It’s time for Snippet Sunday and we’re decorating for the winter holidays by putting up lights before the snow comes. Do you decorate for the holidays?
So today I’m showcasing THE CONCRETE ANGEL, a cocky bikers holiday tale. This was supposed to be a short holiday novella, but as with most things in the MC, it gets complex fast. So you get a full novel for this holiday season. THE CONCRETE ANGEL is available now.
In this snippet, we’re in Flint’s POV (all in first person) and he’s come to work after leaving a note for Rochelle. He has the ability to see the past through energies and he’s looking for intruders at the Concrete Angels warehouse.
The images condensed in front of my mind’s eye like smoky ghosts wandering around me. Mostly, the loft remained undisturbed with only the dust motes for company. But then Scott and his old lady Numbers had come up for a hot tryst against some old crates in the back corner. They moved around to another spot near one of the small windows the size of a 40-inch TV screen. They humped like rabbits for about twenty minutes before making out and returning downstairs with goofy smiles. I’d have to give him shit for that.
Next Loki and Attila had come up and rearranged some of the crates, taking a few away and adding others with the help of some Scooters. Most of the crates looked like supplies to make the trust fund babies’ care packages. All pretty standard stuff.
But about a week ago, someone new ghosted upstairs. The person wasn’t large, but they wore dark clothing to mask their appearance. Loose jeans covered the legs and a hoodie with the hood up finished the outfit. The person checked every box and crate upstairs, taking photos with their phone before creeping to the next pallet.
Someone must have come in downstairs because the hooded figure ducked behind some unused pallets for a short time. I couldn’t sense what spooked them, but they hid for about an hour before tiptoeing to the railing and peering over just to the right of where I now stood. They affixed something to the underside of the railing overlooking the floor below before they skittered down the stairs.
I waited to see if any more energy ghosts appeared in the loft, but nothing showed up until I arrived twenty minutes ago. I pulled myself out of the ley lines and turned to the railing. Everything appeared normal until I crouched to look at the underside.
Oh ho, Attila wasn’t wrong and there was someone there. 😉 There are several great authors on the Weekend Writer Warriors list, the Snippet Sunday Facebook group, and the Rainbow Snippets Facebook group. A few of my favorites are, P.T. Wyant, Karen Michelle Nutt, Veronica Scott, Jessica Subject, Karysa Faire, and Iris Blobel.
Here’s the blurb for THE CONCRETE ANGEL:
The weather outside is frightful, and so are the goons trying to toss me off a snowy cliff…
Rochelle Stone, Earth Witch
Speaking out against a local bigwig who’s terrified of witches when you actually are a witch attracts trouble. Only the timely intervention of a big, hot biker dude saves me from a modern-day execution. He says he’s security for the Concrete Angels Motorcycle Club, but I know he’s more than that. I’ve always had an affinity for stones, and my affinity for Flint is through the roof. He’s hard as a rock and my hands tingle when I touch him. He doesn’t speak aloud, but his talented hands tell me plenty… Now if I can just get the jackass trying to kill me off my back, it’ll be a golden holiday for sure.
Humans. They’re either gloriously happy or dismally miserable.
Flint, Concrete Angels’ Security
With the holidays just around the corner, I’ve been looking for a quiet place to collect my thoughts. But that’s when Earl Creighton’s goons try to throw a woman off my local cliff. I normally don’t get involved with human troubles, but something about this woman captivates me beyond reason. We share a one-night stand and I know she’s meant to be mine. But Rochelle is no one’s property and she might not sign Loki’s contract. If she refuses, I’ll have to let her go and that will crack the foundation of my soul. No pressure, right?
Havoc, hexes, and holidays: It’s the most wonderful time of year…