New Secret Project for #TeaserTuesday

I’ve spent the past two days trying to decompress from my amazing weekend at Scripted Social Author Event in Des Moines, Iowa. I met a whole bunch of authors that I admire, and some of the sweetest readers to date. Even though I stumbled over my words and was more anxious than I probably let on, I think I did okay. It was amusing how many people said I look nothing like my Facebook Profile Picture, so if you think you know what I look like, you’ll just have to meet me to know for sure!

Moving on…

I’ve been desperately working away at Unleashing Sin, but let’s face it: if you’ve read Redesigning Fate or Resurrecting Her, you know what a stubborn ass he is. He is fighting me every step of the way of his story. So during those times of complete frustration when I just need a break, I’ve put my fingers back to the keyboard to work on a blank document and bam! A new WIP is born.

So here’s a little taste of my new secret untitled project. Hope you like it!

This is unedited and subject to change.

“Mrs. Hoskins!”

Not him. Anybody but him.

“Mrs. Hoskins. Wait!”

Please, spare me today. Just this once.

Nobody answers my silent prayer. That’s because I gave up on God about three-point-five months ago.

It’d be a miracle to go out in public and not be accosted by the glares or the harsh words that have followed me since that day. Sometimes people are nice enough to whisper them, but usually they have no problem shouting at me as I pass.  That’s my penance for raising a monster. I’m the town pariah.

The sun beats down on my bare shoulders with its warm rays as I walk through the town strip, but the heat does nothing to the perpetual chill inside me. The layer of ice frozen around my soul will never thaw. There’s no going back from what happened. I’ll be cold for the rest of my life.

“Mrs. Hoskins.” He caught up with me.

“It’s Ms.,” I reply quietly as I keep up my pace. The post office is in sight, only one more block and across the street. Not close enough to keep this conversation short. Or more to my preference, nonexistent.

“Right. I knew that. My apologies, ma’am. For the mistake. And the divorce. Shit, I’m messing this all up.”

I keep my lips sealed. From my peripheral I can see him rub the back of his neck and look away. Yeah buddy, I know how awkward this is so turn around and walk away.

“I wanted to see if you’re all right.”

My back straightens painfully at the turn of conversation. No, I’m not all right you twit. I’ll never be all right again. “Is this a welfare check Officer Ridler?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then it’s none of your business.”

“Emily.”

The tender note of his voice stops me in my tracks. Literally. My feet feel cemented to the concrete sidewalk with the sound of his deep velvety voice using my first name. In all of our interactions over the past couple months, he’s only addressed me formally. Hearing Emily pass his lips leaves my chest achingly dry in this humid Louisiana heat.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose. “I’m fine,” I reply in a quiet voice. The voice I’ve grown accustomed to using over the past couple months. I’ve perfected the tone of a nonthreatening compliant woman in an attempt to deal with the constant questions and harassment. Not that it worked. I’ve learned that getting angry or frightened doesn’t help, though. Yelling back or bursting into tears only gets me lumped back into the “crazy” label people are so fond of using.

I’m not crazy.

No, you’re not. You just failed at being a mother.

“Folks’ve been saying you haven’t been around as much. You know there’s resources available to you.”

“Yes. I know.”

“I’m available to you.”

My eyes pop wide open. Shocked, I turn to face him. Even in the bright sun, I know the redness of his cheeks isn’t from the heat.

“That sounded terrible. I am so sorry.”

Something weird is happening. The sensation starts in my stomach, just above my belly button. It’s like the muscles contract and then that feeling is rising higher and higher into my throat like a scoop of bubbles until a short, staccato giggle pops out.

Yes, a freaking giggle.

Both hands audibly clap over my mouth. My stomach sours in embarrassment.

Officer Ridler steps around me so he’s now facing me instead of at my side. I can feel his eyes scanning my face like a physical touch, but I avoid looking him in the eye. “Did…did you just laugh at me?” He’s astounded and teasing while his dusky eyes flirt with humor.

I shake my head no.

Oh, God. Now something else is happening to me. Something I’m far more acquainted with lately than I’d prefer to be. That sensation roars up my esophagus again, but this time instead of a giggle, my eyes begin to burn and a few hot tears spill onto my cheeks.

“Emily,” he murmurs dejectedly.

I shake my head again as the burn moves from my eyes to my chest.

“Breathe, Emily. Take a breath.”

My breath hitches three times at the reminder to breathe, and I try to choke back the sob threatening to escape. I hold a hand out, palm up, to Officer Ridler, warning him to stay back while I compose myself. The few tears stop as quickly as they started, and I swipe them away angrily.

Not fast enough, though. Passing on my right I hear a scathing remark.

“Mothers of murderers aren’t allowed to cry.”

The words score themselves onto my soul where the others reside. Each strike of the letters burns deep, and I welcome the scorn as my penance.

Allison

A. M. Wilson XO

 

Title Reveal and Sneak Peek

Next up in The Revive Series, we have Sin and Shelby’s story. This is a novella prequel, which takes place roughly thirteen months before Redesigning Fate. Today, I give you a small excerpt of Unleashing Sin.

This is unedited. ©A. M. Wilson –All Rights Reserved

“Sin—ˮ
I am Sin and don’t you forget it!” he roared, and I know it’s cliché but god, did he roar. The sound ripped from his throat in a howl that could rival the fiercest predator. His pain and anger morphed into something I’d never seen before. So yes, he goddamned roared. “I’m not a savior. I’m the fucking devil incarnate. I take shit and ruin it. I’m not your goddamned white knight, Shel. Don’t look at me like I turned your hell into roses. Look around you. Dark walls still surround you. It’s just a different type of prison.”

Sin Teaser

Prologue-Redesigning Fate

This material is unedited and subject to change. © A.M. Wilson 2015

Prologue

    Time is running out.  She wasn’t supposed to get away.  Why did she fucking get away?  I was too cocky.  Blinded.  Marlena gained the upper hand along with beating the hell out of my face.  Now, I have two options.  Either go after her or get the hell out of dodge.

My foot presses deeper on the gas pedal; the car headed the only direction I know is safe: North.

Canada.

If I can cross the border before she finds her way out of those woods, I’m free.  And, if I’m really lucky, she’ll never find her way out.  She’ll die like I intended. Like she deserves.  Those woods have a ten-mile radius of tree coverage.  Only one way in and one way out.  There’s a lot of area to cover before she’d hit the convenience store twenty five miles down the highway.  She’ll probably pass out from exhaustion and starvation and that would be that.  There’s only one thing left to do before I go.

Up ahead, the lights of an all-night gas station suddenly illuminate the road, and I yank the wheel to the left, driving the car off the highway and onto the concrete drive.  Grabbing the thick manila envelope beside me, I scrawl the now familiar address onto the front.  No return address necessary.  The large blue mail bin waits beside my idling car.  I roll down my window.  With one last look at the envelope, one final moment of hesitation, I drop the package inside.  Gripping the wheel tightly, I speed away before I hear the telltale thunk it landed safely inside.  All the answers to everything are inside that envelope.  I hope the intended person reads it and understands.  I wasn’t always this way.  Things weren’t always headed down this path.  But a series of wrong choices brought us here.  Maybe a series of right ones can bring us back.

I may have intended for her to die tonight, but if by some miracle she doesn’t, I want everything spelled out for her.  When I see her again, there won’t be any more questions.  She won’t need answers.  She also won’t be able to deny that we aren’t so different after all.

We belong together.  One way or another, we will be together.  It’s the way fate intended for us to be.