Category: Quotations Page 7 of 28

The Friday 56 for 3/24/23: Please Return to the Lands of Luxury by Jon Tilton

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Please Return to the Lands of Luxury

Please Return to the Lands of Luxury by Jon Tilton

Jane sighed and cradled the doll in her arms. As she studied the closest group of homes, the tag brushed against her hand. Her heart skipped a beat. Of course—even though she couldn’t read, she knew what the words ‘Spring Blossom Way’ looked like. She grabbed the tag and compared its letters to the ones on the sign. A few matched, but nothing exact.

Jane hurried down the street, stopping at each intersection until she found a match. A warmness swept through her, as if the letters had jumped off the sign and given her a hug.

EXCERPT from The Haunted Lost Rose by C.L. Bauer: Interrogation

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from The Haunted Lost Rose by C.L.Bauer

I survived the lengthy interrogation, supposedly a statement about the murder, but it was certainly a questioning of the “gotcha” format. They even made me go downtown to walk through the building almost like a “perp walk”, meet with a Detective Marino, and flee out of the building feeling frazzled and befuddled, and every other word that describes sheer hell.

Along the way, my legal representation was greeted by many who missed him in court. We ran into many of his old friends. Dad was definitely in his element. Then we ran into Paddy. My own brother pretended to not even notice me. Dad and he talked briefly in the hallway, and I slumped against a wall as I perfected my talent of invisibility. Over the years, I’d become very good at blending in and going unnoticed. During the lunch after Conor’s death, no one saw me sitting in the corner for over an hour. I liked being the wallflower; attention only made me aware of my flaws and insecurities.

My voice was weak and wavering after thirty minutes of time-sensitive questions. Finally, my father tapped his hand on the table in front of us.

“Detective, let’s make this easy for you. Tom and Charlotte O’Donohue were the man’s realtors. Charlotte clearly had a meeting set up with Mr. Martin that morning. There is proof she called her brother on her way there. It was beginning to snow. Mr. Martin’s car was parked in the lot before her arrival. The door was locked. She went in and discovered the man’s body. What more do you want?”

The detective coolly searched through the file folder in front of him. “What about the rose he gave you?”

“No, the rose was on the mantle when I arrived. He didn’t give me a rose.”

“Did he ever give you flowers?”


Interested in the rest? Go grab your copy of The Haunted Lost Rose by C.L. Bauer now at https://mybook.to/HauntedLostRose or https://books2read.com/u/3Joj5E/!


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My thanks to Psst…Promotions for the invitation to participate in this Book Tour and the materials they provided.

The Friday 56 for 3/17/23: Backpacking through Bedlam by Seanan McGuire

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Backpacking through Bedlam

Backpacking through Bedlam by Seanan McGuire

Sitting down to dinner inside a giant termite mound, and other sentences I’ve never considered before.

The patriarch turned out to be a smiling man roughly Thomas’s apparent age, with paler spots than most of the others, and who went by the unprepossessing name of “Kenneth.” That was almost reassuring. Real-life cult leaders don’t usually call themselves “Bloodfang the Consumer,” but they also aren’t generally content to go around being named “Kenneth.”

Highlights from February: Lines Worth Repeating

Highlights from the Month
One thing I’ve learned lately is that if I don’t get this done right away at the beginning of the month, it slips away from me. Good to know, I guess, eh? On with these lines from my February reads…
The Hero Interviews

The Hero Interviews by Andi Ewington

It’s worth noting that ‘success’ in the adventuring business is usually measured by whether you’re still breathing after completing an adventure. Those who aren’t successful typically wind up dead.

“My father taught me that you always get out of life what you put into it. If you’re only paying a Dwarf in crumbs, then you’re only going to end up with a pissed- off Dwarf who is still hungry.”

Balstaff: … I just hoped someone would come to my rescue before I froze to death— or worse.”

Me: “What’s worse than freezing to death?”

Balstaff: “Being eaten alive by hungry Snow Wolves.”

Danger is just death’s distant cousin once removed— many an adventurer has fallen foul of it.”


Bad Memory

Bad Memory by Jim Cliff

“Discretion is my middle name,” I said. “It’s a shame it doesn’t fit on my business cards.”

The dealer button moved around to me and I picked up the cards and gave them a shuffle. The six of us fitted around Scott’s kitchen table so long as everyone breathed in and nobody minded the odd elbow in the ribs.

Her glasses were designer – I could tell because the designer’s name was discreetly embossed on the frame. Her suit didn’t have any names on it, but I figured clothes designers were just more humble

“You’re lucky you caught me in a good mood. I just got a hole in one on the 17th. What is it?”

I resisted the urge to say ‘it’s when the ball goes in the hole on the first hit, but that’s not important right now’ and asked my question.


The Silk Empress

The Silk Empress by Josepf Matulich

“So, that’s what air pirates really look like.” They resembled none of the flamboyant descriptions of the penny dreadfuls he’d grown up on. He’d expected striped pants, velvet coats, and satin sashes. This group looked the type to rob pig herds on the way to Newcastle.

His mother would have approved of his lack of possessions, a sign of spiritual freedom. He tried to feel in his heart the way she did, but he would have still have preferred to have had a few more books.

He hurt. His right leg felt to be filled with blades and broken glass. One of his arms ached to the bones from shoulder to fingertips; he couldn’t feel or move the other. A slow catalogue of all his injuries actually made him chuckle. I should be happy to hurt so much, he thought. You don’t feel anything when you’re dead.

With the long guns they carried, seven of them could shoot Algie as he engaged the eighth. He had been shot once already this year, and he’d like to keep it that way at least until Christmas.


Magpie Murders

Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz

Alan Conway’s home was a couple of Framlingham and it would’ve been almost impossible to find without Sat-Nav. I’ve lived my whole life in a city roads actually go somewhere, because frankly they can’t afford not to.

You’d have thought that after twenty years editing Murder Mysteries I’d have noticed when I found myself in the middle of one.

It had all come to me at Paddington Station. The extraordinary moment that all of them must have felt–Poirot, Holmes, Whimsey, Marple, Morse–but which their authors had never fully explained. What was it like for them? A slow process, like constructing a jigsaw? Or did it come in a rush, one last turn in a toy kaleidoscope, when all the colors and shapes tumbled and twisted into each other forming a recognizable image?


Finley Donovan Jumps the Gun

Finley Donovan Jumps the Gun by Elle Cosimano

My phone vibrated again as I reached for the keyboard.

Vero: I hope you remembered gloves….

I dug my mittens from the pockets of my coat and drew them on, wishing I’d been prepared with something a little more Temperance Brennan and less Bernie Sanders.


A Man Named Doll

A Man Named Doll by Jonathan Ames

“A child’s portion of Don Julio,” I said.

I always order alcohol that way–stole it from an old mentor, a cop long dead. But he used it for food because he had diverticulitis. I use it for alcohol because I’m Irish. But that’s not entirely ture. I’m also half Jewish. On my mother’s side. I’m half Jew, half Mick, all ish.

We both stared at the little hip of ice on his desk, at $289,000 worth of sparkling carbon. Which up close, under a microscope, looked like a palace.

It was bumper to bumper, thousands of cars jammed together, going nowhere and somewhere, reaching speeds as high as five miles per hour, ten if we were lucky; and even with the recent rain, the white smog, which we live in all the time, was especially thick,and you would never know that just a few miles to the east the whole valley basin was ringed by beautiful mountains, the San Gabirels.

But they were obscured by the white filth, and it’s old news, of course, but we are forced in this modern life, to always hold two ideas in our mind at once: one, the natural world is beautiful, and two, we are destroying it.


The Foundling, the Heist, and the Volcano

The Foundling, the Heist, and the Volcano by K.R.R. Lockhaven

“Why did you bury the treasure?” Azure asked.

Wakeman looked to her with an extremely confused expression. Even Mr. Threepbrush, who was usually over- the- top respectful, looked at her like she had just said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

“Uh… cause that’s what one does with treasure.” Wakeman couldn’t keep the condescension from his voice.

“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Threepbrush added, “what other choice did he have?”


Red Rising

Red Rising by Pierce Brown

Steel is power. Money is power. But of all the things in all the worlds, words are power.

I learn more when I make mistakes, so long as they don’t kill me.


Pocket Apocalypse

Pocket Apocalypse by Seanan McGuire

Airplanes: essentially buses that fly, and hence have the potential to drop out of the sky at any moment, spreading your insides—which will no doubt become your outsides sometime during the collision—across whatever you happen to have been flying over. Since we were flying mostly over ocean, I was sure the sharks would appreciate our sacrifice.

“Family matters more than anything else in this world, Family doesn’t have to love you. Family doesn’t even have to like you. But when you need them, family has to have your back.”


Broken

Broken by Don Winslow

Behavior that was cute when you were in your twenties becomes aggravating in your thirties, pathetic in your forties and tragic in your fifties.

“father” and “mother” are verbs before they’re nouns.

(Image by DaModernDaVinci from Pixabay)

The Friday 56 for 3/10/23: Miss Percy’s Pocket Guide (to the Care and Feeding of British Dragons by Quenby Olson

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
Miss Percy's Pocket Guide (to the Care and Feeding of British Dragons)

Miss Percy’s Pocket Guide (to the Care and Feeding of British Dragons) by Quenby Olson

Carefully, he looked through the pages, paused at one in particular, and handed it across to her.

“Is that a…?” She tilted it towards the light streaming through the windows. “It looks like a bird?” (In her defense, the sketch—a curious amalgam of skeleton and tendons and muscle rendered in a mixture of pencil and ink—was not well done. Her Great Uncle Forthright may have had a talent for collecting interesting things and living a hearty life for an extraordinary number of years, but his drawings—while technically correct, for the most part—bore a childlike quality to them that made portions of them difficult to decipher.)

The Friday 56 for 3/3/22: Darkness, Take My Hand by Dennis Lehane

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page (55 and) 56 of:
Darkness, Take My Hand

Darkness, Take My Hand by Dennis Lehane

“You got a pen?”’

“Somewhere. Let me find it.” More of that rustling sound and I knew she’d dropped the phone on the bed as she rummaged around for a pen.

Angie’s kitchen is spotless because she’s never used it, and her bathroom sparkles because she hates filth, but her bedroom always looks like she just unpacked from a trip in the middle of a windstorm. Socks and underwear spill from open drawers, and clean jeans and shirts and leggings are strewn across the floor or hang from doorknobs or the posts of her headboard. She’s never, as long as I’ve known her, worn the first wardrobe she’s considered in the morning. Amid all this carnage, books and magazines, spines bent or cracked, peek up from the floor.

Mountain bikes have been lost in Angie’s bedroom, and now she was looking for a pen.

Opening Lines: Broken by Don Winslow

We all know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover (yet, publishing companies spend big bucks on cover design/art). But, the opening sentence(s)/paragraph(s) are fair game. So, when I stumble on a good opening (or remember one and pull it off the shelves), I like to throw it up here.

I’m going to do something a little different with this one–Broken by Don Winslow is a collection of novellas. Each one has a different voice, a different feel, a different kind of crime. Today, to give a little taste of the diversity, I want to share the opening of two of the novellas, each one grabbed me in their own way.

from Broken:

You ain’t gotta tell Eva the world is a broken place.

A 911 dispatcher on a New Orleans night shift, Eva McNabb hears humanity’s brokenness for eight hours straight, five nights a week, more when she’s pulling doubles. She hears the car accidents, the robberies, the shootings, the murders, the maimings, the deaths. She hears the fear, the panic, the anger, the rage, the chaos, and she sends men racing toward it.

Well, mostly men—there are more and more women on the force—but Eva thinks of all of them as her “guys,” her “boys.” She sends them into all that brokenness and then prays they come back in one piece.

Mostly they do, sometimes they don’t, and then she’s sending more of her guys, her boys, into the broken places.

Literally, sometimes, because her husband was a cop and now her two grown sons are cops.

So she knows that life.

She knows that world.

Eva knows that you can come out of it, but you always come out broken.


from The San Diego Zoo:

No one knows how the chimp got the revolver.

Only that it’s a problem.

Chris Shea didn’t think it was his problem, though, when the call first came over the radio that a chimpanzee had escaped from the world-famous San Diego Zoo.

“Call Animal Control,” he responded, not considering runaway monkeys to be a police matter.

Then the dispatcher added, “Uhh, the chimp appears to be armed.”

“Armed?” Chris asked. “With what, like a stick?”

He’d seen something on Animal Planet about chimps using sticks as tools or weapons, which apparently was significant for some reason Chris missed because he got up to make a sandwich.

Or maybe it was baboons.

Or maybe it was the National Geographic Channel.

“Witnesses are reporting that the chimp is carrying a pistol,” the dispatcher said.

Well, Chris hadn’t seen that on Animal Planet.

Opening Lines Logo

The Friday 56 for 2/24/22: Haven by Ceril N Domace

Things worked out today for me to augment my Tour Stop by using Haven for my Friday 56 post…
Haven Tour Banner
The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from 56% of:
Haven

Haven by Ceril N Domace

He said he was here to take some measurements and deliver clothing to replace the tattered garments still clinging to Jen’s frame. Owen was treated to a lengthy lecture about her needs as a werewolf as he helped with the measurements.

She could wear most shirts, but pants would be touch and go. She didn’t need shoes and her fur would thicken during winter. Owen needed to make sure her claws were trimmed to a healthy length, get something for her to chew on when her teeth fell out, and arrange for pack bonding sessions. Jen turned around to dress while the two men talked, revealing another thing Owen would have to watch out for.

“You have a tail,” Owen said dumbly, pointing at the offending appendage.

“I do?” She dropped her new shorts as her hands flew to her rear. The way she twisted and turned reminded Owen of Toto chasing his tail; he put a stop to it before it could make him laugh.


My thanks to The Write Reads for the invitation to participate in this tour and the materials (including the novel) they provided.

The Friday 56 for 2/17/22: I Shouldn’t Even Be Doing This! by Bob Newhart

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it.

from Page 56 of:
I Shouldn't Even Be Doing This!

I Shouldn’t Even Be Doing This! And Other Things That Strike Me as Funny by Bob Newhart

In the piece, I imagined a telephone conversation between the press agent and Abraham Lincoln just before Gettysburg, that I think, in part, would have gone something like this:

Hi Abe, sweetheart. How are you, kid? How’s Gettysburg? … Sort of a drag, heh? Well, Abe you know them small Pennsylvania towns, you seen one you seen ’em all…. Listen Abe, I got the note. What’s the problem?…. You’re thinking of shaving it off? Abe, don’t you see that’s part of the image with the shawl and the stovepipe hat and the string tie?… You don’t have the shawl. Where’s the shawl?…. You left it in Washington. What are you wearing, Abe?…A sort of cardigan? Abe, don’t you see that doesn’t fit with the string tie and the beard? Abe, would you leave the beard on and get the shawl?

Now, what’s this about Grant?… You’re getting a lot of complaints about Grant’s drinking. Abe, to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t see the problem. You knew he was a lush when you appointed him…. Your gag writers… You want to come back with something funny? Maybe an anecdote about a town drunk. I can’t promise anything. I’ll get them working on it.

EXCERPT from Wicked Grace by Luna Joya: After

Wicked Grace Banner

from Wicked Grace by Luna Joya

No way could he lose control of his powers.

Not here.

Not now.

Not ever.

He needed the others to leave before the nagging desire to annihilate these idiots overtook his common sense. “Ischenzi,” he said in a soft voice full of menace, of violent promise. Get lost.

The boys ran as though hunted by hellhounds.

The entire conversation in Russian had taken two minutes tops, but he couldn’t settle his need to chase them so they could never bother her again. “Assholes,” he muttered in English through clenched teeth. Flipping over the book they’d taken from the girl, he checked out the battered cover. Scratched letters and banged-up binding announced it to include Spells to Locate the Lost.

Heavy reading, but she’d fought for the book the same as his sister would’ve slammed pain magic into someone for touching her chemistry texts. He held out the book to the girl.

She raised her face to his, blinking sky blue eyes so big that they seemed like she’d walked out of some cartoon princess movie. A smile spread over her mouth, curving the edges into a slice of sunshine. Something twisted in Alexei’s gut, a strange need to keep her smiling.

 


Interested in the rest? Go grab your copy of Wicked Grace by Luna Joya now!


Psst Promotions
Let's Talk Promotions
My thanks to Psst…Promotions for the invitation to participate in this Book Tour and the materials they provided.

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