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Love Scene Part I

November 3, 2010

>Hello Phantom blog readers. Today I’ve decided to write scenes for this book. Since I struggle with outlines, I’ve decided that scenes will help. By writing and categorizing scenes, I can then assemble them in an order that will read well. Achieving an overall smooth reading experience is my goal. Without further adieu, how ’bout a love scene?

Love Scene

The fist rocketed at his head the instant he pushed the door open. Wood scraps launched from his arms as he fell backward with the punch. The sting on his left cheek preceded a sharp pain in his left ribcage. Daniel borrowed the momentum from the attack and rolled off the porch onto the cold, stiff ground.

He popped to his feet crouched and ready.

“Hell, I thought you might have more than that.” Samantha pulled a second glove on as she strolled down the steps.

“Why do I always get the psycho bitches?” Daniel muttered.

“I don’t like the bitch label much. Just pisses me off more.”

Her left leg darted at Daniel’s head. He flicked the kick away with his right palm and swept his own left foot at her shin as he spun around while still crouched. She stood firm and took the contact, heels dug in. Daniel tumbled over the ground and fended off a flurry of kicks. He managed to scramble back to his feet.

“Look. I don’t know what the hell your game is here, but I could have broken that leg.”

“Coulda, woulda. I’ve heard that shit before.”

She feigned a swipe with her left fist then drove her right from her shoulder to his nose. As he fell to his back, a bewildered look glazed over his eyes. He stayed down, rose up only to his right elbow and said, “I like a bitch who can throw a punch like that.”

“You trying to provoke me? I told you not to call me that.”

Samantha bore down on him with a quick flick of her heal at his head. This time Daniel fell back well in advance of the attack, sprung to his feet. A violent uppercut caught her forehead with the base of the palm of his right hand. A couple kicks to her stomach stumbled her backward. Two jabs caught alternate cheeks as Daniel pressed his advance. The blows knocked her to her back.

“That’s where you belong, bitch, on your back.” Daniel smiled as she spat blood into the turf.

“You may be man enough after all.” She pushed up to her feet, bowed and walked toward the door.

“What the hell…”

“Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot.” She stopped at the steps, turned and beckoned a pointer finger at him.

“You can’t be propositioning me after all that.”

“Let’s just say if a man can’t kick my ass, he can’t have it.” She turned and opened the screen door.

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Michael Ray King

Book Writing Coach


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