Genre: Adult Commercial/Suspense
Word Count: 82,000
Pitch: After his fiancée Marian goes missing in a raid that killed
the rest of their squad, Rob Loxely turns to crime to cope with his
PTSD. A retelling of Robin Hood.
Excerpt: Hot subway exhaust burst through the rusted ventilation grates. Even though they ran as quickly as their long legs could pump, Rob was hit by one of those steam explosions. He felt fiery air blast up his legs, a burning beneath his dark, brown corduroys. For a moment, Rob couldn’t breathe. The bandanna around his face was too tight, felt too suffocating, but he couldn’t pull his hoodie back to loosen it. Couldn’t risk getting his face caught on a surveillance cam, or the long scar down his cheek.
Piercing through the wail of police sirens and honking taxi cabs was the fierce barking of dogs.
Instinctively, Rob reached his hand out for Will--a simple brush, fingertips against bicep--to make sure that Will was there. Really there. That he wasn’t an illusion. That they were home and far away from the bombs and corpses and burning Humvees in the bloody desert sand.
They twisted their bodies, dodging through the travelers on their way to Nottingham Central Station. Just north of the border was the best place to pull the last job, they’d all agreed. No one looked, no one really stopped to stare.
Will dipped in and out of Rob’s limited peripheral vision. Each time Will was just out of his sight, Rob felt his chest tighten, felt the sensation of asphyxiation again, but Rob had to trust him. Had to trust that Will was there, and it was Nottingham, and they were here and okay and alive.
Excerpt: Hot subway exhaust burst through the rusted ventilation grates. Even though they ran as quickly as their long legs could pump, Rob was hit by one of those steam explosions. He felt fiery air blast up his legs, a burning beneath his dark, brown corduroys. For a moment, Rob couldn’t breathe. The bandanna around his face was too tight, felt too suffocating, but he couldn’t pull his hoodie back to loosen it. Couldn’t risk getting his face caught on a surveillance cam, or the long scar down his cheek.
Piercing through the wail of police sirens and honking taxi cabs was the fierce barking of dogs.
Instinctively, Rob reached his hand out for Will--a simple brush, fingertips against bicep--to make sure that Will was there. Really there. That he wasn’t an illusion. That they were home and far away from the bombs and corpses and burning Humvees in the bloody desert sand.
They twisted their bodies, dodging through the travelers on their way to Nottingham Central Station. Just north of the border was the best place to pull the last job, they’d all agreed. No one looked, no one really stopped to stare.
Will dipped in and out of Rob’s limited peripheral vision. Each time Will was just out of his sight, Rob felt his chest tighten, felt the sensation of asphyxiation again, but Rob had to trust him. Had to trust that Will was there, and it was Nottingham, and they were here and okay and alive.
Someone needs to pick this up immediately. I'll make space on my shelf for it.
ReplyDeleteI move my pawn 3 spaces. -Laura Biagi, Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency, Inc.
ReplyDeleteLove! Love! Love the intensity and excitement of your words!!!
ReplyDelete