Fiction
Excerpts: books, short stories, and non-n.d.a.commissioned work
Books & Ghostwriting
Selected examples of ghostwriting, E-Books, and series outlines.
note: all writings with quotes are my own (not written for clients or abandoned projects). I strictly adhere to NDA agreements. Most samples are only lightly edited.
NOTE: Example“Brandi sat at her desk with extreme focus and determination. She had studied for days and knew the chapter inside and out. Her teacher was staring at her over the cubicle yet she put that out of her mind and wracked her brain for the right answers. A tapping at her shoulder alarmed her. She looked back but no one was there. She turned her attention back to the paper in front of her and her mind was suddenly filled with words. Not her words, but another’s.
Immediately she saw in her mind’s eye a young man. She even knew his name. It was Joshua. He looked at her with sadness and outlined a tale that unleashed a twinge of horror and fear inside her. It lasted but a second yet it seemed an eternity to her. Brandi blinked, hoping that the hours of study time had not gone to her head. She sat staring, wondering if she had gone crazy but immediately felt the eyes of her teacher upon her.[…]”
Note: example
“Old Tom sat nursing his whiskey with thoughts of his land on his mind. His neighbor to the East, John Parson, had told him of rumors concerning wealthy strangers that might be headed to Long Creek. They were known for their crooked way of buying land out from under those who were struggling to make a profit on their cattle. It was a frightening thought, the possibility of losing what he had worked for his entire life. Abby and the little ones depended on him and he damn sure wasn’t gonna let any city folk take what was his. He stood and sighed, paid the barkeep, and left the Lady Bird saloon.
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Rose quietly walked into the house and closed the door slowly behind her. If Daddy knew she had been to see that “Daws boy”, she felt he would surely make good on his promise to send her to live with her Aunt Dottie up North. The thought of such a thing filled her with dread. Dottie was a hateful old lady; mean and spiteful, she once broke her dog’s neck for piddling on her Oriental rug. Rose shuddered and headed towards her bedroom, hoping not to catch the eye of her father.[…]”
I have ghostwritten numerous novels, short stories, and e-books. Collaborating with clients is not only enjoyable but also a valuable learning experience. My commissioned works span a variety of genres, from romantic tales and rock-star celebrity stories to dark and erotic narratives.
NOTE: commissioned for specific assassin-style story.“Hazir Asmai was looking forward to the UN gala. Staring at his computer, he quietly typed words that appeared upon his screen, illuminating what he felt was important to peace in the Middle East. His haggard features changed with his words, some happy and some not so. Laughing aloud at his humor, he sat back in his leather chair, going over the words that would ultimately and hopefully, put him in place to win the Nobel Peace Prize. He grabbed his Patel cigar from its ashtray, and continued to express his emotions.
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Hannah also sat in her office chair, listening to chatter on her radio; feeling the excitement that she always felt throughout her body before a kill. Hazir was to be targeted, yet this involved his children; all boys. With the swiftness of a rattlesnake upon hearing of the hit, she spoke into the mic, “I have this, no problem.” She shook her long blonde hair back from her face and sighed with satisfaction and mentally began preparing her trip.[…]”
NOTE: commissioned project abandoned by client“Restart: We reconnected at our twentieth high school reunion. I had known him since childhood and our paths had crossed only a few times since we had graduated. Growing up in a small town was difficult; even the mailman knew your most intimate secrets. When buying milk and Edith gives you a wink and a smile in the checkout line, it’s clear you may be in trouble. Most know that gossip creates a firestorm of controversy. And so goes the rest of my story…
The reunion was lovely and chaotic. Everyone gathered in their usual high school cliques, much like cattle at a feeding trough. I had gone to the bar for yet another drink and noticed him next to me.
“Kerry! How are you? You look amazing!” said Billy while embracing me with a hug. He looked the same as he did in junior high, except more manly; goatee and glasses rounding out his look.
I hugged him back as I had done with all of my other classmates but there was something there. I’m not sure what it was but it was different. There seemed to be a spark, an electricity, that had never existed before, yet I ignored it and ordered my beer. Billy and I chatted as we waited for our drinks. Kids, jobs, and marriages were the main topics of our small talk and once our drinks were received, I was introduced to his wife. She was a beautiful woman with blonde hair, large blue eyes, and an infectious personality. We all three toasted to an excellent evening and I went on my way, searching for my husband, who seemed to ever disappear.[…]”
Short Stories & Other FIction
Shorts and other fun things written on the fly and for contests.
Note: flash-fiction for contest“Brandon sat at the kitchen table contemplating. His urge to act on his desires fueled an intense heat inside his gut, a heat that burned into his very core. His yearnings licked at his soul and wrapped around his stomach like a constrictor squeezing the life out of its victim. The portraits of his parents stared down upon him from the walls around him with accusing stares. “They made me this way”, he thought. That vile woman he despised with all his being still occupied his mind like a badger defending its den. The memories of mealtimes came flooding back to him, “Yum, yum, little Brandon, here comes the airplane, open up!” Father would sit idly by watching the macabre scene with indifference, eating his meal as if a twelve-year-old child’s brains weren’t scrambled into his eggs, as if the meat from the child’s thighs weren’t made from the steak he was so heartedly slicing into pieces and shoving into his mouth before he had to put on his suit and tie. Business always came first.
He shoved himself away from the table and wondered aloud if this was his destiny. The sinners deserved it, right? The single mothers who worked too much, the shoddy women who gave themselves to eager johns, the preachers who so emphatically preached against homos, but loved to take it up the ass in park restrooms, they all deserved it. And his craving for human flesh is always relentless, like a child wanting more cookies and ice cream. He had to have it. The sinners deserved punishment and he deserved them.[…]”
Short stories and short fiction are mediums I gravitate to as they allow me to stretch my imagination. I have ghostwritten, written, and collaborated on many short stories, heavily weighted with erotica and horror.
Note: for three paragraph short contest“Jennifer laced up her running shoes and breathed a sigh of resignation. She knew she needed to lose a few pounds and Chris didn’t help her self-esteem by pointing out how big her ass had become. “Jen, I’m not saying you’re fat it’s just that, maybe, you should consider giving the baguettes a workout”, he had stated before slapping her butt and walking out of the room. His words rang in her head as she stepped out into the dark evening for a jog, walk, or something.
She started out with a brisk walk but picked up her pace as she rounded the block, passing her neighbor’s homes while noticing that Tonya’s roses looked nicer than her own. “What is she using for rose food?” she wondered as she jogged by. Trying to concentrate on the melting of fat cells in her thighs, Jen noticed a figure just to the side of John Jenson’s red-bricked home. It seemed to move slowly yet surely. Adrenaline kicked in and her underarms became even more slippery with sweat. “There’s no one there.” she told herself as she quietly jogged past the house.[…]”
Note: story I wrote for my daughter“As soon as she had gotten home, she put them on, carefully tying the pink laces, making sure to double-knot as her mom had taught her. It was time to test them out, Alice thought. “Mom! Come watch me try out my new fast shoes!”, and excitedly skipped out the door and into the backyard.
Alice stepped onto the concrete patio and looked down at her shoes, making sure they were indeed double-knotted, and decided to warm up. Her PE teacher, Mrs. Asbury, had taught her class the “Power of Preparation”, whatever that meant, but she knew that it did mean jumping jacks and stretches.
Alice carefully stretched her legs, one at a time, out in front of her, feeling her muscles pull and tingle. She stretched her arms high over her head and proceeded to do five jumping jacks. Yep, she was ready. Mom had already settled herself into a patio chair with a glass of iced tea. “I’m ready when you are, Alice. Let’s see how fast those shoes really say they are![…]”