wewriwa: EU32

   
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. I'm reposting the bit about the relaxed rules in case I've missed anyone:
     In short, the WeWriWa rules have been relaxed. The goal is to maintain ease of finding the weekly snippet, but allowing more promo for published books.  You can check them out here: http://wewriwa.blogspot.com/p/the-rules-of-wewriwa.html
      We love our core group, the close-knit community that has evolved here at WeWriWa, the ease and joy of our weekly 'gathering,' but we also recognize that the time authors spend sharing and commenting has to make marketing sense, too. Time is precious.  It would also eliminate the need for the "wonky punctuation to stay within guidelines" disclaimer.   

      If you'd like to participate or read tempting morsels from other authors, please sign up--or check the linky list at: http://wewriwa.blogspot.com/
Also, check out the Snippet Sunday group on facebook. 
     This snippet is from Emmily, Unbound, an SFR story.  To read a compilation of all snippets posted for this story, click Here: Emmily Unbound, Chapter 1  Emmily, the main character, has lost pretty much everything in the last twelve months: her marriage, her parents, her job, and her house. She and her dog, Murphy, are moving to the mountains of Pennsylvania into an old, remote, hunting camp her parents willed to her. It's her first full day here and after a trip to town to get supplies, she's in the midst of being carjacked--or kidnapped or taken hostage--out in the boonies. Last week was a bit of a cliffhanger. Sorry, this week might feel that way too. :-) Last week ended with Hair? Glasses? Holy shit! Who cares? The gun. The gun…

        Now, the  snippet:

       

     Hysteria grips me, my gut clenching and then releasing into fits of butterfly flapping mixed with terror.  He’s good-looking. This lunatic pointing a gun at me is… A crazy Kurt Cobain thought is here and gone.

     He touches the weapon to the window and his voice no longer sounds like he’s trying to reason with me; it’s a demand. “Get out.”

     There are only two choices: Step on the gas and run at least one of them down, or comply. I slide the shifter into park. I’m no killer.

     For God's sake… Bet I’ll regret that decision.

I know. I know. But there'd be no story without her bad decisions. ;-) 

That's it for this week. Thanks so much for reading, and if you left a comment, I'll throw in a virtual hug.