Writing blurbs
Blurbs for my works in progress.
Addictions...
Ryan Wolfe shivered as the cool night air blew back his unbuttoned dress shirt to caress overheated skin. He had stopped to take in his surroundings and realized by the way the waves kissed the beach that it was very late. He wished he had his suit jacket with him, but he had left that back in his car which was miles down the beach.
He found himself firmly stuck on the horns of a very painful dilemma. He had been walking for hours trying to work up the courage to go to his boss and tell Horatio about his gambling problem.
Calleigh was the only one at the lab who knew about it and she wasn’t going to tell anyone. She was solely keeping this secret to protect the integrity of the lab, but the tongue lashing she had given him had stung and still did hours later.
He could pinpoint when his gambling had turned from a fun pastime to an addiction. It was around the time that he had joined the lab as Tim Speedle’s replacement. The stress of trying to fit in and not screw up had been extreme and he turned to playing poker as a stress reliever, but in the end it added more stress to his life.
Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. The time had come to confess all his secrets and accept whatever consequences came from the airing of them.
He looked up and saw that he wasn’t surprised to find himself standing near the stairs that led up to Horatio’s condo. While his mind wrestled with his problems, his feet had taken him to his solution.
The brunette was glad to see a light still burning in the kitchen even though it had to be well past midnight. He put on a brave face, made himself presentable and jogged up the stairs.
&/&/&
Horatio Caine was relaxing after a long day at work. With a little help from the Feds, the lab had managed to put an international counterfeiting ring out of business. He felt good about that, but he still grieved for Tyler Lamar.
Tyler’s situation had brought back a host of old memories that plagued had him through dinner with the team. And Alexx, the ever observant one, had quietly suggested once dinner was over that he should take a few days off and get things worked out in his own mind before he did something stupid.
He had given her his best “I’m-humoring-the-lab’s-mother-hen” smile and had come home to reflect on his life. As his reflections had turned to his childhood that was when the Scotch bottle had made its appearance and being a hollow-legged alcoholic he was more mellow than drunk.
He looked up from the highball glass that he held between his hands as if it were an anchor when he heard the steps leading up to his balcony creak under the weight of somebody’s footsteps. He squinted into the growing darkness and wasn’t too surprised to see Ryan Wolfe standing at the gate.
“Good evening, Ryan,” he greeted the younger man with deliberate care. He knew he didn’t appear to be drunk, but his speech would give it away in a second.
&/&/&
The moment Ryan heard his first name he knew there had to be something wrong with Horatio Caine. Horatio rarely used his first name unless it was to emphasize a point.
“Are you alright, H?” he asked concern evident in his voice.
“Wonderful,” Horatio answered with a slight drawl. “And you?”
Ryan studied his boss and his keen eye caught the highball glass the redhead had a death grip on. He realized that he wasn’t shocked to discover that Horatio was drunk. It made the man appear more human; more approachable.
“I’m doing okay, I guess,” he told the older man.
Horatio snorted in derision. He took a sip of Scotch. “That’s what everyone says to avoid telling themselves the truth.”
“H?”
“Humor an old man?”
“Sure,” Ryan hedged. He wasn’t certain which man he was more afraid of in that moment; the cold, hard ass police lieutenant or the maudlin drunk old man.
“Have a seat and keep me company until my lover decides that home is more important than work,” Horatio suggested as he gestured to the deck chair which sat catty-cornered from the porch swing he was perched on.
“Lover?” slipped out of Ryan’s mouth before he fully considered the implications of questioning his boss’ sexual orientation.
“That would be me, Mr. Wolfe,” announced the familiar voice of the man everyone in the lab-almost everyone-loved to hate.
Rick Stetler walked through the corridors of the crime lab trying not to look like he was stalking a certain redhead lieutenant. He had heard through the rumor mill that Horatio had paid Julia Winston a visit as she awaited trial for the murder of Kathleen Newberry.
He slammed into the locker room and caught Horatio changing his shirt. He paused at the sight of Horatio’s scarred back. Even though he had seen it many times since becoming Horatio’s lover, it still served as a clear reminder of the hell Horatio had been through in his life.
He ached to touch the man, but they had a firmly established rule. They would never reveal their relationship at work. They had between them too many enemies, and any hint of impropriety would have them on administrative leave so fast their heads would spin.
“God damnit, Horatio!” he growled. His frustration apparent in his tone. “When are you going to quit playing the noble knight?!”
Horatio turned and faced Rick. An eyebrow graced his hairline and a white linen shirt dangled from his hand. “Noble knight?” he softly inquired. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Julia,” Rick muttered.
Horatio sighed. He slipped on his shirt. He stepped around the bench and cupped Rick’s face. “You have to get over your jealousy of her,” he reasoned. “It’s you that I love.”
Rick leaned into the touch. “It’s hard,” he admitted. “She tried to have you murdered.”
So much for this being a passing phase, the redhead thought to himself.
Horatio rested his forehead against Rick’s. “You know it was a matter of time before the Mala Noche filled that hit on me. Now, it’s over.”
Rick didn’t bother to hide the shudder that that thought caused. It had taken all his resolve not to follow his lover to Brazil, and Horatio not speaking about what happened there still bothered him.
Horatio pulled away. He walked over to the door and locked it. He returned to Rick’s side and pulled him into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he quietly apologized. “It wasn’t my intention to scare you, but to protect you.”
Rick pulled Horatio closer and whispered in his ear, “I know and don’t ever do it again.”
Horatio sighed and leaned back so he could look Rick in the eye. Fighting a smile, he teased, “What are you gonna do about it? Withhold sex?”
“I should,” Rick grumbled.
“I would like to see you try,” Horatio countered.
“Is that a challenge?”
“Yes, I believe it is.”
Rick didn’t let Horatio go right away. He backed his lover up against the lockers and leaned into him, grinding his hips against the redhead’s, he stole his breath with a hard kiss. “Remember this, so that when you are seeking relief with your hand that all you had to do was engage me in a serious conversation.”
Horatio rested against the lockers and watched Rick unlock the door and walk out of the room
Rick stood outside Interview Room Two studying the dark haired man who sat at the table. He was dressed in a garish blue and white Hawaiian shirt and dark slacks. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of what Rick presumed were knockoff designer sunglasses.
He appeared the epitome of cool, calm and collected.
Rick checked the file in his hand. It was for a Colin McGuire and he was a confidential informant who had been picked up in that night’s drug sting because his cover was about to be blown.
Narcotics believed him to be of some value, but all their officers were busy going through that night’s haul and had asked for help. Rick’s boss had jumped on the chance to show the department that Internal Affairs was more than the Rat Squad.
Rick pushed that thought out of his mind and walked into the room. He had an interrogation to perform before he went back to his sterile office to write up another meaningless report, and then go home to a cold and silent condo.
The man looked up from tracing the grain of the table with his index finger. The sunglasses had slid down his nose, but he pushed them back up before Rick could get a look at his eyes.
This annoyed Rick and he ordered the man to remove them.
“The light hurts my eyes,” the man softly replied.
“Life’s full of pain, so take them off,” Rick snapped.
The man shrugged. “Anything you say, chief,” he purred before lifting his cuffed hands and removing the glasses.
Rick watched him toss the glasses onto the table with a hint of casual indifference. It was something his ex-lover would do when annoyed, and it was a painful reminder of what Rick had lost.
It had been over a year since his ex-lover had disappeared during an undercover assignment. The department had written him off, but Rick hadn’t because he thought he knew Horatio Caine.
But crystal blue eyes boring into his brown ones, proved him wrong.
“Horatio?” Rick asked incredulous.
“I should be hurt that you didn’t recognize me,” Horatio calmly replied.
“You disappear for a year and you’re hurt?”
“I was doing my job.”
“You were running away.”
“From what exactly?”
“The lab, your team, Speed’s death, me,” Rick rattled off.
“I was recruited.”
“Bullshit.” Rick shook his head and frown. “You asked for the assignment, but what I want to know is why.”
“To protect you.”
“Breaking up what I assumed was a good relationship and disappearing to God alone knows where, is your idea of protecting me?!” Rick exclaimed.
“Now, Rick,” Horatio tried to raise his hands in a calming gesture, but the cuffs clinked and ruined the effect. “No need to get bent out of shape.”
Rick stepped back toward the table and leaned into Horatio’s face. “Be thankful there is an officer in here and another one at the door or I would show you bent out of shape.”
“You don’t have it in you,” Horatio countered.
“Things have changed, Horatio.” Rick walked away and leaned against the wall next to the two-way mirror. “I’ve changed.”
Addictions...
Ryan Wolfe shivered as the cool night air blew back his unbuttoned dress shirt to caress overheated skin. He had stopped to take in his surroundings and realized by the way the waves kissed the beach that it was very late. He wished he had his suit jacket with him, but he had left that back in his car which was miles down the beach.
He found himself firmly stuck on the horns of a very painful dilemma. He had been walking for hours trying to work up the courage to go to his boss and tell Horatio about his gambling problem.
Calleigh was the only one at the lab who knew about it and she wasn’t going to tell anyone. She was solely keeping this secret to protect the integrity of the lab, but the tongue lashing she had given him had stung and still did hours later.
He could pinpoint when his gambling had turned from a fun pastime to an addiction. It was around the time that he had joined the lab as Tim Speedle’s replacement. The stress of trying to fit in and not screw up had been extreme and he turned to playing poker as a stress reliever, but in the end it added more stress to his life.
Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his short cropped hair. The time had come to confess all his secrets and accept whatever consequences came from the airing of them.
He looked up and saw that he wasn’t surprised to find himself standing near the stairs that led up to Horatio’s condo. While his mind wrestled with his problems, his feet had taken him to his solution.
The brunette was glad to see a light still burning in the kitchen even though it had to be well past midnight. He put on a brave face, made himself presentable and jogged up the stairs.
&/&/&
Horatio Caine was relaxing after a long day at work. With a little help from the Feds, the lab had managed to put an international counterfeiting ring out of business. He felt good about that, but he still grieved for Tyler Lamar.
Tyler’s situation had brought back a host of old memories that plagued had him through dinner with the team. And Alexx, the ever observant one, had quietly suggested once dinner was over that he should take a few days off and get things worked out in his own mind before he did something stupid.
He had given her his best “I’m-humoring-the-lab’s-mother-hen” smile and had come home to reflect on his life. As his reflections had turned to his childhood that was when the Scotch bottle had made its appearance and being a hollow-legged alcoholic he was more mellow than drunk.
He looked up from the highball glass that he held between his hands as if it were an anchor when he heard the steps leading up to his balcony creak under the weight of somebody’s footsteps. He squinted into the growing darkness and wasn’t too surprised to see Ryan Wolfe standing at the gate.
“Good evening, Ryan,” he greeted the younger man with deliberate care. He knew he didn’t appear to be drunk, but his speech would give it away in a second.
&/&/&
The moment Ryan heard his first name he knew there had to be something wrong with Horatio Caine. Horatio rarely used his first name unless it was to emphasize a point.
“Are you alright, H?” he asked concern evident in his voice.
“Wonderful,” Horatio answered with a slight drawl. “And you?”
Ryan studied his boss and his keen eye caught the highball glass the redhead had a death grip on. He realized that he wasn’t shocked to discover that Horatio was drunk. It made the man appear more human; more approachable.
“I’m doing okay, I guess,” he told the older man.
Horatio snorted in derision. He took a sip of Scotch. “That’s what everyone says to avoid telling themselves the truth.”
“H?”
“Humor an old man?”
“Sure,” Ryan hedged. He wasn’t certain which man he was more afraid of in that moment; the cold, hard ass police lieutenant or the maudlin drunk old man.
“Have a seat and keep me company until my lover decides that home is more important than work,” Horatio suggested as he gestured to the deck chair which sat catty-cornered from the porch swing he was perched on.
“Lover?” slipped out of Ryan’s mouth before he fully considered the implications of questioning his boss’ sexual orientation.
“That would be me, Mr. Wolfe,” announced the familiar voice of the man everyone in the lab-almost everyone-loved to hate.
Rick Stetler walked through the corridors of the crime lab trying not to look like he was stalking a certain redhead lieutenant. He had heard through the rumor mill that Horatio had paid Julia Winston a visit as she awaited trial for the murder of Kathleen Newberry.
He slammed into the locker room and caught Horatio changing his shirt. He paused at the sight of Horatio’s scarred back. Even though he had seen it many times since becoming Horatio’s lover, it still served as a clear reminder of the hell Horatio had been through in his life.
He ached to touch the man, but they had a firmly established rule. They would never reveal their relationship at work. They had between them too many enemies, and any hint of impropriety would have them on administrative leave so fast their heads would spin.
“God damnit, Horatio!” he growled. His frustration apparent in his tone. “When are you going to quit playing the noble knight?!”
Horatio turned and faced Rick. An eyebrow graced his hairline and a white linen shirt dangled from his hand. “Noble knight?” he softly inquired. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Julia,” Rick muttered.
Horatio sighed. He slipped on his shirt. He stepped around the bench and cupped Rick’s face. “You have to get over your jealousy of her,” he reasoned. “It’s you that I love.”
Rick leaned into the touch. “It’s hard,” he admitted. “She tried to have you murdered.”
So much for this being a passing phase, the redhead thought to himself.
Horatio rested his forehead against Rick’s. “You know it was a matter of time before the Mala Noche filled that hit on me. Now, it’s over.”
Rick didn’t bother to hide the shudder that that thought caused. It had taken all his resolve not to follow his lover to Brazil, and Horatio not speaking about what happened there still bothered him.
Horatio pulled away. He walked over to the door and locked it. He returned to Rick’s side and pulled him into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he quietly apologized. “It wasn’t my intention to scare you, but to protect you.”
Rick pulled Horatio closer and whispered in his ear, “I know and don’t ever do it again.”
Horatio sighed and leaned back so he could look Rick in the eye. Fighting a smile, he teased, “What are you gonna do about it? Withhold sex?”
“I should,” Rick grumbled.
“I would like to see you try,” Horatio countered.
“Is that a challenge?”
“Yes, I believe it is.”
Rick didn’t let Horatio go right away. He backed his lover up against the lockers and leaned into him, grinding his hips against the redhead’s, he stole his breath with a hard kiss. “Remember this, so that when you are seeking relief with your hand that all you had to do was engage me in a serious conversation.”
Horatio rested against the lockers and watched Rick unlock the door and walk out of the room
Rick stood outside Interview Room Two studying the dark haired man who sat at the table. He was dressed in a garish blue and white Hawaiian shirt and dark slacks. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of what Rick presumed were knockoff designer sunglasses.
He appeared the epitome of cool, calm and collected.
Rick checked the file in his hand. It was for a Colin McGuire and he was a confidential informant who had been picked up in that night’s drug sting because his cover was about to be blown.
Narcotics believed him to be of some value, but all their officers were busy going through that night’s haul and had asked for help. Rick’s boss had jumped on the chance to show the department that Internal Affairs was more than the Rat Squad.
Rick pushed that thought out of his mind and walked into the room. He had an interrogation to perform before he went back to his sterile office to write up another meaningless report, and then go home to a cold and silent condo.
The man looked up from tracing the grain of the table with his index finger. The sunglasses had slid down his nose, but he pushed them back up before Rick could get a look at his eyes.
This annoyed Rick and he ordered the man to remove them.
“The light hurts my eyes,” the man softly replied.
“Life’s full of pain, so take them off,” Rick snapped.
The man shrugged. “Anything you say, chief,” he purred before lifting his cuffed hands and removing the glasses.
Rick watched him toss the glasses onto the table with a hint of casual indifference. It was something his ex-lover would do when annoyed, and it was a painful reminder of what Rick had lost.
It had been over a year since his ex-lover had disappeared during an undercover assignment. The department had written him off, but Rick hadn’t because he thought he knew Horatio Caine.
But crystal blue eyes boring into his brown ones, proved him wrong.
“Horatio?” Rick asked incredulous.
“I should be hurt that you didn’t recognize me,” Horatio calmly replied.
“You disappear for a year and you’re hurt?”
“I was doing my job.”
“You were running away.”
“From what exactly?”
“The lab, your team, Speed’s death, me,” Rick rattled off.
“I was recruited.”
“Bullshit.” Rick shook his head and frown. “You asked for the assignment, but what I want to know is why.”
“To protect you.”
“Breaking up what I assumed was a good relationship and disappearing to God alone knows where, is your idea of protecting me?!” Rick exclaimed.
“Now, Rick,” Horatio tried to raise his hands in a calming gesture, but the cuffs clinked and ruined the effect. “No need to get bent out of shape.”
Rick stepped back toward the table and leaned into Horatio’s face. “Be thankful there is an officer in here and another one at the door or I would show you bent out of shape.”
“You don’t have it in you,” Horatio countered.
“Things have changed, Horatio.” Rick walked away and leaned against the wall next to the two-way mirror. “I’ve changed.”