Fightscene Blogfest!

Hi! I just found out about Fightscene Blogfest--so I'm jumping on board now! If you have a great fightscene, go to Crimson Ink and add it now. You've got until Feb 2 at midnight!

Okay, so since I'm rewriting/modernizing Jane Austen novels--I don't really have any *fight* scenes, but I do have some awesome arguments!

The first one is from Northanger Alibi (releases--June 1, 2010)

Here's the blurb if you're just joining us:
Seattle Washington, and the Russo family, are no match for Claire Hart and her savvy knowledge of all things vampire related. Thanks to her obsession with the Twilight series--if there is anyone who would know a vampire when she saw one, it's Claire. And she's positive totally hot Tony Russo is a vampire, she just has to prove it! Follow Claire's hilarious journey on her first summer adventure away from home, where she learns everything isn't what it seems, and in some instances, reality is way better than anything she'd ever find in a book.

And onto the fightscene!

My date with Jaden was different from anything I had ever experienced before. Not that I’d been on many dates—okay, so his was the very first. I’m certain this wasn’t what a dating experience was meant to be—I was positive of it!
“Um, are you sure we should be going seventy-five in a thirty-mile zone?” I timidly asked as I held on for dear life. We were speeding through a neighborhood, and I knew that at any minute, we were going to hit something.
Jaden laughed. “What are you worried about? I’m the best driver in the whole world.” He dodged a skittish cat and the car swerved wildly to the right.
“Ahhh! You almost killed that cat!” I freaked.
“No way. The cat stopped.”
“But what if it hadn’t?”
“It did. So stop worrying about it.” Jaden turned the radio up louder. Rap music filled his older model sports car. The pounding bass only added to my confusion. “So, what do you think of my car?” he hollered over the music, looking smug.
Apparently I was supposed to say it was the best car in the world. “Um—” Thankfully, I didn’t have to answer as we swerved to avoid a trash can that’d been knocked over.
Jaden swore loud enough to be heard over the music, then tossed over his shoulder, “What is that? Why can’t people pick up their crap, anyway?”
“Maybe you should slow down.” Please, slow down.
“No way! This car loves to fly! She goes a lot faster, too. Wanna see?” He revved up the engine and laughed when I yelled,
“No!”
He drove faster.
I checked my seat belt for the tenth time since getting in the car. It was fastened. Nervously, I clutched my phone—ready to dial 911 at any moment.
“Besides, this is a shortcut. You’ll see. We’ll get there much faster this way.”
“Yeah, but funny thing is, I’d rather get there alive!” I was beginning to lose my cool. What is it with guys and risking lives to show off, anyway?
Just then, a little kid rode his bike into the street right in front of us.
“Holy—!” Jaden jerked the steering wheel. The car whipped wildly back and forth, missing the boy by mere inches. I lost it.
“Jaden! Stop the car now. I’m getting out.”
“What? Why?”
I turned off the radio. “Because, you idiot, I don’t want to be a part of an involuntary manslaughter case! When you go to court, it’ll be your butt that ends up in the slammer, not mine.” He didn’t pull over, but he did slow down. I didn’t care. I was mad. “Stop this car!” When he ignored me, I flipped my phone open and began to dial.
“What are you doing?” he bellowed. The car screeched to a halt. My seatbelt jerked against my shoulders and I came within an inch of hitting the dashboard.
In two seconds flat, I was out of my seatbelt and scrambling out of the car. By the time I had slammed my door shut, he had imitated me, standing outside the car with his door wide open.
I glared at him over the top of the roof.
“What is your problem?” The look he gave me could’ve soured milk. “Who were you calling, anyway?”
I held up the phone. “The cops.”
He swore a whole slew of profanity and thumped his hand down on the roof. “Are you kidding me? For what?”
“For what? For what? Are you for real?” I stepped forward and banged my hand down on the roof too. “For abduction and dangerous driving, that’s what!”
“For abduc—are you kidding me?” He looked away and yanked his hand through his hair. “You know, I thought you were really cool. I guess I was wrong. Excuse me, but I didn’t realize I had a little lawyer in my car.”
“A little lawyer?” That did it. I hitched my purse up on my shoulder and started walking back the way we’d come. There was no way I was getting into the car with that loser again. I can’t believe I actually gave up my date with Tony for this. The egotistical moron! Thank goodness I had my tennis shoes on. I had a long walk ahead of me.

Chapter Eleven

“Claire.”
Jaden’s voice sounded repentant, but I didn’t care. I walked faster.
“Claire, come on!”
I ignored him.
“For crying out loud, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. Now come back.”
Come back! Come back? As if I’m some dog he can call and I’ll come running? Maybe they do that here—but girls from Farmington don’t take that kind of—
“Claire!” I could hear Jaden jogging to catch up. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
I kept walking.
Jaden swore again.
You know, you catch a lot more flies with honey than you do with swear words.
He caught up. “What do you want from me?” His stride had to shorten to keep pace with mine.
Man. That is so annoying. Why is he so tall, anyway? “Go away, Jaden,” I huffed as I tried to pick up my pace. It was useless—he didn’t even have to try hard to match it. Speed walking was so not a talent of mine. I probably looked like a dork, but I didn’t care. There comes a point when you realize that your life is more important than how stupid you look. I was at that point.
“Claire, seriously, I’m really sorry, okay?”
Do not give in. Do not give in.
“You’re right; I acted like a total jerk back there. I’m sorry. Now will you get back in the car?”
“No.”
He sighed, but didn’t protest. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and strolled along while I panted next to him.
Just go away. Sheesh.
“So, where are you going, anyway?” He sounded amused, like he thought this was cute or something.
“Anywhere that’s away from you.”
“That’ll be kind of hard,” he had the audacity to point out. “Looks like I’m staying right next to you.”
Ugh. I nudged him with my elbow. “Go away.”
He chuckled at my attempt, but then answered seriously, “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” I growled at him. “Now leave me alone.”
“Claire, I don’t care how mad you get; I’m not leaving you alone in this neighborhood. So forget it.” He seemed really pleased with himself. Like I was supposed to congratulate him for remembering to be a gentleman all of a sudden. The dork!
“You know what?” I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me, okay?” I stomped my foot for good measure.
Jaden looked down at that foot and stifled a grin.
I could’ve cheerfully decked him. “I’m serious!” I snapped “Go away.”
“Look.” He folded his arms and glanced down the road. His car was about five hundred yards away. “I’m Native American, we stick together.”
“What?” I looked at him again, really hard. “You’re Native American?” It was like he had just punched me in the gut. “Are you serious?” Why hadn’t I noticed before?
“Do you have a problem with that?” He seemed confused.
“What? No, no!” I shook my head. “I have a lot of Navajo and Hopi friends in Farmington. What tribe are you from?” I had to ask, even though I knew the answer before he said it—
“Quileute.”
Oh my gosh. No wonder he was driving like a maniac—not caring about anyone. No wonder why he’s so flippin’ tall. No wonder why he doesn’t listen to anything I say. And that totally explains why he just grabbed me and kissed me yesterday. Jaden’s a werewolf! Just like Jacob Black in Twilight. Holy cow! How did this happen to me? Me!
“What’s wrong, Claire? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Jaden, what’s your last name?”
“Black. Why? What’s—”
I didn’t hear the rest.
I fell.


And if you want to read the Darcy--Elizabeth confessional fight from Pride & Popularity (March 2011) Here it is:



“Chloe?” alarmed from my reverie, I looked up into the beguiling blue eyes of Taylor Anderson.
Was I imagining things? “You?” I was so stunned nothing more came from me.
“Sorry,” he apologized. I watched his lips move, but it took a moment to comprehend what Taylor was saying, “…parked at your house… Came over when I saw you...”
“Oh,” my voice cracked. Could the guy have any more dreadful timing? I wanted to be anywhere else than next to him. What was he doing here?
“Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.” Taylor’s concern for me frustrated me more.
“I--I’m fine.” To prove it, I went to stand up. I had forgotten my shoes were off and tripped over them in the process. Had it not been for the swing’s chains, I frantically clutched as I fell, or Taylor’s arm around my waist as he brought me up to standing position, I would have landed in an unflattering heap at his feet. Again.
Taylor chuckled in my ear as his other arm wound around my waist, too. The side of my face was pressed into his coat. His cologne began to tickle my senses. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His breath stirred the fine hairs above my ear and warmed my cold cheek below it.
He gave such an impression of strength and security. Had I not known what a villain he was, I would’ve been tempted to stay in Taylor’s arms forever. “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I detached myself from him. Almost as an afterthought I added, “Thank you,” once we were apart.
Taylor stepped back and allowed me to pick up my shoes. In silence he watched as I sat back on the swing and brushed my feet off before slipping the Vans on again. Then I dusted my hands on my jeans and stood up.
What do you want? In its stubbornness my mouth refused to bring voice to my thoughts. I was agitated and tired of waiting to hear why Taylor had come. He still just stood there and watched me. Fine. Don’t talk then. In my irritation, I moved away and stood by the large row of steps that led to the slide. I looked out at the boys playing baseball. There were so many things I wanted to tell him, but not now. I needed a few more days before I went all postal on him. Right then I really didn’t want to talk to anyone. Least of all, Taylor Anderson. Maybe he’ll just go away if I ignore him.
The silence loomed for several minutes. So much so I had wondered if he had gone. I refused to turn around and see. In fact, my back was still to Taylor when he finally spoke. “Chloe, I had to come see you.”
So he is still there! I stiffened my back and raised my head in defiance.
“I’m going crazy here. I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate in school--everything’s a mess. Listen, I don’t know who that guy was you were dancing with, but please, you’ve gotta hear me out.” I heard a faint mutter and then a ragged sigh, before he half-whispered, “I-I love you.” It was like a dam had burst. In the next breath he was louder, much louder. “I do. I have loved you from the first time I saw you stomp away from those bleachers three and a half years ago. And trust me; I’ve tried to get over it. Always moving on to new girlfriends, pretending like you meant nothing—like I wasn’t in lo--but, I can’t do this anymore. You’re the only girl I want. Chloe, I need you to go out with me.”
In shock I had stood rooted to where I was. Facing out into the same playing field Taylor faced. I have to say something. I lowered my head and contemplated my hands for a moment before I bravely squared my shoulders. Slowly, I turned toward him. He was still by the swing. His raw uncertainty disarmed me a little as his anguished eyes ravished mine for an answer. I knew at that moment, that Taylor thought he loved me. But he didn’t really. He has never loved me. --Just the idea of me. Of having the one girl who didn’t worship the ground he walked on. But I couldn’t love him. I wouldn’t love him. With a deep breath I braced myself.
“Taylor, thank you.” There that sounded good. My voice is neutral, even. “But no.”
For a couple of minutes Taylor stared at me confounded. I wasn’t quite sure he had heard me. Hesitantly, I began to debate with myself on whether or not to repeat my answer.
“That is all you’re going to say?” he finally spat out. “That’s it?” He moved a step closer to the swing and yanked its chain toward him. “You’d think that when a guy bares his soul to a girl at least she would give him a proper reply. Not some stiff, harsh, monotone rejection.” His indignation was clearly evident as he punctuated each adjective with a jerk of the swing.
Disgusted, I put my hands on my hips, “Proper reply? You mean, yes, right?” The nerve.
“I don’t care what answer you give. Just give me a reason. --If you actually have one, that is.”
“Are you kidding me? I was only trying to be nice. You want to know what I really think about you? Fine, let me spell out all my reasons for you!--
First off, Taylor Anderson, what makes you think I would ever consider becoming the girlfriend of the guy who has crushed one of my best friends? Zack and Alyssa. Can you say it wasn’t you who broke them up? And that you told—no make that commanded--Zack to leave Alyssa?”
He looked confused, then angry. “You better believe I broke them up. I take care of my friends, more than I am able to take care of myself. At least I was able to stop him from falling for someone who couldn’t care less about him,” he sneered.
Jerk! Imbecile! Moron! “But that’s not all!” I blurted, “You know it isn’t. What about Blake Winter—Wilder—your own cousin?”
“Blake? Blake! How much has he told you?”
“You tried to get him fired. You’re a jealous, attention-seeking jerk who would try to undermine his own cousin--just so you could have what you wanted. Just to make sure no one shared your spotlight.”
“Wow! So that’s what you think of me?” He shook his head. “You don’t really know what’s going on, and you don’t even care. You know why? Because you’re a fraud, Chloe Hart. Yep. You go ahead and stand there and think how much better you are than the popular crowd, but you know what? You’re just as bad as they are. We both know that you’d rather die than admit the only thing stopping you from going out with me is that I’m popular. The next time you’re out somewhere flinging accusations at people, check your double standard first.
“My double standard--?” Look in the mirror buddy! I stormed up to the swing. It was the only item that separated us as I looked up into his haughty countenance. “Taylor, you are the most conceited, rudest, most arrogant boy I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I would never in a million years go out with you. Even if you had never hurt Blake or Alyssa, you’d still be a cocky, manipulating jock with no regard for anybody else’s feelings. --Never mind Morp and getting me to ask you just-just so you could humiliate me. When I first moved here I saw what a complete jerk you were, thinking you owned everything and everyone. Well you don’t own me, and you never will. I deserve someone much better than you!”
In the stillness, the air positively crackled as the hollow reminder of my words echoed around us. Taylor’s eyes were a painfully dull grey. He scanned my face. I cannot begin to imagine what emotions he saw there, I was so emotional. His eyes seared into mine for a final moment. Before he took a step back and then another from the swing that separated us.
He paused and allowed a brief nod of surrender and then simply stated, “Thank you, Chloe. It’s nice to know what someone really thinks of you. Sorry for wasting your time.”
And then Taylor Darcy Anderson walked away.