Last of the Honky Tonk Angelsby Marsha Moyer
On a lazy June morning in Mooney -- a wooded patch of sparsely populated northeast Texas -- a shiny red Chrysler sedan pulls up to the home of Lucy Hatch and Ash Farrell, depositing a teenage girl on their doorstep before speeding away. For Ash, town carpenter and musician, the unheralded arrival of the daughter he hasn't seen in nearly eight years is a… See more details below
On a lazy June morning in Mooney -- a wooded patch of sparsely populated northeast Texas -- a shiny red Chrysler sedan pulls up to the home of Lucy Hatch and Ash Farrell, depositing a teenage girl on their doorstep before speeding away. For Ash, town carpenter and musician, the unheralded arrival of the daughter he hasn't seen in nearly eight years is a life-altering shock. It's certain to further complicate Lucy's increasingly complex relationship with Ash as well, now that she has discovered she is pregnant with his child. And angry, rebellious Denny must learn to live with a father she barely knows and the stranger who now shares his life -- in a town far tinier than any that has imprisoned her before -- as they all search for that elusive common bond that will help them become, at last, that most rare and precious thing: a family.
From the acclaimed author of The Second Coming of Lucy Hatch comes a funny, poignant, startling and uplifting novel of love and forgiveness that will remind every reader how good it is to be alive.
- HarperCollins Publishers
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- 5.30(w) x 7.80(h) x 1.00(d)
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The Last of the Honky-tonk AngelsA Novel
By Marsha Moyer
William MorrowISBN: 0060081635
Looking back, it seems like there wasn't anything remarkable about that morning, just one of what till then had been an unbroken chain of mornings like it, a long fever spell of green and summertime and damp sheets and bare skin and Ash at the center, at the heart, of everything. We'd slept late, him spooned up tight behind me and, in the dreamlike way of those mornings, came awake with him, almost by accident, fitting himself inside me; there was no urgency to it, only something sweet and congenial, and we lay like that, joined but motionless, for a long time before his fingers traced their way over my hipbone and I started squirming and things shifted into the next gear, as such things are wont to do. I knew he had work to do that morning - building kitchen cabinets for old Mrs. Crouch at her house in town - but there was nothing rushed in his attentions, nothing that suggested there was anywhere in the world he had to be but there with me, his belly sweating against my back, breathing into the uncombed tangle of my hair, the two of us straining gently, then not so gently, toward some mutually agreeable conclusion.
He got up, finally, and switched on the air conditioner; even in June, Ash liked to sleep with the windows open and the warm night breeze drifting in through the screens, nothing but the blades of the ceiling fan slapping their tranquil rhythm overhead, but by ten A.M. the house was starting to stifle. He got into the shower, and I lay back against the sheets, positioning myself under the vent and allowing the cold jets of air to play across my warm, moist skin, turning it to gooseflesh. The sun through the curtains stippled my torso and thighs with, bands of lemony light, and I recall very plainly that I loved my body, marveled not just at its health and vitality, its ability to serve and to please me, but at the round symmetry of my breasts, gently swelled belly, taut-muscled thighs, the pure expanse of my creamy, pink-tipped skin. I looked, I decided happily, juicy. It was no wonder Ash Farrell had been late for work every day for a month.
The shower stopped, and a cloud of steam drifted in from the bathroom, and in a few seconds I heard him humming, which meant he was shaving. A few minutes later he emerged, naked, his wet hair combed off his forehead. I smiled and preened at him from the bed, and he smiled back absently as he crossed to the walk-in closet.
He came out stuffing the tail of a faded gray T-shirt into the waistband of his Levi's. "Where are my boots?" he asked, and knelt and peered under the bed.
"Ash," I said again, and he lifted his head and said, "What?"
"Do you think I'm beautiful?"
He gave me an indulgent half smile, the kind men give their women when the women say or do something goofy or knuckleheaded. "I can't believe you have to ask me that," he said. But I had his attention now; I arched my back, rearranging myself among the disheveled sheets. "Do you mean beautiful in general, or now, in particular?" He sat down carefully at the foot of the mattress. Looking, but not touching.
"Either one," I said, stretching a bare foot toward him. "Now, in particular, I guess."
"It's a tempting display, I admit." He looked interested but wary, like I might be trying to dupe him.
"Don't you think I look juicy?" I pushed myself up on my elbows, nipples peaked and rosy in the stream of refrigerated air. A final assault, I let my right knee fall gently open, giving him the brunt of what, I hoped, I was talking about.
Ash laughed, and stretched out his hand and wrapped it around my nearest ankle. "Juicy Lucy," he said, and bent and kissed my instep. "That would be you."
"Don't go," I said, and I think we both were surprised by the edge in my voice, that what had been playful seconds before now sounded pinched and a little desperate.
He bent and nuzzled my cheek with his, freshly scraped and still smelling of shaving cream. "Mrs. Crouch is gonna fire my sorry ass," he whispered, his breath against my mouth making me shiver. Like the search for his boots under the bed, the remark was rhetorical. How many days like this in your life do you get to count, you and another soul reaching out across the wide, dark universe and in a single point of brightness finding each other? Ash knelt in his beat-up Levi's over me, and I pulled him into my arms so hard I could feel the precise arrangement of bone beneath muscle, so hard I could feel our two hearts beating, chest to chest.
He raised his face and looked into my eyes. "My Lord, Luce," he said. "What are you trying to do to me?" But I couldn't answer him. How was I supposed to put a name to what I felt? Why were all the words so frail and insubstantial? As long as I knew Ash, I would be looking for words to match the sensations, to declare myself with something approaching the scope of what our bodies learned to do.
I let him go, and he sat up and pulled on a pair of socks, and brought his boots out from under the bed. He lifted his pager off the dresser and squinted at it. "Uh-oh," he said. I listened to him pad down the hall in his sock feet and lift the phone out of its cradle. "Good morning, Mrs. Crouch, this is Ash Farrell. Yes, ma'am, I know I said nine o'clock and it's ten-thirty. Yes, ma'am, but you see, those fellows down at the True Value, the ones who were supposed to order the hinges for your kitchen cupboards ..."
Excerpted from The Last of the Honky-tonk Angels by Marsha Moyer
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Meet the Author
Marsha Moyer is a native of Texas and has lived there all her life. She is the author of one previous novel, The Second Coming of Lucy Hatch.
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Wasn't sure what to think at the beginning, but the story moves along well and I found myself wanting to see where the characters went and how they ended up. Good descriptions that bought you into their world and easy to picture.
Loved this one!! Great story line.
this is the 2nd in series w/the 1st being The Second Coming of Lucy Hatch and I liked this one better.
I picked up The Second Coming of Lucy Hatch & was quickly hooked. When I learned there was a follow up, I HAD to pick it up. I was not disappointed. It's a light, fun read.
This is a great portrait of a small Texas town--the characters, gossip, and all. I enjoyed every word! I truly hope there are more sagas to come about Lucy Hatch and those in her orbit. Keep 'em coming.
I dare say it is better then the first (The Second Coming of Lucy Hatch). This story introduces new characters. Ash's daughter Denny is introduced and in deuling chapters her and Lucy lay the story out. The world that is created by Marsha Moyer is fun, creative, and will not let you walk away. This book hooks you like a fish and will not let go. The story is fun and light hearted with some veins of real life concerns. It is a very easy book to get lost in and all you want is more!
In Texas three months have passed since widow Lucy Hatch moved in with carpenter and country blues singer Ash Farrell with the sex remaining as heated as when they first met. However, both are suddenly stunned when Ash¿s fourteen year old daughter Denny, a stranger he has not seen in almost a decade, is dumped on them by her flitter of a mom. Apparently, Ash¿s former wife has no room for a daughter when she starts her new job. As the couple struggles to become parents to the brooding angry teen, Lucy also learns that she is pregnant with Ash¿s second child...................... She fears telling Ash because he has ambitions that an infant could thwart. Meanwhile Ash has ambitions to travel Nashville to perform, but he fails to share his plans with Lucy for fear that his ambition will destroy their relationship. While both try to do right by Denny, she has no interest in anything except to emulate her blues playing father............................ Fans of the SECOND COMING OF LUCY HATCH will enjoy this sweeter sequel starring the delightful Lucy and her significant other Ash. The tale focuses on the impact of keeping important secrets from a loved one as both lead characters cause relationship problems by doing so. Denny and her mom provide deeper insight into Ash¿s past. Though a couple of subplots spin away from the prime theme of honesty is the best policy in a relationship, family drama fans will enjoy the continuing saga of Lucy and Ash because they are full blooded characters supported by a powerful secondary team.............................. Harriet Klausner
I HAVEN'T READ A BOOK IN AWHILE, AND I WAS IN BARNES AND NOBLE AND LIKED THE COVER OF THE BOOK. I BOUGHT IT AND I AM SO GLAD I DID. IT'S WONDERFUL!! I ENJOYED THIS BOOK IMMENSELY. SINCE I'VE PASSED IT AROUND TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS AND HAVEN'T HEARD ONE BAD THING. EVERYONE LOVES IT. CAN'T WAIT TO READ MORE FROM YOU. I ACTUALLY HAVEN'T READ THE FIRST BOOK YET I HAVE TO GO LOOK FOR IT. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.