Bryan T. Clark
Jul 22, 2016 | Romance
The screaming was deafening as it reverberated from the walls. The crowd was on their feet, stomping and shouting as they witnessed what could only be called a phenomenon. Nicky O’Hare was having one of the best swims of his life. With each stroke, he felt his fingers stretching his arms further forward. Tilting his head slightly when he took a breath, he saw his teammates walking alongside the pool, jumping and screaming “NIC-KY, NIC-KY, NIC-KY,” as they clapped in unison.
Nicky increased his lead with every stroke; his teammate Connor pushed to regain his lead, but he was no match for Nicky. This finish by Tampa Bay’s newest recruit had been predicted by no one.
When Nicky hit the wall first, he hit it with such force that even the coach was concerned. Ripping his goggles and cap off, Nicky held on to the red and yellow plastic floating rope that divided the lanes. Looking up at the scoreboard to check his time, he then scanned the pool deck looking for Coach Silva. Seeing his entire team and the crowd erupting into mass euphoria over what just occurred, Nicky couldn’t help but smile, knowing his time had to surely please his coach, the only person that mattered. The freshman from Brandy, South Dakota, population seven thousand, just showed everyone at his first college-level meet—including Connor Moretti—that he was here to win.
As Nicky pulled himself out of the pool, Coach Silva was right there, first giving him a double high-five, followed with a hug and a light pat on his wet ass. To the spectators watching, the hug was nothing, but for Nicky, that hug was worth all the effort. It was also a scene, a feeling he knew he would play over and over in his head later.
Marina Martindale
Jun 9, 2016 | Romance, 1st pages
Rosemary McGee had the next traffic light perfectly timed until a car from the other lane suddenly cut in front of her minivan. She slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a collision as the light turned yellow. Rosemary kept her foot on the brake pedal, coming to a stop as the signal turned red. Her knees were shaking a little as she looked at the woman sitting in the passenger seat.
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” she replied.
“You're sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure.”
“I sure hope that wasn't a bad sign. It's your opening night and I want everything to be perfect for you.”
“It's not a bad sign, Rosemary,” she said, trying to reassure her. “These things happen, especially in rush-hour traffic. Don't worry. We're okay. We'll get there in plenty of time, so try to relax. You've been on edge ever since we left the hotel. You're about to give yourself an ulcer, and me a screaming headache to go along with it.”
“Sorry, Gillian. It's not like I know my way around Denver, and these idiots on the road certainly don't help.”
“That's why we have a GPS device. Like I just said, everything is fine.”
They waited for the light to change. Once it turned green, the minivan lurched forward.
“You know,” said Gillian, “just before that happened, I was thinking about my father, and how convinced he was that I'd have no future whatsoever if I became an artist.”
“And when I first met you, I knew you were much too talented to be wasting your time laying out ads for weekly supermarket specials. You've come a long way, Gillian. I'm sure your father would have been proud of you.”
“I hope so.”
Gillian Matthews was becoming famous in the art world, and now she had a new gallery to add to her collection. All the risks she'd taken to get herself where she wanted to be were finally paying off.
“Right turn ahead,” chimed the electronic voice.
“Thank you, Bill,” replied both women in unison. Bill was the name they'd given the GPS device.
“It's too bad you never got to meet my father, Rosemary. I'm sure you and he would have found one another–interesting.”
“I met your mother.”
“Only once or twice, and it was after she had gotten so sick she really wasn't herself anymore. Trust me, there was no way my parents were ever going to allow any daughter of theirs to become an artist. That was way too beneath them. I'll always remember when Cynthia first went off to college. She was studying to be an elementary school teacher. As far as they were concerned, that was an appropriate career, and I was to follow in her footsteps.”
Ciana Stone
Jun 9, 2016 | Romance, 1st pages
The car sputtered, jerked and sputtered again just before the engine died. Callie steered the car to the side of the road and coasted to a stop. Damn. This was a fine mess. Thanks to the broken fuel gage, she had not realized she was so close to being out of gas.
Now what?
She cut a look over her shoulder to her daughter, Lily, sleeping in the back seat. Her hair was plastered to her head and her little cheeks were rosy from the heat. Callie got out and circled the car to open the back passenger side ¬door and roll down the window. There was a bit of a breeze but the air was hot. She checked the water in Lily’s sippy cup. It was half full, but even the plastic felt warm.
Tears threatened. She needed to get somewhere Lily could cool off, have something to drink and a meal. However, with no cell phone service and seemingly in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, she didn’t have a clue how far it was to the next town. She should have stopped in Rock Ridge when she’d seen the sign , but had thought she could get a few more miles down the road. Her goal was to reach San Angelo where a friend had moved last year.
Her friend, Debbie, had agreed to give her and Lily a place to stay until she could find work. Had she been smart, she would have tried to line up work before she left Nashville, but hindsight was always clearer and she was too far down the road to turn back now.
Callie got back into the car and consulted the map. She wasn’t sure how far out of Rock Ridge she was. It had been around two when she’d passed the sign on the two-lane highway, indicating the turn to Rock Ridge, and it was now half past two. She tried to do the calculations based on the scale provided on the map. Maybe she wasn’t that far from the next town. But how far was not far? Close enough to walk, carrying Lily?
With panic starting to swell, she folded the map and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel. If ever there was a time she needed a guardian angel, it was now.
She snorted at the idea. Even if something like that existed, it was not intended for her.
At the sound of a vehicle, she looked up. A pickup truck was headed toward her. The driver crossed the lane and pulled onto the side of the road, facing her. A middle-aged, heavy-set man with a cane climbed out.
“Afternoon, ma’am. Having car trouble?”
Callie got out of the car and met the man at the front of her car. The man had a kind face and didn’t appear to be threatening, but with Lily asleep in the car, Callie couldn’t be too careful. “I – we’ll be fine, but thank you.”
The man gave her a look that reminded her of her dad when he didn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth.
“I ran out of gas,” she said, and then, embarrassed to have admitted it, quickly added, “Stupid, I know. The gas gage is broken and I thought I could make it to the next town.”
“Well you came purty close. Cotton Creek is five miles.” He looked past Callie and into the car. “Little one looks like she could use a break from the heat.”
The man reached behind him and pulled a billfold from the back pocket of his pants. He opened it and showed her, then put it back in his pocket and extended his hand to Callie. “Billy Sweet, ma’am. Me and the family live in Cotton Creek. How ’bout I give you a ride to get some gas?”
“You would do that?” Callie was stunned at his kindness and his astuteness. He’d realized her discomfort and mistrust. “And I’m Callie Williams. That’s my daughter, Lily.”
J.M. Adele
Jun 1, 2016 | Romance, 1st pages, Paranormal
PROLOGUE
My mind has wandered to that place where my dreams flee, replaced with vaporous intruders and penetrating horrors. My body twitched and jerked, struggling to find consciousness as the misty form of a woman drifted into my room. Not again.
She wore a floral, summer dress. One strap was torn and hung loose from her shoulder, and dark bruises circled her neck. Reaching out her hand, she wrapped it around my foot. My body stilled. Inside my chest, my heart froze while my stomach threatened to prolapse. She pulled on my foot, imploring me to listen. I knew she couldn’t really drag me away, but I felt the icy touch, the drag of her fingers on my terrified flesh. I wondered if I would somehow disappear. My hands reached desperately for the pillow.
“Stop,” I pleaded.
“You have to help me. You have to stop him.”
My whimpers turned into sobs. “Please… g-go away.”
I felt another presence. Heard the shaky rumble of his voice as he told the lady to leave.
“Daddy,” I whispered, relieved. He smiled at me with sad eyes.
But the spirit refused to budge.
“I’m sorry, honey bunch. I love you,” my father’s voice whispered, heavy with regret.
The wretched fingers of loss clawed their way into my chest, pulling apart my ribcage as if just learning of his death.
I dropped the pillow, and reached out to him. “Nooo! Daddy!” My screams were useless. He was gone.
Wrenching my sweat-soaked body upright, my throat ached as the scream continued to escape the depths of my chest. I pressed my lips together to cut off the sound, but that only lasted a second. My mouth opened wide again as I gasped for much needed air.
A hammering sound filled the room. My muddled brain mistook it for the pulse in my ears, but it was the beating of a fist on my bedroom door.
“SHUT UP!” My housemate screeched as she continued to pound.
I was definitely awake now. My hand circled my throat. I needed to check for myself if my screams had stopped.
Yup. All good. “YEAH, KEEP YOUR SKIN ON!” I tried to shout back, but my voice came out hoarse.
“Fucking freak,” she mumbled before I heard the shuffle of her feet on the tiles.
Again, frozen fingers grasped my toes and pulled. I snapped my foot back, leaving her hand suspended and empty. I watched my stubborn, unwanted visitor through narrowed eyes, and a whole lot of false bravado.
“He’s coming. He’s going to take another.”
“Okay got it. You can go now. You’re not wanted here. Leave.” My voice was low, but firm.
Her face went blank, and her hand dropped from its raised position. The holographic image of her faded, but the chill running up and down my body remained.
I liked to think I could run from this, but there’s no hiding from things unbound to time or matter. My stupid sixth sense was telling me the proverbial shit was going to hit the proverbial fan… soon.
Fuck my life.
Erin Trejo
May 27, 2016 | Romance, 1st pages
Creed
“Nice pass!” Hollering at my best friend Jason from the stands, his sister Jada slaps me.
“Creed! Do you have to yell in my damn ear?” That pretty little blonde haired brown eyed piece of hot ass sits next to me looking perfect as always. I have known Jason and Jada for the last ten years. My family moved in next door to them when I was thirteen. Jason and Jada are twins and Jason has been the best friend I could have ever asked for.
Jason got me when no one else did. He made me feel like I was worthy of having him as a friend when everyone else turned their backs on the strange new kid. We went to high school together until I graduated and now I sit here watching him play in one of his last football games of his high school career.
“You know we could always sneak out behind the snack stand sweetheart.” Wiggling my eyebrows at Jada, I see the slight blush that creeps up her neck. I have lusted after this girl for so fucking long. Jason always told me to stay away from her though; I have tried so hard to do just that.
“You are a pig. Didn’t you sneak out there the other day with Melissa?” The fake shudder that she throws off makes me smile. I would give anything to fuck this girl senseless. One day.
Turning my attention back to the game, I try to keep thoughts of Jada’s naked body out of my head. Feeling her sliding against me while I plunge inside of her. Fuck, my dick’s getting hard already.
“Did I make you remember her?” Jada leans closer to me, whispering in my ear while she looks at my ever-hardening dick in my jeans. She knows she’s doing it to me. Reaching over I grip her around the back of her neck.
“The only person that has my dick hard is you. One fuckin’ day, Jada.” Sticking my tongue out, I run it across her bottom lip watching her shiver. I love the reactions I get out of her even though I shouldn’t.
Jada watches my eyes, breathless. I know she fucking wants me as much as I want her, she just won’t admit it because of Jason, and I don’t push it for the same reason. We watch the rest of the game in an awkward silence. I can feel the tension rolling off her, she fucking wants me. Jada and I have always had an awkward tension between us. We both know we want each other but we both respect Jason too much to act on it.
With the game over and the crowd screaming since we just won, I head towards the field with a huge smile on my face.
“That was a nice game J.” Throwing my arm around his shoulder, I congratulate him. Star of the football team, he deserves much more.
“Thanks Creed. We got fucking playoffs man.” Jason is super excited and I can’t blame him. He has thrown himself into football and trains hard. He wants to play college ball so he works his ass off.
“We celebratin’ tonight?” Jason gives me a sideways glance making me laugh. I should have known the answer to that.
“I’ll meet you over at Jerry’s. I’m hitting the shower.” Standing there, I watch my best friend head to the locker room. I couldn’t be prouder of him if I tried.
Nicole Fitton
May 20, 2016 | Romance, 1st pages
At 18 years of age Laine Marshall was living her life the way most 18 year olds dream of. Having left home and school at 17 she had fallen into working as a PR assistant for one of the hippest record companies around – Vestal Records. Laine didn’t just make the tea & do the photocopying; she did it for the best & hippest bands around!
Her boss Adam Brighton was a naturally good manager. He gave his small, tight-knit team of four enough freedom for them to feel they were all the most integral part of the team. He would stroke their egos just enough to get the best out of them without creating any diva-esque nemeses.
Each one truly was an important part of Vestal’s growing success in the heady music PR arena. Adam loved analogies and would often wax lyrical about the strength that came from standing together as a solid team. He maintained that the hand could not work without the arm, or the leg without the foot. It had taken a big stretch of the imagination when he started discussing how the butt could not work without the mouth! Playing the lovable rouge so skilfully allowed Adam a longer length of rope than the others.
Vestal’s PR team were deft and skilful. They confidently navigated their way through the thorns and wit of many a journalistic sniper. Artful and diplomatic, they diffused many a damaging headline, exerting a confident and calming influence on all who came across them.
