Once Upon a Time...

Naked Addiction by Caitlin Rother

Mon, 29 Sep 2008 05:22:48 GMT

It was one of those hot September days when flies flock to the sweet scent of coconut-oiled skin and the rotting smell of death.

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The Chardonnay Charade by Ellen Crosby

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 01:45:08 GMT

Some days I wish my life ran backward, because then I'd be ready for the catastrophes.

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The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 17:06:25 GMT

In the one year since I renounced my Mormon faith, and set out to tell the nation the truth about American polygamy, many people have wondered why I ever agreed to become a plural wife. Everyone I meet, whether farmer, miner, railman, professor, cleric, or the long-faced Senator, and most especially the wives of these -- everyone wants to know why I would submit to a marital practice so filled with subjugation and sorrow. When I tell them my father has five wives, and I was raised to believe plural marriage is the will of God, these sincere people often ask, But Mrs. Young -- how could you believe such a claim? Faith, I tell them, is a mystery, elusive to many, and never easy to explain.

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Chasing Windmills by Catherine Ryan Hyde

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 03:56:49 GMT

This is the part that's going to be hard to explain: How can I tell you why two people who were afraid of everything -- other people, open places, noise, confusion, life itself -- wound up riding the subways alone under Manhattan late at night?

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Posthumous Keats by Stanley Plumly

Sat, 23 Aug 2008 08:33:37 GMT

Once, when he still had nine months to live and was living alone, really alone, for the first time, he found himself at tea with a certain Mr. and Mrs. Gisborne, who were introduced as friends of Shelley and who, like the expatriate poet, had decided to settle in Italy.

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Love in the Time of Fridges by Tim Scott

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 18:15:26 GMT

I didn't know her then.

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Bringing Home the Birkin by Michael Tonello

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 17:01:12 GMT

I've always thought the use of a ringing phone to symbolize the onset of great personal change was a cheap plot device, and a gross oversimplification of the various factors that inspire human metamorphosis. However, now I know better: sometimes you really can trace it all back to a phone call.

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Divorced, Desperate and Delicious by Christie Craig

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 11:53:37 GMT

Detective Chase Kelly stared into the nose of a .45 semiautomatic, his mind desperately seeking a way out. "Has anyone ever told you that you have anger issues?"

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Forsaken by James David Jordan

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 09:15:10 GMT

Even in high school I didn't mind sleeping on the ground.

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A Tisket, A Tasket, a Fancy Stolen Casket by Fran Rizer

Thu, 24 Jul 2008 05:00:16 GMT

Eager to pump up my new underwear, I dashed into my apartment just as the phone rang.

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The Reapers by John Connolly

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 17:11:58 GMT

There are so many killings, so many victims, so many lives lost and ruined every day, that it can be hard to keep track of them all, hard to make the connections that might bring cases to a close.

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In Bed With the Devil by Lorraine Heath

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 17:13:44 GMT

They say my parents were murdered in the London streets by a gang of ruffians. I have no memory of it, yet it has always seemed to me that I should.

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A Calculated Demise by Robert Spiller

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 14:49:41 GMT

When Bonnie Pinkwater arrived at East Plains Junior/Senior High Wednesday morning, a cow stood in her parking place.

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Playing for Pizza by John Grisham

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 04:01:40 GMT

It was a hospital bed, that much appeared certain, though certainty was coming and going. It was narrow and hard and there were shiny metal railings standing sentry-like along the sides, preventing escape. The sheets were plain and very white. Sanitary. The room was dark, but sunlight was trying to creep around the blinds covering the window.

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Hot Wheels and High Heels by Jane Graves

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 15:20:52 GMT

On July 25th, Darcy McDaniel lost her house, her husband and her self-respect. Then things really went downhill.

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Central Park in the Dark: More Mysteries of Urban Wildlife by Marie Winn

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 14:44:54 GMT

The first time I walked through the Ramble at night I was terrified.

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All Saints by Liam Callanan

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 03:34:48 GMT

I am named for virgins.

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The Faraday Girls by Monica McInerney

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 17:15:15 GMT

The day the Faraday family started to fall apart began normally enough.

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Love Kills by Edna Buchanan

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 02:31:54 GMT

Operating the huge machine that groaned and howled like a prehistoric monster as it savaged everything in its path was what he enjoyed most about the job. But not today.

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Shelter by Susan Palwick

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 22:43:47 GMT

Roberta Danton met Preston Walford for the first time a few days after he died.

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The God of Animals by Aryn Kyle

Fri, 30 May 2008 13:27:36 GMT

Six months before Polly Cain drowned in the canal, my sister, Nona, ran off and married a cowboy.

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Feels Like Family by Sherryl Woods

Thu, 29 May 2008 14:33:26 GMT

For a woman who prided herself on being cool and competent, who relied on her wits to win a case, Helen Decatur walked away from the Serenity courthouse with a strong desire to pummel some sense and decency into a few of South Carolina's good old boys.

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A Dog Among Diplomats by J.F. Englert

Tue, 27 May 2008 21:07:49 GMT

It's not every day that a young man clad only in boxer shorts embossed with red hearts dies beneath an opened parachute in a small third-floor room in one of New York's last boardinghouses.

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Tough Enough by Michele Albert

Tue, 13 May 2008 03:35:49 GMT

"I have a job that requires your singular talents."

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Waterloo Sunset by Martin Edwards

Fri, 09 May 2008 13:50:23 GMT

Harry Devlin stared at the announcement of his death.

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