Six Sentence Sunday

Six sentences from my WIP.

An air mobile swoops low, missing me by inches, as the navigator searches for a parking spot on the overcrowded streets of District 401 – the former city of Los Angeles. I duck another reckless navigator as I race across the bridge to my 57th floor apartment. Bridges criss cross the lower airspace leading to apartments across the district. Ground floor residences are a luxury in the busier districts such as 401. There’s nothing worse than the endless drones of air mobiles and its larger counterpart – passenger air busses – as I try to sleep or watch a movie. I have the unfortunate pleasure of living in a cheap, high rise apartment building beneath the busiest traffic airway in Area 1 – the first habitable continent that was discovered after Earth’s mass self-destruction at the beginning of the century. Ground floor spaces are far too expensive for ordinary citizens.


My Amazon bestseller made me nothing.

The Popcorn Chronicles


PATRICK WENSINK-My novel shot to the top of the site’s bestseller list last summer. You won’t believe how little I got paid!

In one more week I was going to be a millionaire.

At least, that was the rumor circulating around my wife’s family. One more week on Amazon’s best-seller list and I would have seven figures in the bank, easily. Her cousin had looked this fact up on the Internet, so it had to be true.

“Please tell them that is nowhere near true,” I said. “But don’t tell them how much money I’m actually going to make.”

“OK,” my wife said. “Can I tell them how many books you sold?”

“Absolutely not.”


I didn’t have a good answer. Secrecy seemed like the practical, professional response in times of success.

It made me wonder where this writerly knee-jerk reaction comes from. It wasn’t that people would think…

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Friday Freebie – Snippet from Cherish

“I skip breakfast and leave for school before Ida’s even up. I’m rushing down the hall, anxious to catch a glimpse of Marcus when I run into someone.
“I’ll survive,” a husky male voice replies.
My gaze travels past the solid muscle I rushed into and into a classically beautiful face that could have been ripped right off the pages of Teen. He’s hot, and he knows it.
“Armando Perez.” He holds out his right hand and smiles, expecting me to shake it and swoon.
He’s gorgeous, but I’m not going to show him I think so. “Sarah Parker.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” He takes my hand, raises it to his lips, and kisses it.”

Excerpt From: Singh, Sheritha. “Cherish.” Lycaon Press, 2014. iBooks.
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