Read me.

NRO’s Peter Robinson:

With the temperature in the nineties, and the sky having already achieved that cloudless, creamy, depthless blue that makes one wish one could turn the world upside down and dive in, here in Northern California summer—summer!—has arrived. Which means, of course, that it’s time for a novel—and what should the afternoon’s post include? Galleys of Andrew Klavan’s latest, Empire of Lies.

[...]

Turn to Chapter One, and there is the first paragraph:

My name is Jason Harrow. I live on the Hill. It’s an exclusive neighborhood in a small city about 800 miles west of New York. I won’t say where exactly because I still get death threats from time to time.

Perfect. I mean, perfect.

My submission for summertime blue skies:

They say Los Angeles is like The Wizard of Oz. One minute it’s small-town monochrome neighborhoods and then boom, all of a sudden you’re in a sprawling technicolor freak show, dense with midgets.

Unfortunately, this story does not take place there.

Mine you can read for free.

I win.