Book Promo And Vignettes By Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH

EDITED BY DAVE FREER, WITH STORIES BY HOLLY CHISM AND ROSS HATHAWAY: Mad Science: Bits and Pieces (Raconteur Press Anthologies)

In a world where genius teeters on the edge of catastrophe, mad scientists tinker with the impossible—and sometimes succeed.
From a genetically engineered lobster staging a breakout to a grieving inventor building a gravity-defying escape vehicle, from a boy turning catfish into cybernetic heroes to a lone mechanic assembling a story-powered machine to defy both villains and overlords, these ten wildly inventive tales explore the glorious, ridiculous, and terrifying consequences of unchecked curiosity.
Expect sentient toasters, soul-splicing radiators, apocalyptic piano dollies, and one very determined vacuum cleaner. Expect laughter, dread, heart, and the occasional explosion.
Welcome to the laboratory. Mind the sparks.

FROM DWIGHT R. DECKER: The Napoleon of Time

In a near-infinity of parallel Earths identical in every way except for their current moment in time, Doug Arngrim and English-born Gillian Tilbrook, two college instructors from different centuries, find each other in 1912 Poughkeepsie. Meanwhile, a rogue professor roams the past and future in a stolen time machine, changing history on a multitude of worlds according to his whims as the Paratemporal History Institute attempts to track him down and put an end to his historical meddling. Destiny may unfold the same way on every Earth as long as everything is the same, but when the course of human events is interrupted by outsiders, almost anything is free to happen — or is there a still higher Destiny that controls even that? The Napoleon of Time is a quirky science-fiction adventure that takes a slightly different slant on time travel with a dash of trans-temporal romance!

FROM ROSS HATHAWAY: Beautiful Regrets

This anthology is 10 stories from my first year of writing.

In worlds where blades flash, ships vanish into cursed horizons, and dark magic always demands a price, danger is never far and neither is a crooked smile at fate’s expense.

These are stories of mercenaries and misfits, pirates and detectives, warriors and wanderers who live by grit, nerve, and the occasional bad decision. They face haunted seas, alien suns, brutal battlefields, and the long shadows of the supernatural with equal parts courage and gallows humor.

Blending the raw energy of classic pulp with a modern taste for irony and edge, these tales race forward with action, strange wonders, and sharp-tongued wit. Heroes are rarely pure, villains rarely simple, and survival often depends on who can laugh at the darkness the longest.

Fast, fierce, and darkly playful, this is speculative fiction that knows the world is dangerous and finds the adventure in it anyway.

FROM MARY CATELLI: Sylvie’s Escape

Princess Sylvie’s parents sent her off to a mountain castle for her safety. There, she is greeted with a gift of a kitten. Not just any kitten, but one of the legendary Queen Angelique’s kittens.

When the kitten leads her into the forest, she follows, just avoiding capture as soldiers arrive to take the castle. She must flee and find refuge among the mountains and the mountain folk.

If she can.

FROM JAY MAYNARD: Crystal Beauty (The Crystal Therapy Chronicles)

She was supposed to be treated.
Instead, she was abandoned.

Talia entered an experimental therapy hoping to heal a depression that nothing else could touch.

Instead, the sorcerer overseeing her treatment sealed her inside a crystal sphere—and left her there.

Unable to move.
Unable to hear.
Able only to see the wall before her.

While only three years pass in the outside world, Talia lives fifty years alone with her thoughts.

Now the truth has been discovered.

Sky 12, a guide from the Laminatrix Mental Hospital, enters the crystal to attempt the impossible: reach a mind shattered by decades of silence and rebuild it from the inside.

If he succeeds, Talia may reclaim her life.

If he fails, he will never leave the crystal either.

Inspired by Sleeping Beauty, Crystal Beauty is a quiet, haunting, and ultimately hopeful short story set in the world of The Crystal Therapy Chronicles, where even the deepest wounds may yet find healing.

FROM NATHAN BRINDLE: A Dragon in the Foie Gras (Timelines Universe Book 3)

Captain Delaney Wolff Fox is back.

She’s just led her team on a months-long hunt through the penal world al-Saḥra’ (known otherwise by its semi-satirical name “Sanddoom”), looking for an industrial-sized illegal drug “kitchen” that’s been supplying colony worlds with various illegal substances via a network of involuntary migrant “mules”. That hunt ended satisfactorily, and rather explosively, with the destruction of the “kitchen” and hundreds if not thousands of personnel associated with it.

Now the team is heading back to Earth, hoping for some well-deserved shore leave . . .

. . . but it’s not to be. A long-sleeping foreign agent has been found in a stasis chamber in an abandoned Chicago warehouse, and it’s up to Delaney and crew to investigate the mystery, by traveling back to the year 2017 to find out why the agent was placed in stasis then, and why the stasis seems originally to have been planned to end in late 2020.

And when the sleeper wakes, asks for and consumes an entire pound of goose liver pâté, and asks for more, it’s pretty obvious they’ve got

A Dragon In The Foie Gras

FROM MICHAEL MORGAN: The Castaway Files: $50 a Day Plus Expenses

In the shadows of the city, trouble always finds someone willing to take the case.

The Castaway Files: $50 a Day Plus Expenses gathers four gritty detective stories where the stakes are high, the streets are dangerous, and the truth rarely comes cheap.

• A retired cop investigating a mysterious death on his apartment stairs discovers that the missing instrument of a young cellist may be worth killing for.
• A group of kidnappers discovers that abducting a millionaire’s wife can lead to a payday—or a bloodbath.
• A former operative pulled back into the game hunts the people responsible for a brutal kidnapping, only to uncover a conspiracy that reaches far beyond the underworld.
• And in the city’s darkest alleys, a cat with too many toes and a trenchcoat goes looking for a cop killer—and finds a tragedy no one saw coming.

Hard-boiled, fast-moving, and full of dark humor, these stories carry on the tradition of classic pulp crime fiction while adding a few unexpected twists.

Because in the Castaway Files, every case begins the same way:

Someone is desperate.
Someone is dangerous.
And someone is willing to pay.

FROM JOHN BAILEY: Lunar Detectives: 12 Tales of 2040s Moon Bases (The Detective Stories)

In the 2040s, the Moon is no longer a distant dream but a bustling frontier of corporate ambition, where helium-3 mines fuel Earth’s energy hunger and rival bases—LunarCorp’s Alpha, Selene Industries’ Hub, and NovaTech’s Station—vie for dominance. Amid this tense lunar landscape, Lunar Detectives: 12 Tales of 2040s Moon Bases weaves twelve gripping mysteries, each a standalone tale of intrigue, sabotage, and human resilience. Led by Dr. Lena Voss, Raj Patel, and Aisha Khan—brilliant minds from geology, security, and logistics—these unlikely detectives unravel crimes that threaten the fragile lunar order. From a helium-3 heist to a sabotaged gravity array and a sprawling conspiracy named Dione, their investigations reveal a web of corporate greed, hidden networks, and secrets buried in lunar dust. Inspired by classic detective fiction, these stories blend wit, deduction, and heartfelt moments under the stark lunar sky, culminating in a battle to save the Moon from economic warfare. Perfect for fans of science fiction mysteries and intricate puzzles, this collection proves that even in the silent void, truth is worth pursuing.

FROM HOLLY CHISM: The Godshead (Modern Gods Book 1)

Food and drink for sale; snark for free…

It’s hard to be a god nobody believes in, sometimes. Especially when one spends their days trying to quietly go about his or her life in a world that barely remembers the myths surrounding the old Greek gods, but where some religions still follow the old Norse gods.

And some of the Norse gods are getting more dangerous: Loki, the trickster, has lost the last of what passed for his sanity, and needs to be helped, or stopped. One of the two. And no one seems to be up to it.

At least, not alone. Working together, they can avoid the worst of Loki’s tricks, and maybe even solve their problems.

A tale told from several points of view.

BY HENRY KUTTNER, REVIVED BY D. JASON FLEMING: Elak of Atlantis (Annotated): The complete classic sword & sorcery tales

Join Elak on perilous quests across the ancient world! These four classic sword-and-sorcery tales by the masterful Henry Kuttner take us to realms of wonder and terror.

Across the mystical landscapes of lost Atlantis, Elak faces down ferocious monsters, cunning foes, and alien magical arts. With his unmatched skill with a sword and unyielding will to survive, Elak battles to protect the innocent and vanquish evil in this action-packed collection.

With their unique blend of swashbuckling adventure, fantastical world-building, and Lovecraftian horror, Kuttner’s Elak tales have captivated fans of fantasy and science fiction for generations.

  • This iktaPOP Media edition includes a new introduction giving the stories genre and historical context.

FROM KAREN MYERS: Monsters, And More: A Science Fiction Short Story Bundle from There’s a Sword for That

A Science Fiction Story Bundle from the collection There’s a Sword for That

MONSTERS – Xenoarchaeologist Vartan has promised his young daughter Liza one of the many enigmatic lamedh objects that litter the site of a vanished alien civilization.

No one can figure out what they’re good for, but Liza finds a use for one.

ADAPTABILITY – The Webster Marble Deluxe Woodsman, Model 820-E, has been offline for quite some time. Quite some time indeed.

Good thing Webster has a manual to consult, and a great many special functions.

AND FROM SARAH HOYT, WHO REALLY IS GOING TO LEARN TO DO REALLY PUBLICITY THIS WEEK, SHE SWEARS*: No Man’s Land: Volume 1 (Chronicles of Lost Elly)

Sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic.

On a lost colony world, mad geneticists thought they could eliminate inequality by making everyone hermaphrodite. They were wrong. Catastrophically wrong.
Now technology indistinguishable from magic courses through the veins of the inhabitants, making their barbaric civilization survivable—and Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus Kayel Hayden, Viscount Webson, Envoy of the Star Empire—Skip to his friends— has just crash-landed through a time-space rift into the middle of it all.
Dodging assassins and plummeting from high windows was just the beginning. With a desperate king and an archmagician as his only allies, Scipio must outrun death itself while battling beasts, traitors, and infiltrators bent on finishing what the founders started: total destruction.
Two worlds. One chance. No time to lose.

Volume 1
The Ambassador Corps has rules: you cannot know everything, don’t get horizontal with the natives, don’t make promises you can’t keep.
They’re a lot harder to follow when assassins are hunting you, your barbarian allies could kill you for the wrong word, and death lurks around every corner.
The unwritten rule? Never identify with the natives.
Skip’s already broken that one.
Now he’s racing against time to save his new friends from slavery—or worse—while dodging energy blasts and political intrigue. One crash-landed diplomat. A world of deadly secrets. And absolutely no backup.

Some rules are meant to be broken. Others will get you killed.

*Early, often, and in a bewildering profusion of languages. Sorry.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: Share

37 thoughts on “Book Promo And Vignettes By Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike”

  1. Sadly, I don’t have anything to share with you. Except for my bad mood and you don’t deserve that.

    (Note the above is mostly a joke.)

    Liked by 2 people

    1. “(Note the above is mostly a joke.)” The Reader thanks you for the postscript. He is always fearful of dragons in bad moods.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. “Pay yer fair share, ya greedy old miser!” screeched the rainbow-haired harpy with the expensive clothing and latest cell phone. “Ya can’t cheat here anymore!”

      The store owner, who had been, after 20 years, forced by government rules to stop giving away free food, just smiled sadly and nodded as he put up the CLOSED sign and locked the door for the last time.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. ”As a rated hand you get one half of a share of the Sector Governors’ head bounties and the sale of the pirate’s ship. Adding the diocese reward for rescuing those thirty nuns and the other reward from their brothel for the twenty ‘hostesses’, your straight share cut comes to 23,500 credits. And as boarding party crew you get an action bump of another 3,500 credits from the ship’s share, so that’s an even 27k. ”

    I nodded and didn’t say anything as the purser transferred the credits to my wallet stick. That was basically just over three years of wages at my current “clean out the sumps, Charlie” job level. I thought this would just be a gig to build time and test up to higher guild ratings, but since we fell into hunting pirates it had become both less boring and a lot better paying. I did have to shoot some pirate scum during the boarding action, but that was not really bad – once it was over.

    “Thanks, Chief,” I said.

    The Purser fixed me with a look. “Charlie, don’t blow all of that in that brothel, even if they are giving our crew a discount. The credits go faster than you think once they get some drinks in you.”

    ”Yes, Chief.” I wasn’t going to the brothel. I had a plan that needed cash, and that meant no paid fun for Charlie.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Remember, o Readers, that you can be FORCE MULTIPLIERS!

    When you read books, you can rate and review them.

    Even short reviews are of aid to the writer, because sheer mass helps. (And if you really can’t review, still rate.)

    Liked by 1 person

  5. “You. You have no place here, you have no part here, you have no share here. You are not allowed.”

    The bear/woman’s smile was serene. “Is that the rule?”

    Violetta’s heart began to beat harder. She could not just see which one was stronger, that was the rule.

    As if a veil had shifted, she saw how the bear-woman towered in serenity, and the dragon in spite, and the sword, weaker than either, glowed, and she herself was the weakest of them all.

    At least, that was the rule. Carefully, delicately, she reached out. The dragon sharply watched the bear/woman.

    Like

  6. “You said you had outgoing freight,” Knotts asked without preamble.

    “Good afternoon, Pete,” Sarah sighed. “Yes, I’m doing fine, and you? What are you talking about?”

    “I’ve got a load going out in two days, eight containers on a 5G launch to L2. I’m willing to share about a hundred and fifty cubic meters of non-pressurized cargo space with you for free,” Knotts continued, glancing around on his screen. “But I need to know if you’re good for it right now. Because I got a good deal on an eight-container load, but it goes away if I have to do a six or launch any empties. Good will is a better deal than paying the extra for a smaller load.”

    “About two containers worth,” Sarah asked after a moment, and Knotts nodded vigorously. “I might, but I’d have to get some pressure-secure cubage. I’ll send over the mass loading right now. If you’re good for it and send the contract over, we have a deal.”

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Ms Sarkisian’s estate was having a sale, and in Paris, the auction came to the furnishings.

    Of course, the provenance raised the prices to the stratosphere.

    A group of fans formed a consortium and pooled their funds. They agreed to share Cher’s chères chairs.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Even if she did, she could not tell anyone without making them think her a madwoman and not saving anyone else.

    She thought as they rode along under maples, the shade cooler than pleasant, until they came around a bend, and saw the slopes ahead.

    “Could there be bandits here?”

    Like

  9. “That won’t be fast enough for you,” said Ellie. “The princes are coming. To hunt. But I dare they will come to look for some embroidered scarf for their sweethearts.” Elisanna froze in place and hoped she did not pale. Had someone shared the news of the strange dark deer?

    Like

  10. “I do have the ability to produce a valuable commodity, and you have to my satisfaction demonstrated your need of it. If you demand your fair share of what I am able to supply,” said the skunk to the socialist, “I will be most gratified to let you have it.”

    Liked by 2 people

  11. We all carry burdens, most of them self-imposed.

    Oh, that could rid myself of one such burden, the one that drags me down more than any other. I am tormented daily by memories of a girl – one I loved dearly, and still do. She is the one who got away. Perhaps there is a similar person in your life, as well.

    The Japanese believe that when you are born, the gods tie an invisible scarlet cord to the little finger of your left hand. The other end of that string is tied in a similar manner to the one they have chosen as your soulmate, the one you are destined to love.

    Someday you will meet that person because the string is a permanent bond. It’s fate, and fate by its very nature is inevitable. But only the meeting is preordained; the rest is up to you. It’s your own damn fault if love never comes to fruition. Free will is yours, even within the designs of fate.

    If I share my story with you – of the girl at the other end of my scarlet string – if I chronicle those days and explore the possibilities of the paths not taken, I may finally put my demons to rest.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. “What’s that you’ve got, Nigel?” said Lily. Nigel was leaning against the garden wall.

    “Packet of crisps,” Nigel replied. “Want some?”

    Nigel knew she would demure politely. She didn’t need to eat, though she was designed to simulate doing so if needed. Another feature, another reminder that deep down, rankled.

    Like

  13. My tiny share of Uncle Wendell’s estate was an ancient coin of unknown provenance. I couldn’t stand Uncle Wendell, and I’m sure he felt likewise, making his bequest all the more puzzling. Considering what happened over the next year, I suspect my appraisal of his disposition towards me was accurate.

    Like

  14. On the station platform, Cari had said, “Max, my fortunes are yours, and yours are mine, always,” before breaking down sobbing on Max’s shoulder.

    That that felt like ages ago. And now he was drafted by a professional football team, elated beyond all expectations – would Cari feel the same joy?

    Like

  15. Steve sat in the habitat’s common area, looking over the stock options that were part of his compensation. Sometimes he wished he’d taken more interest in business and finance before First Contact, but other times he doubted it would’ve done him any good. Chongu corporate finance didn’t map precisely on the common and preferred shares of an American corporation’s stock.

    Given the danger inherent in asteroid mining, those stock options were generous. However, Steve had a bad feeling that if he exercised them wrong, he could put himself in a bad position.

    He looked over at the curly-haired guy bent over a laptop. Levi might be a top-notch IT wizard, but he was the odd duck in a family of stockbrokers and corporate lawyers.

    Like

  16. She should have explained the unicorn mask, thought Honor. But Susan held out her arm, and the firebird landed on her arm as if she were a falconer.

    Moments later, Susan grabbed the air and caught the necklace with a firebird pendant.

    “Put it on!” caroled Ava. “Put it on!”

    Like

  17. “Half share, mate. Final offer.”

    Out of a company of only six people and one mule, it wasn’t bad. Potentially generous, even. If it weren’t for the fact this was a suicide mission.

    “What do we need a porter for? We’ve got Mangus and he can carry more weight on one hoof than this waste of coin,” the sad looking elf whined.

    “More bodies are always useful in a fight. Worst case, we throw him at something with lots of teeth and run the other way.” Actus, the heavily armored fighter laughed.

    “Enough.” Urgoz finally spoke, putting a stop to the banter. His horns glinted above a shaggy brown head, standing far above even the big fighter.

    “We move in three. Grab your shit. Clock’s ticking.”

    Spellrifles were checked and rechecked. Armor tightened and adjusted. Medpaks and injectables patted to make sure they were still there. Water packs squeezed to make sure they were full. A flurry of movement practiced and professional as a dance ended at the two minute and ten mark on the dot.

    Boris stood ready as well. Blades smooth on the draw. Pack settled and cargo racks well strapped. Half share porter, body number seven and middle of the file. Derisive looks slid off his attention quicker than rain off a grease rat’s back.

    “Urgoz. Extraction from class IV containment zone. Bounty upon successful retrieval. Time’s ticking.”

    The uniform covered the speaker from crown to soles. Naught but high speed low drag lethality. Stuck at an outpost dangling off the edge of habitable territory, unable to leave. Had to be a story there.

    “We’re on it.” Urgoz moved quieter than his massive size would indicated. Faster too. One by one the mercenary crew slotted in to the relatively narrow gateway that led out of the outpost and into contested territory.

    “Incursion in two. One. Spike.”

    All at once the world went white. Movement without moving. The gate way spat them out at speed. It was the only way to survive the first five seconds.

    Spellrifles whirred, spitting out dozens of seeker missiles per second. Urgoz fired his decidedly not quiet rammer, obliterating both the traps, cover, concealing net, and at least three ambushers to the fore.

    Despite the violence erupting from the company the enemy had their say, too.

    A high speed cloud of shimmering sand swept through the front of the formation. Goggles protected their eyes, but any exposed skin began to blister and bleed instantly. Morris took a thorn through one of the weak plates at his waist, grunted, and kept firing on the move.

    Mangus’ ears flipped back. A well camouflaged snatch toad rocketed towards the company mule in an instant only to find itself flattened at the last moment by a lightning quick hoof descending where clear vulnerability existed just before. It died confused.

    The company charged forth, into the shattered urban landscape. Around them mutants and monsters fell. Wiser predators steered clear. Easier prey to be had feasting on the company’s castoffs.

    Ahead the true trouble hid. Whatever force could pin down an A class in the higher middle depths, practically the shallows, that was something to reckon with. A mercenary company stuck together with rip rape and hope had little chance of success against such a foe in a stand up fight.

    But a little chance is not zero. And most savvy mercs don’t stand up to fight when there’s another option on the table. Four minutes after the loud opening the shallows went quiet. Seven men and one mule melted into the terrain like a raindrop into a puddle.

    As the ripples faded, patterns emerged in the background noise. Scouts. Far too potent for the shallows, the locals avoided them like the plague.

    Rickard tapped his left eye twice, twitched his head up and left. Then the same, farther back. The rescue party was being hunted.

    Like

  18. Pingback: Instapundit » Blog Archive » ON SUNDAYS I RUN A PROMO POST FOR (MOSTLY) INDIE AUTHORS. THERE’S ALSO A FUN VIGNETTE CHALLENGE:  B

  20. The San Francisco parole board was preparing for their next hearing when the main entry doors swung open and four gorgeous women walked into the room. One of the brunettes shut the doors and stood in front of them; the other brunette, and the woman with striking silvery-blue hair, quickly posted themselves in front of the other two exits. The blonde stood in front of the long table, facing down the parole board.

    The fiftyish man in the center frowned and boomed out officiously, “Who are you? What are you doing here? We have important business to conduct. Get out!”

    The blonde was not intimidated. “As you should be aware, members of the public have the right to present our concerns to this board. We are here because of some business you already conducted. Do you remember approving parole for a certain Jerome Jones last month?”

    “I don’t memorize the names of every defendant we see here,” he said dismissively.

    “Not important enough for you to even remember.” Her voice was deceptively calm and even. “I suppose you are also unaware that Jones raped a fifteen-year-old girl two weeks later?”

    “I was not informed, no,” he admitted.

    “You don’t appear to be at all troubled by the consequences of your decision. She is. We examined her memories and they are shocking.”

    “A few inmates do re-offend after release.” His voice was still dismissive, almost bored.

    “It’s more than a few, but we’re talking about one in particular, a serial rapist with an extensive criminal history that started at age thirteen. Numerous arrests, three convictions, no sign of ‘rehabilitation’ as if that were even possible, and you all believed it was a good idea to set that known recidivist violent criminal loose to do it again.”

    “We’re not liable for—“ he started.

    She cut him off. “You should be. You should at least give a rat’s ass. But the heinous crimes you enable never affect you, so you don’t. Well, that changes today. You are going to feel the effects.”

    She swept her hand across in a gesture that encompassed all of them. Collars made of some hard gray substance appeared around their necks, etched with elaborate traceries of fine glowing blue lines, like complex electronic circuits. They tried to pull them off, with no success.

    “Today you will all share exactly what that poor girl felt when she was beaten and raped by the feral animal you let out of its cage. You will endure all of the pain and violation, every ugly sound, every foul smell, every vile taste, exactly as she did. But fear not! None of it will be real. Nothing will actually touch you except the neural induction collars around your necks. You won’t have to be rushed to the emergency room with torn vaginal lining, and semen forced into your lungs, or worry about pregnancy and venereal diseases. You get to experience it all vicariously and be left with nothing more than some unpleasant memories.”

    Her cheery tour-guide smile vanished and her voice turned cold and hard. “Let it begin.”

    The lines glowed brighter, pulsing in intricate patterns. They all stiffened in their seats, then jerked in unison as if struck hard in the face. The four women watched stone-faced as the board underwent their ordeal.

    Like

    2. Your use of the word ‘re-offemd’ offemded it. Defemse, offemse, femding anything off… WPDE.

      Like

  22. OK, I gotta share.

    Yesterday, 75 and windy. Last night, strong thunderstorms.

    Now? I’m sitting by the windows watching the snow come down. Something for everyone.

    (Though the owners of blossoming fruit trees are probably cussing, as usual. Not that we get snow in March, but we do get hard freezes about when the peach trees blossom).

    Liked by 1 person

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