Wish I Was There Giveaway

I’m dealing with a serious case of GRL envy right now. I went in 2014 as a reader and had such a wonderful time meeting people and spending a weekend thinking about books.

I swore I’d go in 2015, but life didn’t cooperate. And 2016 hasn’t been any better.

I am, needless to say, hoping 2017 will be the year!

Honestly, this past year hasn’t gone the way I’ve planned at all. I am struggling to figure out how to get books finished and out faster. I think I actually did better with it when I had the full-time job (although my health really suffered).  I haven’t quite found that balance yet.

I’m earning enough as a writer to pay my bills, but not enough to move out of my parents’ house yet. *sighs*

It’s frustrating. I feel like I’m very close to things coming together but I am not quite sure what I need to do to make that happen.

But, many, many good things are happening so I’m trying to focus on that.

This past week, my co-writer and I submitted a novel to a publisher that we’ve been working on for three years! Technically, we’ve been working on two novels (with a combined word count of nearly 200k) for three years, but we submitted the first one and are very excited about it. We should hear back in about six weeks. Eep!

I am also working on an expansion of “Pain Management”. It was the short story that was part of the “Dr. Feelgood” anthology through Dreamspinner Press. The rights have reverted back to me so I am going to expand the 10k short into a novella. I hope to release that in November.

And I am 60k words into a novel that is coming together very well. It’s in the hands of one of my betas at the moment and I am hoping that have that out by January!

In non-writing related news, my annual Stratford, Ontario weekend vacation starts tomorrow. So I’ll be going to see “Macbeth” and “As You Like It”. I’ll spend the rest of the time wandering around a pretty little town, eating delicious food, and taking photos. It’s always a lovely, relaxing time.

My Kindle app is loaded with books and I am going to do my best to do a minimum of work. Ideally none, but I’m not always very good at that.

Taking the trip the same weekend as GRL wasn’t planned, but it did work nicely. I am glad I won’t be at home moping about not getting to hang out with my favorite authors and readers!

So I thought I’d do something to make life a little more fun for those of us who can’t be at GRL.


I’m offering a giveaway of one of my eBook titles to anyone who comments with what you would enjoy most about going to a writing convention! You can answer as either a reader or a writer (or both!).

BUT, there’s a little catch. If you see this posted on my blog, go to my FB fan group (Brigham’s Book Nerds) and comment there. If you see this in the Book Nerds group, comment on my blog.

And if you are an amazing fan who already has all of my eBooks, leave a comment anyway and we’ll figure out something else for your prize.🙂

I will pick the winner tomorrow morning, so don’t wait to enter!

Flash Fiction Monday – And Owen Makes Three


“You two are ridiculous.” Byron’s tone held a faint note of mingled annoyance and fondness.

“You love us.” Wade sat up and propped his hands on the concrete patio as he glanced up at his boyfriend. Bryon’s lanky good looks were set off by ripped jeans and a threadbare T-shirt. He was too damn good looking to be behind the camera, but he’d never liked having his picture taken. “Did you get a good shot?”

“Yes.” Byron settled the lens cap over the end of the zoom lens. “It’s adorable. And ridiculous.”

Wade turned to Owen and held out a fist. “We are adorable.” The cat head-butted his knuckles in agreement.

Byron chuckled. “I can’t get over how much that cat seems to understand. He’s so well-trained.”

The look Owen threw him was so disgusted Wade was grateful that Byron missed it. Shit, maybe he and Owen were going to have to be a bit more careful in the future.

“Cats are smart,” he said and held a hand out to Byron, who effortlessly pulled him to his feet.

“I know that.” Byron’s hands settled on his ass and squeezed, pulling their bodies closer together. “It’s just uncanny sometimes.”

Uncanny is right, Wade thought guiltily as Byron kissed him. If only he knew …

The kiss turned hot and needy and Wade’s thoughts were swept away in a haze of lust as Byron dragged him into the house and spread him out on the bed.

After, when they were spent and sweaty and sprawled on the bed in a post-sex haze that Byron brought up the subject again. “Look at that.” He pointed to Owen who sat on the dresser staring at them. “I would swear that cat is jealous. He’s always watching.”

Wade swallowed and tried to keep his voice light. “Come on, pets always do that. I had an ex whose cat used to lay on its belly and stare at us through the crack under the door when we had sex.”

“It’s weird.” Byron sounded vaguely disgruntled like he always did when they discussed this. “You know I like Owen, but the way he looks at me sometimes … I dunno. I would have sworn he was looking at my cock and licking his lips the other day.”

A snort escaped before Wade could stop it. “Seriously?”

“Yes!” Byron laughed. “It’s unnerving. I swear one of these days I’m going to find out he’s actually a shape-shifter or something.”

Wade flipped onto his stomach and stared at the wall. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hey, what is it? You went all tense on me.”Byron’s hand slid across his back. “If the jokes about Owen are making you uncomfortable I’ll lay off. I know you get touchy about that.”

Wade glanced over at Owen who was still perched on the dresser, watching them intently. Wade gazed into his eyes, needing the reassurance that Owen was okay with him finally confessing the truth to Byron. Owen squeezed his eyes together tightly and gave him a quick, almost imperceptible nod.

Wade took a deep breath and let out with a shudder before he turned to Byron. “It’s not the jokes. But uh, there’s something I haven’t been honest about.”

“Okay?” Byron sounded apprehensive, and who could blame him.

“You know how I talked about the guy I was dating before you?”

“Tyler? Yeah.”

“Well, that wasn’t the whole truth. His last name was Tyler.” Byron blinked at him and a moment later the muffled thud of a cat hitting the bed. “His full name was Owen Tyler.”

Wade gently ran a hand down Owen’s soft back. “He disappeared one night and the police said Owen just vanished with a trace. For a while, they even thought I had something to do with it.A few days after the man disappeared, this beat-up tabby appeared at my doorstep. It took the cat a while to heal and even longer for me to accept the truth, but …”

Byron stared at him, open-mouthed.

“I know, it’s crazy,” Wade said weakly. “I can’t explain what happened. Owen—now that he’s a cat—and I found a way we could sort of communicate using those little magnetic refrigerator letters. He bats them around on the floor to make words when he really needs to tell me something. But the best we can figure is that he was cursed.”

“You’re telling me this whole time you’ve been in a relationship with me, you’ve still been living with your ex?” Byron gestured toward the cat. “Who is a fucking cat.”

“Yes?” Wade said. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Byron stared at Owen with an inscrutable expression. Wade could almost swear they were silently communicating like he and Owen did all the time.

“So,” Byron said, after what felt like hours, “Did you and Owen ever discuss polyamory? Because I think I may be able to help undo the curse, but I’m not losing the man I love in the process.”

This went over the usual word count, but it was difficult to set up and then conclude in 500 words. Big thanks to Helena for helping me figure out how to wrap it up.

Unfortunately, this has turned into another plot bunny for me. When am I ever going to get time to finish writing these stories??

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics for this week!

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday -Something New

September 19.jpg

“How do you feel?” Raul asked.

Angelo burrowed closer, his cheek pressed against the soft black cotton of Raul’s T-shirt. “Drunk.”  His eyelids felt heavy and there was a strange and wonderful lightness in his head. Tension? Stress? He couldn’t remember what those things were. “High maybe? I dunno. Gooood.”

The rumble of Raul’s laugh under his ear was as warm and comforting as his hug. “It was okay then?”

“Okay?” Angelo wanted to sit upright and give Raul an incredulous look, but he was too content to move. “That was  … perfect. More than I expected.” He rubbed his cheek against Raul’s chest like a cat.

“I was so fucking scared. Despite the classes and all the research, I was scared shitless to actually hit you.”

“I know.” Angelo rubbed circles over Raul’s heart with his palm. That was why he’d trusted Raul to tie him up and flog him. There was no one more meticulous than Raul. He’d been so hesitant at first to bring it up with his partner. How did you tell a guy you wanted him to hit you? It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with their sex life. It was already amazing. Why mess with it? But the thought, the need, had nagged at him until he’d finally caved. To his relief, Raul had listened to him and told him he’d consider it.

It had taken months to get from that conversation to this point, because Raul never did anything halfway. Once he decided he wanted to try it, he’d thrown himself into it with the fervor of a starving man. Online research, classes, getting involved with the community, he’d taken part in it all. Angelo had been starting to worry that Raul was using “research” as an excuse to not actually act on the fantasies they’d discussed. Angelo worried too that Raul was just doing it to please him.

“Did you  … did you like it, or at least not hate it?” he asked hesitantly. A part of him just wanted to drift in the sleepy bliss that kept threatening to overtake him, but he had to know. Because he wanted this again, but not if it didn’t make Raul happy too.

Raul shifted and took Angelo’s hand and settled it over the hard length in his shorts. “What do you think?”

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics for this week!

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday – No Joke

September 12.jpg

Zach paused and nodded toward the sign on the chain link fence inside of the research facility. “Ya gotta wonder what made them put that up there. Somebody’s idea of a joke or what?”


Gary answered with a non-committal grunt like he always did when Zach made stupid ass comments.  But the moment his back was turned, Gary shuddered and leaned on his rake. It was no joke. He’d been there that night when they’d run the experiment.

He’d seen things. Horrible things. Things that haunted his nightmares.

Those were no ordinary bison. They were demonic beats. Like minotaurs, but larger. He’d seen the red glow of their eyes and the way they’d transformed into lustful half-men.

“Just don’t forget what it says.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy.

Zach turned back to him with a puzzled frown. “What was that?”

“The sign. Don’t every fucking forget it.” He carefully raked the old, soiled straw toward the wheelbarrow. “It’s no joke, man.”

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics for this week!

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday – Not Like the Movies


It isn’t like the movies.

Vampires aren’t chalk white with pointy fangs and glowing red eyes. Sunlight and crosses have no effect and people don’t go around hunting them. Truth be told, vampires and humans manage to co-exist pretty peacefully. It hadn’t always been like that, of course. There was a nasty period about thirty years back when they came out of the monster closet and we tried to kill each other, but in the end both sides realized it was in their best interest to get along. They need our blood and we need them to keep us alive after they take it.

Generally, they aren’t anywhere near as attractive as they are in the movies either—ugly people become vampires and pretty much stay ugly—but the two across the bar from me could have gotten a part in Hollywood without blinking. Since vampire charm and mind control are as much of a legend as the fear of garlic, that’s pretty impressive.

Honestly, these two are just damn good looking.

“Want another?”

I look up from the beer I’ve been nursing for the past hour and shake my head at the bartender. She’s been trying to get my attention for half the night. She’s cute enough—if you’re into the butch look—I guess.

I’m not.

Guess she swings both ways though, because I’m as male as the vampires across the room who I’ve been watching. I sneak a peek out of the corner of my eye, but they haven’t budged.

That’s how you know they’re vampires. They don’t move a lot. They can, and they’re pretty damn strong and quick when they want, but they don’t have to be. Some prefer to blend in with us humans and mimic our movements, but others don’t give a fuck. These two have been leaning against the wall of the bar for an hour and have barely stirred. Bathed in the red glow of a neon sign, they could be posing for a photoshoot. The one closer to me has on an open leather vest, his thumb in his pocket, and is vaguely reminiscent of the better looking Franco brother. Or is it the guy from the horrible Star Wars movie with that Natalie whatsherface? I’m total crap at pop culture references, but he’s a pretty boy. Lean but muscular.

The guy with his arm around the pretty boy is equally good looking and fit. But he reminds me of a model from the awful clothing store that always reeked of frat boy cologne and plastered vaguely homoerotic pictures of preppy men frolicking together on their advertisements. He’s smoking a cigarette and staring off into space.

I prefer my men rougher around the edges and not undead, but I’m not going to have a hard time pretending to be turned on by them either. I’ve been watching them for a couple of weeks now. I’m sure they’ve noticed me watching them, and I’ve dropped hints here and there that I’ve got a vampire fetish but haven’t quite gotten the nerve to approach one.

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Still, it’s a damn good cover for my real purpose: investigating the death of my best friend. All roads lead to these two and I’m not above seducing them to learn more.  The preppy one drops his cigarette on the floor and grinds it out under his heel.

When his gaze meets mine I feel my heart kick into high gear. I don’t take my eyes off him as I slide some money across the bar and stand. My mouth tastes like cheap beer and anxiety as I cross the room.

The pretty boy turns and his full lips curl up into a knowing little smile.

“Are you coming?”

I’m not sure if the surge of elation and arousal I feel is because the next phase of my plan is about to start or because I’m going home with two vampires.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Well, I went over the word count and I’m late posting, but I think it is a story I want to tell in the future. What do you think?

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics for this week!

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday – Three-Legged Stool

August 15.jpg

“It’s impossible that Johnny’s gone.” Maureen shook her head, her voice thick. “I mean, we just left the funeral and I keep expecting him to pop up and yell ‘surprise!’.” Her laugh sounded hollow.

“No shit.” Freddie slumped on the bed and took another drink. “I wonder how many of these people actually knew him.” He gestured to the closed door that muffled the sounds of the people who filled the house he’d shared with Johnny.

Maureen shrugged. “Probably most of them. Johnny was the only person I knew who could go to the corner store for a pack of smokes and come back with three new friends and an invitation to a party.”

“Yeah, good point.”

“They didn’t know him like we did though.” She picked up the framed photo on the bookshelf and held it out to Freddie. “They didn’t know him like this.”

A lump rose in her throat as she smiled at the memory. Maureen, Freddie, and Johnny had all gone to prom together. Freddie and Johnny were already together by then, but no one but Maureen knew. The three of them had been inseparable since elementary school when the boys found her catching tadpoles in the creek and decided she was alright. For a girl. Johnny and Freddie realizing they were gay and into each other should have made Maureen the third wheel, but somehow it had never happened.  Maureen’s girlfriends and boyfriends had drifted in and out of the group, but it never shook their trio. They were rock solid.

Her eyes stung as she remembered Johnny’s muffled laugh as he pushed Maureen in the shopping cart. The three of them had been kicked out of prom for wearing giant bear heads they’d found at a flea market. With little else to do in the small town, they’d gone to the grocery store. Freddie had snapped the photo of them and the sight of it never failed to make Maureen smile. Although this time, it hurt. Because there would never be any more grocery store shenanigans. No more getting kicked out of the mall for weird photo shoots. No more drinking until the sun came up or whitewater rafting trips. No more base jumping. No more yelling at Johnny and Freddie to keep it down in their tent because Johnny was a moaner.

No more Johnny.

Her face was wet when she sank on the bed next to Freddie. He put his arm around her as she sobbed into his neck and his tears dripped into her hair.

The three of them had been rock-solid, a three-legged stool that never wobbled. Now that one leg had been ripped away, they were off-balance.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics for this week!

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday – Queen Cecile

In June of last year, I wrote a flash called Protector of the Night Spirits. The photo below sparked an idea and I’ve continued the story.

August 1.jpg

Cecile closed her eyes. The small boat continued to glide forward through the water, sunlight glinting off its surface. She didn’t need to see the path ahead of her to guide the craft, or its precious cargo.

The war in Lyman city had been raging for nearly a year. Even with an ocean between them, Cecile had heard stories of the horrors taking place. The ministers and advisers had warned Cecile not to get involved, after all, it wasn’t their fight.

“Why should the people of Reddick risk their lives for the Lymanites?” they’d argued.

But as reports filtered in of magical creatures being captured and tortured, Cecile had grown increasingly heartsick. How could they sit there and do nothing? How could they allow that to happen? Wizards were nothing to be trifled with, but Cecile’s magic was older. Less showy, perhaps, but more powerful. How could she, as ruler, allow these atrocities to take place?

When the news spread that The Protector of the Night Spirits had been found, Cecile knew it was the sign she’d been hoping for.

Unwilling to risk her troops, she made a plan in secret. She sent messages to The Protector, using her flock of birds. It was the only communication she could be sure was safe from wizard monitoring.

In the wee hours of the night, Cecile had cloaked herself in invisibility and made for the shore. Alone. The sky had barely begun to lighten as the wooden craft, carrying a burlap wrapped seedling, had set out for Lyman. Now, at midday, the tree had grown toward the sky, thick-trunked with spreading, leafy branches. The small portal glowed within, its magic kindling.

It was dark by the time Cecile reached the far shore north of Lyman city. A lone figure stood on the beach. She was several years younger than Cecile, but her face looked worn and weary. Physically still a young girl, but mentally far from that. She was dressed as an aviator, covered in soot, and she greeted Cecile with a short, sharp nod.

“Your Majesty.”

Cecile stepped from the bow of the boat and held out a hand to young, weary Protector of the Night Spirits. “Call me Cecile. I’ve come to help.”

She shook it firmly. “Delia Caldwell.”

Cecile had no interest in wasting precious time. “I’ve brought the portal.”

For the first time, a crack appeared in Delia’s hardened demeanor. “You’ve come just in time, then. My plane was shot down yesterday and we can’t seem to get it running. I was beginning to lose hope,” Delia admitted.

Cecile lay a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s sit and make our plan then. We have much work ahead of us to save the magical creatures of Lyman City.”

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics for this week!

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!


Flash Fiction Monday – Protection


I propped my boots on the desk. “It’s an awfully nice day to look so miserable.”

Christopher’s answering shrug was listless. His right arm was braced on the glass, forehead resting against it. His left hand pressing against the window as he looked longingly outside.  We’d been holed up in the same Miami motel room for the better part of two weeks and it was starting to get to us both. He was going stir-crazy and I was losing my tenuous grip on my restraint.

“It won’t be much longer,” I reassured him, praying that it was true.

The tone of his snort was practically an audible middle finger. He’d gotten good at communicating through grunts and wordless noises. In all my years working personal security, I’d never dealt with such a silent client. It was a shame too because he had a great voice.

“I wish you wouldn’t stand in front of the open window though. You know it’s dangerous.”

He sighed heavily. The muscles in his back rippled as he pushed off the window and straightened. “I’m tired, D.”

“I know.” What I didn’t know was why he insisted on calling me D. Dan wasn’t exactly a difficult name. Christopher’s nickname for me was the least of my problems, however. There was a well-connected mob boss after my client and my attraction to him was reaching unbearable levels.

He crossed the room and stood next to me. My gaze scanned up his lean, denim-clad thighs. I tried not to linger on the soft bulge near the fly or on the way the jeans sat obscenely low on his hips, showing off the sharp v of his lean musculature. Shirtless, his skin was smooth and nearly hairless, except under his arms. I’d think he waxed, but we’d been locked in this motel room for two weeks. Surely I would have noticed. Tattoos graced one hip and across his upper chest and arms. A woman’s name was written in script across his heart. I hadn’t had the courage to ask who she was, although after two weeks of living together I knew a hell of a lot more about Christopher Reese than I’d ever expected to.

I tore my gaze from his tattoos to look him in the eye. He stared down at me, expression blank. He had a beautiful face and wore facial hair like it was a designer accessory, but there was no denying the haunted look that lingered around his eyes.

“I loved her, you know?” Christopher’s fingertips skimmed the name over his heart. “I didn’t … I never meant for this to happen.” The expression in his hazel eyes pleaded for me to understand. I didn’t. He’d been curiously tight-lipped about exactly how we’d wound up in this situation. I’d gone from a cushy, if often boring, position of providing security for a Hollywood star to hiding out with him in a crummy motel room. Although I’d argued with him about keeping me in the dark about what had happened, he wouldn’t budge. Short of leaving him to fend for himself, there was little I could do. Reinforcements—in the form of my boss and mentor, Matt Healy—were on the way. All I had to do was keep him safe until Matt arrived.

Not to mention keep Christopher from going stir-crazy and keep myself from grabbing him and throwing him down on the nearest bed.

We were so fucked. And not in the way I’d like.

I nudged Christopher out of the way with my thigh and stood. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Sushi.” His tone was mournful. We were in a rundown motel in a sketchy part of Miami. We might only be a handful of miles from the ocean, but there wasn’t a sushi restaurant in sight. And certainly not one that delivered.

“Christopher …”

“I don’t give a fuck!” He rounded on me, jaw clenched and eyes hard and flinty looking. “I don’t give a flying fuck what we—“

His words were cut off by the loud pop of gunfire. Instinct and training kicked in and I grabbed Christopher’s shoulder, shoved him to the floor beside the bed, and covered his body with my own. “Keep your head down,” I hissed.

Outside, it was silent over the sound of our harsh breathing. I rose up enough to reach for the gun clipped to my belt and cursed when I realized I’d left it on the desk across the room. Do I have time to grab it? I wondered.

The scrape of a shoe on the concrete outside the door silenced any debate.

“Dan?” Christopher whispered.

I clapped a hand over his mouth and waited, heart pounding in my chest, for whatever was to come next.

I know that was a really mean way to end things, but there’s a good chance this is going to turn into a novel. In fact, it could wind up as the second book in a series. What do you think? Would you read it?

The good news is, my wrist held up while I swam and wrote almost 800 words today, so I think I’m on the mend!

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics.

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday – The Power of Suggestion

It’s been a difficult couple of weeks for me with writing. Two friends are going through rough times in their lives, I passed the one-year anniversary of when my ex and I split, and my left wrist staged a revolt.

I’ve never had any problems with tendonitis before, but I do sleep with my hands in funny positions and I’ve been swimming 3-4 times a week. I think those things, combined with writing, finally did my left wrist in. I spent the past week icing it, taking anti-inflammatories, using a wrist brace, doing gentle physical therapy exercises and, mostly, giving it a rest. It’s slowly improving and today was the first time in a week I’ve written more than a few sentences at a time.

My novels are on hold for the moment, but I am going to order an ergonomic keyboard and hopefully in another week or so, be back on track.

Without further ado, here’s my flash fic for the week!

July 18.jpg

This is the resort you were raving about?” Stuart’s lip curled into an all-too-familiar sneer. “Their sunset dinner on the beach looks like a four-year-old’s birthday party.”

I stifled a sigh and settled the Panama hat more firmly on my head before the ocean breeze carried it away. The resort did have a casual vibe, with brightly colored, kitschy decorations like tiki torches and light up flamingos, but it wouldn’t kill Stuart to unwind for once.

“It also has white sand beaches, 5-star quality food, and the best drinks I’ve ever had,” I reminded him.

“If the food doesn’t deliver, I’m out of here,” Stuart threatened. “I mean it, Charlie.”

“I know you do, darling.” I patted Stuart’s shoulder and he made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat but allowed me to steer him toward the party on the beach.

To be fair, Stuart was paid to be critical. He’d worked as a restaurant critic for years. He was insufferable when we traveled, however.

I made a beeline for the bar, leaving Stuart to find a table for us. His sneer was firmly in place when I returned with two drinks.

“Mai Tai’s?”

“Just drink it. I asked the bartender to add a little something extra for you. It should help loosen you up.”

Stuart’s sneer melted into a look of contemplation. “Maybe this place is looking up after all.”

I knew he wouldn’t be averse to a little experimentation—it wouldn’t be the first time we’d indulged while on vacation—and lord knows, I needed all the help I could get. The last thing I wanted was Stuart pouting in our suite all night.

“Cheers!” We clinked glasses and he took a hearty sip.

“Not bad,” was his grudging verdict.

I smiled and looked out over the waves.


Several hours later, after a dinner that even Stuart had deemed exceptional, we stumbled from the dance floor toward the bonfire. I dropped onto a driftwood log with a quiet groan of relief. We hadn’t danced like that in ages.

I glanced over at Stuart. With several drinks in him, his cheeks were flushed and his normally tidy hair was wind-ruffled.

He slid an arm around my waist and leaned in. “What do you say we head back to our suite?”

“Aren’t you having fun?”

“I am. But I thought it might be more fun to take you to our room and thank you for bringing me to such a great place.”

I knew that was the closest I’d get to an apology for his early pouting, and decided to take it. “Sure, but you’re going to have to get me off this log.”  I’d just sat down and the hike across the sand to the main building seemed awfully far.

With arms wrapped around each other’s waists, we stumbled toward the lights of the resort. Stuart paused and nuzzled against my cheek with his lips. “What was in those drinks, anyway? I feel incredible.”

I laughed. “Just a little extra rum.”

Stuart sputtered in surprise as I dragged him toward our room.

The good news was, Stuart never held grudges for long.



Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics.

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!

Flash Fiction Monday – Family History Pt. 2


July 4

“Oh! Look at this one, Amelia.” Lena passed a photo to her.

Amelia inspected it closely. Two young women ran through a city street, hand-in-hand, soaked to the skin by a rain storm. There as inches of standing water and they clutched their shoes in their free hands. Jeanette Fleming and Ada March, 1934 was inscribed on the back. “Did you see the back?”

Lena pressed her chin to Amelia’s shoulder. “They look so young.”

“They were,” Amelia replied. “Jeanette was born in 1920 so she would have been fourteen at the time. I’m not sure about Ada, but I think they were roughly the same age.”

“Jeanette’s lovely in this photo, but she really grew into herself in her late teens.” Lena shifted so she was sitting upright.

Amelia reached over and poked Lena’s thigh. “Stop perving on my grandmother.”

“It’s only because you resemble her so much.”

“Nice save.” She leaned in and brushed her lips against Lena’s.

“I wonder who took the photo.”

“I have no idea,” Amelia admitted. “I feel like this box of photos raises more questions than it answers.”

Lena nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Is this the only box?”

“No, there’s another. Actually, if I remember right, there are letters in the other box. I inherited them both after grandma’s death and haven’t had time to sort through them until now. Amelia had stumbled across them in the guest room closet a few days ago. Looking at the photos had derailed her spring cleaning plans, but she and Lena were having too much fun to care.

Lean’s eyes lit up. “Letters? I wonder if there’s anything juicy in them.”

“I doubt it. Probably lots of talk about church festivals and such.”

“Your grandmother was a pin-up girl, Amelia. She may have attended church festivals, but the woman clearly had a rebellious streak.”

“You have a good point. Still, I highly doubt they’re that juicy. If they were romantically involved, they would have been breaking the law to do it.”

“Well, let’s stop talking about what might be in the letters and read what is in them. I’m dying of curiosity.” Always decisive, Lena stood and strode from the room. Her skin gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight, on display in the denim shorts and white tank she wore. God she was beautiful. Running had honed her muscles to a sleek definition. They’d gone to the lake recently and she was lightly tanned. Sometimes just looking at Lena made Amelia’s heart stop.

“What’s that look for?” Lena gently sat the box on the floor beside the couch.

Amelia shook her head to clear it. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed Lena’s return.

“Thinking about you.” Amelia lay back on the couch and held out a hand to Lena. “As curious as I am about the letters, I think they can wait a bit.”

Lena smirked as she closed the distance between them, settling over top of Amelia. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. But hopefully something juicy enough to include in a letter.”

Lena laughed softly as Amelia drew her in for a kiss, the boxes of photos and letters temporarily forgotten.

Technically, the timeline doesn’t really work for these photos. Today’s photo is clearly of a later time period than 1934, but it worked so well with the previous flash fic I’d written that I couldn’t resist!

A novel telling Lena and Amelia’s story and their hunt for clues about Jeanette and Ada’s relationship is starting to come together and I’m really looking forward to writing it.

Please visit the flash fic group on Facebook and check out the links to the other authors’ flash fics.

I look forward to seeing you next Monday!