Tanya Michna, Author


Baggage ClaimOrder your copy at BarnesandNoble.com

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About the book

Excerpt from Baggage Claim

Chapter 7: For the Comfort of Fellow Passengers

Dr. Carly Frazer was not easily startled—spending one’s formative years being yelled at by a six-foot-three petty tyrant tended to harden one. Even the recent campus politics she’d endured were more maddening than surprising. But finding Beth Overton on her doorstep early Sunday morning was a bit of a shock.

For starters, the mild-mannered housewife was nearly unrecognizable at first, so alien was the blazing anger stamped on her features. It wasn’t irritation or injured indignation; it was cold fury, an aura of “Do not screw with me.” A sentiment Carly recognized and instinctively admired.

“Something happened with your husband,” Carly deduced.

“Yes.” Beth’s brown eyes narrowed to slits, but she stopped, took a breath, and spoke again with composed precision. “So I’m here a day early, if that’s acceptable to you. I can move in and start today. Other than that, my marriage is none of your business and I don’t wish to speak of it.”

Stepping up to the porch rail to stretch her calves, Carly nodded.

“Understood. I don’t suppose you run?” she asked as an afterthought. Beth wasn’t glaringly out of shape, but there was a certain doughiness about her that suggested physical fitness had fallen off her to-do list.


“You should.” Carly remembered from her own divorce how helpful it was to have a physical outlet.

Beth raised an eyebrow. “Is running a job requirement?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I’ll pass.” Ending on that, Beth went into the house, the screen door clattering behind her.

Carly watched, bemused. She tended to quickly categorize people, reevaluating later if it became necessary. It rarely was. The only person who’d ever truly confounded her was Daniel. He’d been full of surprises that had been both beautiful and painful. But now she wondered if she might have to revise her first impression of Beth Overton.

Initially, Carly had seen shades of her mother in the Alpharetta housewife—a meek, stand-by-your-man type. Today, in a not entirely comfortable way, Carly had also glimpsed shades of herself.


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