Monte R Anderson - Author
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December 31st, 2015

12/31/2015

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She marched into the airport lobby with that purposeful gait of a young, female professional very much in control and commanding attention, but pretending not to notice it so much as to expect it. He couldn’t help being aware of her as she sat down in the row of seats opposite him. She saw him when she first came into the lobby. Who wouldn’t; he was a hottie. She had to look at him only once, and then she avoided looking his direction. She knew he would be watching her. She always knew. He continued to watch her as she settled in: removed her coat, checked her ticket, checked her watch and took out her cell phone.
She turned on her phone and reviewed her messages. Nothing. He should have called by now. He knows I hate that. He will have some lame excuse, I am sure. She checked her watch again. He should be awake by now. She highlighted his number and pushed the “Talk” button.
 She waited several rings for him to pick up. Finally, she said, “Hello, Sweetheart. Good morning. Did I wake you? How are you? I am okay too. No, I am at the airport and I have some time, so I thought I would like to hear your voice. I missed you last night.” She listened for a minute and then said, “You were going to call me last night. What happened?” She listened again.
He stopped watching her to take out his own cell phone. He took out the microphone, stuck the earpiece in his ear, and dialed from memory.
She heard something and blurted, “Is that a cell phone I hear in the background? Where are you?”
“Good morning, Beautiful.” he said in that tone of voice that she liked so much early in the morning. “I’m fine. How are you? No, I’m still at the airport. My flight was delayed.”
“Who’s with you?” she demanded in a voice a too loud for privacy.
“Why are you whispering? Where are you?” he asked.
“You bastard!” she said half shouting. “You told me you had to work late. You slept together and had sex, didn’t you? No, it’s not the same thing! After all this time you sneak behind my back and sleep with your wife.” She paused and lowered her voice a couple of octaves. “I know that sounds stupid, but you know what I mean.”
“What do you mean he’s there?” He felt his anger rising, and he hoped that she would hear it in his voice. “What the hell is he doing there?”
She stood up and began to walk in small circles, oblivious to the people around her. “You told me that you had separated. You said you’d never go back to her. You lied to me.”
Now he is shouting, “Where is he now? In the bathroom? You mean the master bathroom in your bedroom?”
Fighting back tears she said, “You didn’t have to sleep with her. You could’ve slept on the couch.”
He shouted again, “You slept with him, didn’t you? You could’ve thrown him out.”
She accused him over the phone, “You had sex with Judy! Don’t lie to me.”
Gesturing, he said, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You said you hated Bob. You said you couldn’t stand to be around him. So now, you sleep with him?”
 Speaking in a calmer voice, she asked, “Bob, did you tell her about me? You said you would. You promised!”
He sat back in his seat and asked, “You didn’t tell him about me, did you?”
She listened for a while and then said, “Yes, I’m mad. I’m so pissed! I can’t deal with this! This is too much. You can’t treat me this way. I’m not shouting! Okay, I’ll listen.”
After he listened, he replied, “Judy, did you at least file for divorce? You said that last month.”
She said, “I understand that you feel sorry for her but what about me?
He said, “I know you feel sorry for him, but that is no excuse.”
Finally, she said, “Look, just get dressed and leave the house. We’ll talk about it later.”
Finally, he said, “Okay, just get rid of him and call me back.”
They ended their calls and put their phones away. He glanced at her as she pulled out a book to read. When she glanced his direction, he looked at his watch and pretended not to notice. They sat in silence and thought about what a mess their lives are.
She looked at him over the top of her book. I hope he is on my flight; my luck might change.
 
THE END
 
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A Writer’s Dilemma

12/28/2015

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I’ve a story to tell. It burns inside my blood like acid trying to get out of every pour of my body. My brain boils when I think about it. It consumes me. It keeps me tossing and turning at night. It haunts my waking moments. However, I’m a newbie and I know it. I have a lot to learn about being a writer. Therefore, I decided to learn as much as I can about my new profession and to do so as quickly as I can. I don’t have the patience or the time to take a writing class, so I decided to read magazines and explore the internet.
First, I subscribed to Writers’ Digest and The Writer magazines. I read every issue, cover to cover; even the article on poetry, which I do not understand. In one issue, I read an article about the 101 best websites for writers. I checked out each one. If it had a newsletter, I signed up. If it had a blog, I subscribed to it. If it was on Twitter or Face Book, I followed it. I followed the treads of conversation and wrote witty and creative comments. Then I read an article about the 10 best blogs for writers. I registered for all of them and read every issue. Now, every day I get several newsletters, blogs, and tips on writing and fill my day writing. I get absorbed at times and write late into the night.
The magazines recommended the Master of Fine Arts for writing programs. It sounded good, and I could even take the courses online, so I signed up for one. It was so much fun, that I started a second one. The magazines also recommended that I write everyday regardless of how much time I had. I needed prompts so I signed up for a couple of websites that provide writing prompts every day. I write something daily on each prompt. I even started my own website where I can post my own stories once I write them. I also started a blog for my followers, if I ever get any. Meanwhile, I follow every author that I can on Twitter, Linked In and Face Book.
I find that I no longer have time to write the story that was burning in my soul, but it does not matter, because I forgot what I wanted to write.
 
THE END
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Best Selling Dead Author

12/24/2015

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I know I have posted this short story before, but it sums up the way I feel lately. Enjoy.

Best Selling Dead Author

Joe Regan was a writer. His suicide note was not his best piece of work. It simply read, “Fair well cruel world.” Joe took all the sleeping pills and sat down in his recliner. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into the face of his agent, Bernie Blackwell.

Bernie smiled and brushed back Joe’s hair. “Hey.”

“Hey. Oh, my head hurts.” Joe looked around. “Where am I?”

“You are in St. Thomas Hospital. I found you and called 911. The doctors pumped your stomach. You’ve been in a coma for five days, man.”

“Oh. I don’t know if I should thank you or not. I just wanted to die.”

“I know, man. I found your note. Why did you do it?”

Joe smiled. “You’re my agent; I think you know why. My novel has been rejected by 45 publishers and I haven’t earned a dime in three years.”

Bernie chuckled. “It is 47 publishers now. I didn’t get a chance to tell you about the last two. However, while you were in a coma, I’ve been busy. I posted your suicide note on a few key social media web sites and wrote what a tragedy it was since your novel is so great.”

“My suicide note? I did not say much in my note.”

Bernie smiled. “Yeah, well, I sort of rewrote it. I also went ahead and published the e-book version of your novel. It is going viral. We sold over 10,000 copies in four days. We now have offers from three publishers. I think if you had died, your novel would make the best sellers’ list.”

“Lucky me! I have to nearly kill myself for my novel to sell.”

“Joe, what do you expect? You wrote a romance novel about gay pygmies living in San Francisco-not a great genre. Anyway, since you really don’t want to live, would you consider killing yourself? It would mean a lot to me. I could help.”

“What! My novel is finally published and you want me to kill myself? Are you crazy?”

Bernie shrugged his shoulders. “No big deal. Come on, get up. I brought a wheelchair. I am taking you out of here.” He handed Joe a glass of water and some pills. “Here, take these.”

Joe took the pills with the water. With Bernie’s help, he got into the wheelchair. Bernie wheeled Joe out of ICU and headed for the elevators. Bernie pushed the up call button for the elevator.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry about it. I am taking you to the tenth floor. The second elevator is out of service. I should be able to open the doors there.”

“Bernie, I don’t feel so good. What were those pills?”

“Sleeping pills.”

“I took four. Am I supposed to take that many?”

“No, man. You are supposed to take only one every 12 hours.”

“Won’t that kill me?”

“No. It will make you comatose. In your condition, you won’t notice that the elevator is not there. The fall from the tenth floor will kill you.”

“But Bernie, I don’t want to die any more. I want to live.”

“Listen, man. I’m telling you. If you die, we'll make the best sellers’ list. We’ll be able to negotiate a big contract. We’ll attract more talented writers.”

“We? I’ll be dead.”

The elevator arrived, and Bernie pushed the wheelchair inside and pushed the tenth floor button.

“Well, yeah,” said Bernie. “Quit thinking about yourself for once. Did you even consider me? This is my big break. When I post your next suicide note, we’ll sell a million copies of your novel. Plus, I am sure I can get a six figure advance for your next novel.”

My next novel? I never wrote a second novel.”

“It will be found among your things after your death.”

“Bernie, don’t do this. I don’t want to die.”

“Quit being selfish! Close your eyes now and rest. It will all be over in a few minutes. You are going to be a bestselling author. Congratulations.”

THE END

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If Thoughts Could Kill

12/20/2015

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Angelina allowed herself a small snicker as the focus of her ire came down for breakfast. God I hate him, she thought. Look at that idiot. Little does he know that I am going to kill him next week. I can’t stand the sight of him.  
  

“Good morning, dear,” Ravi said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “How did you sleep last night?” I wish she died in her sleep. That would make everything easier, he thought. I HAVE to kill her next week. He sat down at the table opposite her.  
  
Angelina handed Ravi the half-and-half. “Fine. And you?” Ravi blew on the surface of his coffee, a habit that Angelina found extremely annoying, and took one sip. Blood began to drip from his nostrils. As he reached up to touch his face foam began to pour out of his mouth. He looked at Angelina with those narrow beady eyes as his head hit the table with a thud. Then his head rolled off the table, across the kitchen floor and into the dog’s dish where Peppy, the greyhound, began to lick his face.   
 
“Like a baby.” Ravi grabbed the bagel knife and reaching across the table, stabbed Angelina’s hand, pinning it to the table. Pulling a pistol from the back of his waistband, he shot Angelina between the eyes. He smiled as the back of her head blew out like a smashed watermelon. Blood spouted out the top of her head and down onto the flannel nightgown that he hated. “Do you have plans this weekend?” 
   
“No, not really.” Angelina poured another cup of coffee. Yes, you bastard, Angelina thought. While you’re banging your slutty mistress across town, I have to buy some antifreeze for your coffee. Then I have to stop off at the gun shop and pick up the pistol that has been on hold while my background check is in progress. I also want to find your old hunting knife. 
   

“Me neither.” Ravi sipped his coffee. I wish I had a slutty mistress across town so I could spend the day banging her while you waste money on another facial. He finished his coffee and stood up. “Well, I am going to get dressed and do some yard work.”   
 
“You do that, dear. I think I’ll go into town and get a facial.” What an idiot. He is worth millions but wears the same pair of underwear for years. I can’t wait to kill him.  
  

“Have fun. Pick up something for dinner.” As Ravi walked out of the kitchen, the kitchen exploded in a ball of fire. Apparently, someone left the gas on in the oven.    

“Ciao,” answered Angelina. As Ravi reached the top of the stairs, the top step gave way. He grabbed the railing and that also gave way. He fell over the side and landed on his head in the living room. His eyes were open and glued to the TV. The thought of it made Angelina smile. 
   
“Angie, I can’t find my lucky underwear.” What a bitch. I bet she threw them out.   
 

“I threw them out, dear. I’ll buy you some new ones while I’m in town.” I gotta kill him next week.    Ravi shook his head. I have gotta kill her next week.
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The Register Cliff Rapist was published today

12/8/2015

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My latest novel, The Register Cliff Rapist was published on Tuesday, December 8, 2015 by Smashwords. It’s a multi-format e-book that can be ordered for any device. Here is the link to order: Http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/588277. It is a crime novel that takes place in Wyoming.
Synopsis: Jason Franco is an aspiring novelist working for a newspaper in a small town where nothing exciting happens until someone rapes and murders a young woman only 18 years old. All evidence points to the woman's boyfriend who confesses to the crime. Jason is assigned to write a follow-up story for the paper and soon suspects that the local police are covering up for one of their own. An unexpected turn of events put Jason in the cross hairs of a killer.
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Last Day to Preorder the Register Cliff Rapist

12/7/2015

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Today is the last day to preorder my latest novel, The Register Cliff Rapist for $2.99. I have selected December 8, 2015 as the publishing date. On that date, I will set the price at $3.99. Here is the link to preorder: Http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/588277. Please spread the word.
SYNOPSIS   
Jason Franco is an aspiring novelist working for a newspaper in a small town where nothing exciting happens until someone rapes and murders a young woman only 18 years old. All evidence points to the woman's boyfriend who confesses to the crime. Jason is assigned to write a follow-up story for the paper and soon suspects that the local police are covering up for one of their own. An unexpected turn of events put Jason in the cross hairs of a killer.

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Another correct to the link to The Register Cliff Rapist.

12/2/2015

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Apparently, I have been posting the wrong link to my new novel, The Register Cliff Rapist. The correct link is
 
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/588277.
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Correct link to The Register Cliff Rapist. 

12/2/2015

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Apparently, I have been posting the wrong link to my new novel, The Register Cliff Rapist. The correct link is https://www.smashwords.com/books/views/588277. I was missing that 's' previously. Bummer!
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There's still time to preorder The Register Cliff Rapist

12/2/2015

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My third novel, The Register Cliff Rapist, will be published on Dec 8, 2015. The price is $3.99, but preorders are $2.99 at http://www.smashwords.com/books/views/588277.
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    Author

    Monte is the author of several  e-books on Amazon and smashwords.com


    Buy Monte's e-books:
    The Throuple Private Eye--Business is Booming.
    ​​The Throuple Private Eye--Hate Crimes
    ​
    A Head for Murder
    The Register cliff Rapist
    The Clone Murders,
    Archimedes of Syracuse: Leonardo da Vinci's Mentor,
    Leadership for New Managers: Book Two

    FREE E-BOOKS:
    Angels and Gargoyles

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