The deep baritone carried across the short distance, smooth and thick, so heavily accented that it took a few seconds of lag for Mike's brain to translate.Read a full excerpt or get a copy of it from Carina Press, here.
It was a pathetic excuse for a balcony--forget a lounge chair, the soldier barely had room to pace its measure, let alone turn around. The man studied the structure, bounced his weight back and forth in his widespread stance, arms folded.
Mother of gods, the man was built like a battle cruiser and easily topped six foot. The spread of his shoulders dwarfed the doorway at his back. There was no missing the strain of musculature beneath the dark fabric and blood-red pinstriped trousers as he shifted his weight, then twisted to glance back over his shoulder into the dark confines of the room behind him.
Check out the slew of other writers that participate in 6-Sentence Sunday, over here!