Playing for Keeps

Author Diana Rose Wilson

This website is for Diana Rose Wilson and her upcoming events and releases of her books including the Forbidden Secrets series.

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Marcie's little Surprise - Cut Scene

This is a short snippet that was originally intended to be squeezed into the Marcie + Mano Christmas story published in two short stories in 2018.  It’s the equivalent of a deleted scene in a film that was removed, not because the director didn’t like it, but purely for length.

I had to cut this because it was already running long and I was limited to a particular word count to satisfy the requirements of my publisher at the time.

I particularly like the sweetness of this scene, and while it was possible to cut it without harming the story, I wish I hadn’t had to as I think readers would have enjoyed it too.

This would have fitted within the section when Mano is out doing his business.

I had some suggestions to weak it and downplay his ‘cheeky-ness’. In fact, here’s my editor’s own words:

‘Currently he looks like a cheeky twat whose going to get decked if he’s not careful.’

No lies detected.

Accurate.gif

This is one hundred percent the emotion I’m going for. 

Let’s face it. This is Mano. I can’t think of anyone with more cheek than him.  If I lengthened this short more I’d have Marcie get some payback.

Maybe later.

I hope you enjoy this glimpse of what could have been. I’ve given it a once over to remove typos I can spot but it was cut before going through final edits, so it’s not professionally edited.

 Diana Rose Wilson, July 2021


Marcie’s friends, Leo and Ursa, and Travis and Vans, who were coupled up and deliriously happy, excused themselves. They’d vanished into the far corners of her home to enjoy each other in various restful or naughty pursuits as they so desired.

That left Marcie alone.

She decided to take advantage of everyone being occupied and retreated to her bedroom to finish the last of the gift wrapping. There were the last items, silly things for her friends.

And something she needed to prepare for Mano.

She’d found the lacquer box at an antique shop in Calistoga at an outing during harvest. The bright, sunset colors and designs of birds along the lid had drawn her eye and she’d thought to use it for a display in the house.

This was a far better use for the box.

The paper bag inside the box was heavy with the various items she needed for this little setup.  The small, elongated boxes tumbled out onto her bed as she shook out the bag. She eyed the assortment with a shiver of reservation.

What if her instinct was wrong?

If I’m wrong, there would be other gifts for him under the tree, she told herself and took several of the applicators with her to the bathroom.

She’d just opened the first of the home pregnancy kits and settled down to try the magic stick when the clearing of a throat startled her up from reading the instructions. 

Mano stood in the doorway, hair wet and smoothed back from his brow. His black leather jacket was dappled by the rain.

“Hello, Temptress. Just what are you doing?” His silvery eyes didn’t stray from hers.

Warmth flooded her face. She couldn’t exactly whip the plastic wand out from between her thighs without embarrassing herself even more. And making a mess.

“Have you heard of knocking?”

Mano’s gaze softened and his smile turned silken. “The door was wide open.”

Tilting his head, he watched her, his gaze straying from hers to what she was doing between her thighs. “I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t think I was so late that you’d….urm….what is it you’re doing without me?” The corners of his mouth quirked up even higher, giving his grin a feral edge. “Golden showers? My, my, my…what is the safe-word again?”

“Ford,” Marcie growled, keeping her hand between her thighs and glaring at the man in the doorway. “Do you mind? I need a moment of privacy.” She put all the edge of cold hostility into her voice as she could summon, but it only made him more attentive to her.

“Marcie.” Her name on his lips was an intoxicating drug. His gaze drifted to the counter and the line of other applicators still waiting for her to test. “I think you only need one, beloved.”

She scowled at him, embarrassed to be caught in this situation and certainly feeling unbalanced. “It’s also only been a few days that we’ve been…intimate and…” Chewing her lip, she closed her eyes and gave up trying for any sort of modesty or bravado. “I was on the pill. I didn’t want any sort of accident while I was playing at parties. I was on the pill and using condoms.  Can we talk about this after I clean up? This is awkward.”

He still had not moved from his spot by the door and continued to drip rain on the floor from his soaking clothing. “I know. I understand and I’m pleased you were so…”

“Mano.” She wasn’t as careful or seductive growling out his name.  But despite her anger, he shivered with obvious desire for her.  She closed her eyes. “I don’t know if any of these tests will….”

“You don’t need a test, Marcie. Beloved, you know your body. You know in your heart.”

She did, and yet she also had an annoying, nagging doubt. Instinct wasn’t any replacement for the scientific proof. 

So that’s what she would get. Both from this silly over the counter test and with her appointment with an actual doctor. 

“I needed to test. I…have to wait weeks. The pill would…”

“The pill.” He chuckled, so softly it was a low, purr of sound, and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement awkward because he had to adjust the box he was holding. “Is fine for the medical needs of normal people. It doesn’t do much for…mystical beings.” He smirked as he half-heartedly wiggled his fingers towards her.  “You are not normal and neither am I. We are partly born of the mystical. I imagine the typical human, mortal birth control isn’t going to do much for someone like you and I together. We are made for each other.” His head tipped slightly as he watched her. “Don’t be upset if the test doesn’t show a result right now.”

She nodded and looked pointedly at the man but he just gazed back at her as though they might be talking over dinner, not in the privacy while she had her panties around her ankles. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest, in a less than covert attempt to flex for her.

“You really have no sense of modesty do you?”

He winked brazenly. “No. That has never been a virtue of mine.”

"Do you actually have any virtues?" Marcie asked archly as she made a show of shifting atop the porcelain throne. She thought about throwing the applicator wand, pee and all, at his fool head.

She was going to kill him.

"Oh yes," he murmured, completely oblivious to her peaked embarrassment. "Patience...well, I don't think that's a virtue. Prudence? No. Temperance? Absolutely not." Snapping his fingers, he turned to her and bared his teeth, growling, "Aaahh, yes...Justice." There was such a dangerous gleam in his silvery eyes that she decided against her impulse.

For now.

"I'm going to justice your ass if you don't leave, Mano.” Sighing, she let her shoulders relax and fixed a scowl at the sexy man in the doorway. “You really have no concept of personal space either.”

“Not with you.”

“Well, you’re going to need to give me some time to adjust. I’m not accustomed to…this.”

His slightly baffled expression was priceless. “Why?”

“Mano….Listen, you are all wet. Why don’t you take your jacket off and get dry and changed while I clean up. Then we will talk.”

“All right, beloved.” He smiled to her, bowing with courtly elegance.

“Bye,” Marcie sing-songed and pointed with her free hand. “Don’t let that door hit your sexy ass on your way out.”

He grinned playfully at her before turning to saunter out of the room.

“Shut the door behind you, monster.”

Mano’s soft chuckle followed him out. He gave one last look back at her while slowly pulling the door closed with a solid, comforting thunk.

Marcie Test.jpg

Only eat the best chocolate

I write because it's fun. Even at the point in the process I’m stuck in right now, where I have to force out every….single….word……I remind myself that this is fun. 

It should be fun.

I began this hobby because I loved creating life in fiction form.

It’s a bit like eating really good chocolate.

I only want the good stuff, because, it’s not healthy for me, but I don’t want to live without it. Life is too short to waste on bad quality chocolate. It's also too short to waste on something that doesn't bring me joy.

When I first started writing, I wrote Fantasy, but I heard it was hard to get published and so I put it aside. When I began writing Paranormal Romances, I was told the exact same thing. I thought about writing something that sells, even though I didn't enjoy it. I decided to just go for the good chocolate; the stories that made me happy.

Now, as I’m forced to come up with something new, better, and marketable…. I wonder if it’s worth it.

Would I eat bad chocolate? Should I just stomach it?

I work to make money to support my hobby.

Writing.

My writing  was once my fun time. Is changing my genre going to better my situation? Gain me readers? Can I craft it with honesty without my passion and joy of the story behind it?

I don’t think so.

So, I’m going to keep on eating the good chocolate and write the stuff that makes my heart happy. To hell with that chalky, waxy crap! (And hey, you should write what you love too and totally kill it!)

March 25 2018 Goats Oaks and hillside.jpg

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