Hens Lay Eggs
food for thought
I’m living here #MFRWhooks
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Cowgirl meets biker … what could go wrong? When a biker shoots her sister’s prize steer, champion roper Melanie goes after him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think it through, and that hot temper puts her squarely in Hammer’s sights. Melanie’s ire only increases when Hammer defuses the dangerous situation by claiming her as his property. If the former Marine and now sergeant-at-arms of the Black Ice Revolution MC thinks she’s his for the taking, he’s sadly mistaken. She wants nothing to do with him, but he’s not about to let this sexy, feisty woman go. Pre-Order Available 
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Excerpt
Hammer sighed. He’d known this wouldn’t go well. He tried again to explain. “I claimed her as mine, which means she gets the protection of the club and, by extension, so does her family. She’s got to stay with me for a while, at least until the Dogs lose interest. Black Ice Revolution will extend protection to you and yours until then.”
Melanie wanted to stomp her foot like a child, but she heard and saw the truth in what he said. “Tell them I’m your girlfriend if you want, but I’m living here.”
The biker gave her a small smile and shook his head. “Ain’t gonna work that way, sugar. They need to see you with me.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Do you want to see your father and sister hurt and your livestock killed?”
She blanched. “Surely, you don’t think they’d do that?”
“You hurt their pride, girl. Men like that—”
“You mean men like you,” she accused.
He continued speaking as though she hadn’t interrupted. “—won’t take that lying down.”
“That greasy fool killed my sister’s prized steer,” she insisted. “We’re the ones insulted, not them.”
He pulled a thick envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Melanie’s father. “Sir, here’s the money for the steer. Prez of Satan’s Dogs ain’t entirely unreasonable.”
She’d better be mine #MFRWhooks
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nCowgirl meets biker … what could go wrong? n n nPre-Order Available n
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n”I LOVE this story arc for all its twists and turns. As always, the characters are well-drawn, compelling, and either very likable or they evoke dislike or even hate (e.g., Lowball and his gang of Satan’s Dogs).
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nRomance lovers will go crazy over this one!” Review by Cindy L. Draughon
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Excerpt (ARC – Currently in Editing)
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nThe biker returned that evening, accompanied by half a dozen of his brothers. The rumble of their vehicles caught the attention of animals and humans alike. Melanie’s father ventured outside, shotgun leveled and ready. Melanie and Julie peeked at their unwanted visitors from the barn where they were finishing up evening chores. Melanie’s eyes flickered over the bloodstained spot where Buster had been killed. Not one to tolerate waste, Daddy had hauled the carcass to the local butcher for processing.
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n“What do you want?” the old man shouted.
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nThe big, handsome biker who’d escorted Melanie from the rally dismounted his steel steed and approached, hands raised, palms open.
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n“I just want to talk to you and the girl.” He paused, then said her name, “Melanie.”
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nThe muzzle of the shotgun swept across the line of bikers.
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n“And them? What’re they here for?”
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n“Protection.”
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n“We don’t need your help.”
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nStubborn old man. Hammer sighed and explained again, “Look, mister, Satan’s Dogs is a big club, bigger than Black Ice Revolution, and not known for their easygoing, forgiving nature. Your daughter humiliated one of their own. It doesn’t matter to them or their allies that Lowball was in the wrong: he was shown up by a girl. They’ve lost respect and they’ll do what they think necessary to get it back. You’re risking yourself and both girls if you don’t accept our protection.”
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nThe old man’s eyes narrowed with angry suspicion. “You folks only protect what’s yours.”
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nHammer squared his shoulders. “I claimed Melanie in front of the entire rally to make sure she got out of there safely. I put my reputation on the line, so she’d better be mine.”
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n“No!” Melanie screeched. Dropping an empty bucket, she marched toward them. “No! I don’t belong to anyone!” n
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Indulging my preferences
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nEven though I’m a freelancer, writing and editing is my job. I enjoy doing both, which makes it great job. Like many jobs, however, it comes with ups and downs, things I like and things I dislike. After all, ain’t nothin’ perfect.
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nPart of my job concerns networking and marketing myself as open for business and as an author. Some of that is accomplished on Facebook where hordes of other authors attempt to convince people to buy their books. (I’m no different.) Many post excerpts of their work. A well-written, intriguing excerpt piques curiosity and interest. A poorly written excerpt backfires.
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nOnce in a great while, I contact the author with a private message to alert him or her as to the easily fixed errors in the content posted. After all, if you want to sell your book, then posting an excerpt riddled with mistakes gives a poor impression. Only once have I received a response from an author thanking me. Once, the author made the corrections, but didn’t acknowledge the error. Frankly, I’d hope that someone noticing errors in my posted excerpts–there will be errors because I’m not perfect–will alert me to them so they can be fixed.
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nSince editing is how I make my living, I’m particularly sensitive to the use of language. Frankly, I prefer editing fiction to nonfiction, because who doesn’t like a story? Not everything must be straightforward and blunt. Brevity and passive voice have their places and uses, as do allusion, allegory, and alliteration. Hah! I appreciate the poetic and lyrical as much as the staccato syllables of succinct and direct prose. My heart goes pitter-patter when an author makes language sing.
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nHowever, we don’t always get to do what we want, when we want, how we want, where we want, or with whom we want. To wit, I’m working on editing a manual. It’s over 90,000 words of a topic that doesn’t interest me in the least. The tone is dry, and I cannot figure out how to convert the pervasive passive voice to active voice without changing the point of view from didactic, third person POV to a more concise, conversational, second person POV style. That would require rewriting most of the manual, which they’re not paying me to do.
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nAt the other end of the narrative spectrum is an excerpt that appeared in my Facebook feed. It’s … florid. I cannot read that single paragraph, a neon-bright example of purple prose, without taking a break. The excerpt’s grammar is excellent, the punctuation spot-on, the language … that made me shudder. Knowing how that author writes, I would not offer to edit for him, if only because I cannot appreciate his style of prose. To put it simply: we’d clash.
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nWe all have preferences. As editor and writer, I don’t work with horror. Yep, my preference. I know what horror does to my impressionable mind, how it takes root and affects my imagination. It ain’t pretty or pleasant.
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nPerhaps that’s the best part of freelancing. I do get to indulge in my preferences to some extent. What a luxury!n
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Author
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
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Karen (Holly)
Blog Swaps
Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is happy to reciprocate Blog Swaps in 2019.
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