Forty Days_Humility_From Me to Me, and Me to You_Darker Lipstick ( 1st book in series)
Catalog Guide:
Forty Days
When God came back to earth, His message was simple. Surprisingly simple. It was: “Move. Anywhere you like so long as it’s 500 metres above present sea level. You’ve got until the sixth of April.”People had questions, of course. Like, Why? And, Where have you been? Or, What about world hunger and brotherly love? Not to mention, Why 6th of April?Answers came there none, except, allegedly, to the last. Someone in Austin, Texas claimed that when she asked that www.onedoor.ccone, God shrugged and said it was His mother’s birthday. In Britain, most people felt it was probably something to do with tax.Not many o...
Humility
It was kind of like a knack. This thing her son could do to people. They simply liked him, wanted to do things for him, take care of him. He was decent looking, but not what you would call traditionally handsome, his hair was dark and his eyes light and that combination was always striking, just like his father he was hard to miss in a crowd. Ever since he was a child, Grady he had figured out that with the right tone, half smile, head tilt, or appropriately placed crocodile tear, he could get just about anything he wanted. It started small, toys and candy, then later it was baseball cards an...
From Me to Me, and Me to You
warning: depression, unreliable narratorTo Whom This May Concern,Sometimes I think about the future. And it can be good — and then it can be bad. Sometimes I think about the past. And it can be good — and then it can be bad. Sometimes I think about the present. It can be good — and, yes, bad too. So, where in time is it always good and never bad? Nowhere in time, probably. This is only my personal experience, and my personal experiences might not overlap with yours. Perceptions aren’t like two metal rings that can be interlocked together, like those disentanglement puzzles you can find at a ho...
Darker Lipstick ( 1st book in series)
If I rub my ruffled fingertips into the lining of my jacket one more time, the bartender will continue to make that face. That face that will expresses a lightning bolt of discomfort. His lips squirming with pre paid insults about me that only live in his head. Those awful slights would expand outwardly and grow fungus in the ears of his co-workers. But That would happen on my departure, he sadly would have to wait.Tapping my glass seemed pompous so I tried to say my drink order out loud . This part was a struggle for me, and clearly wasn’t received correctly by the well dress bartender. Rolli...