Genre Favorites Blogfest

 

It's time for Alex J. Cavanaugh's Genre Favorites Blogfest! According to our awesome ninja captain, we're supposed to talk about our favorite genres of music, books, movies, and our guilty pleasure from one of the categories.

Music

A few of my favorites that are on my Kindle Fire.

My favorite genre is pop music, i.e. whatever is playing on the radio. My favorite radio station in the area is K92.3 FM. They're awesome!

Books

Just a few of my mystery books.

I love mysteries and thrillers. I want to try to figure out what's going on. Who did the crime? They're so much fun.

Movies

A sample of my horror movie collection.

I love horror movies. The thrill of the scare and then the laughter afterwards.

My Guilty Pleasure

And yes, I like the books the musicals are made from. The cat pillow case is my cat Cinderella's.

Showtunes! That's right. When the house is empty, I can be found belting out songs from Wicked, The Phantom of the Opera, Cats, and many more!

So what are your favorite genres?

#fridayflash "Love at First Note"

*Today's #fridayflash is inspired by the first time Marcus saw Nadia. These two are characters in Virtuoso, which I'm currently rewriting.*

Love at First Note

Marcus heard the music before he saw the performer.

The violin's strings ached out a soulful melody. The sound was almost human, yet the girl on the stage tempted it from each finger placement and stroke of the horsehair bow across the strings. Slender fingers danced among each note. Blond hair tickled the violin and nearly curtained off her pretty face.

He'd heard violin music before but never like this.

He stopped moving, mesmerized by the performance. His breath stuck in his throat. His heart joined in rhythm to the piece.

"Who's that?" He breathed.

"I don't know. Who cares?" Veronica wrapped her arm around his and tugged. "Come on, we'll be late."

He yanked his arm away from her. "Hey, Karoline, do you know who that is?"

Karoline twisted to look at him. "Yeah, she moved in a few blocks from my house. Her parents are musicians."

"And her name?" He couldn't keep the impatience from his voice. Her name was as important as air.

"Nadia Godunov, I think. She'll be a senior with us."

Nadia. The musicality of the name fit the woman.

When she finished, she lifted her head. A sweet smile touched her lips. A private smile. But he didn't feel guilty seeing it or spying on her performance.

He only wanted to hear her play again . . . or kiss those soft-looking lips.