Not a Whisper by Donna B McNicol

Cherie didn't know which was flying faster, the coffee, the food or the gossip. The Klondike Breakfast Club, or KB's as they called themselves, were energetically discussing the fire that burned down a local business the night before and speculating about the owner's part in it. These folks, mostly closer to her aunt's age, were definitely not what she was used to in Tucson, Arizona. Back there, she couldn't call it home anymore, older folks mostly talked about their medical problems and where to find the best buffet deals.

Pansy Tucker, her aunt, was the unofficial founder of this unorthodox group - or maybe the unorthodox founder of this unofficial group would be a better description. She sipped her tea and listened to the voices rising above the clatter of dishes and silverware as everyone finished eating and continued sharing their snippets of gossip.

“Yeah, that fire was something else. The volunteers had their hands full. I heard they brought in the Bradford Fire Department, too. The chief told Tony it was so tough to fight ‘cause of the way it's been built up and added to over the years. That and it had probably been burning for hours before it got seen and called in.” This from the gentleman at the end of the table. Tom, Cherie struggled to remember his name, he's married to that tiny lady beside him.

The oldest person at the table, Bob Rounder spoke up. “Well I heard it was so bad the walls fell smack into the basement. They had to let it burn to the ground.”

“My Jimmy said it was really bad. Worst he'd ever seen since he's been a volunteer.” This from a woman who walked over from a neighboring table.

“Hi Janie. Was Jimmy at the fire?” asked Tom's wife, Edy.

Before Janie could answer, Ed Williams piped in, “You know this ain't the first fire at The Drop Inn. Back in the 80's and 90's when old Earl owned it, there were a couple of ‘em. Never burned to the ground though and he just kept adding on.”

Kat Daily, the owner and only waitress at Kat's Klondike Kafe, started refilling coffee cups as she listened in on the conversations. “More tea, Pansy?”

“Sure, but fetch me some more Sweet n' Low, too. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” Pansy hefted her more than ample bosoms in her hands, smiling innocently at her table mates.

Edy looked up from her coffee, “Did you hear about the fire last night, Kat? I can't believe The Drop Inn is gone.”

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Genre – Cozy Mystery

Rating – PG

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Website http://donnamcnicol.com/

BoX by Lucas Heath

1: Marsha and Barry

The room was a cube. It was twenty feet in height, length, and width, and the walls seemed to glow a stunning white that surpassed the purity of freshly fallen snow. There were no windows, no doors, and no blemishes of any kind, just solid walls that boxed the young girl inside with no way of escape.

Her fragile body lay sprawled upon the solid white ground, shaking from cold. Fear had yet to settle in, for she had not yet awakened.

As time ticked away, her eyes finally opened and her head jerked up from the floor of her prison. Her head pivoted and tilted as she surveyed her surroundings. The beat of her heart began to quicken as she came to the realization of her predicament.

She remembered her identity, and where she was from, though why she was in this strange place escaped her memory. She sat up and grabbed at her neck, letting trembling fingers glide across the soft tan skin. A bump where somebody had stuck a needle found its place underneath her index finger and she rubbed at the spot, ignoring the pain. She had been drugged, though the reason why someone would do this eluded her.

Panic threatened to kick in. The fight or flight instinct gripped at her heart, but with a deep breath she pushed the feelings away. Her father had always said, "Marsha, fear is an illusion that makes you weak. You either learn to control it, or it will control you." She agreed with that statement and made destroying fear in her life a goal.

Marsha slowly stood up and felt her legs wobbling underneath her. Using the wall for support, she steadied herself and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. A pedestal in the very center of the room drew her attention. Sitting atop the square stand was a single pistol, though she had no idea what kind it was, or if it was even loaded.

Deciding to avoid the deadly device, Marsha turned toward a wall and ran her hands over it. It was smooth like marble and radiated a luminescent light that gave the room its glow. If it weren't for these walls, floor, and ceiling, she would be shrouded in darkness. She followed the wall around the entirety of the cube, feeling for any switches or hidden panels, though she didn't find anything.

She finally leaned against and slid down a wall until her bottom hit the ground. She rested her head against her knees and began to cry.

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Genre –  Thriller / SciFi

Rating – PG13

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Website http://lucasheathbooks.com/

Sherrie Cronin – Writing While Browsing

Writing While Browsing

by: Sherrie Cronin

I have no idea how one wrote novels before the internet. Short stories don’t necessarily have a lot of facts in them, at least mine never did, so they didn’t require much in the way of research. By the time I began to try my hand with full length books, I had the luxury of countless facts at my fingertips. This is good because I can’t get an hour into my writing without needing to know how much an airplane weighs or what day of the week February 14 was in 2012 or how many people live in Belize or what is a common last name that will work for a minor character that needs to blend in well and yet won’t remind the reader of anyone famous.

The result is that I write with a half dozen or so tabs of my favorite search engine open, and I bookmark and save obscure links like a madwoman. It takes a certain amount of self discipline to keep moving and not get lost in the information, and I’m generally pretty good about not lingering. However, like the time I found myself on a website for survivors of particularly brutal alternative schools for teens, I have learned that when something calls to me so much that I just can’t get myself to move on, then I need to listen to my instincts. I am likely to end up with a subplot that is a surprise to me, and yet which I will be really glad that I included.

One pitfall of internet research is that everyone can be a self proclaimed expert, whether they know what they are talking about or not. I use Wikipedia and I love it, but if it is important that I get the information exactly right, I generally go ahead and take the time to check the original sources. I completely avoid sites where people write in questions and anyone can answer. I have a strong science background and have found some amazingly wrong information voted “best answer”.

The other tab or two that I keep open as I write is a map of wherever my action is occurring. I like satellite images and the feeling of being there, even if I don’t need specific information at that moment. It helps to me keep my head in the story. In y1 I kept downtown Chicago and the Pacific Ocean open as I wrote. In z2 I followed highways through Mexico and got to spend a good deal of time in Belize. Sometimes I’d take a break from my writing and just go look around. I’d check out the shore and the small atolls around the various coral reefs, imaging that I was snorkeling out there with my characters. It wasn’t exactly a day at the beach for me, but it did make writing z2 even more fun.

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Genre - Speculative Fiction

Rating – PG

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Website http://zsquaredblog.org/

The Dream Rider by Ernest Dempsey

I looked down at the wound but made myself keep going despite feeling the pain and the thick, crimson liquid oozing down my leg. As I pushed my way forward, a million questions ran through my head. One in particular stuck out. Why were these guys trying to kill me? I was just a college student. I never had problems with anybody. I looked back at the men in the trench coats. They were walking slowly now, but still firing their weapons. Glass storefront windows shattered around me and car windshields cracked with spider webs, hollow holes in the middle.

I dragged myself off the concrete and started to limp away as fast as I could, but another bullet found it’s way through the calf muscle of my other leg. I dropped to my knees and groaned in agony. My hands tugged against the concrete, straining to pull my body’s weight along. Suddenly, I felt a sickening thud in the upper part of my back. It felt like I’d been struck by a sledgehammer. The force of the impact knocked me forward onto my face. The concrete was cold on my skin, a strange contrast to the warm liquid leaking from my body in three places.

Three pairs of black boots crunched across the glass and rubble, coming to stop next to my face. The men were standing over me, looking down like I was nothing more than a rabid dog they were disposing of. The one with the shaved head grinned, revealing stained, crooked teeth. The other two just watched as he aimed the gun at my head.

There was nothing I could do but lay there. I couldn’t feel my legs, which meant the last bullet had severed my spinal cord. I knew I was about to die but didn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t understand why these men were doing this. I’d never seen any of them before. But I wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing me flinch, whoever they were. I didn’t beg. I didn’t even ask why they were doing it. I’m not sure why. I just didn’t.

My head twisted and I stared down the barrel of the gun as the sunlight silhouetted the enormous figure of the man who was about to kill me. My head rolled to the side and for the briefest of seconds, I noticed a young woman with long brown hair standing still while everyone else panicked. She was a vision of serenity amidst the chaos. She watched with a strange curiosity as the bald man stood over me. I returned my gaze to the tip of the weapon just in time to see him squeeze the trigger. I heard the gunshot, again like it was in slow motion and, felt the bullet hit my skull.

Then everything went black.

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Genre –  Science Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Website http://ernestdempsey.net/

#AmWatching - Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Dog Days

Everybody's favorite wimp, Greg Heffley (Zachary Gordon), is back for three times the fun in the latest film based on the super-popular book series! When Greg's dad (Steve Zahn) threatens to send him to military school if he doesn't stay out of trouble, Greg finds all-new ways to land himself ...

• Starring: Zachary Gordon, Robert Capron
• Directed by: David Bowers
• Runtime: 1 hour 34 minutes
• Release year: 2012
• Studio: Fox Synopsis: Everybody's favorite wimp, Greg Heffley (Zachary Gordon), is back for three times the fun in the latest film based on the super-popular book series! When Greg's dad (Steve Zahn) threatens to send him to military school if he doesn't stay out of trouble, Greg finds all-new ways to land himself in the doghouse!
  Starring: Zachary Gordon, Robert Capron
  Supporting actors: Devon Bostick
  Directed by: David Bowers
  Genre: Comedy, Family
  Runtime: 1 hour 34 minutes
  Captions and Subtitles: English Details
  Release year: 2012
  Studio: Fox
  MPAA Rating: Rated PG for some rude humor
  ASIN: B00A0RJXQ0

Night of the Purple Moon (The Toucan Trilogy, Book 1) by Scott Cramer

Night of the Purple Moon (The Toucan Trilogy, Book 1) - Scott Cramer

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – PG

4.4 (308 reviews)

Free until 30 September 2013

Abby Leigh is looking forward to watching the moon turn purple, unaware that deadly bacteria from a passing comet will soon kill off older teens and adults. The lightning-fast epidemic sweeps across the planet when the germs attack the hormones produced during puberty.
On a small island off the coast of Maine, Abby must help her brother and baby sister survive in this new world, but all the while she has a ticking time bomb inside of her -- adolescence.

The Guardian of Threshold by A.A. Volts

The Guardian of Threshold – A. A. Volts

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Fantasy

Rating – PG

4.2 (40 reviews)

Free until 31 August 2013

Love survives everything... Even death. Unfortunately, so does hate.
When Mark wants to see his dead mother again... He gets his chance. But, like everything else in life... It comes at a hefty price.
While normal sixteen-year-old boys are out chasing girls, Mark is floating outside his own body being chased by a nefarious demon.
Death itself can't keep him from trying to see his dead mother again, but when he disturbs Phasma-the Guardian of Threshold, he may have gone too far.
Forced into Threshold--the mystical world of the dead--to rescue his clumsy best friend; Mark will not only have to defeat Phasma and his army of Night Dwellers, but his own demons if he's going to save his friend, find his mother and survive the night.
How far would you go to see a dead loved one again?