Buried in Books (and That's the Way I Like It)

I know I said I was scaling back on the writing, but clearly cutting out books is not my intention. This is my upcoming reading list. And that's not even including The Lord of the Rings that's currently sitting by my bed:

Clearly I have enough there to give you at least a book review a week for the next couple of months. Not all of them are books for review; Virals is a Kathy Reichs book that I bought when she was in Beavercreek last year for a signing, and never got around to reading. The books on the 1920s are research for novels that I most certainly am not writing at the moment (I never made any rules about outlining, did I? Or doing character studies, right?), and Pawn of Prophecy is the latest book that Missouri has foisted on me and insisted that I read.

Not shown--a book one of my cousins gave me last summer at our family reunion. I like what I've read by that author previously, but am having trouble getting into Laddie. It's on hold until I finish other things.

At the time of this writing, Missouri is borrowing Mountain Echos by C.E. Murphy; it arrived this morning and since I hijacked her new Karen Chance novel when it arrived, it only seems fair that she get first crack at one of my new books (I can hardly be blamed, really. Fury's Kiss sat unattended in the living room for three whole days and she made no move to read it. A book that good shouldn't be left to gather dust, and once again, Karen Chance did not disappoint).

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do.