Sera Taylor's store is the one place in Lakeville, Texas, where individuals from all walks of life share a universal love for music and a respect for the gypsy-like woman behind the antique glass counter. Readers get a taste of the unorthodox connection between Sera and Mack, a young local cowboy and musician, and Sera’s previously untested devotion to her husband Bill. They learn of her relationship with Ruby D., the vibrant but misguided mother of five; with Louie, the shy high school band director; with Beverly, the religious, upper-class socialite; with Antonio, a local bar owner striving to make a life for himself; with Tommy Lee, a rich and directionless gigolo; and with Wes, the only out-of-the closet gay man for miles. As Sera battles a serious illness, the characters must overcome long-held stereotypes to save Sera’s store, and in the end, large parts of themselves.
About the book:
What readers are saying:“Engaging, emotionally accurate, visual and funny."
“You pulled me right in.”
“I feel like I’m right there—I can feel the Texas heat and see the small town and the people who populate it."
“The characters are diverse and interesting, and each has a unique personality that adds to the entire canvas of the story.”
“I know these people. What’s more, I like them, even despite their faults.”
“My head is full of your story. It took me only two and a half days to read the book cover to cover, which means I was doing it every spare minute.”
“The pace is comfortable, the characters rich and colorful. The events are anything but predictable; I was always wondering what’s going to happen next.”
Excerpt from A Good Kind of KnowingMack made his way over to where the horses were grazing in the south pasture. To the west, a few teasing clouds held the sunset and rolled it around like a ball of clay. Above him, more clouds were building, growing in number like kids on a playground gathering to watch a fight. His brother’s new colt watched Mack from a distance, and Mack could hear him snorting, anxious for something. A black crow screeched nearby.
It was this time of year that Mack most missed the mountains, how they seemed to rise up from the Montana flatlands like afterthoughts. The same had been true for the large grove of aspens behind the barn, their trunks thin and looking like chipped white paint. He always envied the aspens in a way. True, they’d lose their leaves, but they’d always get them back and be whole again.
Mack knew there were stories in him, could feel them nesting inside, sometimes moving around like blood cells, or getting caught in the back of his throat. Sometimes the stories sank into his arms and legs, so heavy he could hardly move. And sometimes they rested right behind his eyes and stayed there as he fell asleep.
In his songs, Mack felt like he was trying to reclaim some layer of memory that perhaps wasn’t even his own. He found himself listening for the flat notes in people’s voices as they talked, learning that in the undertones was where the truth hid.
His mother had bought him his first guitar when he was ten years old and sent away for the Roy Clark guitar lessons book. From there, Mack taught himself. He had a natural ear for it. When he was old enough to sneak in without too much of a hassle, he’d drive up to Bozeman to visit the bars. His favorite joint was called the Mint, a place where men gathered during the afternoon to talk of flyfishing the Yellowstone. At night, the place turned rowdy and boisterous, and beer flowed like water. It was in places like that, that Mack listened and watched the hands of musicians. Then he’d head home at two in the morning and recreate what he’d heard.
About the author:Kathy Lynn Harris is the author of two novels: Blue Straggler, a former Amazon #1 bestseller in three categories, and the award-winning A Good Kind of Knowing. In addition, Kathy has written magazine and newspaper articles, an online column on mountain living, short fiction, essays, and really bad poetry. Her work has also appeared in numerous published anthologies. In April 2013, Kathy will release her third children’s book, Higgenbloom and the Dancing Grandmas. Kathy grew up in a South Texas ranching family, but made the move from Texas to the Colorado Rockies in 2001 to focus on her writing and soak up All Things Mountain. Kathy’s blog, You Can Take the Girl Out of Texas, But …, can be found on her website. She lives west of Denver in a haunted (she’s sure of it!) 1920s cabin with her husband, son, and two fairly untrainable golden retriever mixes.
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