If you love dogs and fighting to preserve rural areas, you'll relate to the main character in this book. Enjoy an excerpt from the literary fiction How to Bury Your Dog by Eva Silverfine and then follow the tour for more. Best of luck entering the giveaway!
If you believe that love and romance can happen in unusual circumstances, then this book is for you.
"If an author can make you cry for his characters then want to hug them close and then want to do an Irish jig with them to celebrate overcoming that much pain, then you know you have read a book that will stay with you forever." - Wanda Hartzenberg, Wanda's Amazing Amazon Reviewers
It is a "fantastic read that will pull at your heart." - Lauren Alumbaugh, Goodreads librarian
Read an excerpt:
His impending death hung in the air like thick smog, smothering everything in its path, obscuring a parade of ups and downs, the unevenness of thrills and chills that defined his life’s existence. It was eerie and scary, but also rather comforting, much like being in a warm bed on a cold night, like shivering while being filled with excitement at what was going to happen next. The news could very easily have been broadcast to those of his past and present, but he had made certain that all the speakers had been turned to mute. He had made the firm decision to meet his destiny without any chance of intervention by anyone. He was all alone in this, his final act.
The hotel room was a bit dark with all the lights switched off, but outside the window the sky was as bright blue as Cinnamon’s eyes had been. At least that’s the way it looked to Clint Westerly. For some reason his mind had suddenly flashed on Cinnamon of all things. Cinnamon had been the perfect cat. Paul Newman eyes, he had called them, which sparkled in the sunlight and glistened in the dark. Such beautiful eyes. Such a wonderful cat. Such a pity that eighteen years was all the time he had had to frolic through the world. Cinnamon had been the perfect cat, the perfect companion. The little cat had been much more than a friend. He had actually been like a son to both him and Sheila. Anybody who knew them would surely concur. That’s just the way things were in their wonderful world.
Their world. What a crock! What world? Everything gone now, vanished, disintegrated into thin air, the tiniest particles vaporized into non-existence. Not a remnant remaining except for the tortured thoughts brought about by that one memory that refused to disappear no matter how painfully the ever increasing toll that it took on his physical body and on his ever working brain, overwhelming him in the process, the remembrance bringing him to his knees, shutting out all other thoughts as well as the rest of the world. Darkness and clouds made up the present, and there would be no future. How could there be? Not with the ever painful memory tearing at his innards, wreaking havoc with the person he had once been. Obliterating the world he had once known. Snuffing out all that he had loved, all that had made up the world in which he had once so happily lived.
He took a big swig from the large snifter of XO Remy Martin he held in his right hand, the cognac warming his throat as it snaked its way into his stomach, his left hand resting on the windowsill. There was so much beauty in the world. Just look at the trees gently blowing in the breeze. Look at how the leaves seem to glisten as they sway in the gentle breeze. See how the clouds out on the horizon take on the never-ending shapes of the imagination, slowly changing shapes and colors in an endless kaleidoscope of wondrous features, a galloping antelope, a smiling child, a mighty elm. All one had to do is look, and wonderful scenes could be seen and imagined, constantly evolving from one glorious image to the next.
Remember the giggles of little tots’ faces, the tail wagging of puppies, the sound of rain on the roof, the softness of a newly made bed, the warmth of a fire on a winter night, the smell of coffee in the morning, the moonlit sky, a beautiful sunset, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the first gulp of water on a thirsty day, the move-it-forward power of a smile from a total stranger.
Yes, life could be so good…so why did it have to end this way?
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Welcome to the Name Before the Masses Tour for Oh Good Now This, a women's literary fiction novel from Susan Merson. Today she's sharing with us an excerpt from her book, plus her story about how she became a writer. Be sure to follow the tour for even more and leave comments and questions along the way. Best of luck entering the giveaway!
They have settled into their chairs and Tara is tossing some cards, shuffling them and getting a feel. She flips over three cards.
“Oh, my dear. Some bleak times, past, yes?”
Vivi is startled by this pronouncement. “Well, it’s been a time of change, I’d say.”
“Change?” says Tara. “You betcha. This Tower card is about the whole thing coming crashing down. But it’s in the past position. See here? This is the present,” she shows Vivi the 7 of cups. It’s a picture of a man taking a look at a whole gallery of possibilities. “Look at him”, Tara says. “He’s got lots of things to choose from.”
“Well, that sounds good,” says Vivi tentatively.
“Not bad. Don’t get over infatuated with the possibilities. And the last one… here. The Hermit. Yep.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Oh it’s fine. Just a time to go inside and let things percolate. Inner wisdom and all that. Not a bad sentence!” Tara laughs again. “Now. Anything specific on your mind?” Tara continues to flip cards. “So,” she says. “Who is this guy? This King keeps showing up. King of Cups? He fell out of the deck twice while I was shuffling. “Who is this guy who won’t leave you alone?”
Vivi is mystified. “How did you…?’
“Oh, it’s not magic. The cards just know, that’s all. They pick up what you bring. Who is this guy?”
The bartender placed her drink, in front of her.
She eyed the amber liquid and the golden glow of the glass-like cubes in her cocktail. Sometimes, she ordered whiskey mixed with vodka because she liked the amber color, otherwise she preferred vodka. The bartender called it New York Whisk. She was entranced by the mini icebergs in the glass. She reached for her drink with her slim, long fingers.
Alcohol.
The elixir of her life.
The strong tonic was the only cure to her life. She lifted the drink to her lips, and the taste burned her tongue and throat.
He ran to the house, struggling through the wind that sought to push him over, to deter him from entering that house.
“No, Gerri,” the chaperone hollered. “Do NOT go in there!”
But Gerri quickened his pace.
The chaperone was in front of him.
He turned to go around him.
The chaperone was in front of him.
He jerked to the left, running at max speed.
The chaperone was in front of him, pushed Gerri to the ground. Picked him up and clasped Gerri’s shoulders with an iron hand.
“It’s not allowed, Gerri.”
“What’re you talking about? I just want to go home.”
The chaperone laughed. He started pacing, circling Gerri with his hand on Gerri’s shoulder.
“What do you think, Gerri, hang yourself and you get to go back home? No, no, no, Gerri. Look around you. You’re not even close to home!”
“What? That can’t be!”
“Between worlds, Gerri! That’s where you are. What’s in that house is nothing. Nothing more than the slither of energy you left, the portal of death with the stink of fear. You’re not welcome there. Not welcome at all.” He slipped his hand off Geri’s shoulder. Stepped an arm’s length away from him.
“No, no, no, this can’t be! This can’t be.”
“Oh, yes, Gerri, it can, and it is.”
The chaperone paused.
“It’s best that you come with me Gerri.”
Gerri screamed, “Where did I go wrong?”
The chaperone stiffened.
He turned to the house and paused.
‘Yes, Amanda?’
‘Edward Blake on Line 2, Mr Hunt.’
‘Put him through.’
He waited for the click on the line and braced himself for what was to come.
‘Ed? What can I…’
Edward Blake, slurring his words viciously, didn’t even wait for Damien to finish the sentence before erupting into a tirade of fury.
‘Don’t take that fancy tone with me, you bastard! What the hell do you think you’re playing at? We had a deal.’
Damien’s tone was icily cool as he responded to the man who had been a business partner until the day before.
‘Yes, Ed, you’re correct. But you defaulted on our agreement’.
‘It was one payment. A short term cash flow problem. I can fix it. You know I can. I want my hotel back, do you hear me? You can’t do this. I won’t let you!’
‘I have no choice, Ed. We went through the terms of the agreement very thoroughly before we both signed up to it. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten.’
‘But you’ll leave me with nothing. I’ll be finished! You can’t do this to me…’
Damien tried to soften his tone a little, speaking more quietly now in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
‘Believe me, Ed, I take no pleasure in it, but a deal is a deal. And you were more than happy at the time. If I remember correctly, you treated yourself and your lovely wife to a round-the-world cruise to celebrate your good fortune. In fact, from what I hear, you’ve been celebrating quite a lot over the last few months. At my expense, it would seem.’
‘That’s not true. I’d never cheat you. I left it with my accountant to deal with while I was away. You know I had no choice. My family needed me. I couldn’t be in two places at once. It was an oversight, that’s all. I can put it right. I’m back now. I can sort it. I know I can.’
‘Maybe. But you took your eye off the ball long enough for your employees to let you down. You should have known better than to trust your life’s work to someone else.’
Edward Blake was rambling now and obviously very drunk. His breathing had become strained and erratic and Damien felt a twinge of sympathy for him. But he couldn’t back down. He had a business to run. And a reputation to uphold. If word got out that he was losing his touch…
Dan sat next to her in AP Chemistry, but never seemed to have the requisite supplies. At the beginning of the year, she became his go-to paper provider, and he’d agreed to be her lab partner. Lucky for her, he was the most precise measurer she’d ever met, and that included her mom, who was like Attila the Hun with measuring cups.
Everything was fine until February 8, when he’d leaned over their lab table and asked if she had a hot date for Valentine’s Day. Her pencil slipped, and instead of entering “NR” for the cross of Pb with Pb(NO3)2, she blistered through the page with the tip of her Ticonderoga. “What did you say?” she asked.
His dark hair flopped over his eyebrows, almost reaching his cheekbones. “Here,” he said. “Let me do that. You’re messing it up again.” Since that moment, she’d been haunted by the implications of his question. No one had ever asked her out and she’d assumed no one ever would, not while she had baby fat and bad skin.
One day during sophomore year, class president Javier Benavides flung an arm around her after biology class. Javier’s friend said, “Hey, is this your new girl?” Javier raised both hands quicker than a cowboy in a calf-tying contest. “No way,” he’d said. “These are the ones you save for marriage.” Emma had no idea what that meant, aside from the fact that it was mortally embarrassing for Javier’s name to be linked with hers in any romantic context. She was dating kryptonite—until February 8 at 11:42 a.m., when Dan joked about her having a date on Valentine’s Day. This was no small thing.
She watched Dan and his friends walk toward her table. They were heading for the main hall, its doorway just behind her. She liked the way he walked, with slightly turned-out legs that weren’t bowed but definitely weren’t straight. He had very smooth lips, while hers were always chapped. It didn’t seem fair.
She tried to smile, in case he looked at her. The boys shuffled by, talking about the match on Saturday. He didn’t see her. He didn’t even look in her general direction. Story of my life, she thought.
