Merry Christmas from
my house to yours!
May your home be
filled with love, joy and peace as we celebrate the real reason behind the
holiday.
EXCERPTWASHINGTON, DCJanuary 232:28PM ESTIN THE CROSSHAIRS OF THE SNIPER’S SCOPE the target shifted in and out of view. The motorcade drifted down Pennsylvania Avenue, Secret Service agents flanking its side, while Vice President Phillip Marsden and his wife Gwen waved to the cheering crowd on either side of the street behind the cold 16-gauge steel tubing of the barricades.Neither of them was the target.The sniper swung his scope back to the west, where the glare of the sun blinded him momentarily. He grunted, blinked and reestablished his view. The cold January wind bit at his bare fingers as he felt the trigger and anticipated the diversionary strike his partner would unleash half a block away.Tuning out the trumpet strains of marching bands, the steady drum beats, and the crowd’s applause, he initiated a silent countdown just as Jennifer Bradley, the nation’s newly re-elected president strode past the designated spot.…four…three…two…one…
This kiss. Oh, this heavenly kiss. Veronica patted herself on the back for pushing aside her first instinct to remove Jim’s hands from her waist in a public place. The way he’d whispered “sexy” drove a warm blast straight to the core of her belly.This time when they kissed, his mouth molded perfectly to hers, not his usual awkward preamble. He was strong and demanding, yet not too pushy. His relaxed lips lulled her into a quick surrender, a surrender she strangely didn’t mind at all.His hand slipped to the back of her head, and she sighed into his mouth, wishing this kiss would never end. Slowly and surely, however, he pulled away, but she kept her eyes closed, clinging to the sensation a few seconds longer as his breath landed near her ear.“God, baby,” he said, low and husky. “I can’t wait to get out of here with you later.”Not. Jim’s. Voice.Her eyes flashed open. She slapped her palms to the stranger’s chest, pushed him away. “What the hell!”He stumbled back a few steps, his mouth agape and brows furrowed. “You’re not Angie.”“Well, you’re not Jim! How dare you touch—”“Calm down. I thought you were my date.” He blinked a few times. “Hey, I know you. From—”“The elevator.” Her head spun as she stared into his crystal blue eyes. His gaze swept her from head to toe, making his dark lashes flutter. “Thank God you kept your lips to yourself then.”“Don’t be ridiculous.” His smiled dropped. “I’d never do that to a stranger.” With a slight cock of his head, a grin creased his cheeks and he lowered his voice. “Although I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed what just happened.”Her face burned, as if set on fire. “How dare you suggest that I—”“Hey! You guys are early.” Sophie entered the bar area, Duncan in tow.Veronica tried to speak but found herself more flabbergasted when Sophie walked right up to Hotlips and they hugged. “Hi, Trent.”Veronica pinched herself in a bid to wake from this surreal dream. Before she could gather her bearings, Duncan surrounded her in one of his big bear hugs. “Ronnie, you look beautiful. New dress?”She blinked, nodded.Sophie came over and hugged Veronica. “You okay?” she whispered in Veronica’s ear.“I’m fine. Happy birthday.” From over Sophie’s shoulder, Trent watched them. Veronica narrowed her gaze, but he only grinned, like the devil might if he learned your biggest secret.Duncan slung an arm around Trent’s shoulders. “I see you’ve met my brother.”“Yes. I have.” The heat of her cheeks still simmered.Trent winked in her direction, and a sizzling blast assaulted every inch of her skin.“Pearls made me feel right at home.”“Pearl? That’s not my name.”“Pearls,” he corrected, an extra emphasis on the s. “Like your necklace.”She reached up and touched the smooth, hard jewels near her collarbone. A few other guests arrived and snagged Sophie and Duncan’s attention. While she clutched the hard beads and tried to digest what just went down, she glanced at Trent. He watched her closely, but a playful twinkle in his eyes suggested the case-of-mistaken-identity kiss hadn’t upset him a bit.
From the time she was a child, Sonya knew she was destined to be a writer. If she didn’t like the ending of a book or movie, she would write her own ending. When her children were young, she often wrote stories to entertain them. At the urging of one of her daughters, she submitted a short story and to her surprise and delight, it sold.
EXCERPTJason (This section is first person through Jason’s point of view.)Friday, October 31st, NightBoston steps through the hole she created in the alder brush onto a patch of grass between a straw-bale wall and the woods.“Who’s there?” a girl calls from a blanket a short distance off to our right.I shut off the flashlight and step through beside her, waiting for her instructions.
“Don’t worry, honey.” The male voice is coming from the same direction. “Whoever it is can join us. We’re just getting started.”Boston drops the machete and bolts back into the woods heading down the trail. I switch on the flashlight and shine it at the voices. The creep that attacked Boston last night and a pretty blonde girl are sitting together on a blanket spread out beside the straw-bale wall. The girl is frantically buttoning her shirt. Hard-edge squints against the light. He’s getting around well, with a cast on his leg.I pick up Boston’s machete and her backpack and trail her to the car, where she’s trembling in the driver’s seat. Confused by the sudden change of plan, I throw her stuff in the backseat, climb into the passenger side and wait for her to explain herself.She stares out the front window for the longest time. Then she tosses her mask in the backseat and starts the engine.
“What are you doing?”Her face is pale as a ghost when she looks at me. “That’s Candice with Ricky.”I know that her statement is supposed to mean something to me, but it doesn’t. “Who’s Candice?”“She’s the girl I was going to warn about Ricky.”“You can still—”“What?” Her tone is acid. “Tell my friend that the guy she’s making out with tried to rape me last night?”“Yeah.” I don’t understand what she’s afraid of. If I were Candice, I’d want to know that I was hanging out with a rapist. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”“But what if Candice doesn’t believe me? What if Ricky says those horrible things about my mother and calls me a slut, again?”I’m not aware of any horrible things about her mother. “You’re not a slut.”“Thanks.” She lowers her chin. “If that’s true, then why’d your brother take pictures of me?”“Because he’s messed up and doesn’t understand people need to be respected.”Her voice cracks when she speaks. “Why’d your dad let him?”“Because he doesn’t know how to fix Isaac so he only focuses on his invention, hoping that we’ll be all right on our own.”She looks at me. “Why didn’t you stop him?”She’s accusing me of being the bad guy? I feel my pulse throb in my neck as I try to keep the anger out of my voice. “I saw the pictures of our neighbors that you threw away in your room. You didn’t take those pictures because you thought they were sluts, did you?”Her body goes rigid. “Of course not.”“My brother likes you.” I touch her hand and her muscles relax. “I should have stopped him, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to upset him. Just like you don’t want to upset Candice.”She draws her hand away from me. “So you’re saying I should go back!”“Only if you really believe I should have stopped Isaac.”She glares at me and turns the radio up so loud that the music destroys any chance of further conversation. After several minutes, she grabs the machete from the back seat and shuts off the radio. “I’m not scared!”“I know.” But I don’t know. My heart is racing like I’m riding a fifty-foot wave.Switching the headlights on, she presses on the gas pedal and speeds down Daemon’s driveway. Nearing the back of the maze, she turns onto the grassy section and plows through the edge of the woods moving towards Ricky and Candice. Branches crack and break against the windshield and scrape the side of the car until she stops in front of her targets. Bursting from the vehicle with the machete in one hand and the mini recorder in the other . . .