Since You're Leaving Anyway, Take Out the Trash by P-HarpercollinsPubl


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									Since You're Leaving Anyway, Take Out the Trash
Author: Dixie Cash

The strongest, sexiest, and sassiest debut contemporary romance we’ve seen since Rachel Gibson! The
quality of Dixie’s writing combined with the pure romance of the story guarantees that Avon Romance has
just acquired a new star.Debbie Sue Overstreet is still the best-looking gal in Saltlick, TX-and her ex-
husband Buddy is still the best-looking sheriff. Thanks to a thriving gossip mill (also known as Debbie’s
hair salon), there isn’t a thing in Saltlick that she doesn’t know about before anyone else. That is, until
somebody offs snooty Pearl Ann Carruthers. With Buddy on the case, the woman who has to know
everything is stumped by not just one, but two questions: first, who killed Pearl Ann and why, and
second, how on earth did she ever let Buddy Overstreet get away? Lucky for Saltlick and Buddy both,
she means to find out the answers, no matter what it takes!

Debbie Sue Overstreet sat at thepayout desk of the Styling Station, staring at thebalance column in her
big black checkbook. Fromthe bottom line of check stub #938, a fat goose eggglared back at her. She
groaned. The payment onher pickup truck was past due again.Okay, so opening a beauty shop—that is,
asalon—in Salt Lick, Texas, hadn't been the mostprofitable decision she had ever made. Butcouldn't
anything go right? She was twenty-eightyears old and had been a failure at everything shehad tried.
Marrying, mothering, rodeoing, andnow, beauty shopping. Maybe she should havefinished college.Her
mental calculator churned into action. If shecould do a dozen perms and/or coloring jobs betweennow and
the end of the week, she could getthe pickup payment in the mail on Saturday andat least avoid the
tacky phone calls from those collection people. Add a few drop-in haircuts, andshe might even be able to
buy a pizza and a sixpackSaturday night. Or maybe she would get reallylucky, and Pearl Ann Carruthers
would comein for the works, head-to-toe. If that happened,she might make two pickup payments.A disc
jockey blathered froma radio in the background."Sun's up, folks. Eight-thirty, temperature'sninety-two
degrees, no rain in sight. Here'sa blast from the past by Joe Diffie, all about the devildancing in empty
pockets. How many out therein our K-Country audience can relate to that one?"Debbie Sue stared at the
radio. Was that DJpsychic?Eight-thirty. Ninety-two degrees. Another hourand the salon's air-conditioning
system would betaxed to the max by the relentless September heatof West Texas. The little dial adding
up kilowattson the electric meterwould be spinning out of control,kicking the power bill into the
stratosphere.Thank God for the blue-hairs who came in oncea week, rain or shine, hell or high water.
Their bighair, dyed and teased to the extreme, paid the utilitybills.She slapped the revolting checkbook
closed andwalked over to the four-foot-square mirror in frontof her station. Her chestnut hair with its
carefullyplaced sun-in highlights hung to the middle of herback and felt like a horse blanket. Hot. One
ofthese days she intended to cut the mane on herhead within an inch of her scalp.She grabbed up a giant
plastic clip and pinnedmost of the thick mop into a twisted roll. Instantlya few sheaves escaped, giving
her the bed-headlook. Oh well. Some of her best customers strovefor the popular style.She had left the
house without makeup thismorning, so she dug in a drawer for cosmetics.The owner of one of the only
two beauty salons inSalt Lick couldn't appear before her customerslooking like something the dog
dragged in. Sheapplied a few flicks of black mascara and a swipeof Coral Reef lipstick. She gave up on
herself then,snatched a bottle of Windex off the shelf under thecounter, and turned her attention to the
smudgeson the mirror.As she fogged the mirror with cleaner, a cardoor slammed outside. That would be
Edwina,Debbie Sue's only employee and one of her twobest friends in the whole wide world.
EdwinaPerkins manned the Styling Station's second chairand was as much a fixture in the salon as the
rowof four dryers with teal padded seats or the twomaroon shampoo bowls in the back room.Edwina had
been a hairdresser in Salt Lick forover twenty years. Debbie Sue hired her hopingshe had a following, and
indeed she did, but puttingthe Styling Station's books in the black wouldtake a heck of a lot more
customers than either sheor Edwina could pull in. Maybe she could set off abomb under the competition
down the street.The front door flew...
Author Bio
Dixie Cash
Dixie Cash is Pamela Cumbie and her sister Jeffery McClanahan. They grew up in West Texas during the
great oil boom, an era filled with "real-life fictional" characters who cry to be written about. Pam has
always had a zany sense of humor and Jeffery has always had a dry wit. Surrounded by cowboys and
steeped in country-western music, when they can stop laughing long enough they work together creating
hilarity on paper. Both live in Texas—Pam in the Fort Worth–Dallas Metroplex and Jeffery in a small town
near Fort Worth.www.dixie-cash.comVisit for exclusive information on your
favorite HarperCollins authors.

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