Thursday, March 10, 2011

Mirror Prologue-1st 3 Paragraphs

Mirror, Mirror--Who's the Next to Die

     The nose that pressed against the glass at O'Hare International belonged to an normal looking man who kept his eyes glued to the plane as it landed smoothly and taxied up to the terminal.

       He looked like any professional commuting from city to city, nothing remarkable stood out.  Nothing remarkable, except for his intense stare, the way he lowered his chin, and the pucker of his mouth as he pressed his upper lip over his lower lip. He did this when he was concentrating hard, like some people stick their tongue out the side of their mouth when performing a difficult task. His lip action forced the flesh of his lower lip between his teeth. He ignored the pain as he bit the inside of his lip and his concentration remained unbroken as his clenched fist caused his fingernails to dig into his soft, smooth palms.

  His heart quickened as he waited for Maria Gonzales to file out with the other
passengers. They looked like cattle going to slaughter. He could be watching for any of
them. She deserved the title of Miss New Mexico, and she deserved more. He'd give her
more. If she would accept it, he'd give her more.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Ist Paragraph of Mirror, Mirror--Who's the Next to Die

 Mirror, Mirror--Who's the Next to Die

                The plane landed smoothly and taxied up to the terminal at O'Hare International. The medium height-medium sized man blended in with the crowd.  He looked like any professional man commuting from city to city, nothing remarkable stood out. Nothing remarkable, except for his intense stare, the way he lowered his chin, and the way he pulled his upper lip over his lower lip. He didn't notice the slight pain as he bit the inside of his lip or the pain from his clenched fist as his fingernails dug into his soft, smooth palms. His concentration remained unbroken. 

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Pick Which Novel Beginning You Like the Best

            Jill is more business than frill. She can joke and carry on with the best of them, but she usually chooses not to, unless she is trying to get information from someone or she's trying to get someone to do something for her. She was raised with four brothers and learned quickly that sugar worked better than vinegar.

I have three possible starts on Jill's story. Which one do you like the best?

I'm not a big fan of task forces. Grimes, my SAC, should have left me at headquarters, but instead I'm sharing a break room with the uniforms. He promised we wouldn't be here long, just until we got this case solved. Cops from every department want these murders to stop. I probably want the murderer caught more than anyone, but still I long to work from my own office.
            A petite, dark haired uniform interrupted my train of thought with her clamorous giggle. With a poignant look at her, I held my head high, turned the corner and exited the room. My heart clutched when I hit a wet spot and skidded. I recovered and looked around, no one in sight. The door had slammed behind me.

            I turned, twisted and tucked my thick, unruly hair under the blond wig. The band snapped when I pulled the fake hair forward. I growled under my breath. It's a bad habit to stick your tongue out when performing a difficult task, but I always have. Mom would say, "Jill McKeel, someday you're going to bite that tongue off." Ignoring my inner mother, I stuck my tongue out the side of my mouth and with one last pull, whammo, the wig slid into place, almost.

            The plane landed at O'Hara and the beautiful Maria Gonzales looked in awe at the collection of people rushing from one place to another. Zuzak, New Mexico seemed far away. She spotted a woman who looked  like her mother, short and round, straight dark hair, rich cocoa colored skin  and an eternal smile. Maria smiled at her and she nodded.
            Maria said, "Buenos Diaz."
            The smile broadened and she replied, "Buenos Diaz, Senorita."
            At first glance the tall, slim, light-complexioned Maria didn't look like a Spanish-American, and even though she was born and raised in America she still had a faint Spanish accent. She looked for the shuttle that would be taking her to her hotel. She had never been this far from home, she bit her lip as she tried to decide which way to go.
            She thought she heard her name being called and turned toward the person. A flash went off in her face and people were running towards her with microphones, cam-corders and cameras. She raised her arm over her eyes to ward off the bright bursts of light. She had become popular in New Mexico and had done several interviews, but she hadn't dreamed that people would know who she was in Chicago.

            "Maria, my beauty, look my way. If it is possible to will someone to look in a certain direction I will you to look at me. Please, just give me some kind of acknowledgement. Surely you remember me."
            No one hears me. They probably think I'm talking into one of those tiny Bluetooth cell phone headsets. "Do you hear me, my lovely?"

Please leave me a comment and I'd love for you to follow me. 

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Heroine in Mirror, Mirror--Who's the Nest to Die

Questions answered about Jill's life
Hi, my name's Jill (Jillian) McKeel and I'm tough. That is I'm tough in a physical sort of way. Five foot two, eyes of blue—my mom used to sing that song, but my eyes are brown. I'm thin and thin skinned, but I get over it quickly. Don't hurt my feelings; I'll get even. Other than that, I'm a pretty good person. Not real good, but pretty good. I love children, well most children, some children I don't love, but I love Vicky. Vicky is my partner's daughter; she is an adorable five-year-old. Vicky loves me.

I work for the FBI, but not in the normal sense. I'm on a special team. I actually work undercover and my cover is being an FBI agent. I can turn on the charm when it's necessary, but in my opinion, it's not usually necessary. One of those makeover shows on TV would have a blast with me. Challenge is my middle name.

I'm out of here. I have killers to catch.

You check back later to find out more about my life, you hear. Did I mention, I like to be funny.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Mirror, Mirror, Who's the Next to Die?

The Novel "Mirror, Mirror, Who's the Next to Die?" begins each chapter with a 1923 definition. This is such a fun era. Here's a couple of clips from chapter one.

Flapper: A stylish, brash, hedonistic young woman with short skirts and shorter hair.

I liked the way this red dress fit me. I turned quickly, the fringe wrapped around my body. Giggling I turned the other way and the fringe followed. I looked at my backside in the mirror, not bad, certainly nothing like a guy's rear end.

"You're the bee's knees, girlie." A voice came out of nowhere and scared me nearly to death.

My first thought was of my Glock, which was never far from me.

Now a few questions for you. What do you think of my Flapper's Costume? I love to wear it, listen to Jazz, dance the Charleston and be surrounded by fun things from this era. My husband, Del, buys me little trinkets that remind him of 1923.

Do you have a Flapper hair cut? Don't think you do. You may be surprised. A little hair gel and tadda!
What is your favorite song from that time?
How about your favorite saying?

Jill McKeel jumps back into 1923 and back into the present. She does get a little frightened, but she overcomes it. She'll do anything, well, almost anything to solve a crime.

This blog is basically under construction and I'd love to have some feedback from you. What would you like to see here? Stop by often and don't forget to click follow.