Annette Valentine
More books by Annette Valentine…
“With no more than enough money to ride the streetcar home, I closed the door and was out of the speakeasy into the alley on a day not yet light, hoping to resurrect the farm boy that had grown up with country-loving decency.”
― Eastbound from Flagstaff: A Novel
― Eastbound from Flagstaff: A Novel
“Tomorrow morning the mindless noise in my head was going to resume, which meant facing the glaring reality that law enforcement wasn't suicide but came mighty close.”
― Eastbound from Flagstaff: A Novel
― Eastbound from Flagstaff: A Novel
“I inhaled deeply and felt the smoke pass slowly from my nostrils. Lies, like thick, warm, invisible syrup, must've secretly coated Alan's situation with a soothing, sweet, and delicate aroma. It had hardened, making him a victim-immobile, trapped-looking out through a thick, unbendable lens to a distorted world beyond.”
― Eastbound from Flagstaff: A Novel
― Eastbound from Flagstaff: A Novel
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