. Back in the mess hall. “I haven’t killed anyone.” Blood dripped off her chin. He wasn’t squeamish, but something about that open gash marring her smooth skin unsettled him. “No, that’s not true. I—I have killed people. Bad people.”

But they hadn’t all been bad, had they? All those deaths, shouldn’t he know? Shouldn’t he keep score, check each one off in its appropriate column so he could tally them up and decide whether he was man or monster?

Neither.

He was a soldier. And sometimes a soldier had to do what a soldier had to do. Even if it meant—

Pain exploded across his temple. He gripped his head, pressing the rigid scar until he could see again. The edges of his vision cleared. He blinked the woman back into focus. She stared at him, her head tilted at a stiff angle.

Why hadn’t she run?

Her wide eyes held the barest hint of gray. And for some reason, he just wanted to look at her. To touch her and make sure she was real and he wasn’t losing his damn mind. He stretched out an unsteady hand.