The scent reached my conscious brain. Not my
blood. Someone else's. I tilted my head back. It didn't come through the office
door, from the shop downstairs. Idiots were always busting their knuckles
loosening bolts, but this wasn't a dab. It was rich, beautiful, streaming
blood, the kind that made a meal worth curling up and dreaming about.
Yes, a tired title. Only the working title. Suggest a better one.
Have a great week.
-R. Mac WheelerHome Page…Contact me …On Kindle…On Nook…Sunday Safaris
I'm awful at titles. Sounds very intriguing though!
ReplyDeleteI'll be working on alternate titles. I like to take single words then try to make them go together. Love, love the passage!!
ReplyDelete