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QUICKIE: Two Hundred and Twenty-One Baker Streets, edited by David Thomas Moore

Sherlock was waiting for him, lighting up one of his Mayfairs.

John hated the cool way that Sherlock smoked. And hated how good he looked in the black coat. If John had tried either of those things himself, he’d have had the same effect as a sparrow sticking raven feathers to its wings and pretending it was dark and interesting.

From the sub-story “A High-School AU: Ten Things John Watson Hated About Sherlock Holmes, and One Thing He Didn’t” in “Parallels” by Jenni Hill

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REVIEW: People I Want to Punch in the Throat by Jen Mann

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People who think this book might be about them. Don’t be so vain. You’re not the only asshat I know.

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REVIEW: All Those Broken Angels by Peter Adam Salomon

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We were playing hide and seek in her backyard in the bright Georgia sun. I counted to one hundred. I turned around.

I never found her.

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REVIEW: Love All by Callie Wright

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Now Joanie was gone and their Buick was sold and their house was on the market. There weren’t many towns where the death of one resident could downshift the overall head count, but last Bob had checked, the population of Cooperstown was hovering around two thousand, with more people leaving than coming, and the new ones that did arrive—like his son-in-law—were frighteningly enthusiastic about the place. They acted like they’d discovered Shangri-La, like there were no other small towns left on earth, like there could be no problems in a village with only one stoplight. But Cooperstown had its share of problems, just like anywhere else.

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REVIEW: American Craftsman by Tom Doyle

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”I have to go after him.” Staying here to help Endicott wasn’t an option. If Abram destroyed H-ring and escaped, no one would ever know the truth, and he and Madeline and Roderick might rise again.

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QUICKIE: Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

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There was a deep humming noise coming from somewhere near at hand. I thought there might be a beehive lodged in some crevice of the rock, and placed a hand on the stone in order to lean into the cleft.

The stone screamed.

I cannot really say I lost consciousness, but I was certainly not aware of myself for some time. I “woke,” if that’s the word, when I stumbled on a rock near the bottom of the hill. I half slid the remaining few feet and fetched up on the thick tufted grass at the foot.

I felt sick and dizzy. I crawled toward a stand of oak saplings and leaned against one to steady myself. There was a confused noise of shouting nearby, which reminded me of the sounds I had heard, and felt, in the stone circle. The ring of inhuman violence was lacking, though; this was the normal sound of human conflict, and I turned toward it.

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REVIEW: We Are All Completely Fine by Daryl Gregory

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That only exasperated Stan more. “But what does that have to do with her scars?”

Greta started to answer, and Harrison said, “They were trying to make her look attractive to something from the other side.” He glanced at Greta and she held his gaze for a moment, then looked down.

“That’s what you were seeing before,” Harrison said to Martin. “She’s not a monster. She’s monster bait.”

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