It’s Boomer Lit Friday!

Dont_Tell_Anyone_200Happy Friday! Once again, it’s Boomer Lit Friday. Every Friday, a bunch of us who like such things post snippets from our “Baby Boomer Books,” and the lovely Shelley Lieber has graciously offered up her blog where you can see what other authors are up to. Here’s a teensy bit of Don’t Tell Anyone. Please hop over to the Boomer Lit Friday blog and read and comment on the other participants. Enjoy, and I hope you have a lovely weekend.

Previous to this bit, Adam, Liza, and Charlie were attempting to get Estelle to agree to a biopsy.

——

Liza pounded the elevator button. “You’re sick. That was sick and cruel. How could you say something like that?”

Adam shrugged. “I panicked.”

“You couldn’t say something like, ‘We love you and we want you to get better?’ You had to tell your mother I was pregnant? In her condition?”

“You mean you’re not?” Charlie said.

They both scowled at him.

“I was looking forward to being an uncle.”

“Your brother is sick,” Liza said.

Charlie smiled. “Yes, but he’s creative.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to fake being pregnant now? Excuse myself every so often and pretend to throw up?”

“For a while,” Adam said weakly.

“And then what?”

“We are trying, Liza. Who knows, we might even be pregnant by then.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “At the rate I’m learning new things about you? I sincerely doubt it.”

It’s Boomer Lit Friday!

Don't-Tell-Anyone_cover1Happy Friday! Once again, it’s Boomer Lit Friday. Every Friday, a bunch of us who like such things post snippets from our “Baby Boomer Books,” and the lovely Shelley Lieber has graciously offered up her blog where you can see what other authors are up to. Here’s a teensy bit of Don’t Tell Anyone. Please hop over to the Boomer Lit Friday blog and read and comment on the other participants. Enjoy, and I hope you have a lovely weekend.

——

 

“You’ll do it,” Estelle said.

“Me?” A fist tightened around Liza’s stomach. “Oh, no. I’m not—”

“Adam and Charlie won’t. They’re too softhearted. Good boys, but weak-willed, like their father. May he rest in peace. So you’ll have to do it.”

“What are you saying?” Liza glared at her. “That I’m cold-hearted enough to…kill a person? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Oy, no, of course not. I’m saying you’re practical. You’re a practical girl. At least that’s what Adam says about you. You’ll know how to do it.”

Liza threw up her hands. “So what do you want me to do? Push you out a window? In front of a bus? Hold a pillow over your head?”

Estelle appeared to consider her options. “The pillow would work. I saw Cary Grant do it in a movie. Or you could get me pills. People take pills. Marilyn Monroe took pills. Some people think it was the Kennedys, but I know it was pills.”

It’s Boomer Lit Friday!

The Joke's on MeHappy Friday, everyone! Today I’m participating in a different sort of blog hop. Each week, the Boomer Lit Friday blog hop will feature snippets from a variety of “baby boomer” novels. Make sure to check out excerpts from other participating authors, too.

Today, here’s a bit from The Joke’s on Me:

“Bad workshop?” Joey shook his napkin out of its complicated arrangement, set it in his lap, and returned his full attention to me.

“It’s Ethan.” I let out my breath. “He came home high last night. Courtesy of his father’s stash. He said it was a one-time deal, but I don’t believe him. I’m pretty sure Jude’s oblivious. Lev probably thinks it’s a big joke. And poor Aunt Frankie’s trapped in the middle, laying out all the terrible things that could happen to him and threatening to tell his mother if he doesn’t shape up.”

“And poor Aunt Frankie never partied with the burnouts in the Drama Club way back when?”

I raised an eyebrow.  “We only pretended to inhale. So what are we supposed to do when Junior asks why Mommy and Daddy look so stupid in all of those old pictures?”

“Hope and pray good sense skips a generation.”

“Hey.” I pretended to take great offense. “I do the jokes. You’re supposed to be the straight man.”

He regarded me with great seriousness. “Frankie, if I’m not a straight man, one of us is at the wrong table.”