Sunday Snippet: Under the Impression

Had a crazy busy week with multiple projects coming due and, thankfully, I made the deadlines. I'll freely admit there might have been some wine to help along the way. More as a reward at the end of the week than during the actual crunch time.

I made a lot of progress on the three shows I'm currently watching. This means I haven't seen any of the premieres of the new seasons yet. I'm weirdly out of sync with everyone else and I'm not eager to dive into the new stuff yet.

I continued with season three of Peter Gunn and have a handful of episodes left to watch. Season three marks the end of the run and I'm not sure what I'll replace this show with, but I think I'd like to go with another classic television series. We'll see what I can find.

I'm through season seven of Classic Who and have a start on season eight. I'm in the Mind of Evil arc. The Master is now a nemesis and it's fun to watch how the long-standing rivalry started between the Doctor and the Master.

I've also finished up series eighteen of Midsomer Murders and should start nineteen soon. That leaves about twelve or so episodes left before I finish up the entire run. Not sure what I'll replace this one with either. I might finish The Coroner if it's still available.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Under the Impression, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Gris Ravenswood, owner of the hot nightspot, Impressions, has it bad for his lead bartender, Kari Dans, but she's in a relationship with a semi-pro golfer. When Kari imbibes too much at an afterparty and puts the moves on Gris, he thinks he's finally got a chance… until Kari receives a text and runs off to be with the guy who always leaves her behind.

And a snippety peek…

She's not for you.

Gris headed down to the cellar for the inventory count. "Yeah, yeah. I always get all hot for taken ones." Not the first time he'd fallen for someone already involved.

And, no, he didn't plan to examine the why of that too closely.

Grabbing the scanner, he started logging the barcodes of his bourbon supply. Two years. Kari had been dating the golf pro since opening night at Impressions.

He paused. "No forward progress." She's still only dating him. "Why the hell haven't they done something like move in together?" None of your business, dumbass.

Too true.

But, shit. If Gris had someone like Kari—vivacious, sexy, and funny as hell—he'd want to spend as much time with her as possible. Wishful thinking, much? Maybe… but he definitely wouldn't want to spend most of the week away from her. You don't have to, asshat. She works for you. She worked her ass off for him, but even if she didn't, he'd want someone like her to stop by for drinks as a customer.

He snorted. "Or at least I'd take her to dinner." Maybe breakfast, given the crazy hours they worked. And having her spend the day in bed wouldn't be bad, either. Gah. His inner voice needed to shut the hell up.

Still… he'd swear something didn't quite work between Kari and her golf pro. The guy never talked about anything other than himself or golf when he came in. When Kari brought up her family, or lack thereof, Mr. Golf Pro didn't bite to ask questions. At least not in Gris's presence. Which didn't mean jack because Gris didn't like the guy. But Gris at least had the story about Kari's only living relative. An uncle in Nebraska. But the relationship of your head bartender is none of your—

"Yeah, yeah. Not my business." He filed the niggling thought away and got back to work.

His infatuation with Kari would amount to nothing.

I'm kind of enjoying writing Gris's side of this story. It's a little bit of a twist on the way I originally envisioned things unfolding and I love it when that happens.

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Unacceptable Behavior

My second senior night is in the books. We got to participate in pre-game moments for the football game, meet with our daughter on the field, and basically bask in her glory for band. We are so, so lucky with her particular group of friends. They've been together for a long time, most of them since elementary school, and it's terrific to watch how they hold each other up and make themselves accountable.

I also got to finally attend one of her band competitions. She's got a duet with another senior and they sounded terrific. I'm hoping I can make more of her shows this year.

My week was jammed with work and running around but I did get to watch some of my usual standbys, starting with Peter Gunn. I finished up the second season and got a start on the third and final one. I should have that one finished up by the end of the month.

I also caught two more arcs of Classic Who and have started on the third doctor's series. This week's episodes were, Spearhead from Space and Doctor Who and the Silurians. I rather like the third doctor so far.

Watched three more Midsomer Murders episodes. I thoroughly enjoyed each one. I'm into series eighteen, so I only have two more to go.

I finished up another episode of Blue Heelers and started a new one. The new one features an almost washed-up footie player, which is fun for me because the US, at least in my part of it, doesn't really follow soccer, unless it's during the championships. Then everyone and their brother has a team. Seriously, it's bonkers.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Unacceptable Behavior, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Blain Donahue wants to buy into a fight club and decides to invest when he meets the main attraction Roxane Kewes. He's known her a long time—since high school where she constantly got in trouble—and thinks it's great she's found an outlet for her unacceptable behavior.

And a snippety peek…

Blain Donahue glanced up from his homework. The second week of school and his routine already bored him. But… getting out of homeroom and enrichment class to work as the dean's student aide didn't suck and gave him something to do during his free period.

The second bell, signaling the start of the school day hadn't rung yet when the new girl—Roxane Kewes, entered the office flanked by Mrs. Barstow and Wes Brently, holding a wad of tissues to his nose.

Blain bit back a grin at the sight of Brently's bloody face. "Couldn't happen to a more deserving asshole." Brently loved to throw his family connection around to get away with being a complete dick.

The chemistry teacher stopped at Blain's desk. "We need to see Mr. Cline, right now." She huffed out a sigh.

Blain started to get up, but Mr. Cline opened his door, got a look at Wes, and motioned him inside the office. Mrs. Barstow opened her mouth to speak, but Cline waved her off. She made a grumbling sound but turned and left the main office. Roxane's lips curved in a smirk when Wes whined, "Stupid new chick smashed my nose." The closing door stopped any additional complaints from coming through.

Blain wanted to laugh out loud over Brently getting his face bloodied up by the newest addition to the high school roster.

He couldn't help but ask questions.  "You're new, right? Roxane?" He had the joy—not—of entering all the student names into Cline's database.

She nodded, but didn't answer directly.

Blain plowed forward. "I'm Blain Donahue." He leaned back in his chair. "And not that I don't appreciate the poetic justice, but what made you think faceplanting the meanest asshole in school would be a good idea?" He honestly thought she might be a little insane.

Roxane shrugged. "Take out the biggest, baddest kid in school and no one messes with you." She paused a moment. "And I don't like guys who strut around thinking it's okay to stick their crotch in someone's face." Her fingers curled into her palms.

Blain straightened in his seat. "He did that?" Wow, a new low… even for Brently.

Roxane gave a terse nod. "Yeah. And I'm not sure Silvia Glenn knows it's perfectly okay to either dick punch dudes who do that or shove their face in a table then throw a right hook." She lifted a shoulder. "Either way, she won't have to worry about whiny Wes trying to intimidate her anymore."

Blain had a solid appreciation for her reasoning, but Roxane didn't know why Brently got away with the shit he did.

He snorted. "Don't be so sure." He leaned forward a little and pitched his voice low. "You might have bit off more than you expected here. Whiny Wes is Cline's nephew. The dude gets away with anything and everything." And thank fuck no one would have to deal with him after this year.

Roxane gave Blain a level look. "Took me less than a full day to catch on to that fact." Her tone indicated she had no worries about her future.

Which kind of put him in his place.

He settled back again. "Yeah, well, it sucks big hairy balls, but no one can do anything about it." More than a few people had tried, from teachers to bus drivers to students.

Roxan quirked an eyebrow. "Really? Maybe that's about to cha—" She broke off when Cline's door opened.

Wes strolled out a nasty sneer on his now cleaned up face. "Get ready for a year-long detention, bitch." He puffed his chest out, posturing like a rooster.

Roxane stared him down. "We'll see about that." She gave him a sweet smile.

Mr. Cline barked out an order. "Wes, get back to class." He pinned Roxane with his gaze. "Ms. Kewes, if you'll come in, please." He left the door halfway open per school regulations.

Blain strained to hear the conversation, but Mr. Cline and Roxane spoke in hushed tones and whispers. Not fifteen minutes later, Mr. Cline swung the door open again and Roxane exited, a serene expression on her face.

She stopped by Blain's desk and he swallowed his shock when Mr. Cline followed her out of the office, his face drained of color.

Cline motioned to Blain. "Give Ms. Kewes a pass to get back to class." He slid a quick glance toward Roxane. "I trust we won't have any more unacceptable behavior from you?"

Roxane gave him a bland stare. "As long as there isn't more from your nephew." Her lips curved in a confident smile.

Cline made a terse nod then stepped back inside his office and all but slammed the heavy steel slab shut.

Blain blinked and shook his head. "How—"

Roxane held up a hand. "Trade secret. Someday, if you're lucky, I might just tell you." A wide grin split her face.

Blain scribbled his signature on the little piece of paper and sat back. "I'll look forward to that." He handed the pass over. "You're amazing." She'd blown his mind.

Roxane tucked the pass in her pocket and flashed another smile. "Thanks. See ya around." She left the main hub and headed down the hall.

Blain hoped he got the chance to hear how she came out on top with Cline and Brently.

Roxane is a treat to write and Blain is fun because he takes a page from her book.

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Ugly Drunk

September 15, 2019

This past week I got to experience my daughter's first "senior night", this one for golf. She's my youngest and the last one we need to get through high school. Which is actually funny because she's also the most organized of my three kiddos and we haven't had to do much to get her through anything. Okay, except to maybe open the checkbook or whip out the debit card.

Anyway, the golf team had a scramble with another county team and the girls had a great time. This is a little poignant for three of the four seniors because they're all four-year letterman and they literally launched the girls' golf team for the high school. My daughter and one of her friends were the true masterminds, getting another freshman and two sophomores interested so they could form a team. There had to be at least four girls and they had five so they were good to go. In the four years they've had a team, the roster grew to eight, dropped to seven, then went back up to eight again this year. It's been exciting to watch the group grow and change and support each other.

Next up, is senior night for band and that's next weekend. I'm hoping for a non-rainy football game. This past week, the game got delayed due to lightning. Fun times.

Had a busy week overall with work but did get some television viewing in. I kept up with more episodes of Peter Gunn. I'm almost through the second season.

Also got some Classic Who in with The Mind Robber, The Invasion, and The Kroton multi-part episodes. I think I'm through the mixed episodes that are part animation and part regularly shot scenes.

I also watched three more Midsomer Murders episodes. I'm in series seventeen so I have about three more series to finish up.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Ugly Drunk, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Pippa Rice is a problem solver and when she takes a job at a local watering hole, her natural skill defuses quite a few tricky situations. Too bad she can't quite figure out how to fix her boss, Wood Finnian. The guy has more baggage than an airport, but Pippa isn't one to give up on people, ever.

And a snippety peek…

This is a supremely bad idea.

But Pippa paused. "Why? Why do you want a shot?" If he said she challenged him, she'd punch him. Hard. Especially after his earlier crack down in the bar.

Wood put his arms around her, his lips nuzzling her neck. "I honestly have no idea. You're annoying and a huge pain in my ass." He turned her to face him. "But my brother trusted you and I don't know a better man than him." His forehead rested against hers.

Pippa closed her eyes. Not exactly what she hoped for, but she had no idea how much Wood drank before getting him up here. Even so, she didn't want to be a substitute for Ward. She needed Wood to want her for her.

Wood's mouth dropped a kiss on her nose, then glanced across her cheek to burn a trail along her jawline. Pippa's head fell back and she moaned low in her throat. His hand delved inside her blouse, cupping a breast. The nipple responded, puckering against his palm.

God, the man hit every turn-on she had.

His chuckle rumbled close to her ear. "Your body wants me, Pip." He tilted his head back. "Or does it want any hard cock? How long did you say it's been?"

Dammit. Definitely still in ugly drunk mode. Even after baring his soul.

She shoved him back. "A long time, Wood. And using my admission to be an asshole doesn't suit you." She moved away, circling around him to nudge him toward his room. "But to answer your question, no, I don't want any hard dick." She prodded him, step-by-step until he finally stood by the bed. "I want yours. But not tonight."

He shuffled around, facing her. "Why not?"

She rolled her eyes, his petulant tone grating on her good will. Seriously? If he could hear himself right now, he'd wonder why she even stuck around.

Giving him a harder than necessary shove, she waited until he toppled backward before answering. "Because the dickhead factor outweighs everything at the moment and I'd be sorely tempted to do damage to what I'm sure is an impressive piece of manhood if it got anywhere near me right now." Leaning down, she grabbed his feet and swung them up onto the bed.

He grunted. "I hate that you're right. Are you ever wrong?"

Takes his boots off. "Rarely. It's a gift." She threw a blanket over his prone figure.

Making her way to his living room, she dragged a throw off the back of the sofa and settled in to stay overnight. No way would he get up and try to drink more or possibly take his grief out on the bar.

She also hoped to have an actual conversation after he slept off his drunken fest.

Because her heart wanted a chance with him even if she needed to stay vigilant.

Pippa's got it bad for Wood and I like the way these two interact. I'm excited to see how things play out with them.

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Transference

Whew. What a week. My middle kiddo—who's not really a kiddo anymore at twenty—ended up in an accident when a car turned in front of him across traffic. His car is pretty crunched up but he's thankfully okay. It's been a lot of phone calls this week to get a loaner car lined up and an insurance claim filed. I can say one thing with absolute certainty. I'm so glad we don't have many accidents or fender benders that need insurance company involvement. Yeesh.

I've been on a bit of a comfort viewing watch this past week. I stuck with more Peter Gunn episodes after watching the weekend marathon. I'm in the beginning of season two and about ten or so episodes in.

Also caught three groups of episodes with Classic Who. The six-part Web of Fear, which had some editing issues but it's better than not being available. I followed that with The Wheel in Space, another six-part arc. And then finished up with The Dominators, which is a five-part storyline. It looks like I'm in the last season of Two's run. I'm a little disappointed with how few episodes are available from his tenure.

I watched the last two episodes of series sixteen of Midsomer Murders and started the first episode of series seventeen. It's kind of odd how there was "The Flying Club" in sixteen and now "The Dagger Club" in seventeen.

I need to try to binge watch the final episodes of Riverdale to prepare for the new season starting soon. My heart is so heavy when I watch because they're the last episodes with Fred. I'm really looking forward to the premiere episode, which will be his memorial show.

And that's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Transference, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Leslie Karr is packing her meager belongings to move into a new apartment and finds a letter from Granger Unger explaining why their night of shared grief over the loss of his brother can't go anywhere. After three years, Leslie still wonders if he may have been wrong and decides to test the waters by looking him up before she leaves town.

And a snippety peek…

"I'm such an idiot." Leslie tossed her phone on the stripped-down bed. "Why did I pack everything before I called Granger?" She could kick herself right now.

Nothing for it but to dig through a couple of boxes for something to wear that didn't involve her usual athletic shorts and tank tops—before her belongings headed for storage.

"Coffee on a Saturday morning. I need casual." Definitely not the interview clothes in her suitcase.

She grabbed one of the boxes marked with a clothing label and dragged it toward the bed. Sitting down, she paused before opening it. Holy shit. I'm having coffee with Granger.

Pulling the lid off, she shook her head. "I'm not an idiot. I'm insane." Why did she think contacting Granger would be such a great idea?

Because he's Thad brother and, dammit, that means something.

What it meant, she didn't quite know.

Yet.

But she wanted to find out because she had no one else and neither did Granger.

Digging through the container, she found three outfits she could mix and match for several days' wear. "Not that I'll need something for more than Saturday." But Ohio weather could run the gamut from bright and sunny to chilly and wet sometimes in the same hour.

Stashing the garments in her overnight bag, she snapped the lid back on when a knock sounded on her door. Perfect timing.

Her former classmate stood outside. "Hey, John. I've got everything boxed and ready."

He did a quick glance around. "Is that it?" His eyebrow quirked.

She nodded. "Yep. Ten boxes." Not much to show for almost five years in one place.

He snorted. "This is nothing. Instead of paying for storage, why don't I just take this over to Mom and Dad's? They won't mind keeping it until you get settled wherever you're going to be." He picked up the first container.

It would be nice to save the monthly rental. "If you're sure they won't mind, that'd be great." She reached down to grab one of the boxes.

John shook his head. "Just put it on top of this one. If you stack, I'll carry." He started for the door. "I kind of owe you big time for helping me get through our last year."

Leslie grinned. "You do, don't you." She followed him to the main entrance and pushed the door open. "I'm going to call and confirm my interview times, but I'll have the next two ready to go when you get back in."

She made a quick call to Maryland and verified the date, time, and location. John returned and she loaded him up again. Another call, this time to a hospital in Wisconsin to double-check the pertinent details. John made two more trips then met her in the foyer of the apartment building.

He nodded toward her suitcase and carryon. "You've got everything then?"

Her head bobbed up and down. "Yeah. Just need to drop my keys off then I'm Columbus bound."

John grabbed the handle of her suitcase. "I'll walk you to your car." He shot her a sideways glance. "What are you going to do? Park at the airport?"

She popped her trunk. "Probably. All in all, it won't even be two weeks." If she got lucky, she might be able to leave her vehicle with Granger.

No… that would be an imposition. Still, the idea had merit.

John stowed her luggage then shut the trunk.

Then he pulled her into a big bear-hug. "You've always got a place to stay if none of these jobs work out." He eased away. "Wait. That didn't come out right. What I mean is—"

Leslie laughed. "I know what you mean." She hugged him again. "And I appreciate it. If I end up in Columbus, you and Mark will have a place to hang out when you come up to see the Blue Jackets." Hockey being the couple's favorite sport.

He gave her a wide grin. "You know that's what I'm hoping for." Giving her a shoulder check, he lifted a hand in farewell. "Call me. Keep me posted. You know the drill."

She chuckled and slid behind the wheel. "Okay, Columbus. Here I come."

In a little more than twenty-four hours, she'd be seeing Granger Unger again.

I'm pretty pleased with how this story is going. I like the wrong timing turns into something better later trope.

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin

Sunday Snippet: Toying with Desire

I'm welcoming September with open arms. August ended up being a truly weird month. We'll see if September flows any smoother.

Decent week of television. I stuck with classic and mysteries. I finished up a 77 Sunset Strip binge watch last week and launched into Peter Gunn, logging about seven more episodes via Prime and now a marathon on regular cable.

I caught the Classic Who episodes of The Enemy of the World. Interesting segue… an episode of The Saint featured the actor who plays Two. It's just a weird little connection that made me smile.

I also watched another Midsomer Murders episode. Oddly, they're back to Causton CID again instead of Midsomer Constabulary. Obviously, it's not a huge deal, just one of those random things that popped out at me.

Yes, I'm strange.

Tonight's post is from Toying with Desire, a novella that got a start with a random comment about a sex toy party.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Carly Johnson, a savvy business owner who sells sex toys, isn't looking for love… her track record is terrible. But when she meets Zeke Moran, under less than stellar circumstances, sparks fly and Carly wants to take a chance… but first he has to get over his preconceived ideas about her career.

And a snippety peek…

Carly lifted a brow and held back a bark of laughter. He thought she'd talked Lola into cheating on Rich? How could he be so stupid? For someone who looked intelligent, he'd fast proved to be a huge disappointment.

Shaking her head a little, her eyes met his. "Excuse me. You think I did what?" If anything she'd kept Lola from seeking solace from another man.  

Zeke edged closer to her and lowered his voice. "You've got Lola throwing parties for…" He searched for words. "Mechanical devices, while Rich is in a desert hotbed and can't do anything about it. What gives you the right to interfere in their marriage?"

Did he honestly consider the purchase of sex toys as interference? What decade did he live in? And why did she have to be wickedly attracted to him? She didn't like "those" people. The type who passed judgment on others. Gads… she couldn't tolerate that kind of blindness.

"Don't forget the performance stimulants and dress-up outfits. If you're going to use euphemisms, you might as well include all the categories." Pushing against his chest, Carly darted around Zeke, giving herself some breathing room. "Oh… and let's not forget written and pictorial enhancements." She spun around to face him again. "What exactly is your problem? Aside from not being able to call a dildo a dildo?"

In full anger mode, Carly laid it out for Zeke. "Lola is a good friend of mine. She's missing Rich something fierce. His last two leaves have been canceled and a year is a damn long time to someone as young as they are. Do you realize Lola was this close"—Carly mashed her thumb and index finger together to emphasize the words—"to sleeping with some hot barista at Ground Central?"

Yeah, think about that, you fucking moron.

"And you accuse me of helping her cheat on Rich." Pissed off, Carly looked him right in the eye. "You're an ass."  

Finished with her tirade, Carly pivoted and started toward her car.

I had a lot of fun writing Carly's response to Zeke's asshattery. This story is coming along nicely and I hope to have it finished up soon.

That's it for this week. Happy reading!

Skylin