Beach Glass by Amy Clampitt

While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
ot touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.

On Turning Ten by Billy Collins

The whole idea of it makes me feel

like I'm coming down with something,

something worse than any stomach ache

or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--

a kind of measles of the spirit,

a mumps of the psyche,

a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.




You tell me it is too early to be looking back,

but that is because you have forgotten

the perfect simplicity of being one

and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.

But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.

At four I was an Arabian wizard.

I could make myself invisible

by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.

At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.




But now I am mostly at the window

watching the late afternoon light.

Back then it never fell so solemnly

against the side of my tree house,

and my bicycle never leaned against the garage

as it does today,

all the dark blue speed drained out of it.




This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,

as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.

It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,

time to turn the first big number.




It seems only yesterday I used to believe

there was nothing under my skin but light.

If you cut me I could shine.

But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,

I skin my knees. I bleed.

August Morning

It’s ripe, the melon
by our sink. Yellow,
bee-bitten, soft, it perfumes
the house too sweetly.
At five I wake, the air
mournful in its quiet.
My wife’s eyes swim calmly
under their lids, her mouth and jaw
relaxed, different.
What is happening in the silence
of this house? Curtains
hang heavily from their rods.
Ficus leaves tremble
at my footsteps. Yet
the colors outside are perfect--
orange geranium, blue lobelia.
I wander from room to room
like a man in a museum:
wife, children, books, flowers,
melon. Such still air. Soon
the mid-morning breeze will float in
like tepid water, then hot.
How do I start this day,
I who am unsure
of how my life has happened
or how to proceed
amid this warm and steady sweetness?

 - By Albert Garcia

Life by Henry Van Dyke

Let me but live my life from year to year,
With forward face and unreluctant soul;
Not hurrying to, nor turning from, the goal;
Not mourning for the things that disappear
In the dim past, nor holding back in fear
From what the future veils; but with a whole
And happy heart, that pays its toll
To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.


So let the way wind up the hill or down,
O’er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy:
Still seeking what I sought when but a boy,
New friendship, high adventure, and a crown,
My heart will keep the courage of the quest,
And hope the road’s last turn
will be the best

Henry Van Dyke

Barefoot On Old Snow I Compose An Elegy For A Stranger

Past midnight walking
Barefoot on old snow, translucent
Callous as the full moon.
An ancient woman from Fukien
Down the block
Once talked the winter’s ear off.
All angles and spittle her Chinese rage
I imagined a thousand broken
Chopsticks frozen mid-air
Suspended beneath
Moonbeams of pale silk.
How I miss this stranger!
What age, I wonder
Does the smallest absence
Change everything?
Gibberish to me and yet
Now it starves this silence.
There were rumors,
Unknowable pain, unbearable loss
Some said
She’s just singing.
A winter song of madness?
My toes are numb;
My feet too far from shoes.
I sing for her.


 - - James Anderson

A Reward by Denise Levvertov

Tired and hungry, late in the day, impelled
to leave the house and search for what
might lift me back to what I had fallen away from,
I stood by the shore waiting.
I had walked in the silent woods:
the trees withdrew into their secrets.
Dusk was smoothing breadths of silk
over the lake, watery amethyst fading to gray.
Ducks were clustered in sleeping companies
afloat on their element as I was not
on mine. I turned homeward, unsatisfied.
But after a few steps, I paused, impelled again
to linger, to look North before nightfall—the expanse
of calm, of calming water, last wafts
of rose in the few high clouds.
And was rewarded:
the heron, unseen for weeks, came flying
widewinged toward me, settled
just offshore on his post,
took up his vigil.
If you ask
why this cleared a fog from my spirit,
I have no answer.

Catch a Little Rhyme

Once upon a time
I caught a little rhyme
I set it on the floor
but it ran right out the door
I chased it on my bicycle
but it melted to an icicle
I scooped it up in my hat
but it turned into a cat
I caught it by the tail
but it stretched into a whale
I followed it in a boat
but it changed into a goat
When I fed it tin and paper
it became a tall skyscraper
Then it grew into a kite
and flew far out of sight ...




- - By Eve Merriam

Contentment...

Contentment...
comes as the infallible result of great acceptances,
great humilities -
of not trying to make ourselves
this or that
(to conform to some dramatised version of ourselves),
but of surrendering ourselves
to the fullness of life -
of letting life
flow through us.

~ David Grayson

Tired by Langston Hughes

April - National Poetry Month

For the past few years, I've celebrated National Poetry Month by posting a piece of poetry every day, during the month of April.

I'm going to continue the tradition this year.

You might see an old favorite here, or you may find a new poem/poet that stirs a little something.

Whichever it is, I hope you enjoy the pieces I choose.

If you have a poem you love that you'd care to share, I hope you'll do that in the comments.  (remember -  I have "comments" set to be moderated, so don't worry if you do not see your comment right away; you will).

“Inside this pencil
crouch words that have never been written
never been spoken
never been taught'

- W.S. Merwin

Poems are hard to read
Pictures are hard to see
Music is hard to hear
And people are hard to love
But whether from brute need
Or divine energy
At last mind eye and ear
And the great sloth heart will move.

-William Meredith

Louise Penny in Hickory, NC

It feels just right to be writing this today, March 8, International Women's Day.

Many years back I happened to read about a new book by a new author.

The book was "Still Life."

The author was Louise Penny.

With so many people at DorothyL whose opinions I valued, and who I knew enjoyed many of the same books and authors I did, raving about this particular book I decided to give it a try.

I was blown away.

I don't have words for how deeply this book touched me.

And I fell in love with Louise Penny's voice.  Her sly, quick wit.  Her powers of observance and grasp of human circumstances and conditions.  Her empathy for our frailties and imperfections.


And so the process of tapping my toe while waiting for the second book to appear began.

And the third . . . 

And that impatience and enthusiasm is as high today as it was back then.



In 2008 I attended my first Bouchercon in Baltimore.


And walking through the book room there was Louise Penny.  Sitting at a table signing books.


And so it began.


Suffice to say I adore this woman.


She's been gracious enough to contribute several times to my Meanderings and Muses, and has graced my life in many ways.


She's everything you might imagine by reading her books.


She is, to me, a rock star.

Bouchercon 2008 - Baltimore

Bouchercon 2009 - Indianapolis

Malice Domestic

I've only been able to catch up with her over the years at mystery conventions.

Although she's included North Carolina on her book tours a few times, something always seemed to get in the way of my attending.

When I found out she was going to be in Hickory as part of the Lenoir-Rhyne Visiting Writers Series I was ecstatic.  And called for tickets immediately,

Donald went with me and it was a perfect evening.  

The signing took place at the Hickory, NC Public Library.  I'm not going to try to make a guess at how many people were in attendance, but I can say it was easily over a hundred.  

When Louise came into the room she was smiling that big wonderful Louise Penny smile.  She greeted and hugged and shook hands and there's no one immune to the graciousness of this lovely, lovely woman.

I was tickled pink when she spotted me and wrapped me in a hug.  Then asked "where's your handsome husband?"  I assured her, he was on his way.  He wanted a hug too.

And he did get his hug.

But did I get a picture?

NO!!!!

I am so angry with myself.

So on our way out and on our way to the Lenoir Rhyne College P. E. Monroe Auditorium I got a shot of him reading over someone's shoulder.

The auditorium holds, I think, 2,000 people.  

It was full.

Dr. Rand Brandes, Director of the Visiting Writer Series, stepped on stage and was his usual delightful self.  Took a poll by asking people to stand if they had come over 1,000 miles to see tonight's speaker.  An unbelievable number of people stood.  Then he asked how many had come from over 500 miles and, again, a huge number of people stood.  

There were two ladies there who had come from New Mexico.  And they planned on being at Louise's next signing in Denver.


She walked onto the stage to applause, wowed everyone, took questions, and left about an hour and a half later to a very, very long standing ovation.

She is a kind and generous woman.  

Funny.

Approachable.

Humble.

Compassionate.

Surprisingly forthcoming.

Gracious.

Beautiful.

I adore her.

And now we had a drive back up the mountain to Boone, about an hour and a half from Lenoir-Rhyne to Meat Camp.


So it only made sense to stop for coffee and donuts for the ride.

Date night with my guy.

A book event with Louise Penny (including hugs).

Krispy Kreme.

It doesn't get any better than that.


And this is for all of you - from me.

Honoring women we admire. It has become, finally, more of a thing than it once was, and that makes me happy. Besides those women who made history, as they all deserved, with their great accomplishments, we're now honoring women for what might be seen as smaller achievements in the big picture of the world as a whole, and in history going as far back as far as the beginning of time. Their successes may not be well known outside a family, or outside a particular community and may seem small outside those parameters, but in fact, they're still huge. The women I admire are many, and I admire each of them for vastly different reasons. Mostly though, they're women who do what they do because they have beliefs they're willing to fight for, to speak out in defense of. To live. They're creative in their own special ways, not in order to become well known, but because they have talents they enjoy utilizing, be it motherhood or anthropologist - or a combination of the two. Here's to each of you.

Hidden Gardens of Paris

If you're like me you're first reaction to "Hidden Gardens of Paris" might be to scratch your head and wonder how could anything be hidden in Paris?  I mean, come on . . . 

But because I'm curious about all things Parisian, I picked up Susan Cahill's book.

"Hidden Gardens of Paris - A Guide to the Parks, Squares, and Woodlands of the City of Light" is a delight.

And while I'm sure you've all heard of Luxembourg Gardens 

Photo by Don Barley

and Tuileries Garden , 

photo by Don Barley

have you heard of Square Georges Cain or Square Santiago du Chili?  They're both located in Central Paris.

Susan Cahill shares 40 of these quiet green havens with us, all broken down by areas and highlighted with a map.  A small sampling seeing as how there are, I believe, over 400 of these green spaces.   

"Hidden Gardens of Paris," all on its own, makes a unique travel guide for planning your days of walking through Paris, knowing there are spots to stop, rest, breathe and think about the fact that you're actually in Paris.  And instead of hearing the Paris traffic, you're hearing birds sing and you're smelling - really smelling - the flowers.

Marion Ranoux's photographs coupled with Ms. Cahill's stories and brief bits of history about the gardens makes this a perfect little jewel of a book to sit down with if you're planning a trip to Paris, or simply dreaming of one.

Bertrand Delanoë, former Mayor of Paris (2001-2014) added over 100 new acres to its existing 400 green spaces.  

"Present mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo, was elected in 2014 with the intention to improve the city's green spaces as a part of her platform. CNN reports that Hidalgo has made good on her initiatives, and both private and public enterprises have risen to the challenge of making Paris rich in biodiversity as well as cultural capital. In 2016, her administration launched Parisculteurs, a campaign that is working to cover 247 acres of rooftops and walls in Paris with greenery by 2020."

From "Hidden Gardens of Paris" - "The best way to get to know Paris is to walk.  . . . You come to understand what those who do not move beyond the posh city center cannot: Paris is ordinary, scruffy, individualistic, bizarre, broken, endlessly inventive, secretive, tender, haunted with history, generous with pretty squares away from the boulevards. . . .  Coming to feel at home in the outdoors of this living, breathing city - getting to know the hidden gardens of Paris - you'll find there are many ways to smell the roses, the sweetness of the world you've walked your way into, beautiful in the vastness of memory."

She protects me while I'm sleeping

Annabelle Burrito

A BRAVE AND STARTLING TRUTH

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

   - - Maya Angelou

Let me give you a gun by Leslé Honoré

Leslé Honoré

Let me give you a gun
Because you have the right
To bear arms
Go ahead
Murder babies
In Sandy Hook
And teenagers
In Parkland
And music lovers
In Vegas
And employees
In Aurora
And children on the streets of Chicago
Let me give you guns
You don’t have to do much
Just give me some money
I don’t care if you are
Sane
Just bring me green
And I’ll give you ammo
And pay my lobbyist
To cover your government
In blood drenched bills
And arrange for the NRA
To meet your president
In a hotel
And make his video of urination on a
Russian prostitute
Look like a Disney short
Here
Let me give you guns
Because it’s your American birth right
Like baseball and apple pie
And racism and genocide
Like hate and capitalism
Here
Let me give you guns
And when you weep over
Your 1st graders
Dead
Bullet holes bigger than golf balls
And your high school students
Swimming in the blood of their peers
And co workers hiding behind desks
Like they are in battleground trenches
I’ll give you
Thoughts and prayers
This is a war zone
But the idiot that hate elected
Calls a national emergency
For a border crisis that doesn’t exist
And ignores the chalk outline drawn
Around this entire country
Here
Let me give you a gun

#ThisIsAmerica #ThoughtsAndPrayers #AuroraShooting #GroundHogsDay#OverAndOver #NRA #MAGA #BuildTheWall #GunControlNow #SaturdayThoughts #numb 

Books I Read in 2018

Books Read in 2018

I'm not much of a one for choosing my Top Ten.

I used to, but I could never keep it just to ten

And when my ten started growing to twenty and up, I just gave up.

If a book is on this list, it means I read it and I read it because I liked it. 

I am not one to finish a book I don't care for, or am even feeling lukewarm about.




 I know there are people out there who feel like they can't put a book down once they've invested some time in it, and that's fine. That's just not me. 







That said, for those of you who sometimes ask me to recommend a book, or feel as though we share tastes in authors, I'm posting my entire list which you may consider recommendations. I hope, if you give any of these a try, you'll let me know what you think.

Verses for the Dead by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

The Lost Girls of Paris:A Novel by Pam Jenoff (ARC)

Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir by Ruth Reichl (ARC)

The Scent Keeper by Erica Bauermeister (ARC)



NEVER TELL by Lisa Gardner (ARC) 

THE DRY GRASS OF AUGUST by Anna Jean Mayhew


THE EVIL INSIDE by Heather Graham

SACRED EVIL by Heather Graham

HEART OF EVIL by Heather Graham

PHANTOM  EVIL by Heather Graham 

ONCE UPON A RIVER by Diane Setterfield

THE BOOK ARTIST by Mark Pryor (ARC)

• A RISKY UNDERTAKING FOR LORETTA SINGLETARY by Terry Shames (ARC)

THE LIBRARY OF LOST AND FOUND by Phaedra Patrick (ARC)

BELLWEATHER RHAPSODY by Kate Racculia

The Last of the Stanfields by Marc Levy

The Paperbag Princess by Robert Munsch

• Paris-Chien: Adventures of an Expat Dog by Jackie Clark Mancuso

BLACK SWAN RISING by Lisa Brackmann

BIBLIOPHILE: An Illustrated Miscellany by Jane Mount

I'd Rather Be Reading: The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life by Anne Bogel

A Reckoning in the Back Country by Terry Shames

• An Unsettling Crime for Samuel Craddock by Terry Shames
• The Necessary Murder of Nonie Blake by Terry Shames
• A Deadly Affair at Bobtail Ridge by Terry Shames
• Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek by Terry Shames
• The Last Death of Jack Harbin by Terry Shames
• A KILLING AT COTTON HILL by Terry Shames

• THE WHISPERED WORD by Ellery Adams (ARC)
• COMING HOME by Rosamunde Pilcher
• BECOMING by Michelle Obama

• FIERCE KINGDOMS by Gin Phillips
• WINTER SOLSTICE by Rosamunde Pilcher
• SEPTEMBER by Rosamunde Pilcher

• The PRINTED LETTER BOOKSHOP by Katherine Reay (ARC)
• THE COLLECTOR'S APPRENTICE by B. A. Shapiro
• OUR PRINCE OF SCRIBES, WRITERS REMEMBER PAT CONROY Edited by Seitz and Haupt

THE WITCH ELM by Tana French

• DAUGHTERS OF THE LAKE by Wendy Webb
• A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME by Marianne Holmes (ARC)
• THE LABYRINTH OF THE SPIRITS by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
• CLARIS by Megan Hess

• THE HOTEL ON PLACE VENDOME by Tilar J. Mazzeo
• THE FRENCH ESCAPE by Suzi Tullett (ARC)
• THE AGE OF LIGHT by Whitney Scharer (ARC)
• MEET ME AT THE MUSEUM by Anne Youngson

• LEVERAGE IN DEATH by J. D. Robb
• THE LIBRARY OF LIGHT AND SHADOW by M. J. Rose
• THE LOST CAROUSEL OF PROVENCE by Juliet Blackwell (ARC)

• THE DOUBLE GAME by Dan Fesperman
• SAFE HOUSES by Dan Fesperman
• WINTER IN PARADISE by Elin Hilderbrand (ARC)
• DESOLATION MOUNTAIN by William Kent Krueger

• THE SHADOW OF THE WIND by Carlos Ruiz Zaffon
• Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M.: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and The Dawn of the Modern Woman by Sam Wasson
• ARETHA FRANKLIN, THE QUEEN OF SOUL by Mark Bego

• TRANSCRIPTION by Kate Atkinson (ARC)
• DREAMS OF FALLING by Karen White
• GEORGIA BOTTOMS by Mark Childress

• OPEN YOUR EYES by Paula Daly (ARC)
• NIGHT OF MIRACLES by Elizabeth Berg (ARC)
• GOODBYE, PARIS by Anstey Harris (ARC)
• CLOCK DANCE by Anne Tyler

• THE CONFECTIONER'S TALE by Laura Madeleine
• THE AU PAIR by Emma Rous (ARC)
• KINGDOM OF THE BLIND by Louise Penny (ARC)

• LITTLE FIRES EVERYWHERE by Celeste Ng
• DEAD MAN RUNNING by Steve Hamilton (ARC)
• PAST TENSE by Lee Child (ARC)

• WINTER COTTAGE by Mary Ellen Taylor (ARC)
• A WELL-BEHAVED WOMAN: A NOVEL OF THE VANDERBILTS by Therese Anne Fowler (ARC)
• The Bar Harbor Retirement Home for Famous Writers (And Their Muses) by Terri-Lynne DeFino (ARC)

• UNDER MY SKIN by Lisa Unger (ARC)
• NOVEMBER ROAD by Lou Berney (ARC)
• SUMMER ON THE RIVER by Marcia Willett (ARC)

• BRING ME BACK by B. A. Paris
• DIARY OF A BOOKSELLER by Shaun Bythell
• GOOD SAM by Dete Meserve

• THE SPACE BETWEEN by Dete Meserve (ARC)
• THE REALIST: A Novel of Berenice Abbott by Sarah Coleman
• IMPOSTOR'S LURE by Carla Neggers (ARC)

• PARIS ECHO by Sebastian Faulks (ARC)
• REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PARIS: SIXTY YEARS OF WRITING FROM GOURMET edited by Ruth Reichl
• VISIBLE EMPIRE by Hannah Pittard
• THE ART OF INHERITING SECRETS by Barbara O'Neal ( ARC)

• THE PARIS APARTMENT by Juliet Gauvin
• THE LONDON FLAT by Juliet Gauvin
• THE IRISH COTTAGE by Juliet Gauvin
• THE THINGS WE DON'T SAY by Ella Carey (ARC)

• THE VERY PICTURE OF YOU by Isabel Wolff
• BY INVITATION ONLY by Dorothea Benton Frank
• NO GOOD ASKING by Fran Kimmel (ARC)

• THE SUMMER NANNY by Holly Chamberlin (ARC)
• A COLLAR FOR CERBERUS by Matt Stanley (ARC)
• THE CLOCKMAKER'S DAUGHTER by Kate Morton (ARC)

SLEEPING IN THE GROUND by Peter Robinson

• TRUST ME by Hank Phillippi Ryan (ARC)
• THE FRENCH FOR CHRISTMAS by Fiona Valpy
• THE FRENCH FOR LOVE by Fiona Valpy
• THE FRENCH FOR ALWAYS by Fiona Valpy
• THE BEEKEEPER'S PROMISE by Fiona Valpy (ARC)

• WHITE HOUSES by Amy Bloom (ARC)
• THE SCRAPBOOK OF FRANKIE PRATT by Caroline Preston
• THE RED NOTEBOOK by Antoine Laurain
• THE GUILTY DEAD by P. J. Tracy (ARC)
• 
  

• THE MURALIST by B. A. Shapiro
• THE ART FORGER by B. A. Shapiro
• THE NIGHTINGALE by Kristin Hannah
• PARIS MENDS BROKEN HEARTS by Kaya Quinsey
• THE GREAT ALONE by Kristin Hannah

• APRIL IN PARIS, 1921 by Tessa Lunney (ARC)
• THE ITALIAN PARTY by Christina Lynch (ARC)
• THE SILVER SHOES by Jill G. Hall (ARC)
• THE DEATH OF MRS. WESTAWAY by Ruth Ware (ARC)

• THE MASTERPIECE by Fiona Davis (ARC)
• THE RAIN WATCHER by Tatiana de Rosnay (ARC)
• LESS: A NOVEL by Andrew Sean Greer

• THE LOST FOR WORDS BOOKSHOP by Stephanie Butland (ARC)
• LULLABY ROAD by James Anderson
• OUR PARIS: SKETCHES FROM MEMORY by Edmund White

• IN THE SHADOW OF 10,000 HILLS by Jennifer Haupt (ARC)
• SHORECLIFF by Ursula DeYoung
• HALF A MIND by Wendy Hornsby
• NO HARM by Wendy Hornsby

• THE BOOKSHOP OF YESTERDAYS by Amy Meyerson (ARC)
• The Portrait of Molly Dean by Katherine Kovacic (ARC)
• The Art of the Wasted Day by Patricia Hampl

• TEXT ME WHEN YOU GET HOME by Kayleen Schaefer
• TIN MAN by Sarah Winman (ARC)
• THE PARAMOUR'S DAUGHTER by Wendy Hornsby

• IN THE GUISE OF MERCY by Wendy Hornsby
• 77th Street Requiem by Wendy Hornsby
• BAD INTENT by Wendy Hornsby
• MIDNIGHT BABY by Wendy Hornsby

• MY EXAGGERATED LIFE - PAT CONROY by Katherine Clark
• BEACH HOUSE REUNION by Mary Alice Monroe (ARC)
• TELLING LIES by Wendy Hornsby
• THE HANGING by Wendy Hornsby

• THE COLOR OF LIGHT by Wendy Hornsby
• NUMBER 7, RUE JACOB by Wendy Hornsby (ARC)
• TANGERINE by Christine Mangan (ARC)

• THE CAST by Amy Blumenfeld (ARC)
• SAILING LESSONS by Hannah McKinnon (ARC)
• THE BISHOP'S PAWN by Steve Berry (ARC)

• COLD GRAVE by Craig Robertson
• SNAPSHOT by Craig Robertson
• RANDOM by Craig Robertson
• THE PHOTOGRAPHER by Craig Robertson

• PARIS EVER AFTER by KSR Burns (ARC)
• THE HOUSE ON HARBOR HILL by Shelly Stratton (ARC)
• SUNBURN by Laura Lippman
• MIDNIGHT RIOT by Ben Aaronovitch
• WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT by Sandra Block (ARC )

• NOT THAT I COULD TELL by Jessica Strawser (ARC)
• THE HIGH TIDE CLUB by Mary Kay Andrews (ARC)
• THE WESTERN STAR by Craig Johnson

• MY PARIS DREAM by Kate Betts
• PARIS FOR ONE by Jojo Moyes
• THE POSSIBLE WORLD by Liese O'Halloran Schwarz (ARC)

• SULFUR SPRINGS by William Kent Krueger
• THURSDAY'S CHILD by Joseph Wurtenbaugh
• THE MEMORY OF LEMON by Judith Fertig

• GIVE ME YOUR HAND by Megan Abbott (ARC)
• A NANTUCKET WEDDING by Nancy Thayer (ARC)
• DARK IN DEATH by J.D. Robb

• AFTER NIGHTFALL by A. J. Banner (ARC)
• THE HIGH SEASON by Judy Blundell (ARC)
• YEAR ONE by Nora Roberts
• LOVE AND RUIN by Paula McLain (ARC)

• GO ASK FANNIE by Elisabeth Hyde (ARC)
• THE SOMETIMES SISTERS by Carolyn Brown (ARC)
• HOW IT HAPPENED by Michael Koryta (ARC)
• THE PIANO SHOP ON THE LEFT BANK by Thad Carhart

• HALF MOON BAY by Alice LaPlante (ARC)
• THE REUNION by Samantha Hayes (ARC)
• PARIS STILL LIFE by Rosalind Brackenbury (ARC)

• THE POT THIEF WHO STUDIED EDWARD ABBEY by J. Michael Orenduff (ARC)
• CAME BACK TO SHOW YOU I COULD FLY by Robin Klein
• RARE OBJECTS by Kathleen Tessaro

• SOUVENIR (object lessons) by Rolf Potts (ARC)
• DEAD HOUSE by Billy O'Callaghan (ARC)
• "A" is for Alibi by Sue Grafton
• BELLMAN & BLACK: A NOVEL by Diane Setterfield