#reflections post series: god I had forgotten this was scheduled today

[crewhonk]

High Hopes (Prologue)

Summary: In which two people who are having issues dealing with the card they have been dealt, take a chance and hope for the best. 

Bucky Barnes X Assistant!Reader

Words: 1.5K

series warnings: slow burn, sexual tension, forbidden luvvv, everyone knows about their relationship but they think they’re being sneaky, trauma angst, smut eventually, tony being a bridezilla, nat and steve being Power Couple, captain!bucky

AN: This is my Christmas gift unto you. Happy holidays, you filthy animals. tag list for this series is open until it isnt!

Follow me on Twitter for updates! @thottybarnes

___________________________

It had been a rough year for Y/N Y/L/N, and her hopes were low as she scrolled through what seemed to be hundreds of job recruitment websites. She had only finished her business practicum a month ago and had yet to find a job which she deemed acceptable for a young twenty-something-year-old woman with a masters in business. Thankfully her very rich and very lovely best friend, Claudia, allowed her to stay in her brownstone apartment until she was able to afford her own rent or move out or do whatever real adults did when they were expected to do things by themselves. 

The glasses which Y/N had perched on her nose had long since stopped working, her now tired eyes drying and watering at the same time, and making her vision fuzzy around the edges. They were too-wet and too-dry at the same time, strained from staring at her laptop screen and working tirelessly for the better part of her day. To Y/N, submitting resumes and scheduling interviews was honestly her least favorite thing in the whole wide world-- even more than wet socks, or cold hands.

“Anything?” Claudia said, entering her bedroom and handing Y/N a mug of tea before perching herself at the end of the bed. 

“Claudia. I need you to shoot me. Just take out me outside and shoot me like a lame horse or something.” Y/N whined, continuing to scroll. Nothing good was coming up, and she knew she couldn’t be picky for her first Adult job, but damn— she really didn’t want to work at Whole Foods for the rest of her life.

“I’m not shooting you, you’re being really dramatic and it’s unnecessary. Scoot over and give me the laptop.” Claudia crawled over and scooted herself under the heavy quilts, and took the laptop going on a few job-recruiting sites which she had heard of while listening to a podcast earlier that day. 

Y/N pulled the blanket up around her ears then, trying to close her eyes for a second and rid herself of an ebbing headache she could feel pressing against the top of her skull. It was only a few minutes later when Claudia gasped and sat up fully, waking Y/N up from the odd place in between sleep and wake. 

“What the fuck.” Y/N grumbled, nosing herself deeper into the thick pillows. 

“Pepper Potts needs an assistant. She wants someone young and with a masters in business. Y/N. You have a masters in business.” Claudia rushed, clicking on the job posting and slapping Y/N’s shoulder. 

“I’m not going to get it— it’s a public job posting for Tony Starks fiancee. There are probably thousands of applicants.” Y/N groaned, sitting up once more and snuggling into her best friends side. 

“I wouldn’t hurt to apply. Y/N this could be huge. If you’re Pepper Potts assistant, you could do anything after that. Jesus, I’m sure you could even retire!” Claudia handed the computer over to her best friend and watched as Y/N opened her resume folder and dragged it over to the new e-mail box. Within a few clicks, her laptop sent off a whooshing sound and the e-mail square clicked away. 

“There. Oh, God now my hopes are up.” Y/N breathed, deciding thirty resumes were enough for today and shutting her laptop, throwing it to the end of the bed as if it had suddenly become hot. 

“Good. You deserve high hopes after everything that’s happened to you this year.” Claudia whispered, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and handing her her tea. 

“Thank you, Claud. For everything.”

“Anything for you, Bear.”

______________________

Bucky Barnes attention was pulled from his mission briefing when one Sam Wilson jutted Bucky’s phone into his face. It took a second for his eyes to focus, but he wasn’t expecting for his own smiling face to be staring back at him. 

The screen in front of him had a picture of Bucky Barnes smiling with his arm wrapped around Steve’s support dog, followed by his first name and his age (which said 31, but was not, in fact,  correct). He furrowed his brows only slightly and read the tiny blurb he assumed would be about him. 

“Not as cool as my name may suggest? What the hell is this?” He looked up at the offending person who was towering over him, who only smiled and plopped down on the table in front of Bucky. 

“You’re lonely, Buck. You need someone other than paperwork and your hand.” Sam said as if the answer was obvious. Bucky, instead of responding, rolled his eyes and threw the phone on the other side of the couch and turned his attention back tot he briefings in front of him. Instead of having the chance to read them, however, Sam snatched them away, piled them neatly into the brown folder and placed it on the table next to him. 

“Seriously, man. As much as you drive me insane, I’m worried about you. I and Donald have hit it off well, Cap’s with Nat and we don’t want to leave you behind.” Sam ushered, his voice the same that he used for his patients at the VA. 

“I’m fine, Sam. You’re not leaving me behind— I’m choosing to do what’s expected of me.” Bucky whined, tired already of this conversation. Sure, it would be nice to be pressed to the back of some pretty dame late at night, but he had no time for that. Steve was hanging up the Captain mantel soon, and he needed to be ready for the question he knew was coming his way. He had no time for play when he had so much work to do. 

“No. What’s expected of you is for you to be happy. Your therapist, among other people, have told you time and time again that you’re ready for a relationship. I know you’re scared, Bucky. I know girls aren’t the same as they used to be. I know it’s hard to find someone with shared life experience but you have to at least try.” Sam frowned, leaning back when Bucky shot up from his place on the desk. Bucky felt vulnerable suddenly— maybe even a bit offended at Sam’s words, but mostly vulnerable. He knew there was no way to hide things from Sam— hell, his job was to read soldiers and help them with their issues, but for Sam to attack him with no given intention before was a slap to Bucky’s face. 

“I’m not scared, Sam. I’ve had enough scared for three lifetimes. I’m focussed— there’s a difference.” Bucky snarled, walking through the living room and snatching the files from their place on the pristine coffee table and leaving the room in a flurry of embarrassment and anger. 

Sam only sighed, watching his best friend storm from the common room. 

___________________

“Yes, oh my gosh thank you. I’ll be there at nine. Yes, thank you for considering me for the position, Ma’am. Alright, see you then. Bye.” Y/N gasped in disbelief, hanging up her phone and leaning with her back against the balcony railing. She stared at the end call screen reflected in her phone for only a few seconds before taking a breath, pocketing her phone, and walking through the penthouse to Claudia’s room. 

The pink room came quicker than she expected, and she stared at her purple-haired friend in an empty shock for a while before she broke frothier spell at the ushering of her friend to do so. 

“Y/N what’s wrong— it looks like you saw something horrifying. Oh Jesus, was it that old lady streaking again? I swear I really should talk to Luke about that—“

“I got the interview.” Y/N said breathlessly. Claudia sent her an excited smile and perked up from her place among the nest of pillows and blankets around her. 

“Well, damn, Girl! Congrats! Movie night and wine to celebrate?” She smiled, reaching for her phone to postulate some expensive wine and take out. 

“No, Claud. I got the interview.” Y/N responded, phone now clutched in her hands. Claudia’s smile fell from her face and the dimple between her eyebrows deepened as she tried to figure out what she was saying. Then, as if a wave crashed over her, Claudia froze and blinked quickly. 

“Wait—“

“It’s at nine tomorrow morning.” Y/N rushed, dizzy with elation. 

“Wait! With Pepper Potts?! That interview?!” Claudia threw the blankets off of her and kneeled on the side of the bed, waiting for the response she knew would come from her best friends lips. 

“I have an interview with the director of Stark Industries at nine.” Y/N repeated. She thought that if she repeated the phrase out loud in different ways, it would sink in and she could feel her feet once more. She was swept up, however, by the mass that was her best friend, spinning her and jumping her around. The girls screamed and spoke in rushed tones for the rest of the night, expensive wine and takeout strewn about the room and almost forgotten. Finally, Y/N Y/L/N had not only caught a break, but the break. 

____________

Next Part

____________

[gravitascivics]

CONCOCTING AN INFLUENTIAL VIEW

The current postings of this blog relate a story. And that story takes place in two locations, England and in early colonial New England in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century.  The last posting related how strict the monarchy in England had become in regard to Puritans and their more radical version, Congregationalists.  The more radical devotees wanted the English government to grant them not only freedom to practice their beliefs, but that the government mandate Calvin’s system of Presbyterian Church government.

         That is, in following Calvin’s devised view of church government, the church is a community or, using its language, a body in which the head is Christ, and all members are assigned equal status below Him.  That community supervises the selection of pastors, decides who will be members or dismissed as members, sets up the schedule of services, and enforces church discipline.[1]  And this was a milder form of demands.  Even more radical were the Separatists.  They wanted political separation from the non-Puritans.  

Of course, all this was a non-starter for the English crown.  With the rule of James of Scotland, relations with the Calvinists became more strained. Even though he was brought up a Calvinist, he apparently had had enough of it and instituted a more rigorous persecution of them.  This was followed by his son, Charles I, who was even more stern in his dealings with the Puritans.  As already indicated in the last posting, all this led to emigration of some Puritans beginning in 1620 (the “Mayflower Compact” group).

         Some nine years later, a major exodus took place as 400 Puritans followed the initial group to New England.  They set up a colony – the Massachusetts Bay colony – with the intent to follow their more extreme religious doctrine.  But in this later exit, a bit of creativity was involved.  According to Guelzo,[2] one could not just leave England at that time for any reason.  One had to demonstrate an inoffensive and reasonably plausible aim for such a move.  So, these Puritans organized themselves as a commercial enterprise.

         Named the Massachusetts Bay Company, the stated aim was profit.  The fact that this effort was led by well-known Puritans was presented to the government as just a happenstance.  Never mind that the group had a number of Puritan ministers; they gave a convoluted reason for their efforts and that succeeded in securing approval from the English authorities.  For whatever reason, this development proved to be a viable mechanism by which thousands of Puritans were eventually able to leave England for the Massachusetts Bay area.

         The primary center in this new settlement turned out to be Boston, but around the Boston area various towns sprung up.  In each case, a new organizational model took hold.  They each established a church that was independent from the other churches and no bishopric was ordained.  That is, each church ran its own business.  Despite that lack of organizational governance by some central entity, the churches began service protocols similar to each other.  Part of that commonality was the establishment of membership qualifications they imposed on accepting new members.

         That included that people who applied for membership had to produce testimonies that they, on an individual basis, were granted the grace of God (see the “TULIP” explanation from the March 2 posting).  They also wanted to honor some of the old ways from England.  For example, towns were mandated to establish a church and everyone in the town was, by law, expected to attend its services.  But, and this is an important turn, ministers were not officers of the realm or the government.

         In addition, marriages, beyond any ceremony in a church, had to be performed by a magistrate that introduced a strong provision separating church from state. Having provided for that division, ministers still were influential voices within the civic community and their opinions were sought even as elections drew near.  They were often and were expected to take part in the various civic events and celebrations that the townspeople conducted.  

A significant accomplishment of this mix was the establishment in 1636 of Harvard College in Cambridge (just across the Charles River from Boston).[3]  Through this institution, American religious/political thought developed. This deserves some closer look since it will help form foundational political thought during the colonial period.

Of course, all of this took time to evolve, but it reflects a bit of disagreement today between those who claim the founding fathers were mostly influenced by classical philosophic thought (that of the ancient Greeks and Romans) and those who look to the religiously oriented thinking of the colonial period.  One way to approach this divide is to look at what constituted the colonial thinking one item at a time.  

The judgement here is that that is worthwhile and in accordance, Guelzo identifies a three-part formula that implemented logical principles derived from classical thinkers.  And here an irony manifests itself:  it turns out, therefore, that classical thought played a crucial role in the development of a biblically based theology.

Here is how a “study” progressed according to the formula:  first, a citation or a series of citations from the Bible were highlighted, quoted, and analyzed – phrase by phrase – for its meaning using logical argument.  Usually, the meaning supported a predetermined “lesson.” Second, the citations and their meanings would be used to deduct religious principles that one could understand and apply.  And lastly, the principles would be applied to everyday life situations or used as points of meditation.  

The application was meant to demonstrate how practical the Bible was to these church goers.  But the irony of the pagan influence could not be totally forgotten, for they of ancient times provided these more recent students their models of logic.  In this, one needs to carry the thought that even if these early colonial efforts to seek universal truths were limited in their accounts by lacking any empirical evidence – gathered by means of historical study or more scientific methods – they did have their effects on the ways people defined what governance and politics should be.  

Those determinations of what should be were still further based on beliefs on what was the nature of governance and the nature or politics.  Yes, these early conclusions can be critiqued in terms of them being mostly rationalizations and lacking in honest, objectified study.  Preachers and even these early scholars were out to prove their predetermined conclusions and those conclusions bolstered whatever the established theology of a given religion was, in this case, Calvinism.

But they did sound reasonable and were considered in accordance with the church goers overarching beliefs.  They were justified by complex arguments that set out to logically counter whatever doubts existed among the faithful.  They also instructed church goers about what they should do in a trying, challenging environment.

The next posting will look at a federalist interpretation of these developments and make the claim that these early and continuing efforts at addressing questions of governance and politics, be they sectarian or secular, had a pervasive influence on the founding of the nation.

[1] “Presbyterian Church Government,” Britannica (n.d.), accessed March 8, 2021, https://www.britannica.com/topic/presbyterian .

[2] Allen C. Guelzo, The American Mind, Part I – transcript books – (Chantilly, VA:  The Teaching Company/The Great Courses, 2005). The factual, historical information of this posting is derived from this source.

 [3] Harvard, originally, was more a place to study theology than an academic center for all areas of study.  Using logic as its method of study, it would take a long time before other modes of study would be employed and sought after in its academic efforts.

[dazzledbybooks]

Four fates collide in this avian-inspired, epic fantasy retelling of Tristan and Isolde perfect for fans of Sarah J. Maas, Sabaa Tahir, and Leigh Bardugo! A princess longing to be free... On the dawn of her courtship trials, Princess Lyana Aethionus knows she should be focused on winning her perfect mate, yet her thoughts wander to the open sky waiting at the edge of her floating kingdom. One final adventure calls. Upon fleeing the palace, the last thing she expects to find is a raven prince locked in a death match with a dragon. A bastard aching to belong... Reviled son of a dead king, Rafe would do anything for his beloved half-brother, Prince Lysander Taetanus, including posing as him in the upcoming courtship trials. When a dragon interrupts their secret exchange, he orders his studious sibling to run. After suffering a fatal blow, Rafe is saved by a beautiful dove who possesses forbidden magic, just like him. Fate brought them together, now destiny will tear them apart... Unknown to the world above, on the foggy sea ten thousand feet below, a young king fights a forgotten war. He believes Lyana is the queen prophesied to save the world, and with the help of his favored spy, hidden deep in the highest ranks of the dove royal house, he will stop at nothing to have her. Three shocking betrayals. Two star-crossed lovers. One unforgettable journey. If you like fierce heroines, brooding heroes, forbidden romance, and action-packed magical adventures with twists you'll never see coming, don't miss The Raven and the Dove! The Raven and the Dove (The Raven and the Dove #1) by Kaitlyn DavisPublisher: Amazon Digital Services LLCRelease Date: March 9th 2020 Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Retellings Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/36505323 Amazon: https://amzn.to/2POqC8q B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-raven-and-the-dove-kaitlyn-davis/1134741493;jsessionid=16CF7BF8784FD012EAEC489919CE15A4.prodny_store01-atgap17?ean=9781087812625 iTunes: https://books.apple.com/gb/author/kaitlyn-davis/id475003054?ign-mpt=uo%253D4#see-all/books Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Raven-Dove-Kaitlyn-Davis/9781087812625?ref=grid-view&qid=1577113832813&sr=1-1 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/search?query=kaitlyn%20davis&fcsearchfield=Author Google Books: https://play.google.com/store/info/name/Kaitlyn_Davis?id=11byxfml3b Review: The Raven and the Dove by Kaitlyn Davis is the first book in a new fantasy series. This book was blessed with such a beautiful cover. I don’t totally know what I was expecting with this book, but I dove in with no expectations. The characters are so gorgeous. The descriptions were amazing. I felt like these characters were written so well. The story is told by four POVs.I thought it was pretty interesting having so many point of views. The romance was a forbidden love trope that seems to be coming back and of course there seems to be a semi-love triangle. I felt so bad for Xander. There didn’t seem to be much of a plot. Most of the book is waiting for events to take place and watching things unfold because we have so many points of views. I found that the story was a bit slow in the beginning but it does pick up. The writing style was beautiful. I thought that the author I’d d a great job making such a vivid world. I thought this book was pretty good. You should definitely check it out. Excerpt: “Game?” she asked. Her hands had stopped moving. They rested warmly in the hollow groove between his wings, palms half against his feathers and half against his back. Rafe stole another glance over his shoulder. She was too entranced to see anything but the visions dancing through her head, the visions he’d spun. An almost childlike wonder was alive in her innocent, yearning gaze, igniting a spark in his own chest that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Not since his parents had died. Not since he’d grown up too soon. “We like to think of Taetanos as the god of fate, not of death,” Rafe said softly. The glaze in the girl's eyes disappeared as she looked into his. “We call life a game, because we each have our own wants, our own desires—but he sees everything, he knows everything, and he leads us down our destined path. We fight back sometimes, we make moves, and so does he. On and on it goes until, in the end, he wins, like he always does. But still, we keep playing. What other choice do we have?” Again, her fingers brushed his feathers, but she didn’t look away. He couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to. “What do you think this is?” She paused to swallow. “His move or yours?” His, he silently answered. Definitely his. Because Rafe ached to fly, to soar, to get out of the darkness and back to his brother, back to the role he was comfortable playing, back to the sidelines. But there was a weight in his chest keeping him there, keeping him still, keeping him so lost in the fire reflected in her eyes that he couldn’t find his way out even if he tried.  For a moment, he thought he could hear his god laughing. Then he realized it wasn’t laughter, but the soft whistle of a bird call—a signal he recognized. His move. His life. His brother calling him back. Xander? Rafe tensed. His head whipped to the side, pulled by the noise growing louder, coming not from his imagination but from the other side of the darkness. He opened his mouth to call out in response, when a hand covered his lips and an arm slid around his throat, stronger and more ferocious than he’d expected. Rafe froze as the icy edge of a blade pressed into his skin, instantly recognizing the kiss of steel. “Be silent,” the girl ordered. “Don’t say a word.”   About the Author: Kaitlyn Davis, a bestselling author with over a quarter of a million books sold, writes young adult fantasy novels under the name Kaitlyn Davis and contemporary romance novels under the name Kay Marie. Publisher's Weekly has said, "Davis writes with confidence and poise," while USA Today has recommended her work as "must-read romance." To learn more about her contemporary romance novels, visit her Goodreads author page for Kay Marie here: https://www.goodreads.com/Kay_Marie Always blessed with an overactive imagination, Kaitlyn has been writing ever since she picked up her first crayon and is overjoyed to share her work with the world. When she's not daydreaming, typing stories, or getting lost in fictional worlds, Kaitlyn can be found playing fetch with her puppy, watching a little too much television, or spending time with her family. If you have any questions for her--about her books, about scheduling an event, or just in general--you may contact her at: KaitlynDavisBooks@gmail.com Sign up for Kaitlyn's newsletter to stay up-to-date with all of her new releases and more! http://bit.ly/AuthorNewsletter Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5276341.Kaitlyn_Davis Website: https://www.kaitlyndavisbooks.com/p/about-me.html Twitter: https://twitter.com/daviskaitlyn Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KaitlynDavisBooks Tumblr: https://kaitlyndavisbooks.tumblr.com/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kaitlyndavisbooks/ Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.es/kdavisbooks/ Giveaway: Prize: Win an Amazon.com $15 Gift Card (INT) Starts: March 10th 2020 Ends: March 24th 2020 a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: http://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2020/01/tour-schedule-raven-and-dove-raven-and.html March 9th The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Welcome Post March 10th NovelKnight - Guest Post The.magicalpages - Review + Favourite Quotes Colby Wilkens - Review Bibliomedico - Review + Favourite Quotes Lauren's Boookshelf - Review + Playlist March 11th biblioxytocin - Review + Favourite Quotes Confessions of a YA Reader - Promotional Post Ya It’s Lit - Review + Favourite Quotes Hooked on Bookz - Review Starlight Reads - Review + Favourite Quotes March 12th The Reading Life - Guest Post Foals, Fiction & Filigree - Review + Favourite Quotes Chanda Reads - Review Booked J - Review + Playlist + Favourite Quotes indelible ink inscribes - Review + Favourite Quotes March 13th L.M. Durand - Review Phannie the ginger bookworm - Review + Favourite Quotes Book Briefs - Review The Shelf Life Chronicles - Review + Favourite Quotes Annej Reads - Review + Favourite Quotes March 14th Bookish Looks - Guest Post A Court of Coffee and Books - Review + Favourite Quotes Your Words My Ink - Review + Dream Cast Morgan Vega - Review + Favourite Quotes Sometimes Leelynn Reads - Review + Dream Cast + Playlist March 15th Kait Plus Books - Interview Moonlight Rendezvous - Review + Favourite Quotes Dazzled by Books - Review The Reading Corner for All - Review + Playlist + Favourite Quotes Taylor Fenner’s Bookish World - Review

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2020/03/the-raven-and-dove-blog-tour.html

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - Hiding

Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Partners in Crime Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Hiding

by Jenny Morton Potts

on Tour May 1-31, 2018

Synopsis:

  Keller Baye and Rebecca Brown live on different sides of the Atlantic. Until she falls in love with him, Rebecca knows nothing of Keller. But he’s known about her for a very long time, and now he wants to destroy her.

This is the story of two families. One living under the threat of execution in North Carolina. The other caught up in a dark mystery in the Scottish Highlands. The families’ paths are destined to cross. But why? And can anything save them when that happens?

  Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Thriller Published by: Cahoots Publishing Publication Date: February 2018 Number of Pages: 323 ISBN: 1976862817 (ISBN13: 9781976862816) Check out Hiding on Amazon | Goodreads

  Read an excerpt:

Chapter 2

Death Row June 2021

There was a walk now. They passed doors, like random choices. They all looked the same, all the colour of pale nicotine. But some of those doors were in the business of living and some were not. As you walked past them, you could feel hope slipping away. Which door? Which one? It was like a game the devil might play as you entered hell. Eventually the passengers reached the end of their journey and were shown into another room which was similar in size to the last but with what looked like a window on one side. The window was dark for the moment, with a black blind pulled down and opposite, there was a gallery with seating. The seating was slightly raked, like a theatre. They were here for a performance.

‘That’s 11.30 gone now,’ someone said from the far end.

‘Show must go on.’ Keller mumbled.

There was a crackle and then an audio test from the speaker in the corner. Keller imagined that President Descher had arranged a televised viewing and that all over the State the people could see and hear this: factory workers, grandmothers, schoolchildren, stopping what they’re doing and watching. From the audio speaker, Keller recognised words from the phonetic alphabet, then the date, today, June 23rd 2021, the location, the prisoner’s name and number HCI 72259-931 and the time scheduled for execution.

Keller knew that the duration for the poison to act was ten minutes maximum and that the ratio to be injected was set against the inmate’s weight and height.

Somewhere behind him, Keller could hear mumbling about the victims’ families and an officer explained that they were seated separately, in another viewing room. He imagined that the families’ room was crowded, since eight victims had lost their lives that day.

At 11.45 am, the time was announced once more on the speaker and the blind was pulled up manually, revealing the execution chamber. Keller had forgotten who was seated directly next to him now, but whoever it was flinched.

The prisoner was already strapped onto the gurney. There was a sheet over his body but you could see where the constraint buckles jutted up into the clean white cotton. His left arm was exposed however and the intravenous tube was already in. He was clean shaven. Keller had never seen him without a beard. He could almost pretend he did not know him.

Three Harfield guards came into the chamber now. They did not look at the window, which to them was a mirror. Who would want to see themselves doing what they were about to do, even if it was their duty. The three guards were each handed a syringe. The content of one of the syringes was deadly and the other two contained a harmless fluid. The guards would never know who among them administered the lethal injection.

The condemned man’s chest began to rise and fall. He blinked rapidly and his Adam’s apple bulged in his throat, as he struggled to find an impossible place between dignity and the screaming of his nerves to stay alive.

Keller murmured, ‘There is nothing to do now but die.’

A man in the chamber who had been out of their view, moved into sight. He was dressed in a plain dark suit. He identified himself as Warden James and held up a chart. His hand was steady enough, his white knuckles though suggested a very tight grip on that chart.

Keller stared down at the inmate who seemed to be staring back, though Keller knew that the glass was one way and that all the condemned could see was a reflection of his own final scene. All the same, their eyes met.

Warden James turned to the prisoner. ‘Is there anything you would like to say or read before we administer this lethal injection?’

‘Yes.’

Keller frowned down at the neighboring lap. It was the redhead next to him, the PhD student, twisting that engagement ring. The girl who more than likely had it all, the girl who could not cope without her cell, was barely coping at all. Keller could feel her trembling against the length of his torso and the anger in his veins burned. The young woman held her hand up to her mouth and whispered into it, ‘God, dear God.’

The Warden lowered his eyes to Prisoner HCI 72259-931 on the gurney and blinked several times. He said to the inmate, ‘Go ahead, what do you want to say.’

‘I would like to ask a question.’

‘What is your question?’

‘I would like to ask a question and have it answered.’

Warden James looked around the room at the other officials.

‘Go ahead and ask your question.’

‘Not until you tell me that I will have an answer.’

Keller smiled and nudged the redhead. ‘You see? Make the most of every goddamned moment.’

The young woman was on the edge of her seat and on the edge of tears.

In the chamber, the suits and uniforms huddled and muttered amongst themselves and the Warden came free of the pack once more.

‘We shall try to answer your question. And cannot commit beyond that. I ask you therefore again, is there anything you would like to say?’

The inmate tried to lift his head but the strap across his brow was held tight. He cleared his throat and said in that thick Carolina accent that Keller thought he’d forgotten but which now reignited in his memory and ripped through his heart.

‘I want to know if my son can see me.’

***

Excerpt from Hiding by Jenny Morton Potts. Copyright © 2018 by Jenny Morton Potts. Reproduced with permission from Jenny Morton Potts. All rights reserved.

  Author Bio:

Jenny is a novelist, screenplay writer and playwright. After a series of ‘proper jobs’, she realised she was living someone else’s life and escaped to Gascony to make gîtes. Knee deep in cement and pregnant, Jenny was happy. Then autism and a distracted spine surgeon wiped out the order. Returned to wonderful England, to write her socks off.

Jenny would like to see the Northern Lights but worries that’s the best bit and should be saved till last. Very happily, and gratefully, settled with family.

She tries not to take herself too seriously.

Catch Up With Jenny Morton Potts On: Website, Goodreads, Twitter, & Facebook!

  Tour Participants:

Visit the other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!

  Join In on this terrific GIVEAWAY!!

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Jenny Morton Potts. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com gift Card. The giveaway begins on May 1 and runs through June 2, 2018.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

  Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours

BLOG TOUR – Hiding was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir

[krissysbookshelf]

Enjoy An Exclusive Sneek Peek Of: Midnight at the Electric by Jodi Lynn Anderson!

  Kansas, 2065: Adri has been picked to live on Mars. But weeks before launch, she discovers the journal of a girl who lived in her house more than a hundred years ago and is drawn into the mystery surrounding her fate. Oklahoma, 1934: Amid the fear and uncertainty of the Dust Bowl, Catherine's family's situation is growing dire. She must find the courage to sacrifice everything to save the one person she loves most. England, 1919: In the recovery following World War I, Lenore tries to come to terms with her grief for her brother and plans to sail to America. But can she make it that far?  

LEARN MORE

  Chapter 1

From above, Miami looked as if it were blinking itself awake; the rising sun reflected against the city’s windows. Adri—in fuzzy extra-large pajama pants, her messy black hair pulled back in a rubber band—had pulled over on the shoulder of the Miami bridge. Her Theta had blown a circuit board and she needed to fix it. Now, she took in the view one last time: it wasn’t much, but she’d never see it again.

The sky lay low and gray over South Beach. The empty beachfront hotels lay dark, water halfway up their lowest windows. All along the waterfront, buildings stood stark and abandoned. Neighborhood by neighborhood, the ocean had crept into the city, making it look like a kingdom from an old fairy tale, like Atlantis disintegrating into myth. The morning’s mail drones were already buzzing above the waterlogged buildings below, swaying in the heavy winds but staying on course to deliver packages to anyone who was left: the ruggedly independent, the people with nowhere else to go.

Adri had been one of them until today; her entire life had been spent watching the city get swallowed by water. She wouldn’t miss it, but she had to take a deep breath as she turned back to the car. She gathered the papers and wrinkled sweatshirts that had fallen out when she’d stepped out onto the pavement and shoved them into the back. She carefully plucked a caterpillar off her windshield, sliding her fingers against it gently and moving it to the bridge rail. Then she started the car and set it to self-navigate. Her restless mind drifted to Kansas and what lay ahead. She opened her placement letter on the dash monitor and reread it.

Dear Ms. Ortiz, We try to arrange home stays for our Colonists-in-Training as often as possible, to maintain a sense of normalcy at a deeply transitional time. We’re delighted to inform you that we’ve located a distant cousin of yours (a Lily Vega, maiden name Ortiz, age 107) within driving distance of the Center, who is willing to welcome you into her home during the next three months. Please make your way to this address and await instructions. 268 Jericho Road Canaan, KS 67124 Sincerely, Lamont Bell Director

Adri hadn’t even known she’d had cousins, or any family, left alive. Her parents had been only children; she’d never known of anyone even remotely related to them.

She turned on the news, and when people honked at her to tell her Theta was trailing sparks (it often did) she casually gave them the finger. She leaned back in her seat to watch the sky through the big sunroof. She felt lighter the farther she got from the city.

The coast fell away, and with it, the flooded towns and cities. The ride was only twelve hours with the new interstate, and with a speed limit of a hundred and fifty, it flew by. Normally she would have taken the spare time to study, but all of her devices had been remotely disabled the day she’d received her acceptance letter. Colonists were supposed to spend their last three months focusing on what they learned at the Center in Wichita. Other than that, they were supposed to do as close to nothing as possible.

Only a week had passed since the message had flashed on her wristTab, releasing a spray of holographic balloons that spiraled up around her and away as her admission note flashed on the screen. It was a cheesy touch, but her heart had dropped to her feet anyway. It was the first time in her life she could remember crying. Everything she’d sacrificed and worked for since the sixth grade—the late nights studying, the relentless schedule of exercise, course work, and training—was going to pay off. Within months, she’d be one of the lucky few living on Mars.

The air turned colder the farther she rode. It was long past dark when she crossed the border into Kansas, and another hour before she exited the highway. Nearing Canaan, each turn seemed to take her farther and farther into the middle of nowhere, county roads unfurling darkly under a sky black as ink. The Theta began to make a loud, thumping sound. Around eleven, she switched the car to driver-navigate and steered it gingerly along. It was practically dead when she pulled up to the end of the driveway.

Adri gazed around; the place looked almost abandoned. There was a little white farmhouse with peeling siding and a small barn lot . . . leaning fences surrounding a large pasture, a bunkhouse (or was it a stable?) listing to one side. An ancient SUV sat in the driveway—one of the last of the great gas guzzlers.

Adri cut the power and blinked at a sign by the flowerbeds drying up for the winter. There were indications of life though: a series of purple plastic dragonflies lined the path to the front door and a tin angel with a watering can stood poised over a patch of daisies and weeds to her right. A little placard poking up by the path said: Come in, my flowers would like to meet you.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

She took a deep breath.

She turned her attention upward. The sky was closer here than it had been back home, or at least it felt that way. That’s where I’ll be, she thought. That’s where I’m going. In a way, she was already gone. That was what she needed to focus on.

She checked herself in the mirror. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, which was how she always looked. She brushed herself off and got out of the car, a few soda cans and empty wrappers trailing out with her feet.

A sign had been taped to the door, written in shaky handwriting.

Adri, I stayed up as late as I could, but I’m old! Your room is upstairs to the right. Can’t wait to meet you. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. ☺☺☺

Adri moved through the house in the dark, bumping into corners and staring around into the shadowy rooms before she made her way up the stairs. One room stood open and inviting: faded blue and smelling of mothballs. The lamps were all on, and a bright patchwork quilt lay across the bed, turned down at the corner. She looked around. There was something about the room that was off, unsettling. But she couldn’t say what.

There was no dresser so she moved back and forth across the room, flinging her pants and balled-up sweaters along the closet shelves. Lily had either neglected or forgotten to clean in the back, and the corners were covered in cobwebs that stuck to her fingers. Otherwise the shelves were empty except for an old crinkled shoe box. She opened it, finding a pile of photos and old postcards instead. Adri was notoriously nosy.

She moved closer to the bedside lamp and flipped through the contents. There were several photos of a woman she assumed must be Lily, some with a man who looked to be her husband, and some of her as a little girl. But most of the mementos were older, artifacts from before even her cousin would have been born: ancient ticket stubs from shows in the 1950s, an autograph from someone named Wayne Newton. One postcard was from New York City and very old—it showed a wide boulevard with people in hats and dresses strolling arm and arm, gazing into shop windows. It was postmarked May 7, 1920, and the writing was so faded it was close to illegible.

Beth— Arrived New York last night and making my way to you tomorrow. Galapagos in tow. Did you get my letters? Will you be waiting for me? Will you love her as much as I do? Love, Lenore

Adri did the quick mental math to calculate how many years had passed since 1920: a hundred and forty-five. She read it one more time, then put the box back where she’d found it.

Finally, with nothing else to do, she turned out her light and lay down. In the silence of the strange room, a feeling still nagged at her and kept her from sleeping. Maybe it was nerves about living with a stranger . . . and a stranger who was also— weirdly—family. She wondered what Lily would be like—and it made her think of her old roommate at the group house back in Miami, and something she’d said once.

“I really admire you, Adri,” she’d said. “But I have to say you’re not very likable.”

Adri hadn’t shown that it hurt her, but it had stayed in her mind. She didn’t know why she couldn’t keep from being too blunt, too standoffish and distant, a little mean. She’d stopped trying to change it years ago; she could never figure out how.

Growing up she’d watched other kids buddying up— everyone with their weird quirks and flaws getting along anyway somehow, forming some mysterious club she couldn’t penetrate. She’d think to herself, How do they do that? It was like executing an intricate dive.

Adri wasn’t a diver. If anything, she was a pickax, chipping away at each day. The next three months living with another stranger, even one who was related to her . . . she would chip away at too.

• • •

In sixth-grade astronomy, Adri had read about neutrinos for the first time. They were particles that traveled across space—from one end of the universe to the other, unstoppable and anchorless. They could pass through matter, right through planets and people and everything else. When kids talked after that, about what they wanted to be when they got older, the image of that textbook page always flashed through her mind.

Now she pictured the day she’d be the one launching off from Earth, unstoppable. She hoped the time between then and now would go fast. As she fell asleep, behind her eyelids she watched herself pinging across space.

  Original post: http://ift.tt/2sZuNRq

from Blogger http://ift.tt/2sq2jDh