title: The House of Rumour: A Novel
author:  Jake Arnott 
description: Interweaving a large cast of characterssome real, some purely fictionalBritish author Arnott takes the reader on a labyrinthine (Borges being a frequent reference) excursion through much of the mid- to late twentieth century. Beginning during World War II (mysterious fugitive Nazi Rudolf Hess figures in the plot), Arnott utilizes the forms and preoccupations of pulp fiction and the lives of its practitioners (from L. Ron Hubbard to Ian Fleming and Robert Heinlein) in the seminal years of genre writing (spy thrillers, science fiction) in driving the plot. His imagined characters are well drawn and their interactions compelling, and they are interestingly joined in the action by contemporaries including Aleister Crowley and, later, the Reverend Jim Jones. This big, intricate novel with a large and varied vast of characters, though unique, may appeal to readers of Jennifer Egan and David Mitchell, as well as to fans of the respective genres. --Mark Levine
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  ##  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ## Lawless
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Nora Roberts
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He wanted a drink. Whiskey, cheap and warm. After six weeks on the trail, he
  wanted the same kind of woman. Some men usually managed to get what they
  wanted. He was one of them. Still, the woman could wait, Jake decided as he
  leaned against the bar. The whiskey couldn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  He had another ninety long, dusty miles to go before he got home. If anybody
  could call a frying pan like Lone Bluff home. Some did, Jake thought as he
  signaled for a bottle and took his first gut-clenching gulp. Some had to.
  
  
  
  
  
  For himself, home was usually the six feet of space where his shadow fell. But
  for the past few months Lone Bluff had been as good a place as any. He could
  get a room there, a bath and a willing woman, all at a reasonable price. It
  was a town where a man could avoid trouble-or find it, depending on his mood.
  
  
  
  
  
  For now, with the dust of the trail still scratchy in his throat