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By Debra Dean

A stunned Southern matriarch is faced by means of her relatives at an intervention. . . . A life-altering break-in triggers insomniac introspection in a determined actor. . . . Streetwise big apple urban associates enable down their protect for a na?ve puppeteer and needs to endure the results. . . . during this lovely choice of brief stories—five of that are being released for the first actual time—bestselling, award-winning writer Debra Dean monitors the intensity and importance of her remarkable literary expertise. Replete with the seamless storytelling and appealing lyrical voice that made her debut novel, The Madonnas of Leningrad, a countrywide bestseller, Dean's Confessions of a Falling girl is a haunting, pleasing, and unforgettable analyzing adventure.

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Sample text

I blew him a kiss and turned back to my list of the Queen’s transgressions. All the mornings that she was too hungover to get out of bed, and I fixed Lizann her lunches and dressed her for school. The times she borrowed my allowance for booze or made me tell Daddy that I needed five dollars for a movie ticket. I could write a book on the Queen Mother. Damn near did. The opening part was what hung me up. It had been easily twenty years since I’d told the Queen I loved her. It never came up. Even the words on paper looked unconvincing.

What better use of my inherited talents than this? I mouth other people’s words with agility, I can simulate anger and joy and horror. I am as comfortable on stage as in my own living room, more so actually. When I go to auditions, the long line of my family trails invisibly behind me. They’re a little nervous. They’ve never had an actor in the family, though come to 55 debra dean think of it, someone on the paternal side was in a silent film once. While I’m belting a show tune, I hear them whisper in my ear.

He nodded toward a glass wall at the far end of the conference room. Lyle could see, through the panes, a bruised gray sky—no other buildings, nothing at all. He felt himself sliding involuntarily toward the window and when he peered out, he saw that the building was suspended in a roiling fog. He turned to Jen and pleaded with her; get me out of here, he heard his voice saying, but she returned his gaze impassively. “Don’t be dramatic, Lyle. ” 39 debra dean Lyle was falling, a horrible blind free fall that turned his insides to water.

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