Guest author Susan Wingate - Book excerpt

Since this blog is dedicated to Girls with Guns, among other things, here is an excerpt of Bobby's Diner involving girls and, of course, guns, in this case at the shooting range. Girls are not born shooting guns. They have to learn sometime.

Bobby's Diner

By Susan Wingate
Available now in ebook.

Published By: Write Words, Inc

ISBN # 978-1-59431-636-4
Word Count: 50,000

Contemporary
EpubPrice: $2.80 to $5.50 depending on formats

Find it at:

AllRomanceEbooks

FictionWise

EXCERPT FROM BOBBY'S DINER:

Shooters begin. The firing monitor called out the instruction over the loudspeaker. Vanessa picked up the gun and reassembled it, loaded it, and handed it to me. Within seconds gunfire cracked and exploded all around us. Single steady shots. Quick and repeating shots. I jumped. It seemed second-nature to her the way she managed it. But, I pressed my arms firmly by my side.

“Take it! Just listen to me. I’ll talk you through it. Stand like I showed you.” She shoved the gun toward me and I took it reluctantly. She glared at me to begin.

“Now hold it gently like an egg, okay?” She handed the gun over to me and my heart started to pound like a bongo, my hands were shaking and sweaty.

“I don’t know about this, Van.” I turned to the target out in the field and with my right foot in front of my left and my arms steady out but not locked stiff, I took the stance.

“Good. Good. Now, loosen your grip. You’re not trying to strangle it.”

I looked at her with squinted eyes and when I did the gun went off. I screamed. It nearly blew me off my feet. A carbon-smoky smell filled the air and some of the gun powder kicked out into my face and eyes. They began to water instantly.

“Holy, shit!” I rubbed my eyes with my shoulders, the right one first, then the left.

“Pay attention to what you’re doing! This isn’t a Barbie Doll.”

Panic coursed over me in a hot wave. I looked at Vanessa with wide-eyes.

“You have mascara all over your face.” She smiled because I think she could tell I was about ready to cry. “Be serious and keep focused on the gun, not me.” Her words softened. “Don’t feel intimidated, I’m trying to teach you—not intimidate you, okay. You’re holding a weapon, Georgie. Always, but always, keep that in mind. Let me show you.” She took the gun from me,
stood firm, twisted her head to line up with the sight, closed her non-aiming eye, and squeezed the trigger, BAM! She squeezed again. BAM! “See? Like that. Now you try.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Quit your sniveling and take it.” She said it like a drill sergeant and I responded like a private first-class. “Okay, now, once again, take your stance, that’s right. Hold it up. Higher, Georgie, you’re aiming at the ground. That’s better. Can you see the sight? Is it lined up with the target? Okay, now slowly and controlled, squeeze the trigger.”

The moment of firing was one of the most frightening yet exhilarating feelings I’ve ever
experienced. I hit the target. “I did it!”

“Why, yes you did. I’ll be damned. Okay, you have two more rounds. Empty that fucker.”

I took the stance and aimed a little quicker this time and pulled the trigger, BAM. And, again, BAM. I looked to see if I’d hit the target. Only one more hole from me. I missed either the first or second shot. I wasn’t sure.

“You hit the second one perfectly.” Vanessa was an old pro at this I could tell.

“That spray feels really weird.”

“The gunpowder? Yeah. You get used to it though. Let’s reload and shoot some more, what d’ ya say?”

“Okay.”