Turn to page 123 in your WIP and share: Excerpt from THE FAKE MCCOY.
“Thank you for coming back,” she said, playing with the zipper on her jacket. “I'm sorry for acting so crazy.”
She was so pretty and sad and calm. Clearly she had no idea what a hurry I was in. “It’s okay,” I said, patting her back a few times.
Rosetta dabbed at her nose with her sleeve. She was trying to be quick about it, like she didn’t want me to notice, but it was too late for that. I reached over and used my own sleeve to wipe her snot.
She looked away. “I’m a mess. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. Then she leaned in to rest her head on my shoulder. “Aren’t things are supposed to be getting better? Time heals all wounds and all that? Because I can’t sleep without having nightmares. Being stuck in my own head is getting way too intense.”
As glad as I was that she was close to me and actually talking again, I wanted to take the conversation somewhere else. Anywhere else. The whole standing in the rain thing might be romantic in movies, but in real life it’s pretty much miserable.