YA Indie Carnival – Scenes with Sparks

YA writers and bloggers unite each week to share their thoughts, hopes and dreams about what it’s like to go indie in today’s publishing world. The future’s so bright, we built our own place to play.  

This week at the carnival, we’re talking fiction fireworks–which naturally makes the geek girl in me blush! But, as much my inner prude struggles with the whole sex in YA subject, I do have a scene that might do the trick…

In this scene from Demon Child, Syd’s mother Miriam, the head of her coven, has been kidnapped by evil vampires. Syd is doing her best to rescue her with delicious Quaid’s help even as her ‘real’ life intrudes when her ‘sort of’ boyfriend Brad shows up at the wrong moment:

I made a quick trip to the bathroom and found a ponytail and a vigorous face washing did a lot to erase a night full of the wrong kind of excitement. I brushed my teeth extra hard, trying to convince myself I had to because plaque was the enemy, not because the guy I was now pretty sure was my destiny waited downstairs for me.
Three steps down I heard a knock at the kitchen door. I picked up speed, hoping it was Erica, then shook my head. She would just walk in, not knock. Who could it be?
Someone, presumably Quaid, opened the door before I cleared the hall. I heard his deep voice say, “Football.”
I careened around the corner and into the kitchen to see Brad standing there in my doorway, glaring at Quaid who adopted his familiar smirk.
But it wasn’t Quaid’s annoying smile that had Brad turning red in the face and his hands forming fists. It was the fact the tall, lean and very attractive Quaid stood in my kitchen in just his jeans.
That was enough of a distraction I came to a halt, my mouth hanging open, staring at the lovely muscles making ripples across Quaid’s stomach and the way his lean body curved across his broad shoulders, how his narrow hips peeked out from the top of his waistband and how no one alive could possible have bare feet that sexy and live.
Did I mention the pentagram tattoo? I think I had drool on my shirt. Yup. Drool.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Brad’s voice cracked. It snapped me out of my eye feast and into reality.
“What does it look like?” Quaid glanced at me, mischief in his eyes. And winked.
Oh crap.
Brad lunged for him just as I surged forward, coming between them just in time.
One hand on either chest. Chiseled blonde versus molten chocolate. I was in huge trouble.
“My mom is sick,” I said quickly, blurting the first thing that came to me. “Quaid is just staying here so I won’t be alone.”
Brad finally looked at me. “Is she going to be okay?”
I didn’t plan on the tears, but they came anyway. “I don’t know,” I said, completely honest.
All the fury went out of him. He backed off a step. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been such a jerk to you lately. I didn’t know your mom was ill.”
I remembered suddenly he lost his to cancer when he was little.
“Thanks,” I said.
Quaid didn’t move an inch and I was very aware of his skin under my hand, the crawling joy of his power over me, the heat he radiated.
“I hate to be rude,” I said to Brad, “but what are you doing here?”
He shrugged like a lost little boy. “I wanted to see you. Maybe drive you to school?”
 “Brad,” I said gently. “It’s three blocks.”
One sneaker scuffed the floor. “I know. Then I saw his bike,” his rage snapped up for a moment, “and I had to make sure he wasn’t bothering you or something.”
“He’s not,” I said. “But thanks for thinking of me.”
He nodded. Didn’t move. It was really, really awkward.
“Don’t you have somewhere to go, Football?” Quaid was not helping. I glared at him before turning back to Brad.
“I don’t think I’m going to school today,” I said.
He bobbed his blonde head, green eyes full of hope. “I could stay, keep you company?”
“She has company.” Quaid moved forward, pushing against me, which in turn shoved Brad backward out the door.
They exchanged a very barbaric moment of scowls. Boys.
“Call me, okay? About prom?” Brad just had to get his own dig in.
“Sure, I will, bye.” I hated to slam the door in his face. Hated to. But there was no other way to make him leave.
I spun and pressed my back to it. Waited to hear his footsteps retreat, the rumble of his truck engine as he climbed in and drove away.
“That was awful,” I said.
“Prom?” Quaid’s right eyebrow quirked.
Double crap.
“Um… yeah. Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”
Quaid’s smirk wasn’t so annoying anymore. “Guess so.”
Okay, back to his chest. And feet. And the tattoo of a pentagram on his right bicep. The way his collarbone rounded to the smooth skin of his…
“Quaid,” I said, throat thick.
“Yes, Syd?” His dark eyes couldn’t have been more bottomless.
“Go put a shirt on.”
 He laughed. But he did it. And I wished I hadn’t said a thing.
So just a little sizzle… but Syd and Quaid have more coming up! (I don’t know what I’m going to do when she wants more from him… blushing!)

Don’t forget–I’m not the only one in this side show! Pop over to our webpage for news and info on what’s coming up, new releases and to take the tour of all the other carnie’s sizzling hot excerpts 😉

Happy Friday!

Written by

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada
I am a YA and Middle Grade novelist on the East Coast of Canada. Look for The Ghost Boy of MacKenzie House, (Acorn Press); The Hunted series, plus many, many more as I fulfill my dream of world literary domination.


  1. I am so snickering my ass off right now. *GIGGLENSNORTING”

    • only because you know I won’t be able to handle it when Syd (gulp) grows up enough to want, you know. S-E-X. Oh dear…


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