Treadmill Week 89 & What I #amreading – Somebody Killed His Editor by Josh Lanyon

Treadmill Goals/Tracking

  • Get on the treadmill (or equivalent exercise) daily
  • Pace is fine at 30 min/mile, although I may up it on occasion
  • Time range between 30 minutes and 1 hour per day
  • Distance 1-2 miles per day
  • Read the chosen book, which I won’t allow myself to read outside of my treadmill time, hopefully motivating me to reach or exceed the above goals (exception…at the end of the week where a book is highlighted, I will finish it off-treadmill so I can feature something new the next week)

Week 89: August 5, 2018 – August 11, 2018

Sunday  30 min/mile  30:53 min:sec  1 mile
Monday  30 min/mile  31:41 min:sec  1 mile
Tuesday  30 min/mile  30:17 min:sec  1 mile
Wednesday  30 min/mile  30:41 min:sec  1 mile
Thursday  30 min/mile  30:30 min:sec  1 mile
Friday  Mowed  Approx. 1 hr.  Front & Back Yards
Saturday  30 min/mile  30:00 min:sec  1 mile

What I’m Reading

Note: Although I will try to avoid them, my weekly reading snippets may or may not contain spoilers, so read at your own risk.

What I #amreading: Somebody Killed His Editor (Holmes & Moriarity 1) by Josh Lanyon

Yes, there’s a newer cover, but this old one is on the edition I own, so that’s the cover I’ll feature since I don’t know if there might be minor changes/edits included in the snippets I’ve chosen in the most recent edition.

I’ve been meaning to skim through books 1-3 from this series as a refresher on the romance arc before reading the recently released book 4 (In Other Words… Murder), but can’t seem to find the time, so I figured I’d get started by reading this one on the treadmill this week.


My favorite lines this week:

✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿

You know that thing about Death Be No Proud? Well, Fear Be Not Proud either. And Fear Be Not Elegant. What Fear be is stumbling, bumbling flight, crashing through brush, slip-sliding on pine needles, sloshing through puddles that are always deeper than you expect.

✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿

I must have dozed off again, because the next thing I heard was J.X.’s quiet but heartfelt, “Jesus.”

I opened my eyes to find his arm braced across my chest—which sort of played into the weird dream I’d been having, and then I realized the truck was fishtailing on the slimy hillside while Edgar struggled to regain control. JX and I sat in rigid silence as the headlights swung back and forth, catching glittering eyes beneath a bush, the lights of the lodge, the bulk of distant mountains.


A lesser man would have sprayed gin and tonic across the table. I managed to choke mine down and demand, “Since when?”


If they gave prizes at picnics for shucking your clothes fast, we’d have scored a jar of homemade preserves and a blue ribbon for sure. As it was, we had to be satisfied with our performance in the three legged race, which somehow occurred as J.X. was struggling out of his jeans and I was dragging him to the bed.


“It’s probably reaction. Put your head between your knees.”

Like at my age my spine had that much give and play left? Did she think I was a yogi? Gumby?

✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿ (Mowed, but did a timed reading later anyway.)

“I think J.X. probably is…” Mindy wobbled her hand indicating AC/DC—and nearly fell off her pedestal again. “He and Peaches definitely had a thang goin’ on.”

I can’t tell you how disturbing it is to hear an apple-cheeked granny utter the words “thang goin’ on.”


You know in movies where something embarrassing happens and the sound falls off and everyone in the scene stares at the hapless focus of the camera’s zoom? Well, that was me walking into the dining room at the Blue Heron Lodge that evening.


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