How You Leave Texas by Alana Cash

CAMILLE’S NET WORTH

                                       Camille’s 40^th birthday was on a Friday. She got her hair trimmed the night before, still preferring to keep it waist-length over Walker’s objections, although he did like it when she wove it in a bun on the nape of her neck like a flamenco dancer. She treated herself to a pedicure at the Asian nail place in a strip mall on Highway 290, skipping the manicure since she thought she had man hands and never wanted to attract attention to them. She went to Highland Mall to buy a new summer dress and a pair of Betsy Johnson sandals that would show off her red toenails.

Camille didn’t like the idea of turning forty. There was no more pretending that she was not an adult. And her life had become too quiet, although she had never been one of those loud women who scream at sporting events or shout across the bar to their friends. Never been the life of the party. Not that Camille was dull, but she’d become a little too steady. She had worked for exactly two companies in her whole life. The art store during college and the job with the mortgage company after that. She had told herself that her job as a bookkeeper was in the meantime, and as soon as she could afford to quit – when the house was paid off or Walker’s business got stabilized – she’d get back to painting.

Walker was the only person Camille had ever had sex with. Their affair started in college, carried on through his years in law school, then they got married, and the sex tapered off. Walker was a bankruptcy attorney, and lately his business was booming, so they were talking about investing in foreclosed commercial property and planned to attend their first real estate auction on Monday.

Walker got home late that Thursday night and brought client files with him. He didn’t notice her hair or her toenails or how much it bothered her to turn forty. Walker just wanted to have dinner in his home office so he could get his work done. While he was eating with the door closed, Camille searched around the house for her birthday gift – every closet and drawer and even the glove box, trunk, and under the seats of his car. When she found nothing, she told herself that he could not possibly have forgotten.

The next morning, Walker was in a rush, and told her, “I’ve got to get these papers filed this morning before meeting a new client.”

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Genre –  Women’s Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Blog http://howyoulovetexas.blogspot.com/

I, Walter by Mike Hartner

Walter Crofter was born into Elizabethan England.
In a country and a time where favor and politics were both deadly, can an honest boy stay true to himself?
Especially given his family background?

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Genre - Historical Fiction/Romance

Rating – G

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Website http://accidentalauthor.ca/

#AmReading Body Movers by Stephanie Bond

 

 

Body Movers – Stephanie Bond

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Romance

4.3 (129 reviews)

So Carlotta Wren's life hasn't turned out as she'd planned. She didn't plan for her parents to skip bail for a white-collar crime, leaving her to raise her brother. She didn't plan on having the silver spoon ripped from her mouth and forgoing college to work retail. She didn't plan on her blue-blood fiancé dumping her. And she didn't plan on still being single ten years later, working at Neiman Marcus, with no idea where her fugitive parents are. But she's coping. Until--
--her lovable brother is arrested, and the hunky cop decides to reopen her parents' case.
--her brother becomes a body mover for the morgue, and his sexy boss gets Carlotta involved.
--her former fiancé's wife (a good customer) is murdered, fingering Carlotta.
With three men in her life, Carlotta has added motivation to help bag a murderer to keep her own well-dressed body from being next on the list!

Look for all six books in Stephanie Bond's Body Movers series, available from Harlequin MIRA!

BODY MOVERS

2 BODIES FOR THE PRICE OF 1
3 MEN AND A BODY

4 BODIES AND A FUNERAL

5 BODIES TO DIE FOR

6 KILLER BODIES

Not a Whisper by Donna B McNicol

Cherie didn't know which was flying faster, the coffee, the food or the gossip. The Klondike Breakfast Club, or KB's as they called themselves, were energetically discussing the fire that burned down a local business the night before and speculating about the owner's part in it. These folks, mostly closer to her aunt's age, were definitely not what she was used to in Tucson, Arizona. Back there, she couldn't call it home anymore, older folks mostly talked about their medical problems and where to find the best buffet deals.

Pansy Tucker, her aunt, was the unofficial founder of this unorthodox group - or maybe the unorthodox founder of this unofficial group would be a better description. She sipped her tea and listened to the voices rising above the clatter of dishes and silverware as everyone finished eating and continued sharing their snippets of gossip.

“Yeah, that fire was something else. The volunteers had their hands full. I heard they brought in the Bradford Fire Department, too. The chief told Tony it was so tough to fight ‘cause of the way it's been built up and added to over the years. That and it had probably been burning for hours before it got seen and called in.” This from the gentleman at the end of the table. Tom, Cherie struggled to remember his name, he's married to that tiny lady beside him.

The oldest person at the table, Bob Rounder spoke up. “Well I heard it was so bad the walls fell smack into the basement. They had to let it burn to the ground.”

“My Jimmy said it was really bad. Worst he'd ever seen since he's been a volunteer.” This from a woman who walked over from a neighboring table.

“Hi Janie. Was Jimmy at the fire?” asked Tom's wife, Edy.

Before Janie could answer, Ed Williams piped in, “You know this ain't the first fire at The Drop Inn. Back in the 80's and 90's when old Earl owned it, there were a couple of ‘em. Never burned to the ground though and he just kept adding on.”

Kat Daily, the owner and only waitress at Kat's Klondike Kafe, started refilling coffee cups as she listened in on the conversations. “More tea, Pansy?”

“Sure, but fetch me some more Sweet n' Low, too. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” Pansy hefted her more than ample bosoms in her hands, smiling innocently at her table mates.

Edy looked up from her coffee, “Did you hear about the fire last night, Kat? I can't believe The Drop Inn is gone.”

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Genre – Cozy Mystery

Rating – PG

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Website http://donnamcnicol.com/

The Strange Year of Vanessa M. by Filipa Fonseca Silva

When Vanessa got into her car that winter’s afternoon, she had no idea she was setting off on a journey with no return. An inner journey that would call into question a whole life spent living up to other people’s expectations.

With tragic and comic episodes that bring together a domineering mother, a hippie aunt, a boring marriage, an insufferable boss and a friend who never knows when to shut up, “The Strange year of Vanessa M.” shares Vanessa’s voyage of self-discovery with us. And it makes us marvel at the power we have to question things, because there’s no end to the pursuit of happiness.

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Genre - Contemporary Fiction  

Rating – PG13

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Website http://pipaswonderland.blogspot.com

The Dream Rider by Ernest Dempsey

I looked down at the wound but made myself keep going despite feeling the pain and the thick, crimson liquid oozing down my leg. As I pushed my way forward, a million questions ran through my head. One in particular stuck out. Why were these guys trying to kill me? I was just a college student. I never had problems with anybody. I looked back at the men in the trench coats. They were walking slowly now, but still firing their weapons. Glass storefront windows shattered around me and car windshields cracked with spider webs, hollow holes in the middle.

I dragged myself off the concrete and started to limp away as fast as I could, but another bullet found it’s way through the calf muscle of my other leg. I dropped to my knees and groaned in agony. My hands tugged against the concrete, straining to pull my body’s weight along. Suddenly, I felt a sickening thud in the upper part of my back. It felt like I’d been struck by a sledgehammer. The force of the impact knocked me forward onto my face. The concrete was cold on my skin, a strange contrast to the warm liquid leaking from my body in three places.

Three pairs of black boots crunched across the glass and rubble, coming to stop next to my face. The men were standing over me, looking down like I was nothing more than a rabid dog they were disposing of. The one with the shaved head grinned, revealing stained, crooked teeth. The other two just watched as he aimed the gun at my head.

There was nothing I could do but lay there. I couldn’t feel my legs, which meant the last bullet had severed my spinal cord. I knew I was about to die but didn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t understand why these men were doing this. I’d never seen any of them before. But I wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing me flinch, whoever they were. I didn’t beg. I didn’t even ask why they were doing it. I’m not sure why. I just didn’t.

My head twisted and I stared down the barrel of the gun as the sunlight silhouetted the enormous figure of the man who was about to kill me. My head rolled to the side and for the briefest of seconds, I noticed a young woman with long brown hair standing still while everyone else panicked. She was a vision of serenity amidst the chaos. She watched with a strange curiosity as the bald man stood over me. I returned my gaze to the tip of the weapon just in time to see him squeeze the trigger. I heard the gunshot, again like it was in slow motion and, felt the bullet hit my skull.

Then everything went black.

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Genre –  Science Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Website http://ernestdempsey.net/

Stormy Weather: A Novel by Dermot Davis

This novel explores the role that dreams play in the healing of the body/mind/spirit.

Robert Munro, a therapist specializing in dream interpretation, awoke one morning to find himself in a dream from which he could not awaken. Experiencing first hand the limitations of his own training and theories, he must solve the puzzle of his own dream in order to break free from its bondage. In the process, he’ll better understand himself, other people, and the nature of consciousness itself.

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Genre - Literary Fiction

Rating – G

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Website www.dermotdavis.com