Have a WIP, an EIP, an MS, or a published work you want to share on your blog, eight sentences at a time?
Want to sample other people’s WIPs, EIPs, MSs, or published works, eight sentences at a time?
Be a Weekend Writing Warrior!
_______________________
I had amazing time at the Midwest Writing Workshop, which I’ll be describing tomorrow, because I’ll be driving home all day, today.
Which means I’ll be late doing the rounds of both Snippet Sunday and wewriwa, but I will get there, I promise.
Meanwhile, McRae, semi-reformed grifter extraordinare, has entered the casino looking for Rhonda Herr, as Rhonda may be related to McRae’s boss, who is in desperate need of a bone marrow transplant. McRae is hoping that Blaine’s family can provide a donor match, but Blaine, an ex-con himself, hasn’t been forthcoming with any information about his origins . . .
It might be helpful to know—since I skipped over the explanation a few chapters back—that everyone on the team is communicating through comms packs tiny earpieces. McRae is the POV character, so anything said to him over the comms in this scene are in italics. ‘Cause that’s how I roll.
“Miss Herr is tending the center black jack station,” Konrad said, with an odd echo. McRae opened his mouth to ask for a comms check before realizing that the other man was two feet away, sitting at one of the Elysian quarter slots. “She’s been pocketing her tips for the last forty minutes.”
“Dumb,” Cassie said.
“And yet you said you’d try it.”
“That’s because I’m good. If you can see her doing it, she’s not.”
“No, she’s not,” McRae said, watching the thin woman in the lightning bolt vest with some interest.
Earful of Cider 