Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Written Fireside - Can't You See? Part 9

Welcome to Part 9 of the latest Written Fireside Story! If you regularly visit my new website (www.ZaraStoneley.com) you'll know that I'm animal mad, and so I'm delighted to be taking part in this special edition story - the individual parts can be read now for free, but once published all proceeds will be donated to Pets for Vets.

The story...
Noah Hale is an author suffering from PTSD related insomnia, needing peace and sleep. All he wants is to be left alone. A certain little dog has other ideas.

Amanda Bell, a teacher, is grieving the loss of her sister, Rachel. Caring for her sister’s dog is comforting until a new neighbor moves in the other half of her duplex. Suddenly, the dog starts escaping her yard, running off to the man on the other side of the fence.

And here is where to catch up on previous parts...

Part 4  by Jane Hunt   
Part 8  by Paty Jager






Can't You See - Part 9

“I’m not sure...” He paused, not wanting to offend her. But it had been hard enough opening up to Mary, a whole room full of people sounded his idea of hell. “I don’t really do talking it over with strangers.”
Amanda smiled, seeing the look of barely disguised horror. “I didn’t think I did either. And here I am sat chatting to you and…” She spread her hands.
He got the message. Yeah, he’d just spilled the whole story out to her, but she didn’t feel like a stranger for some reason.
“I’m not saying it works for everybody, but it has helped me. What’s worked for you so far?”
There was no challenging note in her voice, no censure and for the first time he could remember Noah didn’t actually resent the intrusion. “I run.”
“Run? Maybe we could do a deal I go along with your plan, you try mine. If you want to that is?”
Noah laughed. “I run fast.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m no slouch.”
“Very fast, to outpace the demons.”
And even when he said the word demons there was something different to the earlier pain in his eyes. Devilment.
“Sounds like walking might be a better idea then.” Gertie tipped her head to one side as she heard one of her favourite words, and Noah grinned. “Not right now, pup. You might be one hell of a therapist, but I draw the line at walks in the middle of the night.”
“Well actually, the sun will be up soon.” Amanda had suddenly realised they’d been up talking nearly all night. “I’ve not been awake at this time for years.”
Noah had. There’d been too many sleepless nights. But it was a long time since he’d been smiling at this early hour in the morning. He made a sudden decision. “Let’s do it.” Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Let’s take her a walk, watch the sun come up together.”

Tomorrow can be the first day of the rest of your life.’ Wasn’t that one thing Mary had said to him? ‘Trust yourself.’ He pushed his chair back abruptly, spilling the little dog to the floor, where she started to spin excitedly in circles chasing her tail. His life wasn’t going to change overnight, there would be no miracles, but finding somebody who wasn’t going to run scared, who wasn’t going to scorn and make him feel like some freak or some useless shell of a man, was as good a place to start as any. He’d spent too much time trying to work this thing out on his own, and for the first time he actually wanted to share, to talk. And to listen.
“Will you come?” He held out a hand, suddenly nervous that he’d gone too far, but Amanda was smiling back at him.
“I don’t think I’ve got any choice, do you? Look at her!” She slipped her hand into his and it felt right. Like it belonged there. Like the type of anchor he wanted, even when he wasn’t having nightmares.
***
Amanda smiled as Gertie raced ahead up the path, turning every now and then to check they were following then putting her nose down again to follow the scents. She felt a bit like the little dog looked, happy, carefree.
She was out of breath by the time they reached the high point that she’d known would be the perfect spot to see the new day in. Noah had a long loping stride that had never faltered as they’d climbed the incline. But he’d taken her with him, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. “I’m glad I didn’t agree to run.”
He laughed, green eyes twinkling, and it somehow felt normal to let her head rest on his shoulder, to feel his arm around her waist, as they watched the sun edge its way over the horizon, filling the sky with colour.
Amanda sighed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Like you.” His voice was a soft murmur, but she knew she hadn’t imagined it. She dared to glance up, and it must have been lack of sleep that gave her the mad urge to reach out and touch his face. His gaze met hers. Clear eyes, that seemed to be able to read every thought in her head.
“Amanda.” One firm finger traced along her jawbone and she held her breath. “Is it wrong if I—” She never found out what might have been wrong, as Gertie jumped up between the two of them, barking with excitement. Noah groaned, and Amanda couldn’t help but giggle
 “Gertie that is so naughty.” The dog sat down, the picture of innocence. “I think she wants her breakfast.” She wagged her tail. Not sure whether to be exasperated or pleased that the little dog had broken the spell, Amanda clipped the dogs leash back on.
“And so do I.” Noah linked his fingers through hers. “Come on, my treat.”
***
While Noah filled the kitchen with the wonderful aroma of bacon, Amanda looked through his books. She couldn’t help it, reading was an addiction. “Wow, have you written all of these, they’re all yours?”
He shrugged, green eyes wary, as she flicked through the pages of one.
“You never said you’d written this many. This looks amazing. Can I borrow a copy?”
“Sure, come on grubs up.”
As she went to put the book she’d been reading back on the pile, a photograph half slipped out. A young woman, pretty. Feeling guilty at rummaging through his private things, Amanda dropped the book and hurried over.
“I’m seeing Mary later, maybe you could come.”
“Ah.” Amanda put her knife and fork down, her food hardly touched. So that was her name, Mary. “Maybe I should go, I think, maybe…” She’d been such a fool, taken his concern for more than it was, thought she could help somebody who already had more than enough help.
“Amanda?” He was looking at her concerned, as she pushed her chair back. “You’ve not eaten.”
“Sorry, I’m not hungry.” She’d be fine with Gertie. They could stay on one side of the fence, and Noah and his Mary could stay on the other. So much for the little dog’s intelligence and perception.
“Hang on.” He was up out of his seat and stood in front of her before she had time to go anywhere.
“Mary understands, you don’t need me.”
“Well of course she understands, that’s her job, but you’re different. I thought…”
“Her job?”
“She’s my therapist.” He looked truly puzzled now, but was not shifting an inch. “Why, who did you think she was?”
“You keep a photograph of your therapist?”
“Sorry?”
Amanda couldn’t stand his play-acting a moment longer, pushing past him she marched over towards the book, and fished the picture out triumphantly. But whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t the look of shock on his face.
“That shouldn’t be there, I thought I’d got rid of them all.” His tone was flat. “That’s not Mary, that’s Jess.”


Don't miss the concluding part next week -
Part 10 by Summerita Rhayne

Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Written Fireside Blog Hop

It might only be August, but there's a reason Christmas has come early....

Fifteen HarperCollins authors have all been given the same opening paragraph and challenged to write a 'Christmas by the Fire' short story. That brilliant first paragraph was written by competition winner Georgia Beyers. To join in the fun follow the hop, read excerpts from all the stories and enter the giveaway and be in with a chance to win lots of books and a 70$ Amazon Gift Card!
To read the stories in full, look out for the Christmas e-book anthology which will be published later in the year. So, here's the opening paragraph, followed by a snippet from my story...


Charlotte sat at the bus stop wondering whether she would make the naughty or nice list this year. Last year she had rescued a stray kitten and therefore considered herself most definitely ‘nice’. This year she had broken Daniel’s heart into a million tiny pieces, so ‘naughty’ seemed to be the only answer. There’d be no Santa Claus coming down her chimney anytime soon. - Georgia Beyers

Threes…
 Charlotte sat at the bus stop wondering whether she would make the naughty or nice list this year. Last year she had rescued a stray kitten and therefore considered herself most definitely ‘nice’. This year she had broken Daniel’s heart into a million tiny pieces, so ‘naughty’ seemed to be the only answer. There’d be no Santa Claus coming down her chimney anytime soon.

Seriously though, naughty or nice, she seemed to be hurtling headlong towards the obligatory three bits of bad luck. Why did it have to come in threes? And why now, when she really could do with a bit of festive encouragement?

Actually, thinking about it, luck was a bit like buses, all or nothing, and right now her bad luck was piling up like a road block and the buses, well… there was a distinct lack of anything big, red and warm.
She glanced down at her watch, for the umpteenth time, if one didn’t come soon she’d be shattering (well shattering might be a bit on the strong side, severely denting more like) more than one little heart, and she’d actually BE blue, not just feeling it.
Although not as blue as Daniel. Poor, poor Daniel. No festive cheer for him. He was the first bit of bad luck, if you could call it that, some might call it clever engineering. And talking of engineering (or should that be mechanics?) black cloud two on her horizon was her car.
For the first time in like ever, their whole entire relationship, it had spluttered as though it had swallowed something down the wrong way, and then given up the ghost altogether. Which did just about sum up her past relationships (the human, not mechanical ones). The one with her car had probably been as good as it got.

 Maybe it was enough that her car had broken down just when she needed it most, leaving her waiting for a bus in the freezing cold. Maybe Santa could strike the Daniel thing off the list and call it quits – which left her in the good camp didn’t it? Well evens, because apparently the kitten wasn’t actually a stray. Long story, but hey she’d tried. And didn’t they say it was the trying that mattered? And it had been attempted rescue, she had climbed up the tree even if she’d missed the fact that the darn thing had decided a suicidal scramble down the other side was a better bet than being saved by her. Okay, so that left it about evens. Clean slate, hello Santa. Or maybe the third bit of bad luck would be no bus, and a lot of un-festive bad temper and maybe even tears.
 And the whole Daniel thing wasn’t really her fault anyway. Oh, why wasn’t life ever simple?

 ***

“Have you got any idea what you look like dressed like that?”
Charlotte instinctively jumped back as the car pulled in at the kerb, determined not to get her tights sprayed by yet another wave of slushy snow, then thoughts of Daniel, ungrateful kittens and naughty lists took a hike as she registered who it was.
“Like Santa’s little helper I was hoping.” She grinned at the girl inside the car, who had wound the window down and seemed to find the whole thing quite entertaining. Amy.
“And there was I just thinking green tights were the in thing this Christmas. Come on, get in, I’m freezing my bits off here.”
Charlotte pulled opened the car door and stepped as carefully as she could in, studying her by now drooping boots. Well, the perky points were drooping. Getting changed before setting off had been a good idea when she’d thought she had a car. Not so good when you have to trudge the streets.
“Crumbs it’s hot in here.” The tips of her fingers were already tingling seconds after she’d shut the door. “Don’t complain, if you’d stood out there much longer you would have either got picked up or arrested.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a nice policeman.”
“As in picked up, or arrested by?”
She shrugged and Amy laughed and steered her way back into the traffic. “I thought you were off men.” “Only other peoples.” Charlotte sighed and closed her eyes for a second, although surely the fact that Amy had turned up was a good sign. A sign that she may be forgiven? “And my look not touch policy is working just fine.”
“That so wasn’t your fault. And I can’t believe he actually cried. I mean cried. Real tears.” Her best friend glanced at her briefly, with a look of mock horror then turned her concentration back to the road.
“Real man tears.” She looked glumly out at the garishly decorated shop windows that were whizzing past in glorious Technicolor. “That, apparently, was one of the things Holly liked about him. His sensitive side.” “Until she decided to swap him for a fireman.”
“He has a big pole apparently.”
 Amy giggled, then beeped the car horn angrily as a man, half hidden behind a large conifer stepped out in front of the car. Charlotte made a grab for the door handle as the car shimmied on the ice, but Amy didn’t seem to notice. She was warming up to the subject. Holly assassination. “She is such a cow though, expecting you to do the dirty for her. Sorry, but she is.”
Diversionary tactics seemed in order. Much as Charlotte didn’t like the way her sister took advantage of her good nature, she was prepared to forgive and forget. The festive season and all that. “A lucky cow, you should see the fireman. And she probably knew Dan would cry, she only does soft sides when it works for her. I mean she just wouldn’t know what to do, would she? She’s not exactly the type to hand out tissues.” 

“More the type to give him the money so he can go buy a packet. I can’t believe you two are sisters. Here we go, grotty grotto time.” Amy pulled the handbrake on with a flourish and stared at the entrance door. “I suppose we should be thankful we’re not reindeers. The little horrors kept pinching Becky’s bum last year, they said they just wanted to see if her tail was real. One of them tugged it so hard she thought the elastic in her knickers was going to pop.”
“Knickers?”
“It was attached. Safety reasons. Elf and safety.” Amy giggled at her own joke.
“Very funny.” Charlotte passed Amy her elf hat. “Nor can I, believe we’re sisters I mean.” And sometimes she couldn’t. Holly was tall, slim, had perfect nails and breathtakingly outrageous dress sense. Charlotte stopped at outrageous. She was small, on the verge of a donut-too-many and generally wore the first thing that fell out of the wardrobe. Or, as in tonight, an elf costume. Holly would never be seen dead in green (despite her name), it clashed with her skin colouring apparently. And as for the curly toed shoes and the perky hat… “Hang on.” Somewhere from the depths of the elf tunic a merry Christmas tune announced an incoming text. “Oh.” She re-read the text just to be sure. “Apparently she’s moved on to the fireman’s mate now.”
 “So he didn’t light her fire exactly?”
Charlotte shook her head and tried to look disapproving. “You’re on form tonight.”
“It’s my mental preparation for coping with two hundred hyper kids. Shall we go find Santa?”
“I think my boots are running.”
“Sorry?”
 “The colour,” she swung her feet out of the car and watched the snow turn emerald. “It’s running. My feet are in a bit of a green puddle. Oh, shit.” Charlotte paused, half in and half out of the car. Which wasn’t a good idea as her feet nearly shot from under her on the ice. She straightened up reluctantly, which meant she couldn’t hide behind the car door any longer.
“What? Oh.” Amy walked round and stood at the side of Charlotte, and stared at Santa Claus, standing stock in the centre of the doorway. His white beard tucked under his chin. A bashful grin on his face. Amy wasn’t bothered about displaying herself in full elf costume to Santa. “Er, I mean oo.” She dropped her voice a notch, but it still seemed far too loud to Charlotte. She leant in closer, dropped to a stage whisper. “Well, I mean wow, but what is with the ‘oh shit’, girl? That is one hell of a Santa, Christmas has come early. I’m a believer.”



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Tuesday, 26 November 2013

Written Fireside November: His Way Home, Part 3

If you've not read the previous parts yet, catch up with Part 1 and Part 2 before reading on!




Part 3...
Walter ran a leathery finger down the edge of the wallet, then tried to pull the photograph free, frustration flickering across his face as his arthritic fingers struggled with the task.
“Here, can I help?” Beth put a hand out hesitantly, not wanting to interfere, but Walter nodded instantly.
“Thank you, dear.”
She teased the worn picture out from the sleeve in the wallet, laid it carefully on the table between them. It was a moment before Walter touched it, lifted it up with an age mottled hand that shook, slowly turned it over.
“Alice Rose Dolvin.” He read the words that were traced out in a spidery script on the back.
“Do you know who she is?”
“I’m not sure. I should, but….” He took a sip of the cocoa that had sat untouched next to him, his gaze never leaving the picture of the woman. “It’s in her eyes, those eyes are so like Rose’s you know. And she’s even got that same dimple.” One finger rested lightly on the photograph, traced the outline of the face. “Who’d have known?” His voice had drifted and Beth instinctively reached out to touch him. He shook his head, gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, my dear. I remember now.”
Relief surged through Beth as she smiled back. Matthew had often spoken to her of the confusion concussion patients could suffer from, and although Walter seemed far from frail he was elderly and who knows how long he had been out in the cold.
“Alice.” His voice seemed stronger, conviction in it now, “Alice Rose Dolvin is our daughter.”
“But, but she’s the same age as you, she can’t be your daughter...” The relief she’d felt had been chased away by panic. He needed help. Oh, why wasn’t Matthew here now?
Walter’s tone was soft, but firm. “Oh yes, my dear, she is. It’s our little Alice.  I was sent back to help her.” He looked up at Beth, but the clear blue eyes were focussed on some place far away, “I need to get back, I really do need to get home now. They need me.”



To be continued Tuesday December 3rd by
Lynn Marie Hulsman 
on her blog

While you are waiting, why not check out her book?
Coming next...

Part 4 by Lynn Marie Hulsman on Tuesday December 3rd
Part 5 by Romy Sommer on Tuesday December 10th
Part 6 by Jane Lark on Tuesday December 17th

Part 7 by Teresa F Morgan on Tuesday December 24th
Part 8 by Carmel Harrington on Tuesday January 7th
Part 9 by Sue Fortin on Tuesday January 14th
Part 10 by Erin Lawless on Tuesday January 21st
Part 11 by Mandy Baggot on Tuesday January 28th

Wednesday, 12 December 2012

An Interview with Victoria Embers, author of 'My Vampire Lover'



My Vampire Lover - a series of erotic short stories by Victoria Embers


Bio:  Victoria Embers splits her time between being a stay-at-home mom and reading vampire fiction. She believes good romance should make you purr while good erotic fiction should make you scream, but in a good way of course. Embracing her love of vampires and werewolves and the naughty situations they find themselves in, she’s currently writing an erotic short stories series called My Vampire Lover with a blend of paranormal romance and erotica featuring, you guessed it, vampires and werewolves.


Question time!

What inspires you to write?
Actually I’m new to all of this. A friend suggested I sit down and write the story I have been telling her and that’s what I’m doing. It’s a new adventure for me and I’m very excited about doing something creative.
In one or two sentences, give the core premise behind your story.
In the first installment of this erotic short story series, Caroline, a werewolf and golden guardian of the realm, has discovered a new love in her vampire captor. She's willing to risk everything, even her life, to prove to him she loves him and has forsaken all others including her family and her pack.
The next story I’m releasing next month is called “Redemption (My Vampire Lover #2).”
Raphael, a vampire and prince to the realm, faces a great challenge. After giving his blood to Caroline to drink, Raphael knows her life is hanging between life and death. Will she survive? And if so, what will she become being born as a werewolf pure blood? Raphael knows he must work fast to protect Caroline from his father discovering her existence while he also figures out how to save her.
What is the theme of the overall series?
I love the romance novels where the lovers want to be together, but can’t. I like the idea of Caroline and Raphael wanting to be together, but because they come from different worlds it is a big struggle for them.
Is this book a part of a series?
Yes, actually. I’m writing My Vampire Lover as a serialized series of short stories. I have the attention span of a ferret and I have heard other Indie authors say that it is very tough to write a full 80,000 or 100,000 offering of an ebook. I learned recently that an ebook that size is called an Epic. That was too scary for me and too much pressure and I am a very impatient person when it comes to getting tasks done. So with that in mind, I thought releasing each story separately would be something I could accomplish, start small and build on it.
Are you’re confident in this approach then?
To make a long story short (if I may put it that way)…yes,I am.  I decided after a lot of soul searching to put myself out there in the sea of Amazon in a little boat, instead of a big boat.  Lol! But seriously, I’m hoping to release a short story each month to readers, around the end of the month.
I think it’ll be a very exciting experience for both me, as a writer and the reader. I’m hoping if the reader is ready for my approach and that they will enjoy the anticipation of getting the next story, without having to wait too long. And I’ll get to learn more about what they think of the recently released story and get feedback. I like interacting with my friends on Facebook and other social networking sites, so I hope I get feedback from anyone who starts reading my series, My Vampire Lover. You know? It’s going to be fun.
How long do you think each story will be? Who will tell the story? I know in this first story, Conquest your female heroine, Caroline is a werewolf and she tells the story. Will she tell all of them?
I plan for each story to be one scene or a few scenes, averaging around 2,500 to 5,000 words each, probably more like 5,000. I’m currently working on the second one now. Originally I thought Caroline, my werewolf heroine who is kidnapped by her vampire captor who then  turns into her lover, would tell the story. But now I want to have each story go back and forth. I think that will be more fun. Caroline has told the first story from her point of view in “Conquest.” The next story will be told by her vampire lover, Raphael. He will tell the next story.
How many books to you anticipate will be in this series?
Probably around 10 to 12 short stories.


Excerpt from “Conquest (My Vampire Lover #1)”:
I felt his warm, wet tongue dart in my mouth, sucklingly my bottom lip.  A sting of pain surfaced.
I shrieked, quickly pulling away from him.
He held me fast in his arms.  Our eyes locked.
Again I tasted the sweetness of blood, but this time it was my own.  Carefully, I licked my bottom lip where he had bitten me.
Another gleam from the moon shone upon his face, his bright eyes sparkled with a savage knowledge beyond lust and desire, one of sheer hunger.  He would be mine.
Before I could stop him, he slashed at his well-toned chest with his nails.  Lines of blood formed across his muscles.
“Drink of me.”
Then he resumed fucking me fiercely, refusing to stop.
I stared at the streams of blood rolling down his chest as I rode him.  The wolf in me instantly awoke.  Warm rushes of power and hunger rose up in me.  The wolf was coming for me and I wouldn’t be able to deny him.
“Let it go,” my vampire lover whispered into the night.  “Drink of me.  I’ll make you queen when Father dies and we’ll rule this kingdom together despite them.”
The moon bathed him in its lush glow and I couldn’t resist marveling at his naked form.  He was exquisite.  His thick, muscular chest glistened with blood and sweat and I held on to his shoulders as I drove my hips down upon his, feeling his magnificent cock serge deep inside me.  Each stride I took sent me ever closer to him forever.  I took his mouth with a savage intensity I had never known and then I lavished my kisses upon his chest, licking his blood and sweat in long, broad laps.
We will be together.
I leaned my head back, exposing my neck completely. “Do it. Do it now. He’s here!”
Answering my request, he pulled me into his embrace and sank his teeth into my neck.
I cried out, instantly thrusting myself upwards to meet his fanged kiss. A flood of raw, electrifying sensations exploded inside me and multiple orgasms rocketed through me.
He lifted me slightly off the bed and he drank from me, holding me gently in his arms the whole time.
I pressed my back into his firm hands and focused on meeting his tempo as I rode him. The room began to spin. Blood trickled down my chest, running past my belly button and along the inside of my thighs. A delightful shiver of fear passed through me as my vampire shuddered and came inside me. I will be his.

Full Story:
I have the full 2,500 word short story Free at Smashwords.
Contact the Author:
Victoria Embers – Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/victoria.embers?ref=tn_tnmn



Invitation:
I’d like to invite any Indie Authors reading this article to be featured on my blog. I’m wanting to build my audience and I’d like to highlight other Erotica authors who are writing in this genre. Please see http://victoriaembers.wordpress.com/2012/11/24/guest-author-guidelines/ for more information.