Sally Kilpatrick’s Better Get To Livin’

Sally Kilpatrick returns to the small town of Ellery, Tennessee, in her third novel, Better Get To Livin’, the story of two people who have more in common than might appear at first glance. Presley Ann Cline (who is grateful that her train wreck of a mother didn’t name her Elvis) has had a very modest success in Hollywood (bit parts and commercials), so modest that she used her spare time to go to cosmetology school. But after a very embarrassing photo of her hits the papers (and the Internet), she’s come home to Ellery for a break, ending up with a job at the Holy Roller beauty salon.

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better-get-to-livinWhen the owner of the Holy Roller (who seems to hate her for no discernible reason) sends Presley to do the cosmetic work for a recently deceased lady at the Anderson Funeral Home, Presley runs into Declan Anderson, her crush when she was a high school student and he was her tutor. She also runs into a lot of ghosts, whom she can see, hear, and talk to.

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Declan wanted to be an architect, but he left his university studies to go to mortuary school and honor his promise to his father to keep the funeral home in the family. Now he runs it with his stepmother Caroline, and dreams about buying and rehabbing an old house when his brother Sean comes back to run the funeral home.

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Declan is aware that he’s living his father’s dream, while Presley takes a bit longer to realize that her mother cares more about her Hollywood career than she does. That doesn’t make it any easier for either of them to change their path—or even to decide if they really want to.

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This is a wonderful book about two good-hearted people trying to find their destinies, and wondering if that destiny could possibly include each other. Between a tornado, a fire, family promises, meddling ghosts, and that recent widow with her sights set on Declan, their paths seem littered with obstacles, but there just might be a way.

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Sweet, touching, and very funny. Full of quirky characters and unexpected turns. Presley and Declan tell their stories in alternating chapters, and each has a distinct and thoroughly likable outlook. Highly recommended, along with Kilpatrick’s previous books, The Happy Hour Choir and Bittersweet Creek.

Techno Fun, Again

When I walked into my office this morning, something was chirping. Sounded just like a cricket, but it was in fact the dying protest of the Uninterruptible Power Supply tied to my computer. The big black brick hadn’t actually worked in some time, but at least it had been quiet. No more. Turning the UPS off stopped the chirping, but of course it also shut down the computer. Having proved that, I prepared to crawl under the desk and do something about it.

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Aha, I will use the flashlight function on my wonderful all-purpose smart phone that I hardly ever use for actual phone calls. That’s when I discovered I had left my phone on the kitchen counter, thirty miles away. So I found a real flashlight, crawled under the desk, and fumbled among the cords (hey, when did I unplug the monitor?) until I had the UPS disconnected and the computer running. (The UPS weighs approximately a ton, by the way.)

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That’s about when I discovered that the third ceiling fixture in my long narrow office was flickering madly. The middle one, a fan that hasn’t been turned on since I started work there in 2003, lost its light function some weeks ago. Fortunately the light above my desk still works. For how long is anyone’s guess.

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It hasn’t just been at work, either. A couple of weeks ago my dryer stopped cold (well, no, actually, it was quite hot, and smelled like burning lint, and I’m probably lucky it didn’t catch fire) in the middle of a load. I bought it from Montgomery Ward (defunct since 2001) sometime in the early 1990s, so I really can’t complain about its life span. I bought the matching washer at the same time; it still works but I’m pretty sure its days are numbered. So I strung a makeshift clothesline on my back porch (where even tee shirts take two days to dry in the coastal Texas humidity) and did some research.

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My new washer and dryer will arrive on Friday. The same size as my old machines, with much bigger drums and no agitator in the washer. I have no idea how to run them. There are no knobs or dials on either one, just a few dozen mysterious little touch pad things. I hope they come with good instruction books. I don’t think a “quick start guide” is going to do the trick. But by the weekend I’ll have plenty of laundry to experiment with.

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Yesterday I got a letter from Comcast telling me that they’re going to upgrade my cable boxes at no charge! Well, except that I have to figure out how to go on line, or through the TV, or by telephone (no, not that, anything but trying to find a human to talk to at Comcast) to arrange the exchange, or unspecified dire things will happen to my TV channels. Of course I’ll lose everything I’ve recorded on the DVR, so I’d better plow through that before the deadline sometime in October. Given the failure rate of my cable boxes over the years, some of them failing to ever work at all, it may be worth it to pay for a service call. Last time I did it myself it took me two hours to get the color right on the DVR. No, it did not hook up exactly like the old one. Let the technician figure it out.

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And as for my forgotten phone—for many years I carried a simple Tracfone with me, because I drive a lot. Only once, about a year ago, did I need it for a road emergency, and trying to phone AAA on that little phone, at twilight, was what convinced me to buy a smart phone. There must be an app for this. Indeed there is, although I hope I never have to use it. (Fortunately the car started after a few minutes.)

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So I was much relieved to arrive safely at home this evening. As with umbrellas and windshield wipers, one really misses a cell phone when it isn’t there. After only a few months with my smart phone, I feel surprisingly disconnected without it, even when I don’t need it. Tomorrow I won’t leave home without it.

AE Jones: In Sickness and In Elf

In the first entry in AE Jones’ new Paranormal Wedding Planners series, In Sickness and in Elf, Alex Bennett returns reluctantly to her grandmother’s bridal business. Left at the altar two years earlier, Alex has developed a downright phobia about weddings, but when her grandmother asks for her help, she can hardly refuse. Turns out she doesn’t know the half of her family business, Bennett Bridal, until she sees a runaway bride turn into something else entirely.

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In Sickness and In ElfWhen Devin Cole shows up to investigate, Alex finds him arrogant, annoying, and just about irresistible. Devin has his own problems—stripped of his paranormal powers until proven innocent of fault in a disastrous earlier investigation, he faces a tribunal which he’s really not prepared for. He doesn’t have time to solve the problems at Bennett Bridal, especially not with the infuriating and oh-so-tempting Alex insisting on helping.

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Bennett Bridal’s San Diego, it seems, is teeming with vampires, werewolves, and countless varieties of demons, all hankering to get married. But who is determined enough to prevent marriages between paranormals and humans to resort to sabotaging the weddings? Alex and Devin better figure that out before Bennett Bridal goes down, and takes Happily Ever After with it.

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In Sickness and in Elf is a delightfully fun read, and Jones promises a sequel, From This Fae Forward, soon. I’ll be watching for it. And don’t miss Jones’ Mind Sweeper series, either.

Cindy Brown’s Ivy Meadows Mysteries

MacDeath is the first installment in Cindy Brown’s Ivy Meadows series, and it’s a delightful backstage mystery, as Ivy plays one of the Witches in a wild circus-themed production of MacBeth. (MacBeth is the lion MacDeathtamer, the king is the ringmaster, and the witches tumble in and out of a flying cauldron.) When a cast member dies under suspicious (at least to Ivy) circumstances, she undertakes her own investigation, dragging in her private investigator uncle, never sure which cast members she can trust.

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Quirky characters include a fellow witch who calls herself Candy MoonPie (Ivy’s own real name is Olive Ziegwart), a local news personality who wants to be a Shakespearean actor, a very attractive MacBeth, and a decidedly odd Lady MacBeth. The setting and background, local theater in Phoenix, Arizona, are well described and entertaining.

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When I finished reading MacDeath, I downloaded Ivy’s next two adventures. In The Sound of Murder, Ivy’s theatrical career becomes even wackier, as she plays sixteen-year-old Teazel in “The Sound of Cabaret,” a mash-up of, you guessed it, “The Sound of Music” and “Cabaret.” Well, they’re both set in Germany in the 1930s, aren’t they? Ivy’s just glad to have a dinner theater gig, while she works days at her Uncle Bob’s PI office, Duda Detectives (try saying that while introducing yourself). And a house sitting gig, since she set fire to her apartment, and it will be under repair for a couple of months. Even if that gig includes taking care of a The Sound of Murderswimming pool, not an easy job for someone with a water phobia.

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And then there’s the suicide next door (who turns out to be connected to the theater), the lead actress who can’t remember her lines, Ivy’s own problems with singing in front of an audience, that guy with the mirror sunglasses, and the hot fireman she met when her apartment combusted. Just another day in Phoenix—whoops, is that Ivy’s car catching fire again?

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Ivy and Uncle Bob go undercover in Oliver Twisted, aboard a Dickens-themed cruise ship (the S.S. David Copperfield—and honestly, I want to go on that cruise). They’re looking for a gang of pick pockets and thieves that has been plaguing the entire Get Lit! literary-themed cruise line (they’re redoing the S.S. Anna Karenina because Tolstoy was too depressing). Ivy takes on the part of Nancy in the on board production Oliver Twistedof Oliver! At Sea! (with some amusing lyric changes) and finds herself filling in for an aerial dancer in the magic show, something for which she has no training at all, while Bob poses as a wealthy rancher, and attracts a lady who arouses Ivy’s suspicions.

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Poor cell phone service hinders Ivy’s communications with Bob, and with with Matt back at the group home in Phoenix from which her brother Cody has vanished. Bodies pile up on the ship, along with both real and fake thieves (the boys playing Fagin’s miscreants run loose on the ship, as do all the “ambient characters” from Dickens’ tales).

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There’s a big bonus in the job for Ivy and Bob, as well as a few days cruising Hawaii, if they can figure out what’s going on, who they can trust, and what family ties really mean.

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I hope Cindy Brown is planning more adventures for Ivy and Bob. This is a funny, entertaining series, one of several I am enjoying from Henery Press, a small house specializing in cozy mysteries with a light tone (and great cover art). Their catalog is definitely worth checking out.

After Pride and Prejudice

I have a confession to make. I am not a Jane Austen Fan. (Some of my romance writer friends will consider this blasphemy.) I haven’t read a word of Austen since I was in high school, several decades ago. Back then I had a matched set of paperbacks, and I remember the covers (oval pictures surrounded by green vines on a white background) better than I do the contents, although I know I read all four. Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility (never made sense of the title), Emma, and . . . what was that other one? Oh, yes, Mansfield Park. No idea what that one was about. Heck, I haven’t even watched the numerous movie and TV versions. Think I might have seen some version of Emma. Maybe.

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I think I’m in the minority on this. Some of my friends love the books, some love the movies (especially Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy), some love both. Not many, like me, don’t much care. Somewhere in the house I have a copy of Pride and Prejudice, but I’ve never gotten past the first couple of pages. (I think I have a copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies on my old Kindle, but I never opened it.)

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Many Austen lovers have tried their hand (or keyboard) at Austen sequels and variations (mostly, as far as I know, based on Pride and Prejudice), an enterprise made possible by the growth of independent publishing, but I haven’t been swept into that phenomenon, either.

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So when I read Cheryl Bolen’s three post-Pride and Prejudice novellas, I was diving in cold. I recognized the Darcys and the Bennets (I haven’t actually been living in a cave all these years), but the supporting characters—which were Austen’s? which were Bolen’s?—were a mystery. But I enjoyed the stories very much.

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Pride & Prejudice Sequels

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Miss Darcy’s New Companion is Lucy Wetherspoon, who takes the position as Elizabeth and Darcy leave for their continental honeymoon. Lucy is a spinster without a fortune; the Darcys’ neighbor, Lord Fane, is a bachelor in need of a fortune with which to restore his own family’s home. Perhaps Georgiana’s dowry will do the trick—until he meets Lucy.

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In Miss Darcy’s Secret Love, Georgiana is wooed by a highly eligible bachelor, the Earl of Hampton (that thirty-thousand pound dowry might just have something to do with his interest), and she believes such a marriage would please her brother. But she can’t forget her feelings for her childhood friend Robert Carrington, who has recently come home to ask his brother for permission to marry a woman he met in Spain.

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Domineering mother Lady Catherine de Bourgh unwittingly arranges The Liberation of Miss de Bourgh when she arranges a marriage for her sickly daughter Anne. Charles St. John, the cash-strapped Earl of Seaton, needs the wherewithal to launch his sisters into society, so he agrees to a marriage of convenience with Anne, who isn’t expected to live past Christmas, in exchange for becoming the heir to the de Bourgh fortune. But when he takes Anne away from her mother, everything changes.

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If you’re a Jane Austen devotee, you’ll find much to appreciate in these novellas. If not (like me), you’ll still find much to enjoy, sweet romance with social commentary and humor.

The Elegant Beast

About thirty years ago, I bought two copies of a wonderful picture book called The Elegant Beast, one for me and one for my mother. Written and illustrated by Leonard Lubin and published in 1981 by The Viking Press, the book is subtitled “Or Conversations on Costume, Being a Treatise with Illustrations Showing How Clothes The Elegant BeastCan Bring Out the Animal in All of Us.” The twenty beautifully drawn and colored illustrations depict a wide range of animals dressed in costumes ranging from the Middle Ages to the Belle Epoque.

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Some years late I chopped up my copy of the book in order to frame the pictures. I gave several to my writing friends as Christmas gifts that year and hung the rest around my house, convinced that somewhere I had the copy I’d given my mom (a lover of fashion illustration, and pretty darn good at it herself), who had passed away by then.

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But I couldn’t find that second copy, not in the books she brought with her when she moved in with me, not in any of the bookshelves around the house. For all I know, it’s here somewhere still—my house overflows with books, and I’ll bet at least ten percent of them are so lost on the shelves that I will only find them by accident.

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I think I bought those original copies on a remainder table somewhere: the original price was all of $10.95, but I’m sure I didn’t pay that much for them. When the Internet made it easy to find out-of-print books I looked for it, and found the price had skyrocketed. Eventually I ordered a copy at a reasonable price, and received a battered book that once belonged to a branch of the Dallas Public Library, shelving stickers and card pocket still firmly glued in place. All the pictures were there, but it was something of a disappointment.

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So when I ordered a book from Alibris last Tuesday, I cruised around the site until I found a copy of The Elegant Beast, described as “good,” for about five dollars (the price of the book on Alibris currently ranges up to $96, and I saw one on Amazon for $115). What the heck, I thought, and clicked it into my shopping cart. Both books were on my doorstep Friday afternoon, and both were in perfect condition.

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So here are a few of the Elegant Beasts (I have committed no sin against bookbindings—the spine of the ex-library edition was broken when I got it, and that’s what I used for the photographs). The facing page to each illustration gives a paragraph or two of period history and a detailed description of the pictured clothing.

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The first models, brown and black rats, are dressed in the Gothic fashions of 1430 to 1460.

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Elegant Beast Gothic

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Here a chihuahua and a bull dog represent the Tudor period.

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Elegant Beast Tudor

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Along the way we meet a variety of dogs, cats, and birds, an Elizabethan Galapagos tortoise, goats, hares, and lions, baboons, a llama and a camel (the French Empire period) and a pair of jaunty zebras (French Directoire).

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Here we see a gentleman warthog and a lady pig from the late Victorian era.

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Elegant Beast Victorian

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And, finally, from the Belle Epoque (1910-1915), a harbor seal and an elephant seal represent the height of fashion.

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Elegant Beast Belle Epoque

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Lubin ended his history there, feeling that the First World War changed many aspects of life, not the least of them attitudes toward fashion, and perhaps the wealth and leisure to pursue such an interest disappeared as well.

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The Elegant Beast is an utterly charming book. If you’re lucky enough to run across a copy in your favorite used bookstore, grab it.

What’s in My Purse?

The Wednesday Writers are back! We took July off because so many of us were going to the RWA National Conference in San Diego. Oddly enough, there’s actually a connection between that event and the contents of my purse.

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I have for years carried way too much junk around in one oversized purse after another. Way back in high school (in a previous century), I had a shelf full of purses and changed them frequently to match my outfits. I guess that seemed important back then, and I probably had less to carry around. Definitely no phone or camera, probably a wallet, a hair brush, school supplies, and a paperback novel.

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Now I buy a purse and use it for months, until something breaks or I get bored and crave a new one. And for years I’ve been very particular about purses: must have three sections, with a zipper on the middle one, so many pockets, some place to clip my keys on, and so forth. All very well, and all rather large. I bought a new one earlier this summer, and realized it was closer to a tote bag than a hand bag.

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Heading for San Diego in July, I decided I needed a small purse, something easy to carry, that would hold my large wallet, my new smartphone (also rather large), my Kindle, and a few other odds and ends. And I discovered I really liked it, but when I got home it was just a bit too small for everyday use.

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So I went out and bought a slightly larger purse in the same style: one section, a couple of outside pockets, a couple of inside pockets, and someplace to hang my keys. And I set out to declutter my purse.

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No need for that big notebook, not every day anyway. Cut the fourteen pens down to five. Ditch the address book—I’ve put all that information in my phone. Ditto the shopping list. And the calendar. (Heck, that’s why I spent all that money on the phone, isn’t it? I don’t make many calls, but I sure like having a little computer in my purse!)

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PurseNow I’m down to wallet, phone, checkbook (I could probably leave that at home), keys, extra sunglasses (clip ons, I keep my regular pair in the car), aspirin, bandana (for cleaning my glasses), tissues (smallest possible package, highest cost per tissue), five pens and two styluses (styli?), lipstick (the extent of my make up needs), chapstick, hand cream, nail file and clipper, magnifying glass and measuring tape (don’t take up much room), extra car and house keys, clip on watch (I don’t wear one, and with the new phone I probably don’t need the purse watch), and a hair brush. If I need something to read, my Kindle fits in there, too.

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With a little effort (or a smaller wallet) I could probably downsize even further. Maybe back down to the purse I bought for the conference. Maybe I could even pick up a couple of other colors and change them now and then. Maybe . . .

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Stop by and see what Tammy Baumann, Wendy LaCapra, Priscilla Oliveras, Carol Post, and Tosha Sumner have been carrying around in their purses.

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