Sunday Snippet: Questionable Vision

Washing machine update. The new washer got here and I'm happy to say the mountain of clothes is now a manageable pile. It's amazing!

Coffeemaker update. The new one arrived and it's a combo single cup or full pot. I love it. Here's hoping my caffeine habit doesn't trash this one in under a year.

Another crazy-busy work week. I finished up the mystery and the romance copy edits and started a cozy mystery. Also continued with novella edits. Had a couple of calls about two or three new projects. I'm excited! I also managed to get some good writing in for myself. A good week!

I didn't get much of anything watched on my viewing schedule. I did a LOT of social media scrolling, especially after Biden stepped aside and endorsed Kamala Harris for the democratic nomination. That's unexpected and exciting. Also spent a lot of time shaking my head over the GOP nomination for vice president. It's going to be an interesting couple of months.

And that's pretty much it for the life update this week. Tonight's post is from Questionable Vision, a novella with a bit of a dark premise.

Here's the miniblurb:

Park Danielson doesn't want to fight anymore. Stuck in a warzone, he has one burning question. Why bother sticking around? Darby Young has the answer. He's not allowed to leave.

And a sneaky peek…

Darby stopped breathing for a moment. "What do you mean … you didn't want to come back?" She couldn't have heard his words right.

The very concept of Park opting out hit her hard. They had so much left to do. So much left to explore. But first, they had to get the hell out of their own way.

Something neither she nor Park had been able to do. Yet. They always seemed to end up on opposite ends of the spectrum and had to build bridges to meet in the middle. If Park stopped meeting her halfway, her world might just crumble.

His gaze slid sideways. "It means what you think it does." He moved his eyes straight ahead again … to stare at the top of the bunk.

Darby got up. She needed to move, to think, to digest. "Wow." She paced back and forth. "I have no idea what to say to that." Her head couldn't process the idea of Park Danielson not being in her life anymore. By choice.

She whirled around. "Actually, I do. What. The hell. Park?" She paced again. "You're serious, aren't you?" She shook with reaction.

Wanted to shake him for causing her world to tilt on its axis.

Universe be damned.

She punched back with words. "Did you think about what losing you would do to me?" She hadn't … until now.

And she'd be lost without him.

Thoughts cascaded in her mind. "What about your dad? You're all he has left." Did Park not realize how much he meant to his old man?

Park's lips twisted in a grimace. "And that matters how? He all but ordered us on a suicide mission. You know damn well the odds were slim we'd make it off that ship alive."

Darby winced because Park could be right about what their chances might have been … but the op fell apart so…

She started pacing again. "Okay, point made. But remember why he chose us. We're the only two people—"

Park cut in. "He fully trusts. Yeah, doesn't help." He sighed. "I'm tired of everything being twisted and bent. Up is down. Forward is back. And everything spins around like a whirling dervish. Why, Darb? What's the purpose? The end goal? Is there one?" His voice rasped harshly with each question.

Darby paused, a lightbulb moment washing over her. "I honestly don't know. You're putting voice to questions no one wants to ask … because the answers aren't easy." She resumed walking back and forth. "And they change on a daily basis. So … we do the best we can with what we have, which is shit on a good day and something indescribable on a bad one." She tried to imagine what Park had gone through in what he thought were his last moments. "You're out of sync right now and I don't think anyone would blame you."

But … what could she do to get him back on track?

This started out as a bit of an experiment to see if I could write a something that started out dark and give light and hope by the end … and keep it under ten thousand words.

We'll see if I pull it off.

 

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Quality of Care

Man. Whatever alignment the planets are in has been wrecking things in my house lately. After the washing machine saga, our coffeemaker took a crap. It's less than a year old. Seriously … not the norm. But the good news is a new washer and coffeemaker should arrive sometime this week barring any other global server outages.

Had a super busy work week. Finished the holiday manuscript and received a mystery and a romance for copy edit. Picked back up with a novella I've been working on with an author for a while now and enjoying getting back into the groove of the book. Also had an author reach out about a new twist on a previous project. Really fun week!

I didn't get a lot of screentime this week, but I watched a few shows. I'm in a weird place with viewing. I want to watch stuff, but my brain isn't settled on exactly what. Kind of want to binge something with a lot of seasons for a while to see if that will reset the needle.

I loved the episode of My Life Is Murder. Actually really twisty with an interesting outcome. Once again, Madison shined. I love that character.

Caught another Best in Paradise. This one featured the farewell to Martha, which ended up being so funny and sad at the same time. Excellent episode.

Watched another Death in Paradise with the introduction of the new DS. Not completely sure if I like her or not. Stay tuned.

Started an episode of Elementary but struggled to stay focused so I'll finish it up this week.

And that's pretty much it for the life update. Tonight's post is from Quality of Care, a novella that brings a couple together during a very trying time.

Here's the miniblurb:

Stuck on the fringe of space, cut off by an enemy blockade, Phoebe Point and Dane Moragson keep their ragtag crewmembers from going stark, raving mad. When food rations become nonexistent, Phoebe and Dane plot a daring plan to improve the quality of care for their comrades—even if it means going against orders and risking court martial.

And a sneaky peek…

Dane sealed the hatch to the storage locker and met Phoebe by the middle rack of shelving. "I guess we should see what's in here." He opened the pouch and emptied the contents on a bare section.

Phoebe sucked in a breath and stared at the food. "I'm, uh, not sure where to begin." Her gaze skidded to Dane's.

Dane got her consternation. After going without for so long, the bounty on the counter seemed like a veritable feast. His mouth watered and his stomach gurgled at the thought of having something halfway appetizing. Phoebe's fingers twitched and her head tilted to one side. Her lower lip trembled a little.

Dane lifted his chin. "Do you want the dried fruit?" Before rationing, she had a preference for the sweet bits.

Phoebe's mouth worked for a moment, but she could only nod. Her face crumpled and she sagged, sinking to the floor. Dane dropped down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She'd been such a rock keeping him tethered, standing by his side, always there to get him through whatever crisis popped up. She deserved a tree to lean on, something—or someone—to offer a bit of shelter in the shitstorm they were trapped in.

She put her head on her knees, took a couple of deep breaths then pulled herself together. "I'm a little overwhelmed. I mean, I didn't think anyone gave a damn." She huffed out a breath. "And this generosity kinda blows me away." She clasped his hand and burrowed closer to his side. "I don't blame the crew for hoarding. Hell, I figure they deserve to have a little something to keep hope alive." Her lips twisted in wry grin.

Dane nodded. "Yeah, I've kept my mouth shut, deciding to let those who had stuff keep it until the very last possible moment." Which could be in the near future. "I'd only ask if it came down to life and death." He didn't want to think about that option.

But they might have to.

Phoebe raised her brows. "Haven't you felt like dying in the last two weeks?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Sometimes. The pain got intense a couple of times." If not for the supplements filled with vitamins and minerals, he didn't doubt the discomfort would be worse.

Phoebe lowered her voice. "Did you do the paper thing?"

The admiralty provided the suggestion when the blockade entered the third week. Try eating paper so the digestive track had something to move through it. Zero nutritional value, but the daily shots provided the necessary nutrients to keep them upright.

Dane grunted. "Yeah. Needed salt."

Phoebe sputtered with laughter and finally relaxed. She got to her feet and retrieved the food from the shelf. Sitting back down, she placed everything between them on the deck. They divvied up the items—the dried fruit, two candy bars, an energy bar, several MREs, a pack of jerky, and the crunchy chips they used to serve in the level ten galley.

Dane rifled through a couple of crates and found a case of bottled water. He handed one to Phoebe and kept one for himself.

Twisting the lid off, he toasted his container against hers. "Here's to this brief moment of downtime and sharing it together."

Phoebe flashed a smile. "I'll definitely drink to that." She tilted the bottle back and took a drink.

Dane also swigged some of the clear liquid, then carefully opened one of the candy bars.

Gotta say, I'm having fun with this story. It's a little dark but there's a lot of humor mixed in with the dire circumstances.

 

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Pushing Buttons

Whew. It's been a week. My washing machine saga continued, and I finally called it. Investing in a new machine, hopefully in the near future before my laundry pile grows exponentially into a mountain.

I finally finished the very, very long proofread and thankfully should have the final queries answered this weekend. I have a new holiday manuscript for copyediting and it's about halfway complete. Have I mentioned I love holiday stories?

Not a bad week of viewing. I got a few extra shows watched this week.

Caught the second episode of My Life Is Murder and thoroughly enjoyed it. I've mentioned how much I love the characters, but Madison had such a great role in this week's episode.

Watched another Best in Paradise. This episode introduced Martha and I enjoyed her run on the show with Humphrey.

Finished the two-part episode of Death in Paradise where Florence says goodbye for a while. Such a sad but great send off for her.

Started another episode of Elementary. Should have it finished up later tonight. I'm quite enjoying this second season so far.

Caught another episode of The Batman and remembered it from the first watch I did. Excellent story that dives into the symbiotic relationship between Batman and his rogue gallery.

That's pretty much it for the life update. Tonight's post is from Pushing Buttons, a novella that explores how the dynamic changes but also stays the same when a couple is under pressure.

Here's the miniblurb:

Chet Vondallson hates complications—integrating two crews when a space cruiser goes down sits at the bottom of his list of fun things to do. Parson Browd, one of Chet's top pilots—and his lover—likes to push his buttons and get a reaction, something Chet knows but finds hard to resist.

And a sneaky peek…

Parson leaned back in the chair and exhaled slowly, her mind spinning. "Your old man has an interesting perspective if he thinks this will work." Shit would get very difficult with the new structure.

And Chet would be in the line of fire as soon as he assumed command of the transition team.

Chet huffed out a breath. "Well, you've known him a long time. Did you expect anything different?" He leaned forward bracing his forearms on the desk.

She laughed. "Not really, no. But, damn, he basically just airlocked you into deep space. What's he thinking?" No doubt Frank had multiple thought processes running amok in his brain.

Chet shrugged. "My guess? He's thinking this is a steaming pile of shit and he wants someone he trusts to do the heavy lifting."

Her brows arched. "Even if it blows up in his face?" Or more to the point … Chet's face.

Chet nodded. "Even if. And, trust me, this deal will definitely blow up in his face. Multiple times." His hands mimicked exploding bombs going off.

She didn't envy Chet being the son of the new admiral. And as much as she loved Chet's dad, she also hated him in that moment. He wouldn't ask anyone else what he asked of his son right now. And Frank would know the toll it would take on Chet.

He'd need good people to help the transition go smoothly. He'd definitely need someone with more tact than she had. But she'd support him however she could.

Straightening, she scooted closer to the desk. "How can I help?" As long as he didn't put her in charge of grievances, she should be able to assist with carrying the load Frank dumped on his son.

Chet hooked her little finger with his. "In a perfect world, you'd be my number two, but…" His gaze met hers and his lips quirked. "Not sure that would work."

Parson shook her head. "Yeah, I definitely didn't think making me your 2IC will go over well." Crewmembers already talked about their relationship. "We both know I don't have the temperament to manage the headache you'll be dealing with." She laced the rest of their fingers together. "You need someone who can light strategic fires to make things happen when the bitching and complaining starts, and I'm a burn it all to the ground kind of girl." Except in the cockpit … there she ruled with elegant precision.

Chet chuckled. "You can be brutally blunt, but I love that about you." Keeping hold of her hand, he got up and moved to the front of the desk. "How about you work as my eyes and ears on the deck?" He pulled her up and forward, wrapping his arms around her.

She nodded. "Yeah, makes sense. Even if everyone will know that's exactly what I'm doing." Which meant stealth would come in handy and she had a lot of practice from meeting Chet on the downlow.

A loud clanging knock sounded on the hatch.

Chet rested his forehead against hers. "Wanna stick around while I break the news to Stingray?" He slumped forward for a moment.

Parson brushed her lips over his. "Wouldn't miss it." She eased away from Chet and propped a shoulder against the bulkhead next to the desk.

Chet squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Enter…"

Parson quietly braced for a fireworks show.

I love to explore how an external conflict creates waves between an established couple.

 

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Power Play

You know, I love a great fireworks display … but … I don't love almost a full week of random nonstop barrages from different locations where I can't even see them. Because at least I'd be able to enjoy something while my poor doggos are huddled against me shaking and freaking out. In all seriousness, I don't begrudge people having the funds and knowledge to celebrate with fireworks. But I also hate the first week of July for anyone who has pets that can't deal with the show.

It's been a weird week with a toilet repair followed by a washing machine leak that needed fixed. I'm still working on the leak because, seriously, it's never a simple thing when I'm involved. I'm crossing my fingers for not having anything else water-related to deal with this week.

Had another super busy week of work. I'm slogging through a very, very long proofread and I'm almost at the finish line. Completed a copyedit that ended up having some consistency concerns but ended up being such a great story. And it's a holiday book! I love editing holiday manuscripts.

Didn't get a lot of viewing in, mainly because the proofread is difficult subject matter and so long I don't want to risk losing my spot by getting distracted. I definitely don't want to do a lot of repeat work because I lose my place.

I did get to watch an episode of My Life Is Murder. I so enjoy this show. The characters are such a delight.

I also finished up the episode of Elementary that I started last week. I have to admit I'm not quite sure if I'm down with Mycroft possibly being a bad guy. My guess is he's working with someone we've seen before, and I have two people in mind. Stay tuned to see if I'm right.

And that's it for the life update this week. Tonight's post is from Power Play, a novella that explores a reversal in rank for two officers who are a wee bit more than friends.

Here's the miniblurb:

Hailey March, a dedicated officer, receives a plum assignment she's wanted for a long time. But when she has to give orders to Rab McKee, she must ignore their long friendship, which is impossible because she needs him on her side.

And a sneaky peek…

Rab McKee entered the war room to find Hailey March hunched over several charts.

He didn't bother with protocol. "I stopped in to see Tyler and Hibbert." She'd want the lowdown on their friends first anyway.

Hailey lifted one shoulder, never taking her gaze off the table.

Color Rab stunned.

He'd just come from a blistering set down with Admiral Dora Kidwell, the flagship leader of the fleet. Not only had he been demoted, he'd received a lecture on visiting with the prisoners waiting to be executed. Prisoners from his former ship, crewmates he considered friends.

Her reasoning? As a commander's son, under no circumstances, should he have contact with the former Kalliope crewmen again. He had an example to set.

Like he'd do … what? Break them out of a sealed brig? After being busted down from captain to lieutenant? No one who mattered would be following his orders any time soon.

A brig break would be more Raver's style anyway. Well … it would have been not long ago. Lately, Captain Hailey 'Raver' March had him wondering where the damn pod had been hidden. She sure as hell acted like an alien being in recent weeks.

He looked forward to seeing Hailey after his meeting with Kidwell. The irate admiral had advised him to report directly to Captain March—his new boss. Rab had found the order very amusing.

At first.

Not so much now. Standing across the tactical planning table from her, his mouth worked but nothing came out. He'd just told her he'd been to see Tyler and Hibbert, the two crewmen scheduled for execution and damn good friends of theirs and all she could only shrug?

Her response made him rethink the hilarity.

He cleared his throat and repeated. "Hails? Ty and Hibb. They're hanging in for now."

She still didn't look away from the chart she worked on. "That's good."

His brain reeled from the response. But the kicker came next. After several long moments, she finally glanced up and met his gaze.

She angled her head toward the tactical table. "Now help me plan this op." Her fingers drummed on the edge of the surface.

What?

Rab stared at her with something close to incredulity.

He couldn't have heard her right. "You wanna just carry on?" Maybe being promoted had addled her brain… "As if nothing's happened?"

This is going to be a bit of dance between the characters while they navigate toward each other and discover they're more than friends.

 

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye