Saturday, November 24, 2007

Is "Catastrophe" the Cat's Meow?

I'm thrilled to see "Catastrophe," my sweet Champagne Rosette, in the top ten list of the Wild Rose Press bestsellers today! There must be a lot of cat lovers out there--and I thank you all!

What's the story about?
When Polly Griggs receives an eviction notice, she’s devastated and desperate. Where can she go with twenty-three rescued cats? Old, maimed, and crippled, they were abandoned and she was the only person willing to take them in. Her drunken landlord can’t wait to get rid of her and harasses Polly at every opportunity. Little does she know that her academic advice to her handsome neighbor and secret crush, Simon, on how to succeed in his speech class will lead to her own rescue—and love.

Read an excerpt:
The glow of a neon-orange handbill caught Polly’s eye from the end of the hallway, stopping her in her tracks.

“What the…?”

She ran the remaining distance to her apartment door and dropped backpack and grocery bags as she ripped the paper down and read:

Due to violation of terms of your rental
agreement, you are hereby given 30 days
written notice to vacate the premises.
Exceeding number of allowable pets.
You must vacate the premises no later than
NOON, February 8….”

She couldn’t bear to read the rest. Blinking away tears, Polly shoved the notice into a bag and opened her door to a chorus of meows, mrrkrrks, and yowls.

“Yes, yes, my pretties, I’m happy to see you, too.”

Streams of multicolored fur swirled around her legs.

“There you are, Tabbish.” She stroked a raggedy-looking, ancient cat sitting on the arm of a chair. “You’re still with us, I see.”

A small, three-legged cat hopped up on the chair with Tabbish and rubbed her hand with his head.
“Tiny Tim! You know I wouldn’t forget to say hello.” She picked up the little tabby and put him on her shoulder, where he sat like a parrot.

“Happy now?”

He purred and butted her ear in response.

As she unpacked the plastic grocery bags in the galley kitchen, she greeted each cat by name.
“Abbott and Costello, how are you today? Miss Marple, where has your nose been? Sherlock, what have you been investigating? Sir Spots-a-Lot, Harry Spotter, did you tear up that plant?”
She glanced out at her living room.
“Okay, who knocked over the stack of books next to my reading chair? Was it you, Little Jack Horner? Mitzi? Faith? Come on, now, ’fess up! Belinda, Peter and Martha Cratchitt, where is your mother? Is she under the couch again? David Copperfield, where have you disappeared to? Oliver Twist, leave that plastic bag alone.”

She put away cans of cat food and continued to chatter to her adoring audience.
“There was a sale on Friskies, Pip. You and Miss Havisham will be delighted to hear that we are stocked up on the beef and turkey combo. Mrs. Joe, let me get to the tea, please.”
She lifted the old calico cat off the counter, away from the cabinet that held her teas. It was one of her few indulgences: beautiful, aromatic teas with glorious flavors. She opened a tin and inhaled the smoky aroma of lapsang souchong.

“Huckleberry and Jim, you have to move. I don’t want to catch your tails on fire.”
A one-eared brown tabby and a balding black cat hopped down from the counter with twin thuds. She opened another cabinet to get sugar. A cat sat there, staring at her.

“Tom Sawyer! Have you been in there all day?” She laughed and shook her head.
The large, one-eyed, black and white cat leaped down onto the counter. “Mrrrp?”
Her answer to his question was interrupted by a loud thumping at the door that nearly made her drop her mug…

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