Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-two

Welcome to week Fifty-two of Writer Wednesday. I hope everyone is still hanging in there okay. I've finally been getting some writing in; YAY, me! Okay, enough celebrating. On to what we're here for.

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-two's featured author is L. A. Guettler. I came across Guettler in the Writers, Poets, and Deviants writer group, and I have her book 'Red Darkling' on my TBR (to be read) list. You can find L. A. Guettler and her works at the following links below.


Lea Anne Guettler's Facebook Author Page

L. A. Guettler's Twitter


Books:

Red Darkling

Red, White, and Christmas: A Red Darkling Tale

Code Red: A Red Darkling Tale


Well, I'm off. Thanks for joining me this week. I hope to see everyone here again next week for a new featured author. Remember to support indie authors by purchasing their work through legitimate sellers and by leaving them reviews.

Snippet Saturday: Zombies on a Plane an excerpt from 'Impractical Encounter'

As they called for general boarding, Billie turned to Randy. “I don't think I can do this. I haven't even got on the plane, and I think I'm going to barf.”

“Deep breaths, honey. Deep breaths.”

They fell in line, shuffling behind an elderly couple. Randy checked the seat numbers for the umpteenth time. When they finally reached the inside of the plane Randy shook his head at the realization that one of them had to sit by the window.

He stopped at their row number. “Do you want me to sit by the window, or do you want to sit in the middle?”

“Ugh, you're kidding, right?” Billie asked. “Um, you take the window. Maybe shut it so I won't be tempted to look out to see how high we are.”

“Okay,” Randy said and shimmied past the man sitting in the first seat.

Billie glanced around. “Does this bag look small enough to put under the seat to you?”

“Uh, maybe?” Randy replied.

The man glanced up from a book he was reading and looked at Billie and her bag. “Yeah, that'll fit. Now sit down, the people behind you will turn into a lynch mob if you make them wait much longer.”

“Oh.” Billie turned her head to the impatient faces behind her. “I'm sorry,” she said apologetically.

She squeezed through to her seat. When she was finally situated, she retrieved her tablet from her bag and then shoved the bag under the seat in front of her. It rested on the toes of her shoes. She fidgeted with the belt and finally managed to clasp the buckle. Settled, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths.

“Hey, Billie,” Randy said, snapping her out of her mini meditation.

“What?”

“Look,” he told her and pointed out the window.

“Shit, is that the wing? That means we have a front row seat if something, Zeus forbid, happens to the engine on this side. Ugh, this is what nightmares are made of. Well, this and zombies,” she said quietly.

Randy laughed nervously. Then both shock and fear flooded Billie's expression.

“Randy, what if there are zombies on the plane! Or what if the food turns the people here into zombies? Randy, we'll be stuck on a plane, however many thousands of feet up, with zombies trying to eat us. I don't think I can do this.”

The guy in the first seat grinned, shook his head, and stuck the earbuds from his iPod in his ears.

Randy was silent for a few seconds, just staring at his sister, before he spoke. “Billie, your imagination is incredible. Zombies aren't real and if, by chance, the zombie apocalypse occurs . . . Well, I'll try my damnedest to fight them off.”

“You're right. But at least you're not completely blowing off the what ifs.”

Just then the pilot's voice came through the speakers. Something about five minutes to take-off and then to turn their attention to the screen in front of them or to the flight attendants. Billie didn't pay much attention, her nerves getting the best of her as the plane began to move back. There was something about seat belts, oxygen masks, your seat cushion being a flotation device, and emergency exits. She glanced at the window beside Randy, then to the one in front of them. She was glad to see that they didn't have the emergency exit, but it was right in front of them. She would not have the proper frame of mind to help people off the plane if it crashed and people survived.

The plane lurched forward. Billie tensed. Randy grabbed her hand. Time contradicted itself by freezing and speeding by, all at once. The plane began to pick up speed. Faster and faster.

“Oh, my god, Randy. I can't do this,” she said, tears escaping her eyes. The front of the plane began to raise, and Billie's stomach dropped. “Oh-my-god. Oh-my-god. Oh. My. God.” Billie's tears streamed faster and fuller.

Randy put his arm on the back of her head and brought her tear-streaked face to his chest. “Shhh, you're already doing it. It's going to be okay, sweetheart.”

He forced his body to stop shaking. He had to be strong for her. Truth was, he was scared shitless, too. He stroked the back of her head. Calming her until he finally felt her weeping subside. Shortly after the plane leveled off, Billie lifted her head and wiped at the tears that lingered unshed.

“I'm sorry, Randy. I got your shirt all wet. And, I made a fool out of myself.”

“It'll dry.” He shrugged. “Also, I don't think anyone was paying attention. I told you it was going to be okay, didn't I?”

“Yeah, but I still feel a little queasy, and we still have the entire flight left. We've barely made it into the sky. So, until my feet are back on the ground, I'm not going to say that everything is okay,” she said, still a little shaken.

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty-One

Hey, everyone! How's everybody doing? I hope everyone is safe and well. We're back for a new Writer Wednesday. We're at Week Fifty-one. We ready? Here we go!

The featured author for Week Fifty-one of Writer Wednesday is Sharon Ricklin. Sharon writes Paranormal, Time Travel, and Contemporary Romance. You can find her and her works at the following links:


Facebook Author Page

Twitter

Youtube

Website

Amazon Author Page


Books:

Ravenswynd Legends (Ravenswynd Series) Book 1

Ravenswynd Dreams (Ravenswynd Series) Book 2

Ravenswynd Visions (Ravenswynd Series) Book 3

Ravenswynd Destinies (Ravenswynd Series) Book 4

Ravenswynd Series Boxed Set

River of Time

Garden of Time

Frozen of Time

Song of Memory



Thanks for joining me this week, and I hope to see you all again next week. Stay well, everyone. Remember to support indie authors. Purchase their works from legitimate book retailers, and please, leave reviews for your favorite authors.♥

Snippet Saturday: Just a Bear an excerpt from Wraith

Take Note: This excerpt needs some serious editing. I haven't posted in a couple weeks and I have no idea what day it is half the time anymore, so realizing it's Saturday, I grabbed a section I was working on to post.

Hours had passed by, and while I’d hoped to get some sleep, I merely drifted in and out of a fitful rest in the passenger’s seat. I felt the hair raise on my arms and a tingle, that seemed all too familiar like an old friend, run down my spine. At the very moment I gasped, Bastian accelerated the car.

I was about to ask him why when a large beast breaking from the tree line drew my attention. There was no mistaking that the mass of fur and muscle was feline, but I’d never even seen a tiger or lion as massive as this thing was, let alone a native cougar. While the darkness and speed of the car made it difficult to get a good look, I could see it looked very similar in color to a lion, but it lacked a mane, and at its size I would assume it would be a male. I, however, had no experience with large cats, other than the occasional run-in with a cougar, and the thing was no fucking cougar.

“Bastian, stop the car! Pull over!” I shouted. “There’s a fucking lion back there. It must have gotten loose from a zoo or something.”

“What are you going to do, stop it and take it back? Besides, it was just a bear,” he said, accelerating even more.

“That was not a bear.” I look at him incredulous before looking back out the window. “Look, it’s still there. Like it’s trying to run alongside us.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a bear. I think you’re a little too stressed out.” He changed lanes, moving away from the animal and accelerated further.

I saw the beast turn and disappear back into the woods. Yeah, I didn’t know what I’d planned to do had Bastian actually pulled over, but something told me I needed to come face to face with the large cat. I remembered the tingle down my spine and the hair raising on my arms, and I wondered if it was merely a coincident. Something niggled at the back of my mind, something Innocence had said once.

“Let’s get something straight, the next time I tell you to pull my car over, you damn well better pull it over. Understood?” I said to him.

“Sure thing, Coral Ann. Would you prefer to drive?” He looked at me, and I shook my head. “It was just a bear.”

“Okay, sure. It was a bear.” I blew out a breath. “How long before we get to her place?”

“Probably nine or ten hours. You still have time to sleep if you want,” he said, his tone softer and more caring than before, and I closed my eyes.

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty

Hey, everyone! Who missed me? No one? Eh, that's okay. Anyway, long time, no posts. I could make excuses . . . I mean, at first I had a legitimate reason. After a week of no posts, it got easy just to 'forget' to post. Let see, I had my appendix removed (y'all knew that), recovery time, I was tired for the entire week following that. Well, when I got to the point that I knew I should get back to posting, I ended up with an infected tooth, and that kind of knocked me on my ass harder than the surgery did. Like pain to the point I was in tears; I'm still on antibiotics and 800mg Ibuprofen for it. Looking for a dentist that might be open to remove some teeth—not sure with what money, I haven't sold a book in months and I've not gotten much proofreading work. I had a formatting job, but that was one, and formatting doesn't pay close to proofreading. This writing and writing world gig isn't turning out to be any kinds of profitable. Oh well. But we're not here for me and my whining. We're here for the much-delayed Writer Wednesday post that I've put off far too long.

So, the featured author for Writer Wednesday: Week Fifty is Fantasy author K.V. Wilson. Her books are awesome, and I actually finished reading Guardian while sitting in the hospital pre and post-surgery. K.V. is definitely an author that deserves support, so go buy her books. I'm looking forward to diving into Incarnate just as soon as I can. You can find K.V. Wilson and her works at the following links below:


K.V. Wilson's Facebook Author Page

K.V. Wilson's Website

K.V. Wilson's Amazon Author Page


Books:

Spiritborne (Book One of the Spirits' War Trilogy)

Guardian (Book Two of the Spirits' War Trilogy)

Incarnate (Book Three of the Spirits' War Trilogy)

OMP: Fantasy

The Contraption



Thanks for coming back to join me this week. Sorry, I whined a bit at the beginning, but please do check out K.V.'s work. I hope to see you all again next week. Remember, support indie authors by purchasing their work legitimately and leaving them reviews anywhere you can—Amazon, Goodreads, Bookbub . . . Even telling your Facebook and other social media people about their works in posts is awesome too. Indie authors need readers' help to find new readers. ♥

Short Story Saturday: Guest Author Xanxa Symanah with Unsociable Hours

Unsociable Hours

by Xanxa Symanah

It was the best decision that I could have made, given the circumstances.  Living in the slums as I did, the choices were clear – the gangs or a life of poverty and despair.  I knew that I wasn’t a gang kind of person, so I looked for an alternative.  I had never imagined what that might be, but here I am, years later, doing the kind of jobs that few people have the taste or the inclination for. 

I don’t have friends, simply not possible in my line of work.  Except one, maybe.  Only he understands my true nature and unlike so many others, he embraces it.  I can be myself with him.  He won’t ask those awkward questions when I turn up at his house, late at night, covered in the blood of my victims.  He simply offers me a bath and a meal.  And companionship, naturally.

My thoughts turn back to our first meeting.  I was at a high-class restaurant, the kind that I would never normally frequent.  I was waiting for a client, who was late.  The kind of clients who avail themselves of my services are never the reliable type and I’d already figured this one for a no-show.  However, since the meal was on expenses, I thought I’d stay and enjoy it. 

He was a distinguished looking gentleman, perhaps ten or so years older than me.  He too was dining alone.  He caught my eye and smiled at me.  Thus the connection was made.  He beckoned me over and invited me to join him.  When I agreed, he made a great show of asking the waiter to set another place at his table and have my food served there.  We shared a bottle of wine together and a very pleasant conversation.

After that first night together, we made arrangements to meet again.  He invited me over to his beautiful home in an exclusive district.  He was waiting in the porch as I drove up in my battered old truck, still wearing my work overalls and my black balaclava.  That was the first time he offered me the use of his bathroom, and he even found me some spare clothes to wear, while he proceeded to cook dinner for us.

He didn’t even ask my name until several weeks later, although he had introduced himself in the restaurant.  His name meant nothing to me, since I didn’t move in the same social circles as he.  In fact, I didn’t move in any social circles, due to the particularly anti-social nature of my work.  It was only after I’d told him my name – my real name, that is, not the many aliases which are necessary in my trade – that he began to confide in me.  Although his line of work was very different to mine, he confessed that he admired what I did for a living and told me that it was a hobby to him.  We swapped tips over dinner, enjoying the unsavoury nature of our conversations whilst dining on the finest cuisine prepared and cooked by his expert hands. 

Are we lovers?  Perhaps we have become so over the years.  I recall one night when we first crossed that fine line between friendship and something deeper.  I was sitting in his kitchen, just about to wipe the blood off my face, when he began to lick it off for me.  I let him continue and when he was done, we made violent passionate love on his kitchen floor.  He had not asked consent, for he already knew that it was not necessary.  I think that’s what I like most about my special friend, my only friend.  We don’t tie each other up in the complexities of most relationships.  There is no room for misinterpretation, no desire to control or manipulate one another.  We just are.  Simple as. 

So put me in one of your nasty little boxes if you wish.  Categorise me as a violent killer.  I consider what I do to be a public service.  I have big plans for the future.  They will not see me coming.  They will not even notice a rather plain, slightly overweight little woman in shabby clothes.  I am invisible to them and that is the secret of my success.  So I raise a glass to unsociable hours and people who need to be removed from this life.

Writer Wednesday on pause

I just wanted to say that Writer Wednesday hasn't ended yet but is currently on pause. Last week I was mopey and didn't post, but this week I spent Monday and some of Tuesday in the hospital. I had my appendix removed and spent a little bit for recovery time. I'm hoping to have Writer Wednesday posted next Wednesday, given healing goes well.