The Butcher's Boy by Michael Robb - Trust Your Dogs!

The Butcher's Boy by Michael Robb is my latest Indie read.  And, as promised, I committed to write about the books of other indie authors that I read. So, here you go.  I won't rate or recommend - that would seem somewhat pompous on my part.  My taste might must be all in my mouth.  But, I will tell a bit about it and let you decide for yourself.



DO NOT consider buying a large, dark, uninhabited home that has a homeless guy hanging around in it no matter what the dollar deal and decorating potential are.  It's not worth it.  But, if you insist that it would be the perfect place to live and raise a child, then understand why I will never visit.

Chances are good that the house has a violent history that the seller failed to mention and the chances are even better that your child will know before you do.

No matter how typical that set-up seems for a ghost story, there is something irresistibly enticing about an old house with a history and so, I intrepidly opened the book.  Robb, not only writes a story that conjures up spirits, those spirits are as vividly painted as the the epic that made them ghosts in the first place.  In red.

There is violence, there are characters killed, and there are twists that yank you from one side to the next when you aren't looking.  And if I tell you that Lucifer changes the spelling of her name and saves the day, would that prospect creep you out?  Just a bit?  If not, you can find The Butcher's Boy here https://www.createspace.com/3547010 here. On Nook here http://search.barnesandnoble.com/books/product.aspx?EAN=9781452413655 and here for Kindle http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004FPYWKU   $3.69  - Not bad for a scare.

As for me, I'm going to take some Aleve and RUN.

Valentine's Don't

I'm going to risk irritating a lot of women here.  Tomorrow is Valentine' Day, the day set aside to show your spouse, partner, lover, crush just how much you really love them.  It's a day that involves lots of red hearts, cards, candy, special dinners and chocolate treats (ok, not a bad thing).  It is so entrenched in our society that even first graders know the importance of this day and spend time creating their own pink, purple and red mail boxes in anticipation of receiving handfuls of small printed "cards" with their classmates names on the back.

Valentine's Day?  I'm not a fan.

I know, you already think I am party pooper, right?  I despise going to the store and spending a ridiculous amount of  money on a card that, in our house, will be thrown away by the end of the week.  I don't need a card to remind Moondoggy that I love "Us" - if  I haven't made that clear by now, we would be in marriage free fall.  I sure as heck don't want him to go out and spend money on candy (I don't need it), we already dine out more than we should, and that $5 on a card would be better spent elsewhere.  Moondoggy is off the hook in our house.

We will wish each other a Happy Valentine's Day in the morning.  He will leave for work.  I will get chicken out for dinner.  That about does it.  We don't need to set aside a special day to proclaim our love.  At this point, that kind of holiday seems silly.

Now Mother's Day?  That's a different story.  And in case you are wondering, about 90 shopping days left.

Sometimes it Helps to be an English Major

One of the unexpected bonuses of writing a book is networking with other writers.  Seriously, since my book came out, I have spent time on some interesting forums and have had the opportunity of meeting other authors as well as reading their books.  The indie writer is a  unique animal.  The indie writer is not the “I want to write a book” vanity press author of old.  The indie writer/author often chooses to go that route because of the long lead time to publication (2 years), the freedom and control to write from the soul and not to a pre-ordained audience, and because it allows the author to make that book available in different venues (online, ebooks, Kindle).  It also requires that the author oversee his or her own marketing and therein lies the rub.  So, as promised, from time to time, I am going to review books from other indie authors.  I will not make recommendations however, that choice will be left up to you.

Larry Enright seems like a nice enough fellow.  He is clean cut, has a good sense of humor, and, although I don’t know this for a fact, is probably a younger brother.  I am basing that last observation on the main character from his book, “Four Years From Home”  - the character is Tom Ryan.

A mystery unfolds over the holidays at the Ryan house when all but one of the Ryan kids return to celebrate.  The youngest, Harry, the golden child, has been out of the house attending college out of state- never to return, as the family is informed by college officials that Harry has died in an unfortunate accident.  

Oldest child, Tom, is sent to find out what really happened.  Story enough in itself, except that Tom Ryan is one of the most self centered, egotistical bullies you could imagine. As the oldest child, Tom ruled his world with an iron fist and all those around him are but minions to complete his latest reign of terror, his own siblings obstacles to his supreme position in the family.  In his delusional world, Tom is the king and everyone and everything is designed around him, about him and for him.  The first clue into the depth of Tom’s ego is his ongoing conversation with himself.  Constantly arranging and rearranging his rules to suit the moment, loses are acceptable as long as the end result is a gain for Tom.  When Tom’s world enters Harry’s world, the collision of the mind in epic and unfolds into an act that only Harry could understand, and he’s not there to explain it.  

So is Harry dead?  Is Tom going to uncover what happened in the four years Harry has been gone?  

That will be up to you to determine if you read Four Years From Home, by Larry Enright.  It is available here:  Paperback  $12.95  http://www.amazon.com/Four-Years-Home-Larry-Enright/dp/1453867996/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1297082562&sr=8-2-spell

Kindle Edition .99 http://www.amazon.com/Four-Years-from-Home-ebook/dp/B0045OURSW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1297082681&sr=8-1-spell

Nook Edition .99 http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Four-Years-from-Home/Larry-Enright/e/2940011822100/?itm=1&USRI=four+years+from+home

And really?  For only .99 what have you got to lose?

All The Right Moves

You'll have to pardon me for the abrupt manner and delivery of this piece, but it just happened so it feels  a little like breaking news.

Moondoggy, my lifelong love, just made a pass at me for which he believes the end result will be unfettered bliss.

We've all been there.  You are sitting there minding your own business, when stud muffin walks in and gazes at you while you toil at whatever activity you are pursuing.  He is mesmerized.  He is enthralled as he watches you (and thinks you don't know he is watching) go about your life.

Gently, he approaches and lightly caresses your shoulders.  He lifts the hair from your neck and whispers into your ear, "Do we have plans today?" The shivers run down your neck and you reply, "No.  Why?"  Then, he lifts you from your chair and carries you off to the bedroom, spontaneous, wild and passionate.

Uh, huh.  Right.  In whose world?

This is how it really went down:

It's morning and I have been sitting in the living room watching CNN and writing.  I'm not dressed.  I'm wearing blue jammy shorts with little red strawberries all over them, a black tank top and a big ol' sweatshirt because the house is freezing.  I have just fixed myself a bowl of Kashi fibre cereal and am back in my comfy chair with an old quilt draped across my lap, a bowl of cereal perched on my chest, and my teeth yet unbrushed, hair uncombed and body unshowered.  A lurid and fetching sight apparently.

Up comes Moondoggy from his man cave for this third cup of coffee and he wanders into the living room.  "Do we have plans today?" he asks and I respond, "No, why."

"I think we should have sex."

I.
Think.
We.
Should.
Have.
Sex.

The funny thing is, he believes that should do it for me.  Oh sure.  I am feeling especially sexy as I eat my twigs and sticks.  My perfume has long ago dissipated and been replaced with bad morning breath, bed head and 24 hours without a good body soaping.  I feel like I just want to freakin sprint to the bedroom right this minute - Honey! Let's Go!

I have no idea what my facial reaction looked like as these thoughts were swirling in my brain, but I just realized Moondoggy has gone back down into his man cave.  I guess the mood has passed.