Andi’s excerpt of one of her works-in-progress…

Hi, friends!

Here we are on a 5th Friday which isn’t technically my day, but I screwed up and missed my last Friday…LOLOL

busy much, Andi?

So I’ve been working on some writing stuff (WHAT) and this is an excerpt from a work in progress that I’m pondering and tweaking and all of that.

Anyhoo…here’s an excerpt. Thought it might be fun to do some different shit than my usual. 🙂

Hope you dig it.


Andi Marquette
COPYRIGHT 2020
(don’t steal my shit, y’all. Not cool.)

There were beer days and wine days and then there were bourbon days. Today was the latter, and Amy sank into the booth with relief after she ordered it. The bartender himself brought the drink over and gave her a little nod when he set it down.

“How’re things?” Amy asked as she stirred the drink with the little red plastic straw. He’d included a lime on the glass’s lip, though she rarely ordered bourbon here. That was a good bartender, who remembered details like that.

“Can’t complain,” he said, his voice rumbling from his huge chest. He was one of the reasons this bar didn’t really need bouncers. “But maybe you need to.” He eyed the bourbon, shrugged, and ambled back to the bar.

Amy smiled against the rim of the glass as she took her first sip. He’d used the top shelf, another detail he remembered. It ran like warm silk down her throat. She should’ve been a florist, she thought. This investigative crap was for the birds. She needed to clear her schedule, finish up the process serving assignments she currently had, then take a vacation. From that and her other line of business, which paid much better than the legit pursuit and was infinitely more entertaining but infinitely more dangerous. And maybe she could fly Ali out to Florida and they could hang out on the beach for a while. She hadn’t seen her in a few months, and she needed to take that big sister role with her more.

Halfway through the bourbon, her nerve endings prickled as she caught the scent of something she really hoped wasn’t what she thought it was. Something faint, barely riding the air currents moving beneath the overhead fans, but just strong enough that it reached her. She sat, waiting for another whiff to rule out cologne. Nope. Definitely not cologne. Honeysuckle grafted over a faint tang of metal.

She sighed. Witch.

This one’s signature she didn’t recognize, so that was good. An unknown witch meant she probably wasn’t looking for her. Except…she took another sip. Witches generally avoided this side of town. So what was one doing here? She glanced around casually, assessing. Eight people at the bar, mostly blue-collar working stiffs. Bikers at the pool table. A few hipsters and white-collar guys at the other booths and tables in the room. Her gaze stopped on a lone woman in a corner booth, sipping a glass of wine and checking her phone. Too obvious, she decided, and sure enough, a few moments later a man in a suit came in from outside, saw her, and beelined to her table. They smiled and exchanged pleasantries as he took his suit jacket off.

Maybe whoever the wayward witch was, he or she was just enjoying a night out with friends. Witches had friends, too. They liked to let their hair down now and again. All that witchery probably got tedious. Amy would just finish her drink, maybe have another, and go home, chalking this up to a witch’s field trip. She caught the bartender’s eye and nodded. He nodded back and within a few minutes he’d brought another drink over and set it on a fresh cocktail napkin. He took the empty glass and she closed her eyes and leaned back, still a little on edge.

The smell got stronger and she opened her eyes. A biker chick was on her way to the bar. Seriously? A witch biker chick? She wore a red tee and riding leathers over her jeans and her dark hair hung in a braid down her back, over her black leather vest. Several small red feathers were woven into the braid. Her leathers explained why a witch was in this bar. It was a known biker hang-out. She relaxed. Crisis averted. This particular witch was just chilling with her biker buds.

The witch collected her beer from the bartender, said something to him that made him smile, then took a long pull from the longneck. Her dark gaze ran into Amy’s and something like recognition flashed within. Shit. No point in pretending it didn’t happen.

Amy gave her a barely perceptible nod and turned her attention back to her own drink. Not here for trouble, Amy chanted to herself. Go back to the pool table.

The witch said something else to the bartender and Amy exhaled with relief. Good. Maybe she was just here for a couple of beers and some pool after all.

Finally, it looked like the witch might be headed to the pool table, but she passed a little too close to Amy’s table and tossed a card onto it. “Call me,” she said in a low, melodious voice. “Soon.”

OH, NO! What’s up with THIS? lolol

Anyway, that’s an intro to a WIP I’ve got going on. As you’ve probably guessed, it’s paranormal/urban fantasy, a genre I haven’t really done much writing in but that I’m a huge fan of.

So I hope this brought some escape/enjoyment to your Friday (or Saturday, depending where in the world you are).

Happy reading, friends, no matter the genre.

Take care and stay safe.

7 comments

  1. Dunno. I don’t put schedules on this stuff in the writing stage because of various impending apocalypses (apocalypsi) and all kinds of stuff intervening, especially in this day and age. So that’s where we are. LOL

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I freakin’ LOVE this, and I will read it as soon as it’s available. Not normally much of a reader of paranormal stuff (Gill McKnight is the glowing exception), but you’ve sucked me in with this. Love it! 🙂 Glad you’ve got your writing mojo pants happening.

    Liked by 2 people

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