Underdogs

Lora stared at her computer screen and sighed. Her English teacher was an old crackpot and this assignment was the worst.

Imagine you are your grandparent’s age. What is your favourite movie? Why?

Lora was sixteen. How was she supposed to imagine herself as an old lady?

Lora had never known her parents and the great people who’d adopted her hadn’t had any living relatives. And they’d been killed by a jerk texting and driving. Now she was stuck in a group foster home and supposed to think like grandparents she never knew anything about.

But she needed top grades if she was going to get scholarships. Foster kids didn’t have money for college and she wanted to get a degree. She wanted to make sure she always had a job and a home. Ditching even one assignment could jeopardize that.

At least she had the internet. Most people probably had favorite movies from when they were kids. She searched popular movies from the sixties and seventies, hoping something there wouldn’t be incredibly lame.

A couple of the movies surprised her. She hadn’t realized Jaws and Star Wars and Grease were so ancient. Would an older lady like one of them?

Lora had seen Star Wars before and she liked it. Her adopted dad had been a huge sci-fi fan and she’d seen the whole series of movies at least once.

The foster home had some streaming so she pulled up the original movie and watched it again. She hated crying, but couldn’t stop the tears as she remembered sitting with Jane and Rick watching the movie. Jane used to tease him that he wanted to be a swashbuckler like Han Solo. He’d tease right back saying Jane was strong enough to be a leader like Leia.

Right now, Lora felt a little like Luke who was also an orphan and then he’d lost his aunt and uncle too.

As she watched, Lora kept notes for what the movie was about. For what an older person might like.

The underdog winning.

Dealing with losing your family.

Wanting to have a bigger life.

Wanting to be the best.

Wanting to help your friends and your people.

Teamwork.

Good versus evil.

Accepting people for who they were, not what species they were from.

Would an older lady like all that? Would she still remember the movie?

Lora wished she had some experience with older people. Crackpot should have thought of that before making the assignment. Not everyone had access to generations of family.

Eventually, she wiped her tears and started to write her essay.

The knock on the door startled her. The lady in charge of the night shift at the home opened her bedroom door with a smile. “Hey Lora. It’s late. You okay?”

She wiped her face again before turning around. Eesha was always nice to everyone and she didn’t want her to think anything was wrong. “I’m okay. Just finishing up an essay.”

Eesha laughed softly. “You always work so hard, Lora. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish in the future. No matter what you choose, you’re going to be a star. Keep an eye on the time, it’s a school day tomorrow.”

Lora nodded and looked back at her screen, at her final line.

Star Wars might be an old movie, but it’s one that people might still be watching in another fifty years. We always want to see the little guys win.

Lora saved her work and turned off the computer. When she crawled into bed, she decided she was going to be one of those little guys who won.

***

Tagline: Everyone loves an underdog

***

I've loved Star Wars from the first moment I watched it in the theatre. Because of its setting and its message, it doesn't surprise me that the franchise continues to grow and thrive. George Lucas created an amazing view of the past with these stories.

If you've come from the WEP site, you already know that this will be the last WEP Challenge.

It's been an honour to work with the team over the past couple of years. Denise, Renée, Nila, Laura, Olga, and Sonia are amazing people with a passion for stories. Thank you to every one of you for everything you've done for this writing community.

To our challenge participants, it's been a privilege to read your stories for these challenges. I've learned a lot from all of you and I thank you for sharing your words with us. I look forward to reading your words in the future too.

***

Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season with warmth and love and family and magic. Take care of yourselves and each other!

Linca

Linca sighed when Jims entered the lab. He was such a pompous schmuck and she knew today was going to be a bad one because of her report from the day before.

Jims grinned at her. “How are your alien buddies today? Get any pings on the screens last night?”

She ignored him and kept her focus on her data. No one in the community wanted to hear her theories. They were all convinced she was ridiculous and gullible. Too imaginative for science.

She knew better. The data showed too many anomalies to be created by space debris. There were patterns she couldn’t ignore and those patterns weren’t random. Intelligent life had made them. Linca was convinced they were attempts at communication and that they were close.

Jims laughed loudly. “Nothing to say Linca? No incursions from little fuzzy blobs last night? Or maybe they’re slimy talking spheres?”

Linca’s skin flushed but she refused to be baited into a conversation that would only get worse if she responded. Instead she pulled up another screen and input the data she'd gathered from the bursts of light she’d spotted the day before.

Jims kept up his taunting, playing to the audience of other scientists in the room. Most of them refused to get involved, but a few snickered along.

Deciding to try something different, Linca copied the light burst data and sent it out through their own equipment on the top of the facility. Maybe she could record a reaction. When nothing happened immediately, she tried at a different angle. And again. Space was vast and even a 0.001% angle change covered a huge territory.

When her station beeped, it took her a moment to register that she had a response. Coincidence?

She input the data again, but this time she repeated it twice. It came back twice. When she changed it up again, the response changed as well. Was it some kind of echo? Had Jims played with her equipment?

A klaxon sounded and everyone in the room stilled. She sent out another light test. When it came back, Linca whispered into the room. “They’re answering.”

Complete silence greeted her until the klaxon sounded again. An automated voice announced. “Breach in the atmosphere above Quanta Station. Incoming object of unidentified origin and design.”

Linca leapt from her seat and out the door. She heard footsteps behind her as she raced to the lift. Jims squeezed in before the doors shut, his face flushed. “You’ve gone too far this time, Linca. If this is some kind of trick you've set up to make us believe your little theories, you're finished here.”

The doors opened and she didn’t bother answering as she raced for the final staircase. It was fifty steps up but she didn’t slow. At the top, she slipped on the protective breathing apparatus. A few steps behind her, Jims did the same. This time without sneering.

They stepped into the pressurized vestibule and waited while their cleaned air was exchanged for what covered their planet. No longer breathable by any of their species.

As soon as the doors opened, Linca raced forward onto the planet's surface. A huge shadow was the first sign, but it was quickly followed by an enormous shape dropping through the clouds. A huge cylinder surrounded by smaller cylinders on all sides.

She heard Jims muttering behind her but didn’t take her eyes off the enormous cylinder as it rotated and landing gear descended. It settled without a sound.

Linca approached slowly, watching for an indication of the beings that must be inside. Finally a section near the bottom slid away and a staircase lowered.

Three beings appeared. Taller than her species. Bipedal with two upper limbs as well. Similar to her own, but with longer limbs. Their faces in shades of brown sat atop their bodies and they had hair or fur on the tops of their heads.

They wore no protective equipment and didn’t seem bothered by the air as they descended. These beings could breathe oxygen.

Linca approached and stopped when she was close enough to converse. She’d imagined this moment so many times, she knew exactly what she wanted to say. She pointed to herself first. “Linca.” Then she added her species. “Trefalian.” Finally she gestured at the planet. “Trefalia.”

The being who had the most hair nodded and pointed at itself. “Hassan.” Then it pointed at its companions. “Chi. Karla.” Then it circled its hand to indicate them all. “Humans.”

Linca repeated the names as she pointed at each one. Then she used her hands to indicate them all. “Humans.”

The words were odd but easy to say, unlike some of the languages she’d imagined she might hear.

Each humans repeated Linca’s name as well as Trefalian and Trefalia.

Linca turned to bring Jims in on the conversation but he lay on the ground, arms flung to the side where he’d fainted.

With a grin, Linca turned to the humans and pointed backward. “Jims.” She refrained from adding schmuck, but it was a close call.

***

Tagline: Sometimes it's best to trust your gut, not your colleagues

***

This post is part of the June WEP Challenge: Close Encounters. I loved this movie when I was a kid but haven't seen it in years. I mostly remember the music they used to communicate.

I hope you check out the challenge and I really hope you join in. We're always excited to have new people join! It's so much fun to see where the prompts take people. The first draft I wrote for this prompt involved an unexpected encounter with a bear, but that story disappeared somewhere so you get this one instead

WEP & Stories of the Night

Sirens shattered the night.

Nessie leapt from the bed and threw on trousers and a shirt over her nightgown. She rushed into the next room to find George sitting up and little Moira sleeping peacefully.

“Mama? Is it time to go?”

Nessie kept her voice calm and ruffled his hair. “It is. You know what to do. I’ll get your sister.”

George threw back the bedclothes and scrambled out. Her little man quickly pulled pants and a shirt over his pyjamas and then grabbed the small bag from the closet.

Moira kept sleeping while Nessie wrapped her in a blanket and hugged her to her chest. Then she picked up her own bag and slung it over her shoulder.

The blackout curtains were already closed, so less than a minute from the first siren wail, they were out of their tenement and hurrying down the stairs. They quickly crossed their tenement's back yard to the shelter.

An explosion sounded not far off and had George moving closer to her side. He let out a relieved sigh when they crossed into the protected room. They moved quickly to their usual spots and started tracking their neighbours. No one was going to forget a sleeping baby ever again. Even as she thought it, Nessie watched Ivy walk in. George quietly counted the children as they followed their mum. When he got to seven, he smiled at Nessie. “She’s got them all this time,” he whispered with a smile.

When everyone was inside, lanterns were lit and the door was closed. For a while they chatted quietly with each other while everyone settled in. Over the past year, they’d become used to the unknowns.

Were their husbands and sons and brothers safe? How many hours would the bombs rain down tonight? Would their windows be blown out again? Would their tenement buildings be standing when the all-clear siren rang out?

George patted his bag. “Can you read everyone a story, Mama?”

“You choose one tonight.”

His six-year old face serious, he looked through the tiny collection and pulled out the worn copy of Heidi that her mother had read to Nessie as a child.

The group fell into a routine of sorts. Nessie read a chapter. Old Bill played his violin. Sadie sang a song. Nessie read another chapter. More songs. More stories.

Moira woke when Kathleen played her harmonica. It was always the little girl’s favourite part.

When the all-clear siren rang out, the adults exchanged relieved looks. No bombs had sounded like they were close enough to harm their homes.

As they trudged out of the shelter, the sun was rising over the tenements, bathing the grey buildings in warm light. George laughed. “It’s so pretty Mama.”

Moira spread her arms wide. “Boo-ti-ful. It’s boo-ti-ful Mama.”

Old Bill patted George on the head as they walked backed to their building with its windows and bricks intact. “You and your sister are right, my boy. It’s beautiful. Life is beautiful. Remember that.”

***

Tagline - Even when sirens shatter the night

***

The above is part of the WEP Challenge for April - Life is Beautiful. This is another movie I haven't seen. (Yes, this is a theme. I don't watch a lot of movies I'm afraid.)

The above piece is based on stories that my mom (Lizzie from Dancing With Dementia) shared. She grew up in Aberdeen Scotland in WWII. She and her family spent a lot of time in bomb shelters during her formative years. The neighbours did indeed forget a baby one time and were unable to check on the child until the all-clear sirens rang. The windows had all exploded that time and the baby had been sleeping near the window in a buggy. The blanket was covered with glass shards, but the baby was unscathed. Life can indeed be beautiful!

I hope you'll check out the other stories through the link and I encourage you to join in the fun. We're always looking for new voices in the challenge!

***

PS - if you missed it, the latest Bloo Moose Romance released yesterday!

Reaching For More

One interfering mom,

one fake relationship,

and one stalker who doesn't like it at all

Get your copy!!

WEP & With The Wind

This was where they’d met. Janie smiled as she looked over the view. It hadn’t changed that much over the decades.

Tom had been hiking with his buddies on their summer break, she'd been alone. They were all on the coast for the summer, working jobs in the tourist town. Tom had been working at a souvenir shop, she’d been at the fudge shop across the street.

But they’d met on the top of this hill. The hike had been worth it for the view alone. Meeting Tom had made it the best hike of her life. They’d often joked about what they’d have missed out on if they hadn’t made that hike at the same time all those years ago.

No holding hands or stolen kisses in the shadows between the street lamps. No dances on the beach or anniversary trips back here. No kids or grandkids.

They’d been so lucky, so blessed. And today was a day to celebrate that. A day to look back on all the kisses, all the stolen moments, all the laughter. Even the tears.

Jane walked to the edge of the bluff and shook the tube the funeral director had given her. Tom hadn’t wanted a fuss. The man had never wanted a fuss.

With a tear slipping down her cheek, Jane opened the tube and watched the last of Tom’s earthly body slip away on the wind.

But he’d never really be gone. How could he be? He’d become a part of her just as she’d been a part of him. She’d carry him along with her and make sure the little ones knew all about their gramps.

Jane blew a kiss to the wind. Whenever she felt the breeze, she’d know Tom was kissing her back.

***

Tagline: Gone isn't always gone

***

The above is part of the WEP Challenge for February's prompt Gone With The Wind.

Confession 1 time: I've never read the book. I've never seen the movie. I doubt I'll ever remedy that 🤷  It's never been something that appealed to me. But I love the title!

For the WEP challenges, I almost always draw inspiration from the title or the words. I've done that again with this prompt and probably will for the rest of the prompts (because I haven't seen most of those movies either!).

Confession 2 time: As many of you know, my mom was placed into palliative care a few weeks ago. She passed peacefully and painlessly shortly afterward. I wrote this piece before any of that happened. I almost wrote a new piece, but decided to leave this as is. I'll be thinking of Lizzie whenever I touch the wind.

I hope you check out the other entries in this month's challenge and I really hope you'll enter your own piece. We're always eager for new writers to join in!

WEP & Harry's Mission

Nothing was going to stop Harry from achieving his mission. He’d planned every step. It had taken him days and days. Now, he had to make sure no one messed it up.

He ate all his supper. Even the broccoli.

He scraped off his plate. Put it in the dishwasher.

He didn’t splash in the bath.

Well, not too much.

Harry put on his new pajamas. The feet were a little too long, but he’d be careful.

At bedtime, he only asked for one extra story.

Then he waited.

Waiting was hard.

So was staying awake.

Harry pinched his toes and counted all the way to a hundred.

He whispered his plan to Marshall, but the stuffed Dalmatian didn’t have any ideas on how to stay awake.

When he’d waited forever, he looked at his clock. The first number was a nine. Or was it a six? He traced the number on his hand like his teacher had shown him. It was a nine.

That had to be late. No one could stay awake until nine.

Harry hugged Marshall for luck and then snuck out of bed. The nightlight helped him see and he peeked into the hall. Lights were still on downstairs but they’d have to leave them on tonight.

Harry slid to the side of the stairs and held the banister tight. His pjs were a little slippery but he only fell once on his way down.

When he reached the bottom, he looked down the hall. No one. He tiptoed into the living room and grinned. No presents were under the tree yet. He wasn’t too late.

Harry went straight to his hiding place, between the two chairs and in front of the bookshelf. Then he sat down to wait some more. He was going to see Santa’s face for the first time. All he had to do was not fall asleep.

Harry jerked awake when something wet touched his face. He tried to roll away, but the wet followed him. When something barked, Harry opened his eyes as the dog licked him again. A Dalmatian. Just like Marshall. “Did Santa bring you?”

The dog woofed and jumped in Harry’s lap.

Mom and Dad came into the room with their coffee cups. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Did Santa bring me a puppy?”

“Didn’t you see Santa?”

“No.” He must have fallen asleep after all. He hadn't seen Santa's face.

Mom picked up a red paper from the plate where they’d left the cookies. “Looks like Santa left you a note.”

“What does it say?”

“Maybe next year.”

Harry nodded and hugged the Dalmation. "I'll see him next year."

***

Tagline: Harry's on a mission to see a face for the first time

The above is part of the WEP challenge First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. Please check out the links to read the other entries into the challenge. There's lots of time to join as the entries will be open from Dec 1-15. I hope you'll join in the fun!!!

Hey, Thrillers!

 Lindsay swallowed hard and looked into the camera. “Hey Thrillers. It’s been a fun year broadcasting with you. Just wanted to let you know that, in case this is our last video. Ever.”

Julie laughed and switched the feed to her own camera. “Hey everyone. Can you believe the woman who dove with hungry sharks and climbed into a derelict mine in search of treasure is afraid of a cemetery?”

“Those are thrills. This is spooky stuff. Not my thing at all.”

Julie lit up her face with the flashlight beneath her chin. “But it is mine. And you lost the coin toss.”

All true.

Julie smirked. “Okay, Thrillers, you’ve been watching the live stream of the cabin for hours now. No one has entered or exited since we checked it out together before sunset. Now, it’s five minutes before midnight.”

Lindsay sighed heavily. “On All Hallow’s Eve, when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. When spirits have the best chance of crossing that veil with a full moon to light their way.”

Julie made a Wooo sound and Lindsay glared at her. Julie lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper while she looked at the camera. “Okay, Thrillers, we’re moving in. Approaching the cabin as the clock ticks closer to midnight. Lindsay, remind our viewers about the legend.”

Lindsay blew out a breath and steadied her voice. “Here, deep in the swamps surrounding New Orleans, the line between reality and the supernatural is always thin. Voices lure you in far deeper than you planned to go. Mists rise from the ground, sneaking between the plants and reaching ever upward.”

Lindsay panned her camera down and around, showing the old forest and the mists. The full moon made the pictures perfectly creepy and she had to work to keep her voice level. “On this night seven times seven times seven years ago, in 1679, a family lived here. The youngest was the seventh son of a seventh son.”

Julie grinned and picked up the tale. “The number seven has power. Young Caleb Bouchard felt it growing inside. He’d told his parents but they urged him to keep it quiet, to never use his powers, to never let others know. But Caleb was two times seven years of age and oh, so sure of his control. Sure that he was a good person and that the power would do as he commanded.”

When Julie nodded to her, Lindsay continued. “Caleb decided the night of All Hallow’s Eve would be the day he’d show them all that his power was good. He waited for the stroke of midnight, waited for the moon to shine. And then he called for the spirits to cross. Called for them to rid the world of those who would harm others. Called for them to spare those of good heart.”

Julie whispered. “Witnesses heard terrible screams and saw flashing lights, but there was no evidence of fire. No evidence of anything. Not Caleb. Not his family. Not a trace.”

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Lindsay took over. “It’s almost midnight. Count it down with us.”

Julie put her hand on the door and slowly twisted it as Lindsay counted. “Five, four, three, two, one. Midnight.”

Julie threw open the door and light bloomed from inside, flashing and changing. A hideous howl filled the night and Julie jumped back with a shriek.

Then the iconic first beats of Michael Jackson’s Thriller filled the air and Lindsay couldn’t keep in the laughter anymore.

It took Julie about three seconds before she joined in. Then she moved to stand beside Lindsay with a playful swat on her arm. She tapped her hand over her heart and then smiled at the camera. “She got me. Just remember, payback is coming. Happy Halloween, Thrillers!”

***

Tagline: A legend of a Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

The above is part of the WEP Challenge for October! Be sure to click the links to get to more entries for the Challenge. This is always a favorite time of year for flash fiction. I hope you join in for this round!

WEP & Human Song

Humans were exhausting. Loud, obnoxious, destructive. The world would be a much better place without them but Liaka’s powers didn’t extend to genocide, even if the species deserved it. She fluttered over the trash scattered on the edge of her pond. Along their roads and everywhere they visited.

Did the species have a single redeeming quality? She hadn’t encountered one yet. Not that she’d encountered an actual human yet, either. The elders forbade it.

But Laika wanted to see them for herself. Wanted to see if the horrors she’d conjured in her imagination were close to their physical forms. Any being who created such destruction must be terrifying.

A shiver ruffled her body and her wings. She corrected her flight automatically and decided that even if these humans were terrifying, she needed a glance. The elders didn’t do anything to stop them. Once she saw them, maybe she could come up with a plan. A way to make them change.

If she could find proof they had no redeeming qualities, the elders could vanquish them. The shudder that shook her this time was more severe. Causing death was forbidden as it should be. While she wanted the humans gone, she didn’t want to be the force behind their destruction.

Could they change? Could they be redeemed? The elders were always trying to eliminate negative behaviours in the young like her. Maybe if she saw the humans, she could find a way to help them eliminate the bad behaviours.

Laika peeked over her shoulder but didn’t see any elders. Or anyone to tattle on her. The sun was high so she flew from the pond and to the edge of the forbidden territory.

The trees thinned and she spotted a human road through the trees. Her limbs trembled, but she flew on, darting from tree to tree and keeping to the shadows.

A sound reached her. A sound she’d never heard. Not a voice. Not an animal or a bird. Not one creature. A pleasant combination of sounds. Some reached high, others reached low. Fast then slow.

A series of sounds repeated and then repeated at a different level. Other sounds mixed in.

Laika settled on a tree branch and closed her eyes to listen. The sounds were beautiful. Like birdsong but different. Human song?

Did humans make song? How could a species make something so beautiful and be so destructive at the same time?

Laika’s wings fluttered with the song and tears slipped from her eyes from the beauty. The human song continued, building up and slowing down. Up and down like bird song. But different in a way she couldn’t explain.

When the human song ended, it took Laika a few moments to open her eyes. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and realized she wasn’t alone.

Jokila the elder sat on the tree branch beside her. Smiling.

“I’m sorry I broke the rules. I wanted to see the humans, to find out if they had any redeeming qualities, to find out if we could help them alter their behaviour to stop hurting our world.”

Jokila nodded, her own eyes shimmering with tears. “What do you think now?”

The sounds started again. Laika’s voice was hushed when she spoke. “Is that human song?”

Jokila nodded. “It is. They have many different human songs. This one is my favourite. They call it Moonlight Sonata.”

Moonlight Sonata. Even the name was beautiful. She didn’t know the word sonata but she would never forget it.

Laika nodded at Jokila. “Human song is beautiful. They are not all evil.”

Jokila nodded. “No, they’re not.”

“Can we help them? Do we have a plan?”

“Not yet. But with your help, maybe we will. It is getting late, we must return soon.”

Laika nodded. “After the Moonlight Sonata is finished?”

Jokila smiled and they listened to the human song while Laika worked on her plan.

***

Tagline: Does the species have any redeeming qualities?

***

I hope you'll click on the link to check out the other contributions to our challenge. Please join in - we love to have new people!

The above is my odd-ball contribution to the August WEP Challenge Moonlight Sonata.

Life has been a little wacky-busy here and this was not my original thought for the sonata, but it's what flew out of my fingers 😊

I do believe the ability to create music is one of species' most redeeming qualities. Imagination is vital to being human and I love the various ways that imagination can showcase itself.

How about you? Any other music fans out there? Any one else hoping we humans can start fixing the messes we make?

WEP & The Kiss

Update!

Woohoo!! Congrats to the other winners and to all the entries - another challenge full of brilliant writing!

I'm thrilled Reg & Jenny touched hearts of so many - thank you!!

Sin and Sunshine 

His Jenny’s lips had always been what she called fully dressed.

It had been the first thing he’d noticed about her. Those full lips had been the stuff of Reg’s fantasies for years. Decades.

She’d been wearing Crimson Poppy when they’d met at the Legion dance so long ago.

Peach Perfection on their first official date the very next weekend.

Petal the night he’d proposed.

Ruby Delight on their wedding day.

He’d kissed them all off of her until her lips were bare and she’d laughed and dressed them again.

Which had always meant Reg was kissing her again.

A man would have to be a saint to not kiss those lips when they were in kissing distance. And, as Jenny often told him with a smile, Reg was no saint.

Not when his Jenny was full of sin and sunshine.

What would her lips wear today? Passion Pink or Desert Nights? Ripeness or Luscious?

So many choices.

Colours, shades, shine, texture. He’d become a connoisseur and had his own favourites.

Crimson Poppy. Just like that first dance.

Yes, it was fitting.

First love.

First kiss.

Last love.

Last kiss.

Reg packed Crimson Poppy with the clothes Jenny had chosen last week. Then he sucked in a deep breath and held it until his emotions were under control.

His Jenny would go into the eternal with her lips fully dressed.

***

The above story is part of the WEP Challenge. The prompt is The Kiss and the photo above.

Click on the link to access the other stories. There is always a ton of talent in the WEP challenge and the variety of takes on the prompt means it is always worth your time to read! It's even more fun when you join in!

Bloo Moose On The Road With Yolanda Renee!

Yolanda Renee is hosting Bloo Moose today and we're talking first loves!

I hope you'll find time to pop on by!

Reaching For Normal

She’s no damsel in distress. 

He’s no Prince Charming.  

But if they don’t team up it won’t 

be only wolves that’ll be dying.

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Apple.     Kobo.    Google Play.

Barnes and Noble.    Goodreads.    

Bookbub

 Reaching For Risks

One Reno List for the B&B. 

One Risk List for herself. 

One sexy retailer who should be 

the last one she wants.

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Apple.    Kobo.     Google Play

Barnes and Noble.     Goodreads.    

Bookbub

 Reaching For Everything

Love means nothing in tennis.

Can he prove to her that 

love means everything in life?

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  Apple.     Kobo.     Google Play

Barnes and Noble.    Goodreads.    

Bookbub

Yolanda Renee & Murder, Just Because

Are you ready to be scared?
Yolanda Renee has a new book out - the fifth instalment in her Detective Quaid mystery/thriller series! I had some questions for Yolanda!

Murder, Just Because - Yolanda Renée

Interview

What draws you to the genre you write?

I was told early on to write what I wanted to read. And that's what I've done. I love a good mystery, a thriller, and if you add a little romance, I’m there!

Which of your characters was the most challenging to write?

Stowy Jenkins, from The Snowman, and now this latest book, Murder, Just Because. Stowy insisted on being the star of the book, which meant getting very graphic with his actions. That was the most difficult, and there were many times that I refused to write the scene. I almost didn't publish the book. But Stowy was one persistent cuss. Too bad he didn't see the end coming… 😊 

Do you use real settings, or do you create the settings in your book?

All the settings are as real as I can get them. I've lived in most all the places in my novel, except those that take my characters out of the country. For those, I researched the area and immersed myself in pictures, and I like to use the real names of places, so readers can relate. But yes, I have created many that aren't real.

With the genre you write, do you ever have trouble sleeping?

Yes, I do. I enjoy the mystery/thriller genre, but I'm easily frightened, plus I have very vivid nightmares. Most have become the plot lines in my books or short stories.

I don’t understand why I’m so easily frightened, but I blame my empathic nature.

When I was seventeen, my boyfriend took me to a graveyard. One of those in the country, down a dirt road, and located beside an old church. Before he even got close, I felt an eerie but a powerful sense of fear. So strong, I became hysterical. My boyfriend didn’t even question it. He hightailed it out of there. I was deeply embarrassed, but I’ve not visited a cemetery after dark since, nor will I go to any place that’s reported to be haunted.

Some of the scenes I've written have caused me to check the window and door locks or turn up the lights. Once I even slept with the lights on. It was after a very vivid nightmare. And that's hard for me because I prefer a completely dark room. I've even disturbed my husband's late-night television watching and made him come to bed just so I could sleep.

Thank you, Jemi, for the interview and for hosting Murder, Just Because.

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It’s a pleasure to be participating in author Yolanda Renee’s MURDER, JUST BECAUSE Blog Tour through MC Book Tours today.

Yolanda is offering an awesome tour-wide international giveaway. More information on the giveaway is listed below.

MURDER, JUST BECAUSE
by Yolanda  Renée

◊ Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense
◊ Publisher: Yolanda Renee
◊ Series: Detective Quaid Mysteries
◊ Paperback: 291 pages
◊ Print & eBooks
◊ ISBN-10: 0985820632
◊ ISBN-13: 978-0985820633
◊ Contains explicit sex & graphic violence

"While this book does contain explicit sexual language and graphic violence, it could easily be taken from the daily headlines. The content is plausible and realistic as we look at the world around us. The events in the book are not overly done but give a pragmatic look at the terrifying actions killers can and sometimes do take."

It was a matter of beginner’s luck, but rookie detective Steven Quaid’s career and reputation as an elite investigator skyrocketed when he captured one of the most sadistic serial killers in Alaskan history: Stowy Jenkins, AKA the Snowman. But that was ten years ago.

And now…Jenkins is back. Escaped from prison and on the move, his bloodlust is stronger than ever, and his methods of torture are even more horrifying than before. As his bloody rampage continues and the number of mutilated bodies mounts, terrified Alaskans increasingly doubt Quaid’s ability to catch the killer again. The detective’s reputation is on the line, and he’s going to need a lot more than luck, because this time, Jenkins is driven by more than the thrill of a random kill.

This time, it’s more personal. He’s out for revenge…and his ultimate target is Quaid. In a deadly game of cat-and-mouse, Jenkins starts picking off the people in Quaid’s life…slowly, gradually tightening his circle of corpses and drawing ever closer to the most important person in Quaid’s life...his wife. Can Quaid do the impossible again? Can he outmaneuver the killer, or has the detective's luck finally run out?

Author Yolanda Renee

For those who aren’t familiar with the author, here’s a bit of background on her in her own words.

At one time Alaska called to me, and I answered. I learned to sleep under the midnight sun, survive in below zero temperatures, and hike the Mountain Ranges. I’ve traveled from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez, and the memories are some of my most valued. The wonders, mysteries and incredible beauty that is Alaska has never left me and thus now influences my writing.

Despite my adventurous spirit, I achieved my educational goals, married, and I have two handsome sons. Writing is now my focus, my newest adventure!

For more on Yolanda and her writing, you can connect with her here:

Blog    *     Facebook     *     Twitter     *     Pinterest    

GIVEAWAY DETAILS:

This tour-wide giveaway is for a complete set of the Detective Quaid Mystery series books for one winner, paperback copies of MURDER, JUST BECAUSE for five winners, and a Kindle copy of MURDER, JUST BECAUSE for 10 winners.

To enter the giveaway, just click on the Rafflecopter widget below and follow the instructions. The widget may take a few seconds to load so please be patient. If the widget doesn’t show up, just click HERE and you’ll be directed to the widget.

Thanks for stopping by and be sure to follow Yolanda on her month-long tour HERE. You never know what you might find out. Do you enjoy watching a character grow from one story to the next?

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Thanks Yolanda!

I'm totally with you on the disrupted sleeps! I'm still having nightmares from the Stephen King books I read way back in high school 😀

How about you? Anyone else have difficulty sleeping about a particularly powerful scary story? I'll be sleeping with the lights on after reading this one!