Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, readers, and bloggers to gather once a week to share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).
In this group you’ll find anything from romance and historical fiction to mystery and YA. The common thread is that every story’s main character identifies as LGBTQ+. The snippets could range from zero flames to full-on sexytimes, anything goes content-wise. The only rule is snippets will be 6 sentences long–one for each color in the Pride flag.
I would invite everyone to please come check out the Rainbow Snippets group, click on a link, read and comment on the writing available and get involved yourselves in this awesome exercise. The link to the group can be found HERE.
This week, my snippet is taken from my new release Roadhouse Reds. The original idea behind Roadhouse Reds came from working in different diners, bars, coffee shops and restaurants in my twenties. The atmosphere of the roadhouse is taken from my favorite bar and grill, while the inspiration for some of the staff was drawn from some of the folks I worked with. The crash of the alien ship in the cornfield near the roadhouse was inspired by a real life crash into a very different field, while the rest of the story came along much, much slower. In fact, the opening scene was written almost ten years before the end of the book. Makes me glad I never throw story notes away. I’m so grateful to the readers at gayauthors.org who encouraged me with their kind words and reviews during the creation of the story, and to Wayward Ink for seeing the potential in it, and taking a chance on sending it out into the world.
“Preacher Fisher thinks that it was Satanists, Petunia. What do you think of that?”
“Preacher Fisher thinks everything wrong in this town is because of Satanists or a cult. He’s got half the folks thinking they’re going to be murdered in their beds or sacrificed to the devil.”
“Well, not me, thank you very much. I sleep with my cross in one hand and my Colt .45 beneath my pillow.”
Jason about spilled the water when he heard that, his eyes sweeping over the weathered lady with the silver hair and steel-gray eyes.
“Don’t look so surprised, young man. Why when I was your age I could blast a bottle off a fence post two hundred feet away.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jason replied hastily.
“I can still hit the target when I go to the range. No, Lord, no one’s murdering me in my bed.”
“No, you’ll just shoot yourself in your sleep,” Petunia added.
“Least the Satanists won’t get me.”