Search

Didi Oviatt

Author of suspense novels Search For Maylee (coming soon), Aggravated Momentum, The Stix, and New Age Lamians. As well as the short story collection Time Wasters and (co-author of) The Suspenseful Collection. Columnist for The Conscious Talk Magazine.

Author

Didi Oviatt - Author

Writer of suspense, inspiration, poetry, and short stories.

If we were #poem

Didi Oviatt

If emotions were pools – I’d be shallow.

If guarded egos were balloons – You’d be a blimp.

If hearts were flowers – We’d be wild

If bravery were fish – I’d be a shrimp

But if your wall had a crack – I would find it

And if your heart were a net – I’d swim in

Connect with me! Amazon Authors Page //  Goodreads //  Twitter
LIKE AND FOLLOW MY FACEBOOK PAGE HERE
Please also enjoy my latest E-book novel. It’s a sweaty thriller AGGRAVATED MOMENTUM

View original post

Advertisements

“Aggravated Momentum” by Didi Oviatt

Nesie's Place


Aggravated Momentum cover

“Aggravated Momentum

Genre: Thriller/Suspense/Psychological

Release Date: February 7, 2017

99¢

Amazon Button


Not everything is as it seems in what appears to be an average family. When danger lurks so close to home, skeletons emerge, and the darkest of secrets surface, causing twisted desires to become reality. Aggravated Momentum offers the perspective of some very diverse and unique characters, including fun, witty personalities to fall in love with, along with an intellectual killer to die for. You may be surprised as to whom exactly you can relate. Is it the cold, calculated murderer, who’s name is yet to be revealed? Markie or Kam, the independent sisters, guilty of nothing more than getting tangled with the wrong people at the most inopportune times? Or, the cowardly snake curled in a hidden corner? Who are you, exactly? And, more importantly, who are they? The deeper you dig into the…

View original post 465 more words

The Suspenseful Collection: Volume One, by Kim Knight & Didi Oviatt ~ 4.5 Stars

Thank you so much for this excellent review!! 😍😍

By Hook Or By Book

35653723Thanks to the authors for providing an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

Release Date: Available Now

135 Pages

Synopsis: A suspenseful novel with a twist. Eight short stories, by two suspense authors, from diverse backgrounds. From opposite sides of the Atlantic these stories have been created. One author started the tale and the other ended it. No discussion, no pre-planning, but yet their stories are seamless. With just creativity and the use of writing prompts, to craft one tale, with two different authors. This anthology of suspenseful, fast paced and engaging tales covers multiple genres. There is a story for everyone!

updated-telling-tales-weekly-challenege-kim-didi53

The Suspenseful Collection is a collaboration between two of our fellow bloggers, Didi Oviatt and Kim Knight. They’ve been created from their readers votes. There are two things that really make this collection of eight short stories stand out. The first is the multiple genres that are…

View original post 1,579 more words

Blood Gore & More, Writing Prompt Theme #kdsuspense

Didi Oviatt

Which prompt do you think would produce the goriest writing?

Thank you so much for your vote! We love the participation, and writing these stories has been SO MUCH FUN!! This will be Kim and I’s third story since we took our short break to publish our first Anthology together, where does the time go?!?!

For more information including links to our past stories (to read free) or a purchase link to The Suspenseful Collection Vol 1 click HERE!

For now, THANK YOU again for your vote!!  Stay tuned for the story, or join in the fun… OR BOTH! Here is how our weekly prompt vote and short story plays out:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.)…

View original post 110 more words

INDI-AUTHORS UNITE. Leave a link and find a read! Open book swap!

  Don’t miss your chance for a great swap!  There are some AWESOME books here available for reviews. 

I’ve personally added each book suggested so far onto my TBR list, and I can’t wait to read them!

I’ve noticed a slight lack in support as of late. There is a lot of talking and not much reviewing of each others Indi books!

So, I’ve decided to drop this post as a semi-permanent place to read and review each others books. We’ll call it a ‘pick your book swap’.  Leave an order link in the comments with your work, THEN come back whenever you’d like and PICK ONE TO READ! Please only share if you plan on reading another.  

This isn’t only a promote yourself post, but a show your support for other amazing authors! Please share share share!!   I’m talking share you links, share this post, and lets share our thoughts on each others books!

It’s time to pay it forward fellow Indi’s.  Lets read others work just as much as we promote our own 🙂 ..  I can’t wait to see all of your books!!

tumblr_m5fpiiZxue1r5dst9o1_500

CONNECT WITH ME! AMAZON AUTHORS PAGE //  GOODREADS //  TWITTER
LIKE AND FOLLOW MY FACEBOOK PAGE HERE
CLICK HERE TO JOIN DIDI’S BI-MONTHLY NEWSLETTER!

My Novel: Watching a Glass Shatter to be Published!

Congrats James!!! I can’t wait to read your books!

Watching a Glass Shatter

If you’ve been following this blog for awhile, you probably know that I am a writer who has been working hard to find a publisher for the novel I wrote last fall. It is with extreme pride (and fear!) that I can announce today, “Watching a Glass Shatter” has taken a giant leap forward in the last few days. I have officially signed a contract with a publisher who is interested in helping me share my book with the world.

While it’s too early to provide any more details, I can safely say the novel should be published before the end of 2017. We are currently in discussions over various things such as book covers, formatting, editing, marketing and timelines. I spent 10 hours this weekend completing some final changes to a few open items with the novel, but it has been sent to the publishing company’s editing team for…

View original post 987 more words

Blood Gore & More, Writing Prompt Theme #kdsuspense

Which prompt do you think would produce the goriest writing?

Thank you so much for your vote! We love the participation, and writing these stories has been SO MUCH FUN!! This will be Kim and I’s third story since we took our short break to publish our first Anthology together, where does the time go?!?!

For more information including links to our past stories (to read free) or a purchase link to The Suspenseful Collection Vol 1 click HERE!

For now, THANK YOU again for your vote!!  Stay tuned for the story, or join in the fun… OR BOTH! Here is how our weekly prompt vote and short story plays out:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.
 
All comments on the story posts will be open. We love feedback, and I’m willing to bet you will never guess who wrote what!! Therein a challenge of your own! (Yes, one of us writes with  British English spelling, and one of us in American English spelling. We are well aware, and ready for some trickery. Trust me, we are brilliant at adapting styles.)
Kim and Didi.jpg

Heart Of Gold #kdsuspense Week #2, Vol #2

Heart of Gold

Author One Scene One

Sandy sat on the bench in her usual spot, she gazed out at the ducks slashing around in the mud colored pound across from her. The park was quiet for a Monday morning. She enjoyed the moment of peace with her sunglasses lowered, as the warm spring sunshine beat down on her. This spot had quickly become her special place to think, reflect, and scan the lonely-hearts section of the newspaper. As much as she hated to admit it she longed for a date, some romance, someone to walk into her life and sweep her off her feet. Just like in the chick flick movies she was so fond of. Of course, the “insta-love” in romance novels and movies, she knew was all fictional. Every week as she picked up the free newspaper on her way to the park for her usual walk, she would hug the newspaper close to her heart hoping Mr. Right would be there for her.

She pulled out her red pen from her bag, opened the paper to page forty six, and held her breath. Chewing the inside of her lip with anticipation her brown eyes scanned the page.

“Argh too old, hmm boring, hmm not bad… I guess.”

Sandy looked down and read with interest:

Mr. Lonely: I’m not great with words but I have a kind heart and I’m looking for a special lady. I’m six foot two, brown eyes, I’d love to say I’m handsome but I’ll let you be the judge of that. I’m not perfect I have my flaws, but I know how to treat a lady. If you’d like a date get in contact.

Sandy blew out a breath of air and studied the ducks in the pound some more in deep thought. I’ll let you be the judge of that, what is he? A monster a leg missing what? She was intrigued by him, there was something about the casualness of his advert that appealed to her. At the same time, he came across as humble. She lost count of how many times she had read “I’m the man of your dreams” “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome awaits you.”

She spotted a couple strolling hand in hand around the pound, laughing and joking to themselves, her heart sank knew she didn’t have that special someone.

***

Stephen opened up the paper and smiled at his advert, there he was alongside all the other self- proclaimed “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome men.” He wished he could be so bold with a statement like that. He was receding in a bad way at just thirty two years old, he had cracked teeth, a stutter, and walked with a limp courtesy of a childhood accident. Yet, he lived in hope that he would find love, as deep down just as he had said in his advert, his heart was made of gold.

Putting his physical looks aside, he considered himself an intelligent geek. He was the head of IT for a telecoms company. He loved his job gigabytes and megabytes thrilled him. Rather than fast cars and sport.

He closed the paper and placed it neatly on the coffee table “another day another dollar” he said out loud, as he picked up his brief case, keys and headed out the door to work, limping every step of the way.

Author two Scene two

***

After pouring milk over her cold fruity breakfast cereal Sandy stood at her counter to eat, alone, as usual. The advert for Mr. Lonely stared at her from beneath a loud sparkling Las Vegas magnet on her fridge. She’d cut it out days before after reading it in the park. Every time she mindlessly wandered in and out of her kitchen it taunted her.

She was yet to answer any kind of an ad, although she looked through them on a regular basis. Considering herself above the whole advert scene was proving to wear thin and age wasn’t exactly on her side. Sandy loved kids and the thought of a quiet family life was something she’d always wanted. Often times she caught herself daydreaming about it while at work. Would they have her thick unmanageable hair, or astigmatism? Would they be as close to each other as she was with Shelly, he own sister?

Sandy continued to stare at the ad while the last soggy bite of artificial flavor forced a path down her throat. Her fingers fiddled with her phone. The numbers were punched in, but she hovered over the send button unable to pep talk herself into following through with the call. What would I even say, she thought? And, what if he turns me down at the mere sound of my nasally voice? Just as she was about to press the send, a call came through. Saved by the bell.  

“Shelly!” Sandy answered, a little too excited for her sister’s distraction. “It’s about time you called me back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shelly’s voice was as dry as ever.

It didn’t matter how close they were, Shelly was still a very busy woman. She was seven years younger than Sandy, and twice as successful. She was a section manager of local survey call center. Pulling away from the office in the middle of the day wasn’t always an easy task. That’s not to mention the fact that she didn’t care for speed dating, not one little bit. Sitting at table after table with a handful of middle aged men who never took their eyes off of her cleavage wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. More than once, she’d even ran into her own employees, now that was awkward. Nonetheless she loved Sandy. Shelly understood her sister’s concern about her biological clock, so she complied in all the tedious attempts at helping her find a soul mate – whatever that was supposed to mean anyway.

“So you’re coming, right?”

“I’ll be there. Noon today?”

“Yeah.” Sandy hated it when her sister sounded uninterested. That usually meant she’d blow her off. “Noon is in an hour, Shelly. Please don’t make me do this alone.”

“I’ll be there.”

Click. The line went dead. Sandy let out a long exasperating sigh as she set down the phone. While wrestling her hair into a loose french braid, wild curls escaping in every direction, she opted to wait on calling Mr. Lonely. His unique humility was intriguing, but actually responding to it just wasn’t on her list of priorities for the morning. It could be put off one more day, besides, maybe the speed room would bring someone a little more promising than the last giant disappointment.

Sandy stood tall and gilded a hand down her baby blue sundress to iron it’s wrinkles before making her way to the shoe cabinet by her front door.

***

The sun beat down violently, causing Stephen to sweat nearly to the point of profuse. He’d have a full two hour lunch break, so he chose to walk to his favorite bistro rather than drive. After limping the first of four city blocks in the summer’s heat, he’d began to question the decision. Up the street, Stephen noticed a woman. He assumed her to be homeless, as she sat on the sidewalk with a dirty blanket and tattered overnight bag at her feet. She was leaning against a brick building with a restless crying baby in her arms in the mid-day summer’s heat. The sight was much for Stephen to take in, twisting a wrench in his chest.

Rather than continuing on past the shops to his left he decided to make a quick pit stop. His conscious would never let him live it down, if he didn’t at least try to find something that may help this poor woman. It was a small touristy gift shop shared with a large open conference room. Several times, he’d passed by this building on his way to lunch. The ‘Speed Room’ sign dangling in one of the windows always tugged at his curiousity, but ultimately he made the consistent choice to steer clear. It was the rain gear displayed in the gift shop that drew him inside.

Before he could grasp the handle to walk through, the door busted open. The people shoving their way out were mostly in casual dresses and suits. Some laughed and joked amongst each other, others stared at their toes to shy to mingle. Instinctively Stephen held the door for every last one of the passers through.

Two women in particular caught his eye. They were the last to pass him, and both wore the grim expression of death. Obviously the speed date session had been a bust for the two, only confirming that fact that despite his efforts with the advert, he still wasn’t ready to subject himself to so many women likely to judge his limp and stutter.

The woman in the blue sundress caught his eye as they passed. Her soft smile formed an adorable little dimple in the center of her cheek. Their eyes locked and it caused a butterfly to escaped Stephen’s chest, flying right in her direction. She was close enough for him to intake the soft scent of citrus and fresh linen that floated from the fabric of her dress.

“Hi,” she mumbled in passing, the tint of her pointy ears darkened.

“Ma.. Ma.. Ma.. Ma’am.” Stephen stuttered wholly embarrassed.

Her smile only widened and the girl who looked like the younger version of herself chuckled at his speech impediment. Stephen didn’t mind, he’d been getting this reaction his entire life. Besides the girl was young, and probably very naive.

He watched the sway of Sandy’s hips as they continued down the sidewalk and across the road toward a small parking lot.

***

“Did you see that guy’s eyes?” Sandy asked her sister, as they weaved past the other cars in the lot.

“Who? The one in the blue and gray button up? Now he was hot!” Shelly encouraged.

“Nope, I’m definitely not talking about that self-absorbed windbag.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about the stutter?”

“The stutter?”

Sandy raised a brow at her little sister, who was proving herself to be even more shallow than she’s already confirmed herself to be time and time again.

“There was something there. Something in his look,” Sandy continued.

“Are you sure?” Shelly leaned against her Volvo and folded her arms across her chest. “I couldn’t get past the receding hairline to notice.”

“You know what Shelly?” A friendly smirk grew across Sandy’s face. “I think you’re even more doomed for a lonely single life than I am.”

Shelly laughed freely and tossed her long silky black hair over her shoulder.

“The only thing I’m doomed for is a flawless sugar daddy, and the perfect boob job.”

Sandy couldn’t help but to share the moment, she chuckled and tossed a teasing fist at her little sister’s shoulder. Yet in the back of her mind, the dark friendly eyes of their mystery man of chivalry burned itself a permanent mark. She wrapped her arms around Shelly and thanked her for showing up despite their entire speed date being another irritating disappointment.

They parted ways. Sandy following her sister’s Volvo in an old broken down Satern out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Before she could fully speed off, the most touching scene played out before her eyes. It was the man with the look, that look, a look that was so familiar it stuck to every breath she exhaled, yet was different from any she’d ever been given. The man who stuttered at a mere response to her hello, and held the door for her humbly.

Sandy watched closely, a tear tugging at the corner of her eye, as the man limped his way to a homeless mother sitting on the sidewalk. Sandy eased her foot from the gas petal and crept past slowly as not to miss anything. The man dug into the canvas gift store shopping bag and pulled out a new yellow outfit for the infant, as well as a large water bottle for the woman which she accepted eagerly. Gulping it down in the summer heat as if she’d never tasted such a treat. Next, the bag produced an umbrella. Sandy held her breath, as well as the welling tears.

The man with those eyes expanded the large umbrella before propping it up just right with the woman’s belongings to produce shade. Sandy’s heart melted like butter, and the moisture behind her eyes finally spilled over as the man gave the mother a hug. Finally she drove off saying to herself.

“God, I hope I can find a man that kind someday.”

For now, she’d settle for a simple phone call. She made her way home to finally respond to the ad that was plastered to her fridge. She could only hope that Mr. Lonely would have something to offer her. Something like that man with the kind dark eyes.

Kim and Didi.jpg

Kim and I are so grateful for all the feedback on our release of the first set of stories in The Suspenseful Collection anthology!

Stay tuned, tomorrow for our VOTING prompt post for the following week’s story!!!  Please keep those votes coming, we are LOVING the participation!

THIS IS HOW WE ROLL:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

 

 

Excerpt: Aggravated Momentum

Intended for a mature audience:

***Darkened windows and an empty driveway somehow make my house look cramped and lonely. Kam must be out with dipshit Brock.  Just wait till I get my hands on that piece of shit. A variety of news crews are spaced out on the block.  I’m guessing that they haven’t all heard the big news of my “gift” yet.  Thank God. A lone van is parked right next to the base of my driveway.  Fuck, I hope they don’t know anything.  A woman in a classy dress suit with perfect blonde hair and a tiny waist steps out.  A Barbie doll reporter, how wonderfully cliché.

“Marketta!”  She shouts as I step out of the cruiser.

Doing my best to ignore her, I put my head down as instructed and book it toward my front door.  All I want to do is shed the soaked rank layer of ruined clothing from my legs.  Officer Smith remains seated in his car.  He is gazing directly ahead with anger, refusing to look over at me.  Normally he, or any other officer, would have jumped out of the car before I did.  He should be walking me to the door, and searching through my house to make sure it is safe before I enter.  Apparently this man is too set back by the scent of my stalker’s urine to do anything but sit in the smell and pout.

“Marketta, please stop!”  Again, reporter Barbie’s voice echoes.

My blood boils.  The newfound hatred bubbles and pops inside me.  It’s all I can do not to explode into a thousand fuming pieces.  And that’s when she says it.

“Please Marketta, Tell me about the photograph! Do you know who he is going to kill next?”

Just like that. A simple sentence that to her means nothing more than part of a narrative — a fictional story to be told through her perfectly painted pink lips and thickly shadowed eyes.  A story to share with her audience of ignorant television viewers, most of whom have never experienced a real loss of their own.  Who does this princess think she is?  She’s using myself, Beth, and Breanna, as some sort of tall tale characters, to get herself a pay raise or promotion.  I reach my key toward to door to unlock it.  She repeats herself, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time.

“Markie, did you have anything to do with these murders?”

I turn on my heels, and scream. “You stupid bitch!”

The rage explodes out of me.  While stomping toward her like an angry bull, I continue to shout and point a shaking finger in her face.

“You stay the fuck away from me and my family.”

Slowly, she backs up.  She’s like a kindergarten girl being pushed into the corner by a shouting bully. Only a light squeak escapes her plump shiny lips.  I cut her off before any words can slip through her ever widening crack of a mouth.

“I don’t know where you’re getting your information, or who the fuck you think you are, but if you don’t get off my property you’re fucking dead!”

I said it.  I said a word that means so much more in my life than just an empty threat.  A word that to her, in this very moment, is as real as the salad she ate for lunch.  Dead. And I meant it.

My tailing officer snaps out of his pointless hissy fit just in time to witness the event. The overwhelming scent of piss has, I’m sure, set up residence in his cruiser. That is a fact he will have to deal with.  He jumps out in panic, and rushes to my side.  A hand is held on his hip ready to draw.  Blondie is backed up all the way to her van and leaning against the passenger door.  ***

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑