Please post your homework and questions on Lesson 1 here. MM
Please post your homework and questions on Lesson 1 here. MM
MM, I wasn't sure how much of our ms you wanted to see. Below are five short paragraphs. Hope it isn't too much! Thanks.
The sunlight’s warmth lay a spider-web across the gray marble floor, yet a chill cut to Megan's bones. Death hung in the air. She smelled it. Felt it. Her senses alive with its familiarity. Each click of her heels inched her closer to a hissing respirator in room 407. <o:p></o>
Accommodating theVail attorney’s request, providing closure to a chain of unhappy incidents in her past, was not what she’d had in mind. Still, she’d come.<o:p></o>
Megan pressed three fingers against her temples and moved into the room. Facing the man in the slanted bed, would be the hardest thing she'd done since her husband and son's death.<o:p></o>
Uncertain of his feelings, or if he was even aware she was there, Megan moved into the room and stopped beside her father's bed. She was unprepared for the toll the terminal illness had taken on his body.<o:p></o>
Megan wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. With a smile pasted on her face, she braved seeing the man who no longer resembled her father.<o:p></o>
He shifted, twigs beneath his heavy boot snapping, the sound loud in the silence of the night. Cool air blew across his body, invading beneath the hefty jacket wrapped around him but doing nothing to decrease the heat building within. He shifted closer, his hot breath creating rounded white circles on the glass pane.
His eyes caressed over her body, his hands itching to make it a physical caress as she teased him with her slow, sultry ways. A small smile played on the edges of her lips, secret musings holding her thoughts as clear as a picture across her face. She undid the bottom button of her white blouse and let the silk slide off her shoulders and to the floor. The material wisped to the ground as a plastic bag would dance on a windy day. His eyes followed the fabric, taking it all in, never getting enough. He wanted to savor this, wanted to possess her.
As the shirt settled in a pool at her feet, his gaze moved up, savoring every inch of her legs, on over the rounded curve of her lush bottom, before coming to rest on her delicate hands, moving in jerky movements to undo the skirt hanging from her hips. One snap, two, the slide of a zipper and a push, then the material was joining its lost mate to the floor.
He groaned, moved his hand to rub the increasing pressure of his groan. His other hand tightened against his pant leg, bunching the rough cloth in his fist in an attempt to stay rooted to the spot. He wouldn’t go to her, not yet. He’d make her wait, tease himself with time, and build the anticipation of meeting. He’d cause the both of them to coil so tight it would feel as if the first touch of his skin against hers was heaven. For now, he would only watch.
Smooth skin filled his gaze, eating up the contrast of caramel coloring with beautiful lace covering hidden treasures. Her body, while magnificent, did not dare to hold his attention and instead he latched on to the cloth wrapping itself around her as if a lover clinging from being away too long.
Thin ivory straps wrapped her lush hips like a peach to its pit, encompassing, cocooning its surprise. Twin mounds were held in a loving embrace only a new mother could rival. The ache increased in between his legs and he gave it a squeeze. Breath panted in the thick of parted lips, his face growing sweaty under the cloth, his body heating to an inferno which rivaled lava.
He wanted her.
They had to wait.
The man inched closer, riveted. Her breast jutted out, her back arching as she reached behind her and unsnapped the clasps holding secrets captive. His groan turned into a breathy moan as he increased the grip he held on himself. The material flitted down to join its family, baring her beautiful breasts to him. Dark brown areolas stared back at him and the tension building inside his stomach spread, warmth gathering low before the precipice broke free.
The hand that had been holding his jeans slapped against the wall, the sound startling the dark haired beauty inside. Hot pulses of liquid pushed from his body as erotic pleasures heightened as she turned to stare at the window, her eyes widening as she caught sight of his covered face. She screamed, her hands moving to cover her body in an instinct. He shuddered as the last pulses left him. She dashed across the room and he turned, leaving the spot he kept warm for the past hour. Watching. Waiting. For the right time.
Clarification of homework:
post 4 or 5 paragraphs of your revised text. MM
At last! Craig was unsettled by the traitorous and unwelcome thought. Wrapping both hands around the chilled bottle, he discreetly swallowed then forced his frozen limbs to move; to turn him around to confront She-Who-Was-The-Bane-Of-His-Life.
Personal space was a concept Jenni Bracken had never heard of. Not when it came to him, at any rate. He hooked the refrigerator door closed to stop himself committing the indignity of backing into the bloody thing when he went into retreat. And he had to go into retreat. She was far too close - and wearing far too little. God! What was she wearing, anyway? Some soft slinky floor length wrap that draped itself much too faithfully over breasts that looked ripe and suspiciously unfettered.
Dear God. She's all grown up. Stunning. Perfect. Off limits! Off limits! His brain screeched the warning, not that his idiotic body took any bloody notice! His mouth was filling with saliva; his lips seemed to tingle while his tongue thickened; his hands itched with the need to touch her; and below his belt - well, now his pants felt reeeeallll crowded. After a swift sweep of his hand reassured him that the fall of his buttoned up jacket protected his secrets, he swallowed the saliva and found his voice. "Jenni." Shit! He sounded like a stuffy old man! Maybe that's a bonus? "Why are you running around the house dressed like-." Words failed him and the brazen little madam marked the fact with a wide grin that was both mocking and triumphant.
"It's just my robe" she said deeply.
And had the nerve to shift a little closer! Craig was on the verge of hyperventilating. He hugged the Bollinger tighter to his sternum and tried to put a little more distance between them. All he managed to do was back up against the kitchen cupboards. "Just?" he mocked and managed to flick her appearance with a derisive glance. "Looks more like a gift wrapped invitation, kiddo." It was truth so heavily coated in derision that even she should have been offended. Not the least deflated by his remark, she clasped her hands behind her back and twisted from side to side.
Captain Chambers escorted me out of his office and led me to a hover car. After stowing my few belongings in the back seat, we drove over to his house. What a dump. Stains were scattered over the oatmeal-colored carpet and the dingy walls were peppered with holes. Even though our place beat it by a league, it didn't make me feel better.
In the kitchen, the aroma of sugar and cinnamon filled the air, and a plate of cookies stood on the counter. My mouth watered. While I hesitated in the doorway, Mrs. Chambers hurried over. She was tiny, barely reaching my shoulder. A small girl lurked behind her. Messy brown hair framed her face.
"Come in, come in. I'm afraid you'll have to bunk in with Alan. I hope it's all right." She twisted her hands together and glanced up at Captain Chambers. After he frowned at her, she dropped her eyes.
Captain Chambers said, "We're offering him a home. Of course he won't mind."
"I have a father. He's in the hospital." I wasn't some charity case, even though I was stuck on an alien planet with a father I despised as my only family. What if something happened to him? I couldn't stay here forever. This base was the only permanent human, er, Terran, habitation on this planet. A sudden vision of me alone on the spaceport landing field rose in my mind. My hands started to shake, and I thrust them into my pocket, hoping no one would notice. Was that a spirit vision, or plain and simple fear?
"Marie, I'll leave you to handle this." Then Captain Chambers turned and left.
Belly down on cold concrete, Ceara Rocchelli fought her way to consciousness. Dirty, oily garage aromas accompanied her on the slow ascent into disoriented awareness. She squinted through the stale, dank cigarette smoke hanging in the air as she stared straight ahead through semi-darkness. Many seconds passed before her foggy brain recognized the thin, blurry glow in the distance as light peeking from under a closed door. There was something important about that light, but the thought faded before she could grab hold of it. Running her tongue over her dry lips, she tasted blood. With each blink, it was harder to reopen her eyes. The tantalizing lure of warm, blissful sleep beckoned. She was bone-deep cold and so tired…
She jerked awake with a gasping sob, and the movement sent a sharp, stabbing pain knifing across her shoulders and down her back. Despite the throbbing in her head, she planted her hands on the concrete and pushed upright. Metal rattled and scraped, and her right arm caught. She gawked stupidly at her handcuffed wrist and the short length of chain attached to it. Several more seconds passed before it hit her that both she and the chain were connected to the wall.
Panic blazed like a wildfire through her body. She tore at the cold steel, gouging her wrists raw with futile clawing. She blinked furiously to clear her vision of the tears dissolving the tenuous hold she had on rational thinking. Jumping up, she started to yell for help then clamped her mouth shut when the sound of angry, muffled voices beyond the door came to her. Holding her breath, she didn't move. Somehow she knew her situation would be worse if she brought attention to herself.
Think, damn it. Think. Why am I chained? Who chained me? Where am I?
Wading through the thick quagmire of her sluggish thinking aggravated the throbbing behind her eyes. The last thing she remembered was something—no someone—had hit her. She touched the knot near the crown of her head and felt crusted blood matted in her hair. Her nurse’s training prompted her to check herself over for other injuries, but she found nothing worse than bruises and abrasions.
Shivering brought her back to her immediate captive dilemma, and she hugged herself against the frigid air, shuffling her feet and rubbing her arms to warm-up. The meager streetlight filtering through grimy ceiling-level windowpanes offered a dim view of her warehouse prison of stacked boxes and other garage paraphernalia.
Disconnected, fleeting snippets of events surfaced in her memory. She remembered going to the hospital for her shift then going on an ambulance run and returning to the hospital. As the images became clearer, her heartbeat quickened, anxiety gripped her. She'd taken a hack to the train station… waited… recognized… caught—
Whipping around, she stared at the narrow ribbon of light across the room. Cold, empty fear turned her stomach. Hagen. Almost her liberator. They hadn’t made it. She was certain Hagen was still out there with Eddie’s goons working him over.
Margaret, debit cards are evil! I refuse to have one! Now if I could just hold on to my check book....MM
Carol, I can't picture your first sentence: The sunlight’s warmth lay a spider-web across the gray marble floor, yet a chill cut to Megan's bones.
This sentence tells in a quick summary in two gerund phrases. Gerunds are -ing verbs used as nouns. Here both phrases are a compound subject. Because there are two, your verb should be were. Add and and drop the comma after request like this: Accommodating theVail attorney’s request and providing closure to a chain of unhappy incidents in her past were not what she’d had in mind. [when?] Still, she’d come.<o:p></o
Megan pressed three fingers against her temples and moved into the room. Facing the man in the slanted bed, would be the hardest thing she'd done since her husband and son's death.<o:p> Delete the comma after bed -- you are using another gerund phrase as the subject of this sentence. </o
Here: you have a participial phrase -- uncertain of his feelings -- this one is okay. Uncertain of his feelings, or if he was even aware she was there, Megan moved into the room and stopped beside her father's bed. She was unprepared for the toll the terminal illness had taken on his body.<o:p></o
[Don't repeat proper names so much.] Megan wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Maybe it's just moi, but I think this would be better before the gerund compound subjects. With a smile pasted on her face, she braved seeing the man who no longer resembled her father.<o:p></o[/QUOTE]
The only pp you have works. Yea! Gerunds are my other pet peeve. I have a workshop on them in November -- Passive Writing: Do You Really Want to Send Your Reader into a Coma? For more info, e-mail or message me. MM
Comfort, you have several participial phrases in your selection here. They work because you have used them to describe the building tension.
You hop out of the guy's head at: The man inched closer, riveted.
If the man is the narrator, he isn't going to think of himself as the man.