Tuesday Tales- March 14, 2023- Picture Prompt

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, with ongoing stories shared by a select group of authors. Word and picture prompts are incorporated into our works in progress. This is picture prompt week! We each chose a picture from a batch and were limited to 300 words. Click on an author's name to read the excerpt. Make sure to visit all the authors.

V.L. Locey (M/M Hockey Romance) 

His hands were warm.

Flossie Benton Rogers (Cozy Mystery) 

“If a place is thought to be haunted, that makes it all the more interesting.”

 

Trisha Faye (Historical Fiction)

Another half-hearted mention about forming a quilting club came up. 

Jillian Chantal (Contemporary)

She’s just his type.

Jean Joachim (M/F Sports Romance) 

Robbie put down the axe and picked up his phone

Susanne Matthews (Psychic Romance/Paranormal Suspense)

How much of the selkie would stay in her once she tamed the storm and defeated Losh?

 

Picture Post Week!

Welcome! This week is picture prompt week. The writers can pick from any of these pictures for their story and the word count is limited to 300 words. Remember to click on each author's name and read all these great stories. Thanks for stopping by! 

V.L. Locey: MM Hockey Romance

I rapped on that pretty white door and waited out in the hallway like a gentleman.

 Tricia Andersen: paranormal/Greek god romance.

One of these nights he was going to just let one of the buggers eat them instead of towing them out.

Trisha Faye: Historical Fiction

“You’re of age now to work for the community I understand,” the elder said, peering over the top of his spectacles.

Jillian Chantal: Contemporary

"You're good with scalpels but not with hedge clippers?" 

Flossie Benton Rogers (Paranormal)

 “Have you thought it through?”

Davee Jones: Contemporary

The sincere question became a quest without a map, starting in the dark with no light.

Jean Joachim: Small town romance

She held her breath as they went inside. 

Susanne Matthews: Historical Fiction 

“Okwaho will follow when he can. Those men smelled of death,” the Mohawk said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.