Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Lost Highways by Curtiss Ann Matlock

Rainey is a twice divorced 34 year old woman. She seems lost in life especially after her mother dies. She inherits her mother's truck, trailer and barrel racing horse. Rainey decides to quit her job and go barrel racing, just to get away. One night she is driving down the highway and thinks she has hit a man on the side of the road. She stops and finds him.  She did not hit him but he has been in an accident.  She gets him to go with her to the next town.  His name is Harry. He is very well dressed but seems out of it. When they get to town he decides to go with her to her Uncle's place. Rainey is lost. Harry is lost. But together they are strong.  Will they be together?  Are they what each other needs?

I liked these characters. They both need to be true to themselves and stop being what others expect or want them to be. I am happy to find out that there are more books in this series. I have never read this author before and Liked this book!

From the author:
The Valentine Series begins with Lost Highways…
   Meet Rainey Valentine: thirty-five, twice divorced, with broken dreams but irrepressible hope. When her mother dies, she inherits a truck, an old barrel-racing mare, and a lifetime supply of Mary Kay cosmetics. Taking a page from her mother’s life, Rainey packs up and heads off, leaving Valentine, Oklahoma in her rearview mirror. Along her travels of back roads, she picks up strays, both animal and human, and begins to discover that what she was looking for was all the time back home in Valentine.
Excerpt:
I'll Know When I Get There
A faded red car came up the entry ramp on her right. A little piss-ant economy job that looked as if it had been through the wringer. The driver door was primer gray. Giving out a puff of black smoke, it pulled right over in front of her.
Highly annoyed, Rainey thought that the driver obviously did not know the foremost rule of the road, which was that the biggest vehicle had the right of way. She would have moved over to make room for the little red car, but there was an eighteen-wheeler coming up on her left that would, she was fairly certain, mow her down without compunction.
Her nerves went to twanging as she came up on the little car that seemed incapable of gaining speed. It had a fluffy pillow in the back window . . . no, it was a cat, and a tennis shoe. The cat's head came up, its eyes widened, and it fled.
She tapped her brakes, harder and harder, to keep from running over the car, and she imagined her mare, her mother's mare, back in the trailer, trying to suck her hooves on the floor in order to stay on her feet.
The eighteen-wheeler moved on ahead, leaving room for Rainey to pull into the left lane. Looking at the open road ahead with satisfaction, she began to press the accelerator.
The next instant, to her immense surprise and alarm, the little red piss-ant car pulled to the left, right in front of her again. The only reason she could come up with for this erratic move was that the driver felt the need to try out both lanes before settling on one.
Hands gripping the steering wheel, she again tapped the brake. She pictured running up on the little car's bumper and pushing. If her sister Charlene had been beside her, she would have been saying, "Now, Rainey . . . now, Rainey."
Charlene accused Rainey of being an aggressive driver. "Road rage. It's the epidemic of the modern age," Charlene said. "I saw all about it on CNN, and you've got it."
"I don't have rage . . . Don't blow annoyance at inconsiderate drivers into rage. I am a considerate driver and expect others to be so. That's not too much to ask, if you ask me."
Maneuvering back to the right, she pressed the accelerator more forcefully this time and edged ahead while keeping a sharp eye on the faded red car for further signs of foolish behavior. She was ready to repel the little car if necessary.
Like a big ocean liner, her diesel truck took a bit to pick up speed, but once it got going, it really went down the road. She glanced in the side mirror and saw the little red car fighting the buffeting winds in the wake of her passing. She felt a little guilty. It might have been inconsiderate of her to pass so quickly that she blew him off the road.

Pages: 363
Published: 1999

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