🫜 Carly Hiebner

@carlyhiebner

Aspiring Author. Mom of 3. Doctor of Physical Therapy. Occasional Wedding Singer.

938 Folgt641 Follower2.425 Posts

Bluesky

Ist das dein Profil?Übernimm es — dann gehört dir carlyhiebner.dirty.social.Profil übernehmen

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Jul 14

Annora 😭 #summerofstories #writingcommunity #writingprompt #writesky

“Fynn.”
His head lolls to the side in response. My pulse pounds in my ears as I fumble with the restraint across his chest, my fingers slipping. When the knot finally loosens, his shoulders slump forward, and I catch him before he slides to the floor. He’s dead weight. His hands are still tied behind his back—wrists raw from struggling against the restraints. The ceiling groans overhead, and dust rains down around us.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me do this by myself.”
Another crack echoes through the room. He doesn’t stir. Panic claws its way up my throat, and I wedge my hands under his arms and pull. He barely moves. I plant my feet and try again, muscles straining, but all I manage is scraping the chair a few inches across the concrete.
I don’t know what to do.
My arms go slack. I’m out of options. The last bit of hope drains out of me as the tears roll steadily down my cheeks. I grip his face with both hands.
“Hey. Hey!” I sob. “I need you. I need you to wake up, Fynn!” A hoarse cry escapes.
His eyelids don’t even flutter.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Jul 12

#SundaySnippets from The Annora Project. This rewrite is a proooocess… 😬😬😬 #writingcommunity #writesky

John’s still giving a rather dry history lesson about Driscoll, and all of my dad’s accolades, while we scour the spread. Turkey sandwich in hand, I grab a Fanta orange, somehow knowing Fynn had a hand in the pop selection, and plop down at a table. A satisfied “Ah” escapes after my first sip, and someone near me snorts out a laugh. Turning toward the sound, my eyes narrow on Zane, that dimpled grin making my stupid, fickle heart skip a beat. He raises a brow, glancing at the space he purposefully left between us, and I shrug. He takes that as a ‘yes’ and pushes his sandwich and drink next to mine.
“So, you’ve lived here your whole life?” Zane asks, taking a bite out of his turkey sandwich.
“Pretty much. My dad—”
“Fun fact! This entire wing used to be storage before the expansion in ‘94.” John pops up beside our table.
Zane blinks. When he opens his mouth again, John launches into another story nobody asked for. A minute later he tries again.
“Did you know,” John interrupts, “that this building uses enough electricity to power…”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Zane’s jaw tightens. He gives up and falls silent.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Jul 5

But check out this wood paneling… 🤩💯

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Jul 4

A bit of a *spoiler* this morning. 😅😬 #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompt #summerofstories The Annora Project

Fynn’s on his knees, [redacted]’s hand fisted in his hair, struggling to keep him upright. Blood pours from the gash in Fynn’s forehead, running down his face as he sways in and out of consciousness. [Redacted] doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks… empty. For a terrifying second, I don’t even recognize him. With shaking hands, he fastens a small device around Fynn’s wrist.
“Nora.” His voice is flat. “Forgive me. I hope one day you will understand.”
With an impressive show of strength, [redacted] grips Fynn by the collar, hauling him to his feet. He presses something on the watch and the face begins to glow before shoving Fynn toward the gaping hole at the rear of the room. Fynn stumbles a few unsteady steps before collapsing to the floor. I fight through the haze, desperate to reach him, but Zane catches me from behind—strong arms locking around my waist. There’s a tortured look in his eyes, like he knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he can’t stop it. I want to scream at him to let me go, but it dies before ever reaching my lips. A black pool swirls from Fynn’s watch—expanding—as Fynn struggles to stand. Resigned to his fate, he takes one last look at me from across the room, anguish written all over his face.
“Nora…” His whisper echoes through the room.
The black shadow swallows him up before collapsing in on itself. Where Fynn once stood, nothingness remains.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Jul 4

The toddler waitress at this fine establishment where I’m writing this morning (home), informed me that pizza was, in fact, the best breakfast option on the menu. If anyone’s wondering, I’m not getting much accomplished. 😂 #writingcommunity #writesky #TheEmotionThesaurus

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· May 29

Good morning! ☀️ A #WIPSnips from The Annora Project that I’ve probably shared before, but I’m in the middle of a rewrite… #writesky #writingcommunity First-time party Annora needs a ride home from Fynn, who’s trying not to fall in love with her.

“Come on, party animal. I’ll give you a ride home.”
One step, and I trip over absolutely nothing. Strong hands grasp my waist before I can face-plant, and then I’m tucked against his chest like I weigh nothing. A surprised breath escapes, but instead of pulling away, I bury my face against his shirt, breathing in laundry detergent, night air, and him.
I feel the chuckle that resonates in his chest before he pulls open the passenger door, setting me carefully onto the seat like I might break. Leaning in, he buckles my seat belt, close enough that my brain short-circuits for a second. I don’t hate the proximity. In fact, I find myself leaning toward him, wanting him closer, but then he’s gone again—the car door slamming shut between us.
With the exception of Fynn’s newest burned emo CD playing in the background, the car is uncomfortably silent. I’m flushed with both embarrassment and from whatever’s currently running through my system. Sneaking a glance at him, I find his eyes already on me—frozen on my dress that’s bunched way too high on my legs. His eyes flick up for half a second—maybe to my mouth, I can’t tell—and then he’s clearing his throat and focusing a little too hard on the road. Meanwhile, I’m yanking the dress back down with an annoyed huff, wishing for about five more inches of fabric.
“New dress?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“It’s Jess’. I didn’t have a choice. You know how she can be.”
He nods, and I’m pretty sure I’m actively dying from embarrassment. Slumping down in the seat, I cover my hands with my face.
“Nor…”
The way he says my name—like warm honey flowing over me—turns my insides to rhubarb jelly. Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I find him grinning, and he winks at me. He winks at me. My heart stops. Time of death: 11:30 p.m..
“It looks…” He coughs, clearing his throat. “I like it.”

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· May 24

Fynn, you love-sick fool. #writingcommunity #writesky #SundaySnips

I’ve been in love with Nora Driscoll for fourteen hundred and ninety days, twelve hours, and nineteen minutes. One look and my life basically split into before her and after. The messed up part is I can solve impossible equations in my head faster than most people can finish reading them, but when it comes to feelings? Useless. I’ve never allowed people to get close enough to say things that matter. Instead, I took the safe route. Kept my head down and worked for her dad after graduation—pretended wanting her was something I could outthink if I stayed busy enough. I should be working. I should be focused. There’s a plan, and she was never supposed to be part of it.
And I can’t afford to fail.
There are bigger things at stake than whatever I feel when she looks at me like someone worth her trust. I know that. It should have faded by now. But no matter how hard I try to kill this thing between us, it gets worse. Inevitable. Every conversation. Every accidental touch. Every time she smiles at me, my brain goes into cognitive overload and completely shuts down. And every minute I spend with her puts another crack in my self control. I’m afraid one of these times it will break completely.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· May 10

A #SundaySnips from A Recipe for Romance 💘 #writingcommunity #writesky Oh, Will… watch out.

The man occupied the center of a tight knot of people, all deep in conversation. Rolling up his sleeves, his hands did most of the talking, slicing the air with every word. Holy forearms. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, but the sight of them was burned in her memory.
“Ah, that’s Will. Will Christensen. He’s another professor at the college. What happened?”
Will. Will. Why did that name sound familiar? Also, forearms like that did not belong to a man who spent most of his time lecturing in a classroom.
“Besides insulting my food and telling everyone how awful and fancy-schmancy it is?” Maggie scowled. “I feel compelled to give him a piece of my mind. And maybe a bruschetta in the face.” A wicked grin tugged at her lips as she pictured it.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· May 10

Prologue from The Annora Project for #WIPSnips today! #writingcommunity #writesky

Annora Driscoll was going to die in a dim stairwell without ever having been kissed. The concrete walls shuddered, dust and ash clouding the air, as another explosion echoed somewhere in the upper levels of Driscoll Engineering. A sense of acceptance washed over her—fear replaced by a dull ache.
It wouldn’t be long now.
A voice bled through the ringing in her ears. His voice. He yelled her name—pleading. Everything was lost. Everyone in this life she called family was gone, betrayed by those she trusted most. And now it was her turn. With any luck, and Annora had very little, the world would be better for it.
Fate had been crueler than any bully she’d been forced to endure. Strong hands grasped her shoulders before gently framing her face. A thumb traced her cheek. Familiar green eyes blinked back at her—a mirror of resignation and finality.
But maybe fate would be kind in the end and give her this last request.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· May 3

A #SundaySnip from the unfinished rough draft of The Annora Project book 2. Annora’s training has a bit of a rough start… #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompt

“I’m fine. It’s my fault. I was distracted.”
“Distracted, huh? That’s one hell of a shiner, Red.”
“I like it—makes me look kinda tough, doesn’t it?”
“Totally. Very badass. You’re sure you don’t need me to go beat somebody up?”
“I’m sure. I’d say, ‘you should see the other guy,’ but the other guy’s completely intact. If only I had a better teacher…”
He grins then, both dimples showing, before softly pressing his lips to my throbbing cheekbone. Somehow it feels even better than the ice pack.
“Guess we’ll have to work on that,” he murmurs, his lips a breath away. I can still remember exactly how they felt against mine. “I believe I told you to protect your pretty face, Red, although it's still very pretty like this. Now, are you going to let me in, or am I banished to the hallway for my inadequate training lesson?”
“I’m a little surprised you’re still here. I figured your dad would have whisked you away by now,” I mumble as I seal the door shut behind us.
“Nah, he’d probably be happy to be rid of me, to be honest. I’m a bit of a disappointment back home—failed mission and all.” He shrugs, a vacant look on his face. “Plus, I didn’t turn out to be the bargaining chip General Kato was hoping for.”
“Bargaining chip?”
Suddenly there’s another loud knock on the door.
“Expecting company?”
“Probably just Jackie coming to force me to eat. I tried to tell her I was skipping supper, but she’d probably give me another black eye before she’d let that happen.”
“Another black eye?”
We both go silent when it’s not Jackie but Fynn standing just outside the door. His hair is a mess like he’s been running his hands through it, his mouth set in a scowl that deepens when he notices Zane sitting on the edge of my bed.
“Well, this is awkward.” Zane flops down on my pillow, arms crossed behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· May 1

Finally a day off! Can’t wait to read this beautifully crafted book! 📖🫶🏻 @professoremily.bsky.social #bluesky #writingcommunity #writesky

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 29

Hello! 👋 A #WIPSnips from the unfinished first draft of book 2 of The Annora Project. #writingcommunity #writesky Plans are being made. A impending mission has Fynn and Zane arguing about Nora’s involvement. Is she safer with them as they infiltrate the enemy?

“She’s not going anywhere near The Facility,” Fynn growls.
“Good luck with that, Abernathy. You know as well as I do that she’s going to do what she wants. And what if she decides she wants to go back to her time? What then?”
“Then I’ll help her get there.” Fynn’s voice is quieter now, and I strain to catch the words. “But I promised to keep her safe, and I intend to keep that promise. Even if it means keeping her away from you.”
“I made a similar promise,” Zane argues. “But I refuse to shelter her—to hold her back. She’s a force of reckoning and tougher than you give her credit for. She might be the key to ending this whole damn thing once and for all.”
“It’s not a happy ending if she dies.”
“Then let me take over her training. At least while I’m here. Let’s make sure she goes out there prepared. You know it’s the best option. I’m the best fighter we have.”
I don’t hear Fynn’s reply because a throat clears loudly directly behind me. Elias and General Kato take a step closer. The smile on the general’s face isn’t friendly, it’s… disturbing. I take a step back, pressing myself against the cold, metal door. General Kato takes one large step toward me. I flinch, and he grins wider as he raps loudly on the door just to the right of my head.
The door immediately opens, and I’m falling backward, an “ooph” escaping as my back connects with Fynn’s solid chest.
“Eavesdropping? Really, Red?” Zane tuts playfully from the cot.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 28

I did! Zane, Scruffy, and Greg the pelican! Your art is beet-tastic! 🫜 The scene immediately before—

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 27

A #WIPSnips from the original Annora Project today! #writingcommunity #writesky ZANE

It takes a minute to affix the explosives in strategic locations, and then exhaustion rolls over me in waves. God, I’m tired. I slink down along the earthen wall, feet away from where Fynn’s blood stains the floor, resting my hands on my knees. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a photo, the one I snatched from Fynn’s workstation, wanting to get one last look at her. She’s so beautiful. Waves of red hair that I can never seem to get enough of. Perfect, plump lips that I never got the chance to taste. I have this feeling, deep in my gut, that she’s going to have a huge impact on the world—on the future. That she might actually be the only one who can truly save it. I just wish I could be there when she does.
I had to travel through time to find Annora, and now that time will separate us forever. Resigned to my fate, I close my eyes and focus on every detail, every memory of her. My mouth curves into a smile. This is happiness, I think. Another rumble overhead. The building creaks and sways.
Goodbye, Annora.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 26

A #SundaySnip from an incomplete first draft of book 2 of The Annora Project. #writesky #writingcommunity Stretching a bit with vibes today! 🥴 “Satisfied” for “Quench.” Poor Nora is left in the hallway… still very thirsty. 😂😉

The silence is deafening.
It’s like they’re both waiting for the other to leave, and at this point, I wouldn’t mind if they would both show themselves out so I can think.
“Welp, I think my visiting hours are actually over. Better get back to the cells before someone comes looking.” Zane suddenly pops up from the bed, eyes not leaving mine, as he moves casually toward the door. “See me out, Red?”
Fynn grinds his teeth, glaring at the far wall like it offended him, but says nothing. As soon as I step out into the hallway, a hand grips my wrist, pulling me forward so I’m flush against his chest. Fingers brush against the watch still clasped tightly around my wrist, and Zane takes a step back.
“You kept it?” There’s a surprised look on his face and something like satisfaction.
“Of course I… Oh, here, you can have it back.” When I go to remove it, he takes both hands in his, stopping me.
“Keep it, Red. Looks good on you.”
There’s a heated look in his eyes that has me wondering, hoping he's going to kiss me again. But he doesn’t—holding me safely two to three inches away from him.
“Thank you, for sticking up for me back there. I really want to do this. I need to do this.”
The smile he gives me is so achingly beautiful that I feel myself swaying towards him. Why isn’t he kissing me? He looks like he wants to, but holds himself steady.
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Red. Remember that. Training. Bright and early. Can’t wait for that cardio.” He smirks, bringing my knuckles to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss there before strolling down the hall.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 25

Happy Saturday! A #WIPSnips from A Recipe for Romance 💘 #writingcommunity #writesky “nail” for “tack” Maggie’s friend goes into early labor, and she decides to stay instead of flying back to LA for an important fundraiser. Will, her current enemy, was her ride to the hospital.

Her phone buzzed, and she stiffened as she read the text. A flicker of panic crossed her face, her fingers freezing mid-scroll.
“You alright over there?” he asked.
“Just dandy,” she snapped. “I canceled my flight.”
“You what? For tonight?”
“Marcos might actually kill me.” She stared at the phone like this Marcos fellow might magically appear.
“Wait. Who’s Marcos, and why is he going to kill you?” Judging by the look on her face, he shouldn’t have asked.
“I might have to send him on an all expenses paid vacation. Unless I get fired. Then I definitely won’t have the money for that. And I’ll end up having to sell foot pics on the internet. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just… my feet aren’t that cute. Like my second toe is a little too long, you know?”
“I… don’t know what to say to that. Does this situation warrant police involvement?” Will sat up, unsure why he suddenly felt the ridiculous need to punch a man he’d never met.
She put her face in her hands. “No. Probably not. Marcos is my sous chef. He’s freaking out because I was supposed to be on a plane tomorrow morning, and back in the kitchen by late afternoon, to start prep work for a huge fundraiser next weekend. If we don’t nail this, I’m basically hammering a nail into the coffin of my career. But I can’t leave now.”
“Sounds like Marcos needs to suck it up and hold down the fort.”
Maggie snorted but peeked up at him, wiping her hands down her face. “Do you want to relay that message?”
“Nope.”

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 21

A very rough #WIPSnips from the unfinished book 2 of The Annora Project. #writingcommunity #writesky After Zane trips a new explosive device, he’s detained for questioning by the leader of Fynn’s faction of The Resistance.

$Annora flinched. “Fynn—” “No. I get it. He saved you. Big damn deal. And now he’s back like it’s some kind of fairytale reunion. You have no idea what she’s been through,” Fynn snapped. There’s a pained look on Zane’s face as he scans me from head to toe, probably looking for any visible injuries. “You’re right. I don’t. But I’m here now.” Fynn shakes his head. “Not for long. She belongs here, Zane.” “Why don’t you let her decide.” I close my eyes for a beat, and when I open them, both of them are staring at me… waiting. This isn’t about the past. Not tonight. Placing a hand on Fynn’s shoulder, he finally relaxes a fraction, jaw still tight. “Please, Fynn. Can you just… give us a minute? You can stand right outside. Please.” Fynn hesitates. Those dark, blue eyes search mine for something—some sign that I’m choosing him. Then, with a clipped nod, he pulls back. “One minute. This is still an investigation, not a family reunion.” He walks out, but the tension remains. When I glance back at Zane, he’s watching me carefully. Making my way to the cot, I sit on the edge, avoiding the stains and bandages. The cot shifts as Zane drops down beside me, close, but not touching. “He loves you, you know.” I swallow. “He’s… been there for me. He’s been my friend for years, Zane. He’s been picking up the pieces since I got here.” “Do you—Do you love him back?” His words are barely a whisper. I don’t answer right away, and he inhales sharply, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what I feel.” Slowly I let my head rest on his shoulder, his arm curling around me. He exhales, slow and full of something like peace. “But I know I missed you. Even when I hated you, I missed you.”$

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 19

Will ends up in LA only to discover his sleeping accommodations are… Maggie. Hello, forced proximity!

Will took a deep inhale, leaned back against the seat, and sighed. He smelled disgusting. He was hungry. He hated this city. And stupidly, he missed her. Ever the gentleman, Will held the door for a tenant carrying his weight in boxes and followed him to the elevator. He wasn’t worried at all, more curious, as he took the elevator to the fourth floor. Taking another deep breath, he rapped on the door. Leaning closer, a few muffled sounds came from the inside—footsteps getting closer. He took a step back at the ferocity at which the door swung open.
Her.
“What the…”
“Hello, lo…” Maggie finally made eye contact and froze. “You.”
He couldn’t help himself, allowing his traitorous eyes to soak up the sight of her. Dark curls were piled on top of her head, although a few ornery ones had escaped and framed her face. Her normally well-dressed figure sported baggy pajama pants and a tank top—a tantalizing bit of skin peeking out between the two—taunting him. Were those tiny spatulas on her pants? A bare foot with painted pink toenails tapped impatiently by the time his gaze made its way back to her face, a glare piercing through him, her cheeks tinted pink.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 19

I couldn’t decide, so I have a heavy one from book 2 of The Annora Project and a light one from A Recipe for Romance! Both with “soak” for “saturate.” More from Zane’s mission gone awry—

Her eyes flutter open, glazed and unfocused. She smiles faintly when she sees me, and it breaks my heart.
“I—I slipped,” she whispers.
“You’re going to be alright,” I lie, dropping to my knees. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
Softly gripping her wrist, I check for a pulse. It flutters, weak and shallow.
Ben crouches heavily beside me, his face grim. “Head wound,” he mutters. “Bad one… Not much you can do out here.”
James hovers behind us, shifting from foot to foot, his gun forgotten in his hands. Mara tries to lift her head, but winces, sagging back. Blood pools beneath her in the mud.
“I didn’t want to come,” she mumbles, a broken laugh escaping her. “I was so scared… and now… it’s funny, right?”
“No.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, and I wince. “No, it’s not funny.”
Whipping off my shirt, I press it to Mara’s head, but the blood keeps soaking through. She shivers—once—then stills as the light leaves her eyes. I stay there, on my knees, staring down at her. Part of me waits for her to take a breath. To cough. To blink.
She doesn’t.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 18

My art looks like it comes from a different part of the body… 😂🤣 If this is grounds for a dishonorable discharge, I understand! 😳 Will and Maggie deserve better!

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 16

Switching gears! Book 2 of The Annora Project. #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky Zane just completed a mission… one that didn’t go as planned.

“Casualties happen. Remember that.”
So this was the true test. I think of Mara’s smile, small and broken. I think about the blood on my hands. I say nothing.
“Debriefing in my office as soon as you return. Following your morning training, you’ll join us for the strategy meeting.”
Just like that, I’m dismissed.
It’s second nature to slide on a mask of cold, hard indifference. If Ben notices the slight shake in my hands, her blood still caked under my nails on the steering wheel, he doesn’t say. There’s a metallic glint on the dirt road. It’s too small to notice, too fast to avoid. Something detonates beneath the front axle with a muffled boom—the explosion sending a plume of dirt and fire into the air. The front of the truck lurches upward, flipping sideways, then slams down hard. I feel myself lurching forward, my head cracking against the steering wheel with a sickening thud.
I welcome the darkness.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 15

Will got a taste of Maggie in LA, but when he suggested long distance, she pushed him away. Now, he’s stuck pining… A #WIPSnips from A Recipe for Romance 💘 #writingcommunity #writesky

Later that evening, when Elias was sound asleep and he was sitting on the couch alone, Will let his mind wander to Maggie. Her addicting scent. Her warmth. Those pajamas. The taste of her. Picking up his phone he started to text her, but stopped himself, throwing the phone on the opposite end of the couch. Swirling the wine in his glass, he closed his eyes, picturing her in that dress from the convention event.
Maggie always came for Christmas with the girls, but they had never crossed paths. That was a few months away. She’d probably have a list full of new “dates” by then. Will frowned. He wanted to be the only one on that list. Grabbing his phone, he clicked on her contact again. The phone vibrated violently, making him jump and nearly lose his grip while he scrambled to see who it was.
Maggie: Made actual homemade chocolate chip cookies, and now I’m stuck thinking about you. Sending some immediately, via mail pigeon or stork.
Will chuckled, running a hand through his hair. He recognized her attempt to bury the topic entirely—pretending he hadn’t admitted all of those feelings to her. At least she was talking to him. He could work with that.
Will: I’d rather they were hand delivered. How do I know you actually made them?
A few minutes later his phone buzzed again. Drying off after his shower, Will ran a hand through his wet hair and grabbed the phone. He read the text once, then again, warmth blooming in his chest—hope.
Maggie: I miss you, too. Night, Will.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 14

I’m sure I’ve shared this one before, but I love an awkward meet-cute. A #WIPSnips from A Recipe for Romance 💘 #writingcommunity #writesky 👩🏻‍🍳👨‍🏫🚽😳

“Is this a hostage situation?” He stood stiffly, hands half-raised in mock surrender—head tilted as he studied her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. He was clearly amused—a flicker of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Maggie cleared her throat, severely disturbed by her body’s response when a second dimple appeared. “I—of course not. You’re the reason we’re in this situation to begin with.”
“This situation being… you followed me in here, and now I’m locked in this bathroom with you?”
Yes. Technically. But Maggie wasn’t backing down now. She opened her mouth, inhaling and praying for the perfect snarky retort when—
“If you needed a mirror, there are two other bathrooms in this house.”
“Excuse me? A mirror?”
Was he insulting her appearance now?
“You know.” He pointed at his nose.
She mimicked him, fingers tentatively grazing the side of her nose. Right—the curry dip. Fantastic. Her face heated. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, she shrugged.
“It’s still there, by the way.” He halfway grinned.
“Still—” She swiped at her nose again, fingers coming away clean.
“It’s right… May I?”
Before Maggie could register what was happening, he invaded her space. Close but not touching. Too close. He smelled good—like soap, coffee, and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His thumb gently brushed against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut at his touch. Just as quickly, he stepped back. The abrupt shift caused Maggie to step toward him—eyes flying open in time to watch him suck the remaining dip off the pad of his thumb with a pop. Mouth agape, Maggie watched his brow furrow in concentration.
“Surprisingly edible.”

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 12

#SundaySnips That first kiss tension… 👩🏻‍🍳💋 A Recipe for Romance 💘 #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompt

“Maggie, I…” His fists clenched—eyes darting to the ceiling and his face contorting like he was in the midst of an inner battle… and losing. “I don’t want to forget the whole thing.”
In the time it took her to inhale, he decreased the space between them. That thread of tension filled the gap—buzzing like an electrical storm. Maggie was tired. Tired of fighting against whatever this was. Maybe if they finally kissed, she could get him out of her system. They had twenty-four hours together, why not pretend a little longer before breaking it off cleanly. Maggie shrugged, and he advanced a step closer. Her body turned instinctively toward him.
“Maggie.” He whispered her name this time, and a shiver ran through her.
One of those large hands gripped her hip while the other slid around the nape of her neck, tangling in her curls. He slid her closer, pulling her on tiptoes so she pressed against his chest.
“Mags.” Her name was a breath against her lips. He paused, millimeters away, asking for permission. His nose brushed against hers.
Maggie’s hands tentatively found his chest, grasping his t-shirt. Her touch set something off in him, and he pressed his lips, ever so softly, against hers. She inhaled a breathy gasp, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss. She was lost. The way his mouth slanted over hers. Consuming her. The heat of it. She shouldn’t want this. The hand on her hip pulled her impossibly closer. Maggie could feel his heart pounding through his thin t-shirt.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Apr 11

Good morning, #WIPSnips! Been awhile… missed you all! Maggie went on what was definitely NOT a lunch date with Will, and a mutual friend caught wind… There may have been a spark, but Maggie detests Will’s very existence so… #writingcommunity #writesky #ARecipeforRomance

Turning toward the truck, Will rushed past her to open the door like it was some kind of competition. Maggie let out a long sigh, conceding defeat, and climbed in. How was she going to explain this to Sophie? It wasn’t a date date. Honestly, she didn’t know what it was. There must be something seriously wrong with her—wanting to throw someone down the stairs, but then wanting to sit on their lap and share a milkshake straw only minutes later.
She had officially gone insane. Or they put something in the water. Yes, probably the latter.
The truck pulled into the parking lot, and Will killed the engine. Maggie panicked when he went to exit the vehicle.
“You’re not coming inside, are you?”
Will gave her a puzzled look. “I have some time before my next class—thought I’d come in and browse.”
Maggie panicked. It was bad enough facing Sophie’s interrogation without Will’s stupidly distracting face present—all charm and trouble. “No! You’ll make it weird!”
Will’s mouth twitched. There was a wicked glint in those green eyes. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I never make anything weird. If anyone is making this weird, it’s you.” He winked and jumped down from the seat.
Sophie was on them like gravy on biscuits as soon as they stepped foot into the shop.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Mar 29

A Recipe for Romance 💘 Will’s staying at Maggie’s apartment in LA… and is maybe (most definitely) falling for her. Maggie’s hiding in her bedroom, because she most definitely (maybe) will not be falling for Will. And Will’s always hungry. #SundaySnippet #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompt

Will: Is Chef Mag’s kitchen open for orders?
She scoffed with an eye roll that would have made her mother blow a fuse. This was one of the many reasons why she shouldn’t even think about him. He only thought of her as some kind of personal chef.
Maggie: There’s a fridge full of choices. Help yourself.
Will: Come on, Boss. The famous chef doesn’t want to show off her skills?
Maggie: I have no need to impress you. I’m already in bed. If you want service, eat at the restaurant.
Will: Worried about your indecent pajamas? I’m not. Pretty please? Your croissants have created a monster.
Maggie: Quit trying to butter me up.
Will: So it’s working?
She set her phone down and then picked it up again before shoving it to the other side of the bed like it had offended her. Maggie chewed on her lip. She shouldn’t. It was too dangerous to be around him. But she wanted to be around him.
Biscuits.
Groaning, Maggie rolled over and grabbed the phone.
Maggie: Fine. What do you want?
Will: You

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Mar 22

#SundaySnips A dimple appears (emerges)… Annora’s POV after reuniting with Zane. #writingcommunity #writesky #writingprompt

After a minute, I mutter, “You couldn’t have warned me about the giant, neurotoxic robo-birds?”
Bumping my shoulder against him, I soak up the sound of his laugh.
“Sorry. It’s not like an entire building was ready to collapse on top of us at any moment.”
I scoff.
“Plus I’m sure you handled them just fine, Red.”
“If by fine you mean half-paralyzed in an abandoned truck…did take one down with a rock though.”
“See? Brilliant.”
Glancing away, I attempt to hide the blush from his praise. We sit like that, I’m not sure for how long, until the door swings open again.
“Ready to head back, Nor?” Fynn stands in front of the door, staring at the wall in front of him, fists clenched like he wants to punch a hole through it.
“We’ll talk later, Red. I won’t leave without explaining. I promise.”
“You’re leaving already? But you’re hurt.”
“They can’t keep me here for long. I’m sure my father’s already made contact to discuss my return. Why? Will you miss me?” There’s that signature smirk—one dimple making an appearance.
Bumping him with my shoulder, he stands when I do, pulling me into his arms like he can’t help himself. His chin rests on the top of my head as I wrap my arms around him, inhaling his familiar scent. He saved me. He’s here.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Mar 15

Maggie takes on a few of my lovely qualities—like my inability to keep plants alive. 😂😳 This scene is from Will’s POV in LA. He’s trying, desperately, to convince Maggie that they could be good together. #SundaySnips #writesky #writingprompt

They spent the morning moseying around a farmer’s market, and Will helped Maggie pick out produce for lunch and some plants for her apartment.
“You know I’ll kill these within the first month.” She laughed, holding up the bag. “I can’t even keep a cactus alive.”
Will bought them for her anyway.
“I’ll text you a reminder to water them every week, so they don’t die a slow, leafy death,” he teased. Any excuse to keep texting her after he left.
He laughed when she veered in front of him to avoid a grate in the concrete.
“I can’t step on them,” she mumbled in apology, moving back to her side of the sidewalk.
Bemused, he couldn’t not ask. “Why not?”
“It’s stupid. I—I don’t know. I guess maybe I’m afraid I’ll fall through and disappear into the abyss? I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I can’t even stand on the drain in the shower.” She covered her face with both hands, groaning in embarrassment.
He chuckled, prying one of her hands from her face and tucking it into the crook of his arm. “Okay, Mags. No drains. What other adorable quirks do you have?”
That made her smile. She wrinkled her nose and looked up at the sky. “I’ll never tell.”
“Maggie?”
Will turned, eyeing the man across the path who happened to be elbow-deep in tomatoes. He knew that look—longing.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Mar 13

An added scene from A Recipe for Romance 💘 #WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writesky Maggie pretending she has some semblance of work-life balance while Will is staying with her in LA results in a confrontation with one of the owners. Maggie finally standing up for herself-

“Come in, Phillips.”
If this was a battle, Maggie was going down fighting. They’d have to pry this job from her cold, dead fingers. Unfortunately, Voss might not be opposed to that. Maggie gripped the handle and entered.
“Voss. How nice to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Voss sifted through documents at her desk—face in a perpetual scowl. “Phillips. Rumor has it you’ve been…absent more than usual over the past several days.”
“I—” Maggie clenched her fists—fingernails indenting her palms.
“I don’t need excuses, Phillips,” Voss interrupted. “I came to make sure everything is in order. You never know when a Michelin inspector might pay us a visit, and I’m questioning your dedication.”
Maggie jerked back, the color rising in her cheeks. “You’re questioning my— You can’t be serious.”
The chair scraped against the floor, as Voss pushed out from behind the desk. “You—”
“No. No, I’m not finished. I never take a full day off. I’m on time and professional. And I’m a darn good chef—ask anyone in that kitchen. I would never do anything to jeopardize this restaurant. I don’t know why you have an issue with me, but if you’d like to set up a formal meeting—with the other owners—to discuss how I run my kitchen, just give me a date.”
Her knees wobbled, but Maggie held strong. Voss’ mouth curved up into a smile—though, not a friendly one.

🫜 Carly Hiebner@carlyhiebner· Mar 11

A #WIPSnips from book 2 of The Annora Project #writingcommunity #writesky Testing out new equipment in a dystopian future. It’s a bit awkward between the three of them… 👀 Zane’s POV