Ree Drummond
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Ree Drummond isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Recipes from an Accidental Country Girl
8 editions
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published
2008
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Food from My Frontier
7 editions
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published
2011
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The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
39 editions
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published
2011
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Dinnertime: Comfort Classics, Freezer Food, 16-Minute Meals, and Other Delicious Ways to Solve Supper!
11 editions
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published
2015
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Frontier Follies: Adventures in Marriage & Motherhood in the Middle of Nowhere
10 editions
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published
2020
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks: A Year of Holidays
10 editions
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published
2013
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Come and Get It! Simple, Scrumptious Recipes for Crazy Busy Lives
11 editions
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published
2017
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Charlie the Ranch Dog
by
15 editions
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published
2011
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks—Super Easy!: 120 Shortcut Recipes for Dinners, Desserts, and More
3 editions
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published
2021
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The Pioneer Woman Cooks: The New Frontier
5 editions
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published
2019
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“I missed the anonymity-the ability to run to the market without running into my third-grade teacher.
I missed the nightlife-the knowledge that if I wanted to, there was always an occasion to get dressed up and head out for dinner and drinks.
I missed the restaurants-the Asian, the Thai, the Italian the Indian. I was already tired of mashed potatoes and canned green beans.
I missed the culture- the security that comes from being on the touring schedule of the major Broadway musicals.
I missed the shopping-the funky boutiques, the eclectic shops, the browsing.
I missed the city.”
― The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
I missed the nightlife-the knowledge that if I wanted to, there was always an occasion to get dressed up and head out for dinner and drinks.
I missed the restaurants-the Asian, the Thai, the Italian the Indian. I was already tired of mashed potatoes and canned green beans.
I missed the culture- the security that comes from being on the touring schedule of the major Broadway musicals.
I missed the shopping-the funky boutiques, the eclectic shops, the browsing.
I missed the city.”
― The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
“My head rested on his shoulder, my heart rested entirely in his hands And in a whisper, my words escaped: "I love you." He probably hadn't heard them. He was too focused on the movie. But he heard me; I could tell. His arms enveloped me even further; his embrace tightened. He breathed in and sighed, and his hand played with my hair. "Good," he said softly, and his gentle lips found mine.”
― The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
― The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
“Still lying on the ground, half tingly, half stunned, I held my left hand in front of my face and lightly spread my fingers, examining what Marlboro Man had given me that morning. I couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful ring, or a ring that was a more fitting symbol of my relationship with Marlboro Man. It was unadorned, uncontrived, consisting only of a delicate gold band and a lovely diamond that stood up high--almost proudly--on its supportive prongs. It was a ring chosen by a man who, from day one, had always let me know exactly how he felt. The ring was a perfect extension of that: strong, straightforward, solid, direct. I liked seeing it on my finger. I felt good knowing it was there.
My stomach, though, was in knots. I was engaged. Engaged. I was ill-prepared for how weird it felt. Why hadn’t I ever heard of this strange sensation before? Why hadn’t anyone told me? I felt simultaneously grown up, excited, shocked, scared, matronly, weird, and happy--a strange combination for a weekday morning. I was engaged--holy moly. My other hand picked up the receiver of the phone, and without thinking, I dialed my little sister.
“Hi,” I said when Betsy picked up the phone. It hadn’t been ten minutes since we’d hung up from our last conversation.
“Hey,” she replied.
“Uh, I just wanted to tell you”--my heart began to race--“that I’m, like…engaged.”
What seemed like hours of silence passed.
“Bullcrap,” Betsy finally exclaimed. Then she repeated: “Bullcrap.”
“Not bullcrap,” I answered. “He just asked me to marry him. I’m engaged, Bets!”
“What?” Betsy shrieked. “Oh my God…” Her voice began to crack. Seconds later, she was crying.
A lump formed in my throat, too. I immediately understood where her tears were coming from. I felt it all, too. It was bittersweet. Things would change. Tears welled up in my eyes. My nose began to sting.
“Don’t cry, you butthead.” I laughed through my tears.
She laughed it off, too, sobbing harder, totally unable to suppress the tears. “Can I be your maid of honor?”
This was too much for me. “I can’t talk anymore,” I managed to squeak through my lips. I hung up on Betsy and lay there, blubbering on my floor.”
― The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
My stomach, though, was in knots. I was engaged. Engaged. I was ill-prepared for how weird it felt. Why hadn’t I ever heard of this strange sensation before? Why hadn’t anyone told me? I felt simultaneously grown up, excited, shocked, scared, matronly, weird, and happy--a strange combination for a weekday morning. I was engaged--holy moly. My other hand picked up the receiver of the phone, and without thinking, I dialed my little sister.
“Hi,” I said when Betsy picked up the phone. It hadn’t been ten minutes since we’d hung up from our last conversation.
“Hey,” she replied.
“Uh, I just wanted to tell you”--my heart began to race--“that I’m, like…engaged.”
What seemed like hours of silence passed.
“Bullcrap,” Betsy finally exclaimed. Then she repeated: “Bullcrap.”
“Not bullcrap,” I answered. “He just asked me to marry him. I’m engaged, Bets!”
“What?” Betsy shrieked. “Oh my God…” Her voice began to crack. Seconds later, she was crying.
A lump formed in my throat, too. I immediately understood where her tears were coming from. I felt it all, too. It was bittersweet. Things would change. Tears welled up in my eyes. My nose began to sting.
“Don’t cry, you butthead.” I laughed through my tears.
She laughed it off, too, sobbing harder, totally unable to suppress the tears. “Can I be your maid of honor?”
This was too much for me. “I can’t talk anymore,” I managed to squeak through my lips. I hung up on Betsy and lay there, blubbering on my floor.”
― The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels
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Topics Mentioning This Author
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2883 | 1077 | May 31, 2011 09:01PM | |
Cover to Cover Ch...: Christie's 2011 Book List | 12 | 48 | Jul 14, 2011 09:37AM |
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