Carries Book Reviews

Virch
Laura Resau
Published by: Owl Hollow Press
Publication date: January 1st 2024
Genres: Science Fiction, Young Adult

In a time when a single billionaire wields nearly all of the power, virtual reality is the distraction, the fashion, and the entertainment of the hour.

When 16-year-old Liv from one of the poorest sectors in the nation manages to get into a prestigious internship program run by the world’s most powerful man, she finds his black sheep son is not the person she’s seen portrayed in the virtual world—he’s got heart and interest in righting the inequities of the world, and he might just capture HER heart, too.

Together, they begin to uncover the dirty and dangerous scheme at the heart of the Virch Empire, and their world begins to unravel.

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Author Bio:

I’m the author of the young adult novels The Queen of Water (with Maria Virginia Farinango), Red Glass, What the Moon Saw, The Indigo Notebook, The Ruby Notebook , The Jade Notebook, and the middle-grade novels Star in the Forest, The Lightning Queen, and Tree of Dreams. My picture book collaboration with Patricia Gualinga, Stand as Tall as the Trees: How an Amazonian Community Protected the Rain Forest, was released in Summer, 2023. My YA sci-fi novel, Virch, will be released in Spring 2024. I grew up in Maryland, then moved around for ten years (as student, ESL teacher, and anthropologist), making my home in New Orleans; Aix-en-Provence, France; Oaxaca, Mexico; Tucson; and now, Fort Collins, Colorado, where I’m staying put for a while. I live here happily with my husband and son and beagle and husky. Most days, you’ll find me drinking tea and writing novels in a little silver trailer in my driveway. I love camping in the mountains, and I travel whenever I find an excuse.

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This week’s post is a little longer than I have had lately but still not enough to fail at restraining myself and falling off the wagon so my streak continues. Eight new titles to share this week though that looked too good to pass up so I’ll be looking forward to some good reading!

As always clicking the covers will take you to the book on Amazon!**

New additions from Netgalley Dec 3rd  – Dec 10th

Lisa Scottoline, the #1 bestselling author of What Happened to the Bennetts, presents another pulse-pounding domestic thriller about family, justice, and the lies that tear us apart.

TJ Devlin is the charming disappointment in the prominent Devlin family, all of whom are lawyers at their highly successful firm—except him. After a stint in prison and rehab for alcoholism, TJ can’t get hired anywhere except at the firm, in a make-work job with the title of investigator.

But one night, TJ’s world turns upside down after his older brother John confesses that he just murdered one of the clients, an accountant he’d confronted with proof of embezzlement. It seems impossible coming from John, the firstborn son and Most Valuable Devlin.

TJ plunges into the investigation, seizing the chance to prove his worth and save his brother. But in no time, TJ and John find themselves entangled in a lethal web of deception and murder. TJ will fight to save his family, but what he learns might break them first.

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Never Never

Iris Walsh saw her twin sister, Piper, get kidnapped—so why does no one believe her?
 
Iris narrowly escaped her pretty, popular twin sister’s fate as a teen: kidnapped, trafficked and long gone before the cops agreed to investigate. With no evidence to go on but a few scattered memories, the case quickly goes cold.
 
Now an adult, Iris wants one thing—proof. And if the police still won’t help, she’ll just have to find it her own way; by interning at the isolated Shoal Island Hospital for the criminally insane, where secrets lurk in the shadows and are kept under lock and key. But Iris soon realizes that something even more sinister is simmering beneath the surface of the Shoal, and that the patients aren’t the only ones being observed…

When your life is chaotic, what’s one more complication?

Jane Tanner’s friends are settling down, while she’s been settling for less. She longs for adventure and the big city, but caring for her ailing grandfather means she’s shackled to her small town. She’s excited her vintage gift shop is finally up and running, but it’s not enough.

Longing to fulfill at least one dream—to become a mother before her biological clock ticks out—Jane drunkenly propositions the worst possible candidate for Dad. Kurt Elway is off-limits with a capital O. He’s a good friend, but he’s too young, too busy running his family’s ranch. Plus, he and Jane’s sister, Kate, used to date. That kind of off-limits.



Unbeknownst to Jane, Kurt’s pining for her. When he’s fully on board to father her baby, she sees him in a new light. Then lingering baggage between Kate and Kurt suddenly surfaces and Jane is reminded of just how messy life is. But…so is parenting. Maybe it’s time to embrace the mess?

Detective Chelsey Calhoun’s life is turned upside down when she gets the call Ellie Black, a girl who disappeared years earlier, has resurfaced in the woods of Washington state—but Ellie’s reappearance leaves Chelsey with more questions than answers.

It’s been twenty years since Detective Chelsey Calhoun’s sister vanished when they were teenagers, and ever since she’s been searching: for signs, for closure, for other missing girls. But happy endings are rare in Chelsey’s line of work.

Then a glimmer: local teenager Ellie Black, who disappeared without a trace two years earlier, has been found alive in the woods of Washington State.

But something is not right with Ellie. She won’t say where she’s been, or who she’s protecting, and it’s up to Chelsey to find the answers. She needs to get to the bottom of what happened to Ellie: for herself, and for the memory of her sister, but mostly for the next girl who could be taken—and who, unlike Ellie, might never return.

The debut thriller from New York Times bestselling author Emiko Jean, The Return of Ellie Black is both a feminist tour de force about the embers of hope that burn in the aftermath of tragedy and a twisty page-turner that will shock and surprise you right up until the final page.

A hilariously offbeat and tender comedy about one bipolar woman’s messy search for love at a seaside wedding where no one can stay afloat.

Is she falling in love, or falling apart?

Dee, Misa, and Matt were the “three musketeers” of the psych ward. A year after discharge, Dee is eager to convince everyone that she’s finally turning things around. But Matt and Misa are tying the knot in Turks and Caicos, surrounded by guests who have no idea where they met, and the secrecy isn’t sitting well with Dee, who has been hopelessly in love with Matt since before she got kicked out of the hospital.

So, when Dee arrives at the swanky resort with her high-voltage sister, Tilley, it’s now or never to confess how she feels. But disrupting her best friends’ nuptials would jeopardize the entire support system that holds the trio together. When it comes to happily ever afters, how is a girl supposed to choose between love and recovery?

The rhythm is gonna get you.

It’s been five whole months since the last murder in Cedar River, Texas, and Juni Jessup and her sisters Tansy and Maggie have been humming along when disaster strikes again.

Their struggling vinyl records shop/coffee nook, Sip & Spin Records, is under pressure from predatory investors, though the Jessup sisters aren’t ready to face the music and admit defeat. But the night after their
meeting, the sketchy financier is killed outside their shop during a torrential Texas thunderstorm that washes out all the roads in and out of town. Now the sisters find themselves trapped in Cedar River with a killer, and Juni is determined to solve the case.

When the river spits out an unexpected surprise, Detective Beau Russell asks for Juni’s help, never predicting her investigation will spin her into danger. Up until now, the Jessup sisters have been playing it by ear, but with
the whole town watching, can they catch a killer before he strikes again?

Equal parts thought-provoking and entertaining, Off the Air introduces Jolene Garcia in Emmy Award–winning reporter Christina Estes’s Tony Hillerman Prize–winning debut.

Jolene Garcia is a local TV reporter in Phoenix, Arizona, splitting her time between covering general assignments—anything from a monsoon storm to a newborn giraffe at the zoo—and special projects. Stories that take more time to research and produce. Stories that Jolene wants to tell.

When word gets out about a death at a radio station, Jolene and other journalists swarm the scene, intent on reporting the facts first. The body is soon identified as Larry Lemmon, a controversial talk show host, who died under suspicious circumstances. Jolene conducted his final interview, giving her and her station an advantage. But not for long.

As the story heats up, so does the competition. Jolene is determined to solve this murder. It’s an investigation that could make or break her career—if it doesn’t break her first.

A mysterious old house, an unforgettable romance and a lost granddaughter escaping to the stunning Irish coast…

Lily Fleury used to love visiting her eccentric grandmother Sylvia in Ireland, taking long sunset walks on the beach and exploring the nooks and crannies of the family’s old home Magnolia Manor. But when she arrives from Dublin broken-hearted, hoping to heal in Sylvia’s warm embrace, she finds the once ornate Georgian house in disrepair and the gardens wildly overgrown. Sylvia has always been fiercely independent, but Lily can’t believe she hasn’t told anyone she’s been struggling.

Lily knows she can’t leave until she gets Sylvia back on her feet. Although mysterious local builder Dominic agrees to help, from the moment Lily looks into his fierce green eyes they clash over how to fix the sprawling estate. It’s only when she hears the soft Irish lilt of his voice as he sings in the local pub that their arguments ignite a spark of passion neither can ignore…

But when Lily finds a trunk of tattered letters in the gatehouse, she discovers a devastating secret Sylvia has been hiding about Magnolia Manor. And she soon learns the real reason Dominic agreed to help out. Lily wanted to save her family home, and could see a life here with Dominic, but will the truth force her to leave the man who has captured her heart and never return?

Fans of Mary Alice Monroe, Sheila O’Flanagan and Debbie Macomber will fall head over heels for this gorgeous, feel-good new series set on the stunning windswept beaches of the west coast of Ireland.

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

Title: Perfect Little Lives

Author: Amber Brown, Danielle Brown

Publisher: Graydon House

Publication Date: December 5, 2023

Page Count: 366

About the book:

LibraryReads December Bonus Pick! 

ON ASHER LANE, SOME SECRETS ARE WORTH KILLING FOR…

Simone’s mother was murdered when she was thirteen. When her father was convicted, everything changed. Overnight, Simone went from living in a wealthy white neighborhood to scraping by.

Ten years later, Simone has given up on her dreams and lives a quiet life, writing book reviews and getting serious with her boyfriend. But with a true crime documentarian hounding her for a scoop and a surprise encounter with her childhood next-door neighbor, Hunter, the past seems set on haunting her. And after Hunter reveals that his father and her mother had a years-long affair, Simone is determined to find out who really killed her mother.

Simone is convinced that all evidence points to Hunter’s father, a renowned judge who had everything to lose if his affair—and his nascent love child—came to light. Playing the game from all sides, Simone enlists Hunter’s help in her investigation into his family—whether he realizes it or not. But is she so desperate for closure that she’ll risk imploding her carefully rebuilt life?

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon  /  HarperCollins / BookShop.org  / Barnes & Noble  / Books A Million 

Excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

A fat, heavy tear trickles down my cheek when I yank the final hair from my left areola, and it’s not even twelve seconds after I exchange my tweezer for the disposable razor I grifted from Reggie’s top drawer that blood is gushing down the inside of my thigh. I pause at the shocking appearance of crimson and immediately wonder if this laceration is punishment for being impatient or an indictment of my anti-feminism. Part of me thinks hustling to shave the stray hairs that still stubbornly sprout along my bikini line, despite the six agonizing laser removal sessions I’ve suffered through, is a reflection of how deeply I’ve internalized the particular brand of misogyny that says any hair below the brows on a woman is gross and revolting, and the fact that I’m doing this for a man, not myself, is in itself gross and revolting. I’ve also already chugged sixteen ounces of pineapple juice this morning, for obvious reasons.

The other part of me thinks it’s complete bullshit, that being hyper hygienic and having a general disdain for visible body hair is simply considerate, because feminism and a preference for hairlessness shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. I don’t actually think Reggie has ever noticed the hairs on my tits, or even the splattering on my toes that I compulsively remove once a week, 

so in a way maybe I am actually plucking the hair from my nipples for my own aesthetic appreciation, not because of the patriarchy, and my feminism is not actually in jeopardy at all.

My dad used to get on me all the time for fixating on tiny, inconsequential details, a habit I no doubt inherited from my mom. But I really am torn about whether I should be judging myself or just owning the part of my personality that is unapologetically vain as I glance at my phone again to see if Reggie has gotten back to my three where r u and did u leave yet and you’re still coming, right? texts, which is what I was doing when I slashed myself in the first place.

There is no reply.

No ellipsis to show he’s typing.

I sigh because I can’t remember the last time my thigh has felt even a trickle. Granted, the deep red liquid heading toward the marble tile is vastly less pleasant than the warm ropes that Reggie sometimes sends down my adductor, or wherever I request, but it’s warm and sticky just like it, and in the most bizarre way, watching it drizzle down my skin turns me on a little. After checking my phone again to no avail, I bandage the nick on my leg and toss the razor, assuming Reggie is already packed in a subway car like a sardine. He is not ghosting me. He is not cheating on me. He just doesn’t have reception and can’t write back yet.

Another thing my dad is constantly grumbling about, usually while he scans the days’ headlines in the Star-Ledger I bring him every Sunday, is how highly intelligent people can convince themselves of really dumb shit. So there’s that.

I look myself over, naked except for the fresh bandage and the glint of gold around my neck, and wish I could see myself the way Reggie sees me. I notice the flaws first. The blemishes. The discoloration. The faded scars I still have from childhood. He notices everything he likes and never has time to consider that I could even potentially see a single flaw in my own body  because his hands and mouth are always busy pawing and sucking before he has the chance. Well, that’s how it used to be. Before Goldstein & Wagner claimed his soul. Now I think his perpetual delirium from the lack of sleep gives him a soft-focus gaze and that’s why he thinks I’m so hot.

Most of my dresses are of the silky, shapeless variety, but the one I pick for tonight is also obscenely short, more reminiscent of a chemise than a dinner garment, something I would never wear out alone. But whatever I wear has to pull its weight tonight. My period is two days away and Reggie squirms even at the idea of a speck of blood. I’m virtually celibate five days every month because even bloody hand jobs freak him out, but he does run to Duane Reade without complaint whenever I’m almost out of tampons and always grabs the right box depending on my flow, so it balances out. He’s put in at least ten hours at the firm today, but I’m totally down for doing all the work to get us both off, so yes, this is the dress, and I’m going to make sure he orders something light with plenty of green on his plate so he doesn’t get the itis on the ride back to my place.

Still, as much as I am craving tongue and hands and a long, indulgent dicking down to sustain me while my ovaries wreak havoc, I would happily handle it myself once he’s asleep and take a couple hours of slow, deep conversation instead. A little shit talking, but mostly watching him eat, and laughing the way we used to back when we first met, when he was finishing the last leg of law school and had a fraction of the responsibilities he does now. I try not to romanticize the days when we were fresh and new, because it was fresh and new and so of course it was fucking romantic, but I’m human and can only look back on the inception of our relationship through a halcyon lens.

My apartment is a microscopic studio in a freshly gentrified Bed-Stuy, all I can afford on my own with my salary, which, five hundred miles toward the center of the continent, could get me a mortgage on a cute starter home. It can feel claustrophobic with more than two people inside it at once, but when it’s just me here, it’s perfect. The galley kitchen is at the front and my bed is made semiprivate by the two white open-shelf bookcases I have packed with too many books, some vintage with gorgeous, battered spines, most pre-loved before I got my hands on them. Reggie thinks I have a problem since I’ve lost count of how many I have and because I have dozens more books littered around the four-hundred-square-foot place. He had the nerve to toss around the h word once. I deadfished him that night, and he never used it again. Though if I’m being objective, there is barely a flat space that isn’t occupied by at least one paperback, but that’s only because I am an actual slut for an aesthetic floppy copy of almost anything. Reggie doesn’t get it. He thinks hardbacks are supreme, and I think it’s tied to the fragility of his masculinity somehow, especially since he’s barely a recreational reader, which makes his opinion hardly justified. Then again, I’m a fiend for his dick when it’s floppy too, so maybe I’m the one with a complex.

I run through my standard series of poses using my floor-length mirror to check how far I can lean over without flashing my nipples or my ass, and frown at my visible panty line. They’re seamless, allegedly, but I can see the faint indent where they grip my skin beneath the delicate fabric of my dress. I step out of them and shuffle through my top drawer for a much less conspicuous thong, but then shut it empty-handed and decide that it’s fine, Reggie has had a long week and it’s only Tuesday. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the surprise.

I’m ten pages away from knocking another contrived, predictable thriller written by a man that swears the narrative is feminist but comes off glaringly misogynistic off my TBR by the time I hear the jingle of Reggie’s keys outside the door to my unit. I toss the book aside without dog-earing my current page, though I feel an instant pang of regret and swing my legs off the arm of my couch as I reach for my phone to see what time it is. It’s been two hours since I gashed my leg. I wait for the door to fly open and brace myself to be seen, for his jaw to drop when he sees me.

But nothing happens.

Reggie doesn’t push in. I don’t hear that jingle anymore.

Before I fully convince myself that I’m suffering from hallucinations courtesy of my surge of pre-menstruation hormones, I straighten out my dress and cross the space to glance through the peephole and be sure. Reggie is on the other side, head bent over, his thumbs beating away at his phone’s screen, whatever email he’s writing taking precedence over our date. Envy erupts like a geyser inside me.

It’s hard to stay pissed at him once I swing the door open and look him over without the distorting view of the peephole. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms that are corded with thick veins, the left one covered in a massive tribal tattoo I still don’t know the meaning of. So slutty of him. His tie is loosened around his neck, but not all the way undone, and I can still smell the remnants of whatever soap he showered with this morning.

“Hey.” He hasn’t looked up yet. “Sorry I didn’t hit you back. I was swamped.”

I don’t reply, will not dignify anything he says with a response until he properly acknowledges me and all the work I put in to look edible for him tonight. He finally hits send and lifts his chin, a guilty smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I don’t know why, with all this pent-up anticipation, his double take at my dress still makes me blush, and I sort of resent that part of me. Though, at the same time, it feels good to be taken in like this.

“Thought you said seven thirty,” I say, fighting to not sound too accusatory, but it’s not much of a battle since the way he’s checking me out is softening me right up like a stick of butter in a microwave.

His eyes are moving quickly, like they are being pulled downward by some invisible force. “This new?”

He reaches for my amorphous dress, his touch rough enough for me to worry about the preservation of its barely-there straps.

“Figured you’d like it,” I say.

I would have much preferred an immediate and sincere apology for keeping me waiting, but I relinquish my simmering irritation and let him feel me up as I lean in to give him a kiss. He settles a hand on the small of my back, definitely wanting me closer, wanting more, but I pull away before he gets too distracted by the dessert and no longer has an appetite for the meal.

“So.” I look for my purse. “Where you taking me?”

He smirks. “To the bed.”

From PERFECT LITTLE LIVES by Amber and Danielle Brown. Copyright 2023 ©Amber and Danielle Brown. Published by Graydon House.

About the authors:

Amber and Danielle Brown both graduated from Rider University where they studied Communications/Journalism and sat on the editorial staff for the On Fire!! literary journal. They then pursued a career in fashion and spent five years in NYC working their way up, eventually managing their own popular fashion and lifestyle blog. Amber is also a screenwriter, so they live in LA, which works out perfectly so Danielle can spoil her plant babies with copious amount of sunshine. Their debut Someone Had to Do It, was a Library Reads pick.

Author Website / Instagram / Twitter – Amber / Twitter – Danielle / Goodreads

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

A Murder in Ashwood: Scandals and Secrets in the Gilded Age
Robert Brighton
(The Avenging Angel Detective Agency Mysteries)
Publication date: June 27th 2023
Genres: Adult, Historical, Mystery

Named BookLife Reviews “Editor’s Pick” – “Setting this series apart from other historical mysteries is Brighton’s deft hand at capturing the dishy lives of long ago … has the feel of a great cocktail party… the tangled mysteries compel … a polished, rewarding page-turner …”

“Brighton spins a tale of murder and revenge… it’s hard to resist the detailed and authentic world [he] creates … time and place are fully realized in this murder story … a fascinating period piece … – Kirkus Reviews

A lush and immersive historical award-winning mystery inspired by a ‘true crime of the century ’that shocked the world.

New Year’s Day 1902 . . . Ashwood awakens to a foul murder . . .

Buffalo, New York . . . as the remains of the great Pan-American Exposition are swept away, and the bitter memories of William McKinley’s assassination begin to fade . . . the city reels again, at the sensational murder of successful businessman Edward Miller, bludgeoned to death in his cozy den, in one of the city’s most fashionable enclaves: Ashwood.

But for all its glitz and glamor, Ashwood guards the dark secrets of its fashionable residents . . . including those of Edward’s estranged wife Alicia, her lover Arthur Pendle, and would-be detective Sarah Payne. Soon, they will all face a hurricane of courtroom drama, public outrage, and the behind-the-scenes scheming of cold and corrupt District Attorney Terence Penrose.

Meanwhile, those caught up in the most scandalous crime of a new century have reputations to protect . . . skeletons best kept hidden away in the tidy closets of trendy Ashwood . . . and plenty of reasons to keep the motive behind Edward Miller’s murder from ever seeing the light of day – a motive that only the victim and his killer knew …

Can justice be done . . . and the truth uncovered by the Avenging Angel Detective Agency . . . before a killer strikes again?

Find out in award-winning A Murder in Ashwood . . . the second novel in the Avenging Angel Detective Agency Mysteries from Robert Brighton, acclaimed author of The Unsealing.

It’s as much a ‘whydunit ’as a ‘whodunit ’in a page-turning story that leaves readers wanting more.

Contains three original interior scratchboard illustrations by Mark Summers.

Discover the Avenging Angel Detective Agency Mysteries…

Get your copy today!

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

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EXCERPT:

 

Author Bio:

Award-winning author Robert Brighton is an authority on the Gilded Age, and a great believer that the Victorian era was anything but stuffy. In his Avenging Angel Detective Agency Mysteries, Brighton exposes the turbulence of the era – its passions, dreams, and disasters – against a backdrop of careful research on the places, sights, sounds, and smells of the time.

When he is not walking the streets in the footsteps of the Avenging Angels, sniffing out unsolved mysteries, Brighton is an adventurer. He has traveled in more than 50 countries around the world, personally throwing himself into every situation his characters will face – from underground ruins to opium dens – and (so far) living to tell about it.

A graduate of the Sorbonne, Paris, Brighton is an avid student of early 20th Century history and literature, an ardent and relentless investigator, and an admirer of Emily Dickinson and Jim Morrison. He lives in Virginia with his wife and their two cats.

Website / Goodreads / Pinterest / Instagram

 

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**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

When All is Said and Done
Christy Hayes
Publication date: December 5th 2023
Genres: Women’s Fiction

A heartbreaking novel about the sacrifices we make for love.

After an unstable childhood, marriage isn’t just a promise to Dustin Carver, it’s his lifeline. He and Tegan grew up together, fell in love, and planned their perfect life. When the future they imagined gets derailed by her demanding law career, their marriage slowly slides off the rails.

Tegan can’t believe her husband took her threat of a separation seriously and walked away without a backward glance. Heartbroken and embarrassed, she covers for his absence with lies. Lies she tells herself about her career. Lies she tells her family about her marriage. And lies she’s yet to confess to her husband about a secret she kept while he was away. When Dustin finally returns, she’s running on fumes and her lies are about to be exposed.

Seven weeks in Key West licking his wounds and watching his best friend fall in love is enough to convince Dustin to come home and fight for his marriage. Saving their relationship means returning to therapy and facing a bitter truth neither wants to address. What if their childhood romance doesn’t have a happy-ever-after ending?

This emotional read told with brutal honesty begs the ultimate question for marriages far and wide. At the end of the day-at the end of our lives-what is worth fighting for, and when, if ever, should we walk away?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

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EXCERPT:

Dustin’s POV

He heard a noise from the kitchen, and his pulse picked up the beat. Was that the side door closing or the echoed rumble from his rebellious stomach? He stilled the strings with his palm and recognized the familiar sound of Tegan hanging her keys on the hook and shucking her shoes by the door. His heart lurched into his throat.

Dustin cursed himself for getting lost in the music and not preparing for her return. He should have been rehearsing speeches in his head or making dinner instead of mowing the

lawn, adding a couple of towels to her burgeoning laundry pile, and playing around on the guitar. He propped the instrument against the couch and stood on unsteady legs.

A surging swell of love, swift and savage, swept over him as he looked at her, sent his heart thrashing against his chest. There she is—my center, my orbit—in living, breathing color. Tegan had her back turned and was flipping through the mail on the counter. Her hair was longer than normal, a dark curtain falling well past her sagging shoulders.

“Hi.”

She gasped and spun, clutching her chest with both hands, her eyes blinking furiously. Frozen in that position like a still photograph captured on film, she looked thin—too thin—and fragile as blown glass. “Dusty.”

His name from her lips, soft and scratchy, scorched his eviscerated heart. “Sorry to startle you. I … I figured you’d see my car.”

She seemed confused, shaking her head, squinting her eyes. “Your car?”

“In the garage …” He tried and failed to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He’d been gone for weeks, and she hadn’t moved a muscle in his direction. Hadn’t flashed a smile or inclined her head or opened her arms to make him feel welcome. And after everything they had to say to one another, they were talking about his car?

“I parked in the driveway,” she said.

Her guilty tone and the way she tucked her chin to her chest were another lash to his pride. How many times had he begged her to park her car in the garage? They lived in a nice neighborhood, but why invite crime by leaving her car parked out in the open and alert everyone to her patterns of coming and going?

She read the look on his face and offered a muttered, “I was tired, and the garage door has been giving me fits. I think it needs grease or something.”

Stop talking about the stupid garage! He wanted to scream at her, grab her arms and shake her, invade the personal space she protected with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. He wanted to do something, anything, to get a rise out of her and stop the inane garage discussion.

The way she looked—the way she looked at him like a racoon caught pillaging the trash—kept his voice even and his feet rooted firmly in place. Even in the muted light, she appeared ready to drop. He longed to go to her, wrap her in his arms, let her lean on him the way she always had when life kicked her in the tail. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not with everything at stake.

 

Author Bio:

Christy Hayes writes romance and romantic women’s fiction. She is the proud mother of two grown children and lives outside Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and rescue dogs.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

 

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