On this wonderfully  cold and snowy day, I offer a small excerpt from my new novel…yet untitled:

Jess thought getting out of range of her father would silence the voice, but all it’d done is add more static. None of this entered her present thinking; it was simply and permanently etched in the fibers of her soul. Taking a few deep breaths, she concentrated the cross hairs in the scope of her rifle on a single pumpkin. It was on the ground because she was afraid she might hit the post accidentally. Focusing on orange, she pushed the safety forward with her thumb. Shuffling her feet and molding her upper body to the pick-up hood, she hugged the rifle into her shoulder. Breathing in and out several times, she felt her hand jerk anticipating the loud crack of the firing. Her finger rested along the barrel, just above the trigger.

The pumpkin was still centered in her scope when that finger finally felt the curve of the trigger and squeezed. She didn’t hear the shot but turned at Sam’s, “Yes!”