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November 2009

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Nov. 30th, 2009

True Compass by Edward M. Kennedy

It was on the sunny spring day of Tuesday, May 20, 2008, that I emerged from a medicated drowsiness in a Boston hospital bed and looked up into the face of a doctor who explained to me in a somber way that I was about to die, and that I had best begin getting my affairs in order and preparing my friends and family for the end.

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Nov. 29th, 2009

The Doomsday Key by James Rollins

The ravens were the first sign.

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Nov. 22nd, 2009

Border Songs by Jim Lynch

Everyone remembered the night Brandon Vanderkool flew across the Crawfords' snowfield and tackled the Prince and Princess of Nowhere.

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Nov. 13th, 2009

Double Cross by James David Jordan

The day my mother came back into my life began with a low December fog and a suicide. Mom was not responsible for the fog.

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Nov. 6th, 2009

Eclipse by Richard North Patterson

In a west African village, Marissa Brand Okari watched her husband prepare to risk his life for the act of speaking out.

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Nov. 5th, 2009

Galaxy Blues by Allen Steele

My name is Jules Truffaut, and this is the story of how I redeemed the human race.

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Nov. 4th, 2009

Don't Turn Around by Hunter Morgan

I didn't start out as a killer. It was not an aspiration.

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Nov. 1st, 2009

The Rogue and the Rival by Maya Rodale

Time had been good to Phillip Kensington, Marquis of Huntley, even though he certainly did not deserve it.

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Oct. 21st, 2009

Ghostwriter by Travis Thrasher

Terror should start in the dead of night, with rain trickling off the rooftops and thunder bellowing in the sky. But for Dennis Shore, it began with the simple ringing of his doorbell.

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Oct. 16th, 2009

No Mercy by John Gilstrap

The fullness of the moon made it all more complicated.

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Oct. 5th, 2009

High Noon by Nora Roberts

Jumping to your death was a crappy way to spend St. Patrick's Day. Being called in on your day off to talk someone out of jumping to his death on St. Patrick's Day wasn't exactly green beer and bagpipes.

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Sep. 6th, 2009

Kissinger: 1973, the Crucial Year by Alistair Horne

Nineteen seventy-two was a year Henry Kissinger was glad to see come to a close.

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Aug. 29th, 2009

Beside a Burning Sea by John Shors

"Ten minutes before a torpedo sliced through the sea and slammed into steel, most everything was normal aboard the U.S. hospital ship 'Benevolence.'"

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Aug. 21st, 2009

Halfway to the Grave by Jeaniene Frost

I stiffened at the red and blue lights flashing behind me because there was no way I could explain what was in the back of my truck.

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Aug. 16th, 2009

Sepulchre by Kate Mosse

This story begins in a city of bones. In the alleyways of the dead. In the silent boulevards and promenades and impasses of the cimetiere de Montmartre in Paris, a place inhabited by tombs and stone angels and the loitering ghosts of those forgotten before they are even cold in their graves.

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Posted at 01:23 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

Aug. 4th, 2009

The Born Queen by Greg Keyes

Anne sighed with pleasure as ghosts brushed her bare flesh. She kept her eyes closed as they murmured softly about her, savoring their faintly chilly caresses. She inhaled the ripe perfumes of decay and for the first time in a very long time felt a deep contentment. Anne, one of the phantoms simpered. Anne, there is no time.

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Posted at 07:59 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

Aug. 1st, 2009

Any Minute by Joyce Meyer and Deborah Bedford

Each morning as Sarah maneuvered her creme brulee Lincoln MKX up the ramp into Smart Park Tower, the experienced drivers knew they'd best keep out of her way.

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Jul. 20th, 2009

The Bolter by Frances Osborne

Thirty years after her death, Idina entered my life like a bolt of electricity.

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Jul. 16th, 2009

Nothing to Lose by Lee Child

The sun was only half as hot as he had known sun to be, but it was hot enough to keep him confused and dizzy. He was very weak. He had not eaten for 72 hours, or taken water for 48. Not weak. He was dying, and he knew it.

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Jul. 6th, 2009

Illegal by Paul Levine

Judge Rollins drew a handgun from beneath his black robes, pointed the snub-nosed barrel at Jimmy Payne’s chest and said, “Who you pimping for, you low-life shyster?”

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Posted at 11:13 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend