Join my newsletter for freebies and info on upcoming books, classes, appearances, and discounts.Join Now!
banner image

The Sunday Squirrel: spoon (encore)

Kayla opened the box as soon as she stepped in the door. Brad had written her name, in the bold slashes that passed for handwriting, with a thick green Sharpie marker. Nestled among the wadded newspaper pages was a…spoon? “What the hell?” She dumped the contents onto the table and smoothed every sheet of print,

The Sunday Squirrel: cheated

Kelly Adams sat on the plush couch in the Dean’s outer office and studied the laces of her lime green Chuck Taylors. Not even nine in the morning and she’d already screwed up. Her dad would be furious, livid, apoplectic. The muted colors and hushed air of the anteroom were a stark contrast to the

The Sunday Squirrel: embarrassment

I pulled into the parking lot of the old McDonald’s where I had worked for six months when I was sixteen, and wondered if anyone I knew still worked there after three years. It was only March, but already warm in the Tucson foothills. With a quick motion, I turned off the engine of the

The sunday Squirrel: love? (encore)

The premise of today’s squirrel was to write a love scene where the characters do not touch, or say anything similar to “I love you”, and there is no internal dialogue. (Think distant 3rd person.) Here’s my attempt at making it clear that these characters love each other… He met her gaze. “Stay.” Her hand

The Sunday Squirrel: Valentine’s Day

My ideal Valentine’s Day. Macie sighed and stared at the keyboard. Hardly anyone even read her pathetic little blog anyway. Just a few anonymous readers who never commented. But somehow, putting her private thoughts out into the universe—anonymously, of course—made her feel like someone cared. A long walk on the beach. Then we—she never named

The Sunday Squirrel: vice

Katie stared at the empty carton in horror. How could she be out already? She pawed through the drawer digging out notecards, old pens, a pair of scissors, and a ticket stub. No, no, no. Today was not the day to go cold turkey. Not when she had a presentation in front of the new

The Sunday Squirrel: lie

Lynne watched her sister walk in the front door and groaned. Already her promise to tell nothing but the truth for the next seven days would be put to the test. “What do you think of my new haircut?” Dory twirled in the foyer and gave her a goofy grin. Okay, Lynne couldn’t lie, but