Monthly Archives: December 2013

Wednesday Briefs: January 1, 2014

Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.

Uncool – #3: by Tali Spencer:

“His name is Reed Bradley.”

I’d heard the name, chiefly through the Montiel Foundation my mother and maternal grandparents had funded. I’m on the board. Bradley was listed on the boards of a couple of the arts organizations we supported.

“All right,” I said. This didn’t sound bad so far.

“He knew your father”—my gut turned over a little when Stewart said that—“socially, mostly. Bradley’s self-made. Ambitious and smart. Put himself through Penn, then Wharton, all while building a real estate empire by buying and selling rundown apartment buildings and foreclosed industrial sites. He specializes in high-rises now.”

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Wednesday Briefs: December 25, 2013

Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.

A New Beginning – Chapter 11: by Andrew Q. Gordon:

“Mr. Secretary,” Griffin said, sounding more like an underling than a cop. “This is Gar.”

The man in his expensive suit walked over and held out his hand. “Good to finally meet you.”

I ignored his hand and kept my eyes on him. I’d started to read his mind when he walked over, but he knew enough to keep his thoughts on anything but the topic at hand. That’s what I get for talking too much and letting people know my secrets.

He kept the hand out and I could feel Griffin’s unease. Too bad. I wasn’t in a polite mood.

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Wednesday Briefs: December 18, 2013

Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.

Hope – Chapter 12: by Chris T. Kat:

Hope shoved tiles this way and that way, but after five minutes curiosity fled me. He was playing—nothing more, nothing less.

I went over to the dropped boxes and scattered game pieces to collect them. It took me almost a quarter of an hour to clear up the chaos from the floor and stack the games back on their shelves.

“Now come on, Hope. We really need to—” I cut myself off after turning around.

Hope sat on the coffee table, his chest pushed out with obvious pride, and barked. Continue reading

Wednesday Briefs: December 11, 2013

Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.

Controller – Chapter 8 : by Jon Keys:

I almost ran into Eli as I charged head down to my next class. Being exhausted and more than a little frustrated didn’t help my attitude

“Hey, bud,” said Eli. “What’s up?”

I sighed and started to let the question roll off me with one of the half dozen standard replies. Instead I decided Eli was a good person to share this problem with. “Bad night. Tony came home with a girl and they thought I was asleep. Then the rest of the night was spent with me listening to him beg for sex, the two minutes it took for him to get off and then the two hours of crying from the girl who said she’d just given her virginity to my asshole roommate. Then this morning he’s sprawled everywhere, more dead than alive.”

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Wednesday Briefs: December 4, 2013

Here is a list of all the authors flashing this week, along with a brief snippet from their latest free work. Click the link after the snippet to be taken to the complete story on the author’s home page.

Trapped in Time II – Chapter 7: by Julie Lynn Hayes:

I cannot sleep for excitement. Anticipation of the joyous reunion which shall occur on the morrow courses through my veins. I tell myself I must sleep, that Vittorio will not be happy with me if I do not and he will scold me for looking like something the cat has dragged in. Even so, I cannot seem to close my eyes. I stare up into the darkness of the night sky, tracing the stars in their familiar patterns even as I draw comfort from them.

How well my father understands me. He joins me without comment or censure and sits with me beside the dying embers of our fire, while all about us slumber, and listens to me talk about Vittorio. I lean comfortably against him, my arm tucked through his, memories flowing from my tongue like vintage wine. Continue reading