High Anxiety

Table of Contents

 

 

Nutcase

“Oh my goodness, I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. Charlotte Hughes writes such an entertaining book.”

—
Fresh Fiction

 

“A very jocular and charming romantic suspense thriller filled with eccentric characters.”

—
Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine

 

“Fun . . . a fast-paced and laugh-out-loud kind of book . . . Charlotte Hughes does a wonderful job with her characters and the story line was the best . . . It was just a delightful book to read.”—
Front Street Reviews

 

“Funny and heartwarming . . .
Nutcase
is good therapy—prescribed for reading to relieve stress.”

—
Long and Short Reviews

 

“Witty and charming and thought provoking and downright hysterical at times. I highly recommend it.”

—
Night Owl Romance
(Top Pick)

 

“Charlotte Hughes once again delivers hysterical, lightning-fast dialogue and witty, irreverent characters that make
Nutcase
the best book I have read in a while . . . Way better than therapy,
Nutcase
is a great tactic for readers looking to spend an hour or two on the couch improving their mental health.”—
Romance Junkies

 

“Hughes doesn’t disappoint in throwing the readers directly into the action . . . [This] series is exceptionally entertaining in its own right. Hughes offers an exaggerated story line and zany cast of characters that readers will find hilarious from the first page.”—
Suspense Magazine

 

“This raucous roller-coaster ride is filled with fun . . . Besides the belly laughs, there are numerous plot twists in this lighthearted romp.”—
Manic Readers

 

“A fun entry in a diverting series.”—
On My Bookshelf

 

“Charlotte Hughes has done it again . . . Kate Holly is truly one of my favorite heroines.”

—
The Romance Readers Connection

 

“The writing has a great mixture of drama, passion, and terrific humor . . . Really, really good reading.”

—
Romance Reviews Magazine

 

“A novel you can’t put down . . . Charlotte Hughes writes incredibly realistic dialogue, makes her characters always three-dimensional, and most important, makes them so likable and interesting that you are sorry the book ends.”

—
LibraryThing

 

 

What Looks Like Crazy

“With her trademark characters, Hughes pens a fast-moving story about a shrink whose life careens from dealing with patients to coping with family . . . a fun formula.”

—
Romantic Times

 

“You cannot go wrong with Charlotte Hughes’
What Looks Like Crazy.
”—
Novel Talk

 

“Absolutely hilarious! . . . Quirky . . . thought provoking . . . I am hoping for a sequel!”

—
The Romance Readers Connection

 

“Will make the readers laugh out loud.”—
Eye on Romance

 

Hot Shot

 

“A tough-talking, in-your-face heroine . . . romantic comedy at its best.”

—Janet Evanovich,
New York Times
bestselling author

 

“One of the best books of the year . . . every wonderful character created by Charlotte Hughes is outstanding.”

—
Affaire de Coeur
(five stars)

 

“A delightful read with very real characters readers can relate to and root for.”—
Romantic Times

 

 

A New Attitude

“An appealing romance filled with charm and snappy dialogue.” —
Booklist

 

“With well-crafted characters and delightful banter, this is just plain fun!”—
Romantic Times

 

 

Valley of the Shadow

“Hughes’s snappy dialogue and strong writing aptly describe the small Southern town and its attitude toward a girl corrupted by the big city . . . An entertaining and fast-paced murder mystery.”—
Publishers Weekly

 

 

And After That, the Dark

“One of the Southern thrillers that never lets up and makes you unable to put it down. It’s exciting enough to even give terror a good name. Charlotte Hughes is the real thing.”—Pat Conroy,
New York Times
bestselling author

 

“This story and its characters will remain with you long after you’ve turned the last page.”

—Janet Evanovich,
New York Times
bestselling author

WHAT LOOKS LIKE CRAZY
NUTCASE
HIGH ANXIETY

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

HIGH ANXIETY

 

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Jove mass-market edition / January 2010

Copyright © 2010 by Charlotte Hughes.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-15957-6

 

JOVE®
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
JOVE® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “J” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

 

My name is
Kate Holly. I’m a clinical psychologist. My patients think I’m normal. If I’ve told them once, I’ve told them a thousand times: There is
no such thing
as normal.

For example: I’m obsessive-compulsive. It started when I was ten years old, shortly after the death of my father, a fireman who never made it out of a burning building. To keep from thinking about it, I began counting things because I was really good at counting. While riding in the car I counted telephone poles and the yellow dashes in the center of the road. I also did multiplication tables in my head, taught to me by my grandfather, who was a math teacher.

So I discovered early on that numbers were safer than words, because there are some words a person should never have to hear.

I’m thirty-two years old now, and I still count things. Lately, I’ve caught myself washing my hands more than I should. I have tried to stop, but so far I can’t quiet the urge. I’m hoping it’s just a stage I’m going through.

My patients don’t know that I can be as neurotic as they are. Case in point: Despite losing my father to the Fire Gods, I did what I swore I’d never do: I married a firefighter. The only excuse I have is that I fell so hard and fast for the man that I completely lost my head.

Jay Rush is and will always be the love of my life, but the three years we lived together as man and wife weren’t easy. Because I’m OCD, I practically lived on the Inter-net, where I was able to keep up with how many firemen were injured, maimed, or killed in the U.S. every year. I set up Google Alerts so I would receive updates. I drove myself up the wall and took Jay with me. I pleaded and begged for him to give up firefighting, but I may as well have been talking to a deaf warthog for all the good it did. So the first time he became injured, I packed my bags and left.

We are now trying to work things out. I think I’ve come a long way. I did not freak out when he received another injury six weeks ago. I nursed him back to health. We were supposed to celebrate his full recovery that very night because he was returning to work the following morning. We’d planned dinner at our favorite restaurant, followed by lots of hot sex at my place. Only, I’d gotten sidetracked at the last minute by agreeing to sit in on an anger management group session for a colleague. And on a Sunday, to boot!

My best friend and receptionist, Mona Epps, had insisted on coming with me when I’d called to bitch and moan about it. She and her much younger boyfriend had broken up, and Mona did not like spending evenings alone. We were presently parked across the street from St. Francis Catholic Church in midtown Atlanta, where the session was to be held. The neighborhood was lower-income. Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone, but some of the residents hadn’t bothered to take down their lights. Mona’s custom Jaguar didn’t exactly blend in. She was probably the only receptionist in Atlanta who owned a Jag, not to mention a limo and a mansion with more square feet than a Walmart Supercenter, thanks to her much older late husband, Henry Epps, who’d been filthy rich.

Mona had her high-powered binoculars trained on the parking lot of St. Francis, where the members of the anger management group were arriving.

“Those people look dangerous,” she said, breaking into my thoughts.

“They’re not dangerous,” I told her. “They just have problems expressing their anger in a healthy manner.”

“If it were me, I’d pull a no-show.”

“I can’t do that. I promised Ruth.” Ruth Melvin was the colleague who’d called from the airport. Her mother had suffered a light stroke, and Ruth was flying home. I couldn’t say no. “I’m curious,” I said. “Why do you keep binoculars in your car?”

She looked at me. “Don’t ask.”