Gail: a life disrupted

August 6, 2012January 12, 2015 ~ Tara R. ~ 7 Comments

Arriving 30 minutes early, Butch wasn’t surprised to see Gail already sitting in a booth at the back of the diner. The last 14 years had been kind to her, she was as beautiful as ever. Only her eyes gave away the sadness that filled those years. Butch slid into the seat across from his … Continue reading Gail: a life disrupted

Resume normal

July 31, 2012January 5, 2015 ~ Tara R. ~ 18 Comments

She hadn't showered in three days, hadn't slept for more than an hour at a time in almost a week. The dark circles under her eyes made her look as beat up as she felt. Even her hair hurt. Dragging through the house, her feet were lead, her arms hung limply at her sides. When … Continue reading Resume normal

Dead Money: All in

July 30, 2012January 12, 2015 ~ Tara R. ~ 6 Comments

Pauley was surprised how easily the doorman was charmed. A little touch on the arm, a bit of flattery, a peek of cleavage, and she was escorted in. She'd never admit it to Millicent, but her lessons in seduction worked exceptionally well. Pauley threaded through the crowd to the front bar - a long, polished … Continue reading Dead Money: All in

A new tenant

July 28, 2012January 6, 2015 ~ Tara R. ~ 17 Comments

Her bony finger, shroud in a white cotton glove, stroked the nursery armoire, seeking out evidence of the child who once slept in the room, inspecting for dust lingering where it wasn’t welcome. The Trifecta weekend challenge is to write a 33-word opening line to [our] book, an incipit.

Crush

July 26, 2012January 5, 2015 ~ Tara R. ~ 9 Comments

I gave up my dreams for you. You didn't demand it, you never would. Being with you is all I wanted. You never disappointed me, never let me down, never cheated on me. I knew what to expect and willing turned over my life to you. My family tried to convince me you were up … Continue reading Crush

Farmer’s market

July 25, 2012January 5, 2015 ~ Tara R. ~ 11 Comments

An eclectic bounty of organic produce covered the kitchen counter. A bowl of freshly pitted cherries sat in the sink, the discarded innards a maroon mess on the tile floor. Felicia still held the silver pitter, looking every bit like an implement of torture, or pleasure. Absently squeezing the handles together, she didn't immediately notice … Continue reading Farmer’s market