tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7015279445116337412024-03-05T19:49:47.348-08:00Pierce BooksWriting without all the proseS.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-47453122508844020852013-03-27T06:57:00.000-07:002013-03-27T06:57:01.223-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Betrayed-ebook/dp/B00C1NLZ0S/" target="_blank">Betrayed</a> is Live! And only 99 cents until May.<br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dhUOzCbRW2EiPJUNqbvO7OhYgCleQIayFEGU2wc6lGc_-ziiChaOr6A9wfsf0YrreYMresocyJueDq8OBwKeEzES4Mhvb9PG2AVGCM4en85d5Uhi5doidBp-IZLFZB5IBMTfSajY18o/s320/betrayed-final+(1).jpg" width="213" /></div>
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S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-59737521903820262082013-03-08T08:29:00.002-08:002013-03-08T08:29:54.402-08:00Betrayed Cover<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here is the cover for Betrayed, the new Gwen Michaels book. The book is with the editor and will be released as soon as editing is complete. Hopefully in the next two weeks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCCZuYZWD0UDlHAztpcA3tB64wDTuRgI_rwcS0Fv2DJdXR0nw4nsLE5TDzfGdZ_YNSInVCm3MqNz6Shc0NCbqBukQqk_rHNSkPUrnSRejKNGwiwrAIhRreapUajH8dVTg12LcgDE3brIo/s1600/betrayed-final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCCZuYZWD0UDlHAztpcA3tB64wDTuRgI_rwcS0Fv2DJdXR0nw4nsLE5TDzfGdZ_YNSInVCm3MqNz6Shc0NCbqBukQqk_rHNSkPUrnSRejKNGwiwrAIhRreapUajH8dVTg12LcgDE3brIo/s320/betrayed-final.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-44759130428839485442013-01-14T09:41:00.000-08:002013-01-14T09:41:00.194-08:00Real reason Secrets 2 isn't out yet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had hoped to publish the next Gwen Michaels book in December, but unfortunately that didn't happen. And the reason is, it just wasn't good enough. It was really hard to hear that from my beta readers. <br />
Really hard. <br />
And it was very discouraging. This was my baby. I'd poured my heart into it. And it was boring? <i><b><u>Boring?</u></b></i> <br />
I kind of crawled into a hole with my blanket and chocolate and said forget the whole thing! <br />
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But, in the end, they were right. The story <u>was</u> too boring. The thing that made Secrets successful was the fast pace, the continuous action. And this new story just didn't have it. <br />
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And I have to be honest with myself, and my fans. So here it is - I haven't put 100% into it. Something very hard to admit. I've been working with a partner (Maren Kaye) on the last two books (Devil's Game and Treasure Hunt) and we push each other to get the best result. But working on my own for this book, I'd forgotten how to push myself, and the story, to the edge. <br />
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And now that I've admitted it, I can fix it. So I have hunkered down and am now making the story the best it can be. I hope you will be patient with me. It will be worth it, I promise:)<br />
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S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-57610590402442834382012-11-27T11:45:00.003-08:002012-11-27T11:50:46.200-08:00The Next Big Thing Blog Hop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've been tagged by a great fellow author <a href="http://scottswrittenwords.blogspot.com/">Scott Bury</a> to participate in The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. The idea is we all answer interview questions and link to each other's blogs. Each author asks five other authors to participate. Here is the link to Scott's <a href="http://scottswrittenwords.blogspot.ca/2012/11/the-next-big-thing-one-shade-of-red.html">post</a>.<br />
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Sounds Great, right? <br />
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So, here is The Next Big Thing Interview:<br />
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<b>What is the working title of your book?</b><br />
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My new Gwen Michaels book is tentatively titled Betrayed.<br />
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<b>Where did the idea come from for the book?</b><br />
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I'm not sure where the plot of the book came from but the idea for a sequel to Secrets came from one of the first readers to love it, Grace G. She was so excited about the idea of a sequel I just couldn't resist. I felt some pressure and excitement to write a sequel, but nothing would come to me. The more I pushed the fewer ideas I had. Then one afternoon the light bulb just went off and I thought what if one of Gwen's old teammates showed up. Someone that should never have been able to find her? And I went with it.<br />
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<b>What genre does your book fall under?</b><br />
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Definitely mystery/thriller! I love them.<br />
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<b>Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?</b><br />
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Always a hard question. Twenty years ago it would have been Demi Moore, no question. Now, I'm not sure. If I had to choose, I think Sarah Michelle Gellar would do a really good job. I did recently see another actress named Maggie Grace in a movie called Lockout and she had a really good mix of toughness and humanity that would work well for Gwen Michaels.<br />
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<b>What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?</b><br />
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What if your worst enemy showed up on your doorstep and needed help?<br />
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<b>Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?</b><br />
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Self published, as all my books are.<br />
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<b>How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?</b><br />
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Technically the first draft took a year, but I was actually working on a different book at the same time with my co-author Maren Kaye (Treasure Hunt). So the first draft took about three months of real time.<br />
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<b>What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?</b><br />
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Ugh such hard questions. It's hard to compare because I haven't really found any real kick ass female heroines who never need 'rescuing'. <br />
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<b>Who or What inspired you to write this book?</b><br />
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I guess I should have read ahead since I answered this earlier. Everyone really does have Grace G. to thank for the sequel. Her enthusiasm was irresistible. <br />
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<b>What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?</b><br />
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I think the relationship between Gwen and her husband Jack will really intrigue readers this time. They face a lot of challenges now that he knows about her past. <br />
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In the coming weeks I will be posting links to the author authors I have tagged for this blog hop! Stop by and check them out. In the meantime here are some other participants (not recruited by me) in The Next Big Thing Blog Hop:<br />
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<a href="http://mirabooks.wordpress.com/2012/10/24/the-next-big-thing/" target="_blank">Mira Brown</a><br />
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S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-4965390346850732722012-11-15T11:30:00.000-08:002012-11-15T11:34:30.983-08:00Our Own Black Friday Specials<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Maren Kaye and I have decided to lower the price of The Devil's Game and Treasure Hunt to 0.99 now thru the end of December as our own Holiday sale. (Price change should go into effect Friday November 16)<br />
Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas! </div>
S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-67536183387513376602012-09-12T06:36:00.001-07:002012-09-12T06:37:17.202-07:00New Cover for Treasure Hunt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Check out the new Treasure Hunt cover! We feel it better reflects the fun nature of this book! <br />
Grab a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Treasure-Hunt-ebook/dp/B008R3RA7S/" target="_blank">sample</a> and see for yourself!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrKZzCh8sWySRJGHOjEiA80LMTqf5WiB29Sif8i6ZQufAM6h3pFBZVSbxpD6kBnOXESoqMs6luLnu7kn1ZLHxh8LcwqowM4s9WANRnqibERe9bhTr2B9KtD9oNQ0N-2hGmFrorrvP3Sw/s320/cover_final.jpg" width="213" /></div><br />
</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-26110025444180758192012-08-14T14:18:00.000-07:002012-08-14T14:18:08.219-07:00Treasure Hunt 99 cents till September<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Maren and I have decided to leave Treasure Hunt at 99 cents for the entire month of August. In September the price will go to 2.99 so get your copy now!!</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-49299303554327964242012-07-31T18:58:00.000-07:002012-07-31T18:58:14.473-07:00Treasure Hunt is On Sale!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Treasure-Hunt-ebook/dp/B008R3RA7S/" target="_blank">Treasure Hunt</a> is now on sale. And for the first two weeks of August we will be selling it for 0.99 cents! So get your copy now. You can try a sample on Amazon, or just read the first two Chapters below. We have also enrolled Treasure Hunt in Prime so you can borrow for free if you are a prime member. <br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: helvetica, arial;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-88110152764953432102012-07-06T15:15:00.003-07:002012-07-06T15:15:25.202-07:00Another excerpt of Treasure Hunt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here is Chapter 1 of our soon to be released new book Treasure Hunt! If you missed the preview of the prologue click <a href="http://slpiercebooks.blogspot.com/2012/06/our-new-book-treasure-hunt-is-going-to.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chapter 1</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What is that? Do you hear that?”</span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It's a cell phone.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well I know that, but where is it coming from?” The two women sat quietly for a second, listening.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I think it's coming from the planter behind us.” Beth carefully leaned in and lifted the giant rubber tree leaf. There, in amongst the orange colored wood chips was a cell phone. And it showed no sign it was ever going to stop ringing.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A half hour earlier, Beth and Samantha had decided to grab some lunch at the food court but Sam insisted they sit somewhere less crowded, like China. They got lucky when a family vacated a lone bench sitting in front of the Lang Street Mall’s version of a tropical jungle. Samantha sashayed past two teenagers, beating them by seconds.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t you think that was a little rude,” Beth murmured under her breath as the teens walked off shooting them dirty looks. “I think they were waiting.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So what,” she sighed flopping herself down, relieved to finally be off her feet. “They’re young and healthy. They can stand. Besides, we’re the ones who actually spend money in this place.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Beth shook her head. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sam could justify anything, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">she thought.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They had just finished eating when the ringing started. Beth stared at the phone and wondered why whoever was calling didn’t give up and just leave a message.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Answer it," Samantha said.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Why?" She wasn’t sure she even wanted to touch it.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So we can return it.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Suddenly you’re a good Samaritan?” Beth questioned with a raised eyebrow.</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Samantha crossed her arms in defiance. “I don't know about you, but my whole life is on my phone. I can't just leave it here. And whoever is calling, it must be important. The phone hasn't stopped ringing since we heard the first call.”</span></b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<b id="internal-source-marker_0.27473728731274605" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Beth couldn’t argue with that logic. She reached into the planter and pulled out the phone.</span></b></div>
</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-83675753202912033222012-06-13T07:13:00.002-07:002012-08-15T12:51:06.471-07:00Sneak Peek of Treasure Hunt - Coming Soon!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Our new book, tentatively titled Treasure Hunt, is going to beta readers today! Just for fun I have decided to post the Prologue. Keep checking this site as I will add more chapters as we get closer to releasing! Thanks everyone and enjoy!<br />
Just a side note: Please read the prologue below and the first Chapter posted <a href="http://slpiercebooks.blogspot.com/2012/07/another-excerpt-of-treasure-hunt.html" target="_blank">here</a>. This book is not exactly what it seems from the prologue. In fact, Maren and I are having a little trouble placing it in a category. It is an adventure/mystery/chick lit style book.<br />
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rahim dropped his cigarette into the small metal toilet and pushed the button. Technically, flight attendants weren’t allowed to smoke, but since this private jet was filled with chain-smoking British officials, he knew no one would notice. Besides, he needed something to help calm his nerves. This was the most dangerous job yet.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One week earlier, Cadi had given him the instructions. Rahim had laughed in his face. “Cadi, I think you are trying to get rid of me.” But Cadi’s face was unchanged. He explained how Rahim was the only man alive that he trusted. And that the British diplomat, who had been so generous with his country’s weapons, was almost certainly double crossing them. “Who knows what he’s already revealed,” Cadi had said. “None of us are safe.” Rahim was never interested in politics or any of the crazy ideas Cadi was always ranting about. But he could never say no to Cadi, his boyhood friend. They were closer than brothers.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a nasty little concoction</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, he thought as he checked the spring-loaded syringe he had tucked up the sleeve of his stolen uniform. It was a potent dosage, not like the weaker version he used last time to blackmail the head of a rival organization. This one was for keeps.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Failed biotech drugs are all the rage these days,” Cadi had said when he saw the confused look from Rahim as he handed him the syringe.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Failed drugs?”</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, my friend. You see, they’re untraceable because they’re not out on the open market. No one knows about them. And with all the competition to be the first out with a new drug, the security at a bio-pharmaceutical is as tight as it gets. You’ve gotta love capitalism,” he chortled, not bothering to hide the disdain on his face. </span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rahim checked his watch. It was almost time. He left the tiny restroom and positioned himself at his designated post organizing trays in the galley, and waited for the signal.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Gentlemen,” Cadi’s voice boomed over the speakers causing Rahim to jump slightly. “Please take your seats and buckle yourselves in as we prepare for landing.”</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From the corner of his eye, Rahim could see his target down a cocktail and pull away from the table where he had been enjoying a lively conversation with several other colleagues. Two of the four security guards moved ahead toward the passenger seating area, the other two waiting to follow. As the target stood, Rahim casually walked toward him. As he walked, he pushed a button on a small device taped to the side of his thigh, signaling to Cadi that it was time for action. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve practiced this a hundred times,</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> he told himself as he worked to maintain a placid expression. When he was just inches from the diplomat, the plane suddenly shook violently and dropped a hundred feet. Rahim grabbed the man’s shoulder as if to help steady him. But with more violent jerking from the plane, both men tumbled to the floor.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In one quick move, the syringe fell from his sleeve and he administered the drug into the man’s thigh as he reached down to help him. The plane continued to gyrate for another thirty seconds before leveling off.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are you all right?” he asked discretely dropping the empty syringe into his front pocket. “Here, let’s take it slowly.” </span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m very sorry for the turbulence, gentlemen,” Cadi boomed over the loudspeaker. “All flight attendants please attend to the passengers.”</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m fine,” the diplomat said after righting himself. He rubbed his hip where the drug had been injected. “I think I might have pulled a muscle, though.”</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Let’s get you to your seat and I’ll bring you an ice pack,” he offered in a nurturing tone. The man smiled and thanked him but insisted he was fine, just fine.</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rahim smiled warmly and said, “I’m so grateful to hear that.”</span></b></div><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Three days later</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“British barrister and foreign diplomat, Ethan Toulson, has died from prostate cancer at the age of 53. The diagnosis came as a shock to his family and friends. According to his wife, Amelia Toulson, he had no symptoms and was a staunch believer in regular medical exams. The cancer spread so quickly, he had only a few hours to get his affairs in order before he passed away.</span></b></div><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"> </b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Here with us now is Dr. Westin Black, a specialist with the Prostate Cancer Research Center. Dr. Black, isn’t prostate cancer usually a slow process? What can you tell us about this particular case?”</span></b></div><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"> </b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The tests for screening prostate cancer are almost always accurate, but I’m afraid not one hundred percent. Rarely, as in this case, the tests can show a false negative— ”</span></b></div><div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><b id="internal-source-marker_0.3612097059376538" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rahim turned off the TV. Then he slept like a baby.</span></b></div></div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-50528358356688778252012-05-30T08:37:00.003-07:002012-05-30T08:37:39.439-07:00DEVIL'S GAME FREE THIS WEEKEND<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Devil's Game has joined KDP Select on Amazon and will be free this Saturday thru Monday!! Please pick up a copy and tell all your friends!!!</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-66619284871755557372012-05-28T13:16:00.000-07:002012-05-28T21:22:35.145-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GwRA1WkywMXROGyB4R2MNqVxcXtnK3-lY26-0U8VkwNpMW3gGqJqYf9coLRhMJ28zt8cuP083_I1SaiwpI8dM__uKkxvuYZEpe8uL0SN_vUL2EM6EMahyDJycwK5TFyWu6JIfF6vVN8/s1600/StarvedCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5GwRA1WkywMXROGyB4R2MNqVxcXtnK3-lY26-0U8VkwNpMW3gGqJqYf9coLRhMJ28zt8cuP083_I1SaiwpI8dM__uKkxvuYZEpe8uL0SN_vUL2EM6EMahyDJycwK5TFyWu6JIfF6vVN8/s320/StarvedCover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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I have published a book of my short stories/flash fiction from this blog. I have also enrolled it in the KDP Select program and will be offering it for free - hopefully by next weekend. I hope everyone will go get a copy, and spread the word! </div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-74982368713871012822012-05-21T17:56:00.000-07:002012-05-21T17:56:07.372-07:00The Devil's Game joining KDP Select<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My co-writer, Maren Kaye, and I have finally decided to give Amazon's KDP Select a try. It was not an easy decision as a third of our sales come from non-Amazon sites. Plus, I am a Nook user myself so I feel a little disloyal. However, we feel strongly that KDP Select will allow us to get The Devil's Game to many more readers by having a few free days and allowing Prime users to borrow! We expect to be added in the next week and I will post here and on twitter what days will be free!!</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-56458884000601360282012-02-23T11:11:00.002-08:002012-09-21T07:10:36.253-07:00Starved - Flash Fiction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thanks for the scraps, assholes! Astor thought. Don't they know who I am? </div>
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Of course they do. Why else would I be here?</div>
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Astor finished the bland chicken and rice, licking the glass plate clean, before throwing it on the floor.</div>
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“Push the plate through the slot or there will be no more food!” said a voice through the speaker. “You know the rules.”</div>
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“You call that food?” Astor mumbled while doing as she was told. </div>
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How long had she been here? Two days? Three? There was no real way to mark time, except through meals. There was a TV but it only broadcast old movies, one after another. No live news. No live anything. She didn't even know what day it was. They brought her here Monday. To this locked windowless room. Since then she'd been mostly just sleeping. What else was there to do, except read. </div>
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Yeah, right! Every time she tried right back to sleep she went. Probably a result of a lack of food. What they gave her didn't feel like enough to stay alive. But of course, it was. They didn't want her dead. Dead didn't get them anything.</div>
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How long? Thursday? Friday? Oh God...what if it was only Wednesday? She couldn't take this anymore.</div>
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“Let me out! I don't want to be here! Please!”</div>
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“You can go when we say.”</div>
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“No, please!”</div>
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“You know what to do, if you want us to let you go.”</div>
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“No!” she cried, staring at the entrance to the room next to hers. “I won't do it”. </div>
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“Suit yourself. Just remember, you did this to yourself.”</div>
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Astor flopped onto the bed, knowing it was true. She had done this to herself. Stupid, stupid, she thought as she cried herself to sleep. </div>
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Two weeks later:</div>
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“Astor, Astor, look over here!”</div>
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“Smile for us,” said a voice as the cameras flashed.</div>
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“Wow, you look amazing? How did you do it? Rumor was you were having trouble losing the weight from your last movie.”</div>
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“Exaggerations, obviously. I've always believed in eating right and exercise,” Astor smiled.</div>
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“Yeah, right,” her agent whispered.</div>
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She turned and glared at him, still flashing her million dollar smile for the paparazzi, “What do you care?”</div>
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“You could have been out of there a week sooner if you had just done a little exercise. Do you know how many promotions we missed?”</div>
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Astor shuddered thinking of the exercise room she never even entered. “You know I can't stand sweating.”</div>
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“Obviously. You could have saved twenty five grand if you had any self control!”</div>
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“It was worth every penny so shut up. It's not like it was your money anyway. The studio always pays.”</div>
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He just shrugged, knowing it wasn't the last time she would use the extreme Kidnapped program to lose weight. <br />
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Enjoy this? All my Flash Fiction together in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Starved-and-other-thrilling-shorts-ebook/dp/B0086WXO7U/" target="_blank">Starved</a>. Available at all ebook retailers.</div>
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S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-21906440418719571212012-02-21T14:12:00.000-08:002012-02-21T14:12:38.215-08:00A New Review of Secrets!<a href="http://vampirekiss1967.blogspot.com/2012/02/review-of-secrets.html?spref=bl">Eva's Sanctuary: Review of Secrets</a>: Secrets S.L. Pierce Sourcebooks Edition 2011 ISBN 9781466337841 Gwen Michaels moved to California two years ago to escape her past ...S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-75541541896501679752012-01-25T09:07:00.000-08:002012-01-26T09:32:43.064-08:00My Open Letter to Barnes and Noble<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Dear Barnes and Noble,<br />
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Why are you having trouble competing with Amazon? Oh, let me count the ways. But before I do, this is coming from the heart because I am a Nook User! I love my Nook but you are making it so hard to continue. So let's get started on the ways you are not competing. <br />
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1) Do you know what I get in my email, every day, from Amazon? A Kindle Daily Deal. That's right. Every Day. To. My. Email. A book for 0.99 to maybe 2.99, at the most. Do you know what I get from Barnes and Noble? An email that says Nook Deals $5 and under. But what is actually in the email? The latest $12.99 releases! Seriously? Is it even remotely possible you aren't aware of this difference?<br />
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2) I am a self-published author. Do you know how easy it is for me to share a link and a few words about my book on Amazon? With one click. That's right. One click and I can share with Twitter, Facebook, or email. Do you know how I have to share a B&N link? I have to copy and paste with two different windows open. Of course I advertise more on Amazon. And, in case you are dismissing me because I am an indie author, just do the math. Let's go with a conservative estimate of 10,000 authors selling one book a day at 0.99. That's nearly 1.5 million dollars a year. Chump change you say? Your the ones complaining about losing money. That's 1.5 million dollars of pure profit. Just for making a couple of adjustments to your web page. And, I really believe that is a conservative estimate. I mean, I sell modestly, but still 3 to 1 Amazon to B&N.<br />
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3) Message boards. You don't have any message boards on your site, at least that I've noticed. Do you think you are too high brow for message boards? Have you been on Amazon? Ever? People like them. We use them. Get some!<br />
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Added 1/26<br />
4) Oops - how could I forget that great Free list on Amazon? Right there - side by side with the paid bestsellers. Last time I checked B&N doesn't even have a Free list, let alone one that is with the paid bestsellers. No you don't make money from the free books but readers come to your site, they try a free book, then come back and buy from that author. How do you not get that?<br />
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I'm sorry to say B&N, but it feels like you are just barely trying to be in the e-book business. Now you might be separating your Nook and B&N businesses! Have you lost your minds? The future is e-books. Denying it doesn't make it less true. So don't make me regret the $249 I spend last year on a Nook. Don't force me to switch back to Kindle (not that I have anything against Kindle, I just don't want to lay out another $200). Get in the game!! Hire some people with foresight, with vision! Stop fighting change. It's coming and you will be left behind simply because you don't like it. </div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-43126860375866457502012-01-07T10:55:00.000-08:002012-09-21T07:14:46.489-07:00Haunted - Flash Fiction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white;">“...so I said why don't you just get a job!” Jodie laughed, her tightly pulled face forming a grimace instead of a smile. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Bob squeezed Mary's hand under the table as she took a another drink of wine. At this rate they would need another bottle for the main course.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“So, were you there when this homeless person asked for a handout?” Mary asked Tom, before taking another sip.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Oh yeah. What is wrong with these people? Always looking for a handout! I mean, they're just lazy, or drug addicts. Right Bob?” Tom said, looking at Bob across the dinner table. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Bob just smiled, stuffing some salad in his mouth. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Have you been to that new restaurant, Timer?” Mary said, trying to change the subject.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“No, but I've heard dreadful things...waiters with piercings and long hair, and the..what...what was that?” Jodie asked, looking over Mary's shoulder.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“What?” Mary said, turning to look behind her.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“That glass...on the counter, it just...just moved.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Oh Jodie, stop it,” Tom said to his wife. “Ever since she started watching Ghost Hunters she sees things everywhere. That show terrifies her, but she never misses an episode.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“I saw that glass move!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Jodie-”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“You mean,” Mary said, looking at her husband, “Tom didn't tell you?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Tell me what?” Jodie said.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Mary leaned in and whispered, “This house is haunted.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“What!” Jodie gasped, dropping her fork onto her plate.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Mary, don't,” Bob said.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“I can't believe you didn't tell them,” Mary said. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Ignoring Bob, she turned to Jodie and Tom, “There was a family that lived here thirty years ago. A woman with two children. Her ex was a violent con man and he'd been in jail for a year. But, he had hidden some money in this house and when he got out, he wanted it back. She, of course, didn't believe him and wouldn't let him. Well, he just went crazy! Smashed in the window, killed her and the kids.” Mary paused. “You really never heard about this?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Tom and Jodie shook their heads.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Anyway, they say their ghosts still haunt this place, seeking vengeance for their deaths.” Mary leaned back, taking another sip from her glass. “It's all nonsense, of course. Ghosts and what not. Ridiculous!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“That's not what you said the other night.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Oh Bob! They don't care about that stuff!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“What? What stuff? Tell me!” Jodie demanded.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“It's silly...but...” Mary glanced around the room as if making sure it was really empty before returning her gaze to Jodie. “A noise woke me, in the middle of the night. It was coming from the hallway bathroom.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“The one here, that I just used?” Jodie whispered.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“Yes. I thought it was the faucet dripping, or maybe the toilet running, so I went down to check. But when I turned on the light, the noise stopped.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“That's it?” Tom laughed, his protruding belly bumping the table with each breath.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Mary leaned in again, “When I looked in the mirror I saw a woman, instead of my own reflection.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">The color drained from Jodie's face. “That's..that's...terrible!” she said.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">“The mother was killed in that bathroom,” Bob said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“Oh stop it, Bob,” Mary said, throwing her napkin at him. “It was just a trick of the light and a lack of sleep. That's all. There's no such thing as ghosts.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“But there are! You two must move. A haunting is not something to take ligh- what was that?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">Above them, a faint sound could be heard. “Mamma, Mamma.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“Who knows. This house is old. There's always a noise somewhere,” Bob said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“But it's a voice,” Jodie said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“So you hear it too?” Mary said. “Bob can't hear it.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">Bob shrugged.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“They said the girl, the daughter, was found holding her favorite toy; a talking baby doll.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“That's it,” Jodie said, standing and throwing the napkin on her plate. “We're leaving.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“But we haven't even finished the salad yet,” Tom complained.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“I am not spending another minute in this house. And,” Jodie said, turning back to Mary and Bob, “you two need to hire an exorcist or something. We're not coming back here until you do!”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“But...you don't have to come here. We can meet for dinner,” Mary said.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“No. No way! You're tainted with the spirits until...until they are put to rest. I suppose I can't stop you and Tom from seeing each other, Bob, considering Tom's your boss, but...just...stay away as much as you can! Tom,” she said, turning to face him, “now! Let's go.” </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">Mary and Bob watched through the front window as Jodie and Tom's car peeled out of the driveway and down the street.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“You,” Bob said, “are a genius.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“Now, now. You deserve some of the credit. If you hadn't overheard Bob telling someone how scared of ghosts Jodie had become since she started watching Ghost Hunters I would never of thought of this.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“Are you disappointed you didn't get to use the hologram mirror or the faucet of blood?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“A little,” Mary smiled.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“I think we should have a toast to never having to share another dinner with those insufferable snobs.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: white;">“I'll drink to that,” Mary laughed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">If you liked this story, check out <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Starved-and-other-thrilling-shorts-ebook/dp/B0086WXO7U/" target="_blank">Starved</a>, a book of my flash fiction. Available at all ebook retailers. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
</div>
S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-58121581013843789382011-12-31T12:26:00.000-08:002011-12-31T12:26:45.097-08:00Happy New Year?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Why do I make New Year's resolutions? I always do, and I never keep them. Never. Then I feel bad about not accomplishing my goals. Even simple ones. Mine are the same as everyone else's, I suspect. Eat better, exercise more, be more patient with my kids, finish that project, book, ...fill in the blank. But I never do. Not for more than a couple of weeks. So why do I keep making them? Some small , optimistic part of me buried under all the cynicism? And if I don't make any resolutions this year does that mean I have lost all hope? That this is the best I can do? <br />
Is the real reason I don't keep them because I don't believe I will? A self fulfilling downward spiral? Is that just a personality flaw or human nature? <br />
<br />
I wish I had some nice happy wrap up to this post, but I don't. What I would like to know is if any of you actually kept your resolutions last year? And if so, how? <br />
<br />
That being said, if I were going to make resolutions, I would actually only make one:<br />
<br />
Be More Disciplined. It would solve all my 'issues' - eating, exercising, writing, keeping up the house, keeping up with email, interviews, review requests...<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-47163551545689964402011-12-05T09:18:00.000-08:002011-12-05T09:18:02.614-08:00The Devil's Game Featured Today!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The Devil's Game is featured today on<a href="http://cheapkindledaily.wordpress.com/2011/12/05/todays-featured-read-19/#comments" target="_blank"> The Cheap Kindle Daily</a> - please go check it out - leave a comment!</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-51244831614868981272011-12-02T16:15:00.000-08:002011-12-02T16:15:05.579-08:00A look inside Rachel Pendelton's Head!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Ever want to get inside Rachel Pendelton's head (lead character of The Devil's Game)? Stop by <a href="http://stacyeatonauthor.blogspot.com/2011/12/rachel-pendleton-is-star-of-devils-game_02.html" target="_blank">here</a> and read the character interview.</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-46983900064974587662011-11-20T08:14:00.000-08:002012-01-21T13:14:14.812-08:00Sample Sunday November 20<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>This is a sample of Manhunt, the first of two short stories in The Hate:</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></span></span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><b>1</b></span></span></span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Right now there is a massive manhunt for me. There’s almost no chance I will be found, but just in case, I need to set the record straight. I know you think you know what happened. I mean, it has been all over the news for days. The country in mourning, shocking act of violence, and on and on. But you only know what they told you. But once I tell you everything, tell you the truth, you’ll be thanking me. I’ll be a goddamn hero. Not that anyone will admit it. Doesn’t matter though. I’ll be long gone. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So like any good story, I have to start at the beginning. I know you’d prefer me to just cut to the chase. But there are some things you need to know first. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bear with me, you’ll be glad you did. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><b>2</b></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">First, you should know some things about me.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I hate people. I hate small talk. Trying to find something to talk about with a bunch of strangers I’ll never see again. No thanks. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I like being alone. I’m happy alone. I don’t want to be married and pop out a couple of whiny, germ filled kids. I don’t want anyone around telling me what to do or making me feel bad about what I am doing; i.e. a husband or boyfriend. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If I want to stay up till three in the morning eating double stuff Oreos while watching St. Elmo’s Fire then that’s what I goddamn well am going to do. If I want to lay in bed till noon or not shower for a couple of days, well, you get the idea. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If I feel the need for some companionship i.e. sex, I go pick up a guy at a bar. It’s pretty easy because, in all modesty, I’m hot. Not just attractive. An actual stone cold fox, at least to enough of the population to matter. I can say that because I had nothing to do with it. All genetics. All big blue eyes, full lips, blond, tall, and lean. So sex, no problem. And since I don’t really like people or small talk, I pretty much scope out the bar for an attractive unattached guy and ask if he wants to go to my place. I’ve never been turned down. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No one spends the night. Last thing I need in the morning is some smelly guy with bad breath bothering me for something I had plenty of the night before. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Also, I’m filthy rich. I hadn’t planned on ever working for a living, but who knew I’d find something I enjoy so much. What do I do? I kill people. For money. I know what you’re thinking, but who gives a shit. Not me, that’s for sure. If it makes you feel any better I don’t kill kids, no spouses just because a divorce will cost too much (selfish bastards), but other people. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">It’s not hard, partly because of my looks. I can get into a lot of places with no questions asked. And partly because I’m ahead of the curve on intelligence. Not a genius, but pretty damn smart.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maybe it goes without saying that I don’t have any friends, but I’ll say it anyway. I don’t have any friends. And I don’t mean I don’t have any close friends. I don’t have any. I think it’s because I’m rich and beautiful and that intimidates people. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Or, it’s because I’m a bitch. I don’t care about people’s petty problems, I don’t take shit from anyone, and I don’t tell people what they want to hear. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">So, why am I telling you all of this and why do you care? Because, I just killed the President of the United States.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">The Hate is available from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Hate-ebook/dp/B004O6MVAS/" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-hate-sl-pierce/1030183843" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a>, and <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/43781" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> for FREE</span></span></span></div></div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-81768262511230090982011-11-12T20:52:00.000-08:002011-11-12T20:52:55.592-08:00Sample Sunday November 13<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Secrets excerpt:</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 0.5in;"> <span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Chapter 5</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I went to the bedroom got a backpack from the closet and threw in enough stuff for a couple of days. Jack and I couldn’t stay here and, these days, even the crappiest hotels required ID and money. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I lay on the floor, stomach down, parallel to my side of the bed, reached under my nightstand, and pressed a hidden release button. The decorative piece on the front popped out and I pulled open the hidden drawer. Of course Jack didn’t know about this. I’d hoped I would never need it. I removed a bundle of cash, some fake ID’s and credit cards, and a small black zippered case. There was also an untraceable gun, but why use it when I had the killers? I put everything back the way it was and returned to the kitchen.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I could see he was in a different position then when I left him. And the knife was teetering on the edge of the counter. God, what a stupid mistake. I was out of practice. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Oh, so close. It must be killing you that you almost had that knife,” I said, squatting down next to him.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">You got your information. Just give me the knife,” he said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Why would I do that?” I asked smiling. “So you can come back and finish the job?” </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I wonder what his last thought was before I shot him between the eyes. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 0.5in;"> <span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Chapter 6</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The hard part of killing someone? No, it's not the actual killing. It's the cleanup. What a mess. Cleanup had never been part of my job, but now there was no choice. Luckily the rug had soaked up most of the blood and mess. He rolled up nicely in it. Like a pig in a blanket. Just a little blood on the floor, and on my clothes.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The sound of the doorbell startled me. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Startled by a doorbell? Man, I was out of practice. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">What now? </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Careful not to be seen by anyone who might be looking in the glass surrounding the door, I went into the second bedroom and looked out the window. In front of the house was a black and white cop car. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Shit,” I whispered. The doorbell rang again. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Just a minute.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I ran to the kitchen and looked around. Blood on the floor and a dead body rolled up in a rug. No way to talk myself out of this one. But I had an idea. I stripped off my clothes and piled them on the rug. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I ran to the door and opened it a crack, just enough for them to see I was naked. “Yes?”</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">These two guys were good. They didn’t show any reaction, though the short one was suddenly very interested in something on his fingernail. “Sorry to bother you Ma’am, we had a call about possible shots fired. Can we come in?”</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Shots?” The surprise was real. Someone heard that and called the police. This was a better neighborhood than I thought. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Oh, uh, sure. Could you just give me a second to grab some clothes? I had a little accident in the kitchen.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sure,” the tall one nodded.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I closed the door and ran down the hall. Lucky for me Jack cared about the decor of the house and had a runner in the breakfast nook that matched the kitchen rug. I rolled the runner up tight and stuffed it into the end of the rug that was facing out. It wasn’t perfect, but on quick inspection, it would look like a large rolled up rug. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a jar of jelly. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Grape! And a plastic bottle. Why didn't I like strawberry? This is really not my day. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I dumped the jelly over the blood on the floor and smeared it around a little. I took a clear glass from the shelf, wrapped it in a towel, and tapped it with a rolling pin, then sprinkled the pieces around the jelly and the open end of the rug. After grabbing my bathrobe from the laundry room I returned to the door. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Come on in,” I smiled. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">What’s your name, miss?” The tall one asked as they entered.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gwen. Gwen Michaels.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Did you hear any shots, Ms. Michaels?” </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">No, I’m afraid not. I haven’t been home very long though,” I said, walking down the hall. They followed. “Just long enough to drop the jelly,” I laughed.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Anyone else here?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">No, my husband's not home yet,” I said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Just you and your husband live here? No one staying with you?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">No, just us.” Shit. I saw some drops of blood in the hall. How did I miss that? </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Oh crap,” I said grabbing my finger then a towel from the counter. I find people like it less, subconsciously or not, when women swear. I don’t typically clean up my language for anyone, but I did have a dead body on the floor. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">What?” they both had their hands on their guns. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I wrapped the towel around my hand. “I must’ve cut my finger on the glass,” I said pointing to the drops of blood in the hall. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">They looked, but weren’t very interested. “Mind if we look around?” the tall one again.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Not at all.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">To their credit, they didn’t leave me alone. For all they knew I was a crazy lady with a gun. The short one stayed in the kitchen with me while I rinsed imaginary blood from my hand, while the tall one took his time looking around the living room. When he was done he nodded to the short one and he went to check out the bedrooms. They weren’t casual and they weren’t talking, so neither did I. Forcing small talk is a great way to say something stupid. Something that would make them suspicious. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Then again, wouldn’t a normal person express some curiosity? Wouldn’t they try to get some more information out of the cops? I wasn’t sure so I stayed quiet. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sorry to have bothered you,” the short one finally said when they finished looking around. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">No problem. Better safe then sorry, I always say.” God, could I sound like a bigger idiot? “Could you lock the door behind you?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I tiptoed to the window in the bedroom and peeked out. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">After they drove away, I double checked the door lock and breathed a sigh of relief. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Secrets is available on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Secrets-ebook/dp/B004TNHPZ2/" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Secrets/SL-Pierce/e/2940012342874" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a>, and <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/49275" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-45282763595634249602011-11-06T08:13:00.000-08:002011-12-04T08:05:07.227-08:00Sample Sunday The Devil's Game<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none;"><b style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">CHAPTER 1</span></b></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I found another one.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s hardly a surprise that you would find something you spend your days looking for,” Dr. Gloria Pike said, setting down her pen and leaning back in her chair. They had been through this before.</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don’t.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Let’s not pretend. Aren’t we past this?”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Patient X didn’t answer, and Dr. Pike knew there would be no more talking until she apologized. </span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sorry, please continue.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was a man and woman. Too old to be students. Maybe training. Maybe working on a project. Anyway, it was clear she was the boss, and he was in love with her.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What made you think that?”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was so obvious. The way he kept looking at her. Hanging on every word. His eyes all over her face. Desperate and waiting for something, some sign. Even when he was laughing, moving closer, it was there. He wanted her so much.” The patient paused, staring out the window. “His eyes were blue. So blue.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And her? In love with him?”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">No. Definitely no. It was like a sad little dance. He would move in; she would move away. She never touched him. Even when he gave her many openings.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How did you feel, watching them?”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">The patient paused as if the answer required thought. “Excited.”</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why?”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You know why.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yes, I do. Do you?”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">No answer.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What did you do?” Dr. Pike asked.</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What I always do. I followed them.”</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-before: always; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><b>CHAPTER 2</b></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And the Academy Award for the best animated short film produced by a hungry grad student goes to…” Rachel could hear her heart rushing through her ears. This was it; it had to be. She was the only hungry grad student nominated this year. This was her best film. All her hard work was about to pay off in spades. But why was it taking so long to open the envelope? Wait, why is Gwyneth Paltrow making out with Billy Crystal? Open the envelope! Open the damn envelope! </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The sound of Billy and Gwyneth giggling into the microphone was slowly replaced by the low hum of an alarm clock. Rachel swore several profanities as her hand slapped at the snooze button in an attempt to put an end to the irritating sound. </span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coffee,” she said out loud to her empty room. She decided to bypass her usual morning routine of fresh fruit and yoga in light of her heartbreaking loss. Especially since it was probably the only award nomination she would ever get, awake or asleep. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As she sat at her desk/art space/kitchen table savoring her heavenly cup-of-joe, her day slowly began to jell inside her brain. Today was Tuesday, which meant video production and calculus. One she loved, the other she loathed. It was heaven and hell in the span of four hours. This was her third attempt at advanced calculus, and without it, there was little hope of getting a full-time position at Mad Media Animation Studio. She was determined to get a “real job” before she turned twenty five, if for no other reason then to hold her head a little higher when her dad asked her if she needed a little extra cash, you know, to help pay for those two “artsy-type” degrees she got. </span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">If it weren’t for Justin, there would be no hope at all. He had come to her rescue in the second week of the class, sensing her utter panic. He was incredibly gifted at translating calculus. He was also incredibly gifted at annoying her. It was so strange the way he stumbled over every word when he was talking about nothing. But open up a math book and he transformed into a loquacious chatter-box.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Speak of the devil,” she said when she heard Sonny and Cher sing out “I got you babe” from her cell phone. Justin’s ringtone was her private joke. It referred to the movie </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Groundhog Day</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> and Bill Murray’s reaction at hearing it every morning at the same time. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and punched the little green button.</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hey, Justin, you’re up early.” She could hear his thick nasal breathing on the other end. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I just wanted…um.. Hi Rachel,” he said in his usual disjointed manner. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hi, Justin,” she said. “You wanted to ask me something?” she prompted when he didn’t respond. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah, I…how are you…I mean are you ready for the test?” </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">Rachel knew she was dipping her toe in dangerous waters with Justin. He was obviously not tutoring her for the fifteen dollars she made him take each time. And he wasn’t the type to come right out and ask her for a date so that she could politely refuse him and they could move past it. Oh, no. He just kept the possibility of it dangling out there like a smelly gym sock she was constantly having to politely side-step.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I’ve been completely honest!</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> she told herself over and over. But deep down she knew it was going to end badly. It was going to end badly because as annoying as he was, he had a heart of pure gold. He loved kids and dogs. He was finishing some kind of new teaching program designed for inner-city school kids. He was funny sometimes, though not usually on purpose. And under all that God-awful geekines, he was actually kind of cute.</span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Don’t go there, Rachel</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">, she told herself. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yep, I’m good, Justin. But thanks for calling,” she said in an</span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> I’m going to hang up now </i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">kind of way. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do you eat? I mean have you…or are you going to eat breakfast…do you want to meet… for coffee?” By the time he had gotten that all out, Rachel had finished her cup and was working on a second. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Is something on your mind, Justin?” </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Be direct, be honest.</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah… well…I mean no…not really.” </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, I’m glad everything’s okay. I’ve got to get going; tons stuff I’m way behind on. But I’ll see you later at class, okay?” </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yeah, okay,” he stammered. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">She ended the call not waiting for his reply. She took a deep breath as she felt the caffeine pumping through her veins, accelerating her heartbeat. She walked over to the huge living room window and looked out onto the busy metropolitan street she lived on. It was a gorgeous spring day, perfect for a jog. She knew that her calculus class always went better when she’d had a good workout before hand. It helped keep her calm and focused. Not to mention the fact that she’d wimped out on her yoga this morning. If only she could muster up some motivation. Maybe a jog to the Steam Punk Café for some iced Chai. Yes, that would do it. There had to be a reward in there somewhere or she’d never make it out the door.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh crap!” she said out loud. Justin. He loved the Steam Punk. As a matter of fact, he was the one who dragged her in there for her very first cup of iced Chai. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I don’t drink weed water,” she had politely explained under her breath as they stood in line. </span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just trust me,” he had said to her with an ear-to-ear grin. Since there wasn’t much else on the menu that was fit for human consumption, she let him order – and pay. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here, try this,” he said, his puppy-dog face bright with anticipation. God, he could be so annoying! </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The taste was unlike anything she had experienced. The exotic spices were smooth, sweet, and spicy all at the same time. And after a four-mile jog, there was nothing more refreshing. She gave a heavy sigh as she imagined the sweet luscious taste. </span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">“</span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Screw Justin!” she said. “I have every right to do whatever the hell I want!” And, of course she could always pretend she was happy to see him. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border: none; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She began her usual pulling of dirty clothes from the hamper in search of some decent sweat pants and matching gym socks. As she was rummaging, she noticed a pungent order coming from something in her hand. It was a pair of underwear and a bra that smelled bitter and musty, but strangely familiar. She tried to remember the last time she had been out bar hopping. It had to have been at least three weeks. </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Note to self</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">, she thought, </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>tomorrow is laundry day</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. </span></span></span> </span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">As she was closing the door on her way out, she felt hot breath on her neck right before a strong hand grabbed her shoulder.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-size: small;">The Devils Game is available for 99 cents from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Devils-Game-ebook/dp/B0058UFEO4/" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-devils-game-sl-pierce/1104093994" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a>, and <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/70236" target="_blank">Smashwords</a>.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div></div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-46487478784328327062011-10-31T18:09:00.000-07:002011-10-31T18:09:18.542-07:00The Fortune Teller and Writer's Block<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have been tweeting a little bit about my serious case of writer's block. I can usually come up with several ideas for short stories and flash fiction but for the last three weeks, nothing. NOTHING!!! So, here is what I am going to do. Below is what I had hoped would be a fun flash fiction story. What I propose is you read it and give me suggestions on the ending. If I use your idea, I'll gift you a copy of one of my books (your choice). Or you can feel free to just leave a comment on the story, or writer's block in general. <br />
Thanks for playing!<br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">The Fortune Teller</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“C'mon, it'll be fun,” Beth said, tugging her best friend, Audreys' arm.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“A fortune teller? Really?” Audrey said.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Sure. I did it last year and everything she said came true.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“First, no one can see the future. They use your responses to figure you out. Second, even if she was really good it's unlikely to be the same woman. This is the carnival. They probably pick up whoever they can along the way. In fact they probably just rotate out the jobs. She gave you a fortune one day, then was working the ring toss game the next.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“No. The lady selling tickets heard me telling Robert I wanted to go to the fortune teller and she said their lady is the real thing. She's been with them ten years. When people find out she's coming they line up to see her.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Whatever,” Audrey smiled.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well, we're going. You need some fortune telling.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“It sure couldn't hurt,” Audrey said. Her business was failing and she had some big decisions to make. Not that she would listen to a stranger, but still, it could take her mind off her troubles for a little while. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">To Audrey's surprise there was actually a line to see the fortune teller. She had no desire to wait, considering it was hot and crowded but Beth bought them some soda's and let her use her smart phone to play on the internet so she agreed. It's not as if she had anything better to do anyway.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Thirty minutes later they entered the fortune tellers tent. It was really small and dark, with just a little round table surrounded by three chairs. The only light came from a round clear ball on the center of the table. The ball wasn't in any holder and Audrey wondered what kept it from rolling off the table. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Sitting in the chair opposite the entrance was a small woman dressed in a black caftan dress. Her hair was black and long with streaks of gray, but it was her eyes that kept Audrey from moving forward. They were black and cold and seemed to pierce through Audrey.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Don't worry,” the fortune teller said, smiling. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Beth took Audrey's hand and pulled her to the empty seats. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“It's your fortune you want told then,” the woman said to Audrey. It wasn't a question. She laid her right hand on the table, palm up, and indicated Audrey should take a hold. Beth nudged her and she grasped hands with the woman. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Ah,” she said looking into the crystal ball. “You're business is failing and you are thinking of closing it.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Audrey pulled her hand back. “How...how could you know that?”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“It's what you paid for, isn't it? For me to see things.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“But, it's impossible!” She looked at Beth. “You told her. You came here earlier and told her.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I didn't!” Beth said.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“My dear, I have people waiting. Do you want your fortune read or not. It doesn't matter if you believe it.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Audrey looked at the woman, then back at Beth. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“C'mon Audrey. It's harmless.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Audrey reached out and took the woman's hand again.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You need to keep your business going,” she continued, looking back into the crystal ball. “If you can just hang on a few more months, everything will turn around.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Audrey thought of the big contract she had been waiting on. She was sure it had fallen through and they had gone with someone else but what if...</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“And, oh, how nice. You will meet the love of your life in the next twenty four hours.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">This time Audrey smiled as she pulled her hand back and stood up.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Thanks anyway miss, but now I know you're a fraud.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, and why is that?”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Because I am already married.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><br />
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</div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-701527944511633741.post-81365541840648132872011-10-01T22:12:00.000-07:002011-10-05T07:22:02.141-07:00Sample Sunday October 2 Love Thy Neighbor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Today's sample is part of a fun Halloween short.<br />
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<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Katy Ross and Missy North</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">present</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The 2011 Halloween Costume Party</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The Most Killer Party of the Year</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">October 31</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">8493 Silver Dollar Lane</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">8p.m.</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">No children allowed</span></div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">You will come, won't you JoAnn?” asked Katy, JoAnn's neighbor. JoAnn looked at Katy and was reminded again of that woman in those 70’s Vidal Sassoon commercials. The tall, lean woman with the long silky black hair. The hair JoAnn had always dreamed of having instead of her own stringy blond. On top of that Katy’s skin was so perfect it seemed unreal. JoAnn really wanted to ask what kind of makeup she used but was afraid the response would be none. And it just wasn't fair to be so effortlessly perfect.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes, you will, right?” said Missy, JoAnn's deceivingly southern belle-like other neighbor. Missy was, well, Missy. Physically she was easy to describe, of course. She was quite petite, not an inch over five feet and not a pound over one hundred, with waves of thick brown hair and large hazel eyes. But to describe her personality, that was difficult. At first, she seemed the picture of a southern lady, all soft spoken and sweet. But two weeks ago JoAnn heard her tell Sam, who lives around the corner, that if his dog poops on her yard one more time, she would cut him. And from the way he scrambled off, he seemed to believe her. Maybe it was just because she was holding a freshly sharpened pair of yard trimmers, or maybe it was because she just seemed quite serious. There was no doubt she knew how to use garden tools, pruning away at the bushes like they had offended her by daring to grow out of sync. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">No, there was definitely something more to Missy, thought JoAnn.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">We are so sorry for the late notice but, we forgot you didn't live here when the invitations were mailed.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">But I've lived here for two months. How early do these invitations go out?” JoAnn asked. JoAnn and Jay had barely opened the first box when Missy and Katy had showed up at their door. Katy lived to the right and Missy to the left. They brought a basket of treats, asked a few general questions, then left with a promise of getting together when they were more settled. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After watching them walking back and forth between their respective homes nearly every day JoAnn bit the bullet and invited them over. But after that morning of coffee and gossip they'd hardly spoken to her, despite JoAnn's attempts to get together. She'd replayed the conversation in her head for weeks, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I mean sure, it was painfully obvious they didn't have much in common; Katy ground her own flour for goodness sake! Who did that? But JoAnn was a live and let live kind of person. They were neighbor's after all. They should be looking out for each other.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is the party of the year! We send these invitations out four months ahead of time.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Though it's hardly necessary. No one would miss one of our parties,” Missy said, laughing. Katy put her arm around her and they laughed together.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">You don't have plans, do you?” Katy asked.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nothing you can't change, anyway, right? I mean this is </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>the</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> neighborhood party. You can't miss </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>the</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> neighborhood party!”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">No. No, we don't have any plans. I just...it's going to be hard to come up with a costume on such short notice. I mean, today is Halloween.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh, you can come up with something. I'm sure it will be fine,” Katy said, patting JoAnn's hand.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, we have to go. Lots of preparing to do. See you tonight.” And off they went, arm in arm, not an easy feat considering the height difference.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">********************</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Look at this,” JoAnn said, handing Jay the invitation. “Katy and Missy caught me outside. They apologized for the late notice. Said we weren't here when the invitations were mailed.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Weren't here? Well, how early did they send the invitations?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Four months. It's the party of the year,” JoAnn said in a poor imitation of Missy's light southern accent.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Jay laughed. “Sounds like a big deal.” He looked right at her. “Sounds just like what you've been waiting for.”</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes, it does,” Jo Ann smiled. “I am surprised though. They’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since we had coffee that morning.”</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ever figure out what that was about?” Jay said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nope,” JoAnn said shrugging.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, what does it matter anyway? They're a little...”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Little what?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Intense if you ask me. I was out washing the car the other day and they both came up asking me all kinds of questions.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Questions?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yeah, like how did I like the neighborhood? Was my job working out? Did I think we would be staying here very long?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">JoAnn laughed. “They're just trying to make small talk.”</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">It wasn't the questions. It was their tone. I don't know. They’re just...”</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Intimidating? Yeah, they come on pretty strong. The only time Katy speaks to me is to give me recipes, even though I told her I don't like to cook. And Missy gave me the name of her yard guy.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">So?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Three times.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh. Maybe she's forgetful.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, at least they invited us. This will give us a better chance to all get acquainted. But what about costumes? The party's tonight. Oh, I'll bring some of those TGIF appetizers. You know, they sell them in the frozen section now.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">********************</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">JoAnn, what an interesting costume,” Missy said. “Katy! Katy! Come over here.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Despite the crowd, Katy had no trouble hearing Missy and came right over. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, isn't that...interesting,” Katy said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">That's just what I thought,” Missy said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I just threw it together,” JoAnn said, laughing.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes, I see. Now what are you exactly?” Missy asked, giving JoAnn the once over.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm Jay. See the pocket protector, the glasses. I mean, I'm not really Jay, but an exaggeration. You know, the stereotypical computer geek. Though what does it say that he had all this stuff just laying around?” JoAnn laughed again.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Katy and Missy exchanged a look.</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, wow, you guys look amazing,” JoAnn said. “Where did you find such elaborate costumes?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">They were both wearing witch costumes. Not like the bad witch in the Wizard of Oz either. No, No. These were a fabulous display of black velvet lined with silk, red for Katy and purple for Missy; tall pointed hats with delicate lace draped down to their shoulders. And makeup that only enhanced their natural beauty; no green face with strategically placed warts for them. </span> </span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Find?” Katy said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">We made them, of course. Like we do every year,” Missy said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sounds like a lot of work. You know the price has come way down on costumes lately. You can pick them up for like twenty bucks now. Plastic, easy to clean.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Twenty...” Katy said. Missy grabbed her hand and squeezed. They did that a lot. “Yes, yes. But we enjoy the process. Now where is Jay?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">He’s coming,” JoAnn said looking back toward the door. “Oh, there he is.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Where is his costume?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">He’s dressed as Jay also,” JoAnn said laughing. “Sorry, costumes just aren’t his thing.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Not his thing!” Katy said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">And what are these?” Missy said quickly, changing the subject again.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh,” JoAnn said holding out the tray she'd brought, “they are those little TGIF quesadillas. Have you seen them before? In the freezer section. I just love them. Friday dinner has never been so easy, huh!”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh my God-”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">You didn't have to do that JoAnn,” Missy said, cutting Katy off mid sentence, “we have all the food taken care of already.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh, it was no trouble. Really,” JoAnn said holding out the tray. “I know you guys make food all the time, what with an organic food business. You know I didn't realize you two were the owner's of Cassie's All Natural Pies until just two weeks ago.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, thank you. I'll just put it over here,” Missy said taking the tray and placing it in the butler's pantry.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">How about a drink?” Katy said.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The adult magic words,” JoAnn said. “I’d love one.” She took the skeleton hand cup from Katy and tried a sip.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Mmm what is this? Kool-Aid and vodka? No, tequila?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Katy choked on her drink. “Are you making a joke? This is a blackberry thyme margarita. The thyme is from my garden and I hand crush the blackberries. It’s all natural.”</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well it's good,” JoAnn said, taking another drink. “Maybe a little sugar would sweeten it up a bit. Oh, I see Eliza's here. I'm going to go say hello.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kool-Aid...really...” JoAnn heard Katy say under her breath to Missy.</span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't worry. It will all be over soon,” Missy replied softly.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">********************</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-after: auto; page-break-before: auto; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You can find the rest of this fun story for free on <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92668">Smashwords</a></span></div></div>S.L. Piercehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12283709376725206628noreply@blogger.com5