Jamie Farrell's Blog, page 29

The Very Most Important Gift-Getting Rule Of The Holiday Season

Darth Reindeer is laying down the holiday law

Today, I’m imparting some much-needed wisdom about the etiquette of holiday gift-getting, inspired by a childhood and a marriage fraught with men who need this rule in writing and on their calendars. You might also know a woman or two who needs to hear it. And I’m speaking out now, because last year, dear hubby made the ultimate gift-getting faux pas (yes, even worse than forgetting to say Thank you), but last year I didn’t have a website and blog, so this year will have to be soon enough.

This is my story.

A year ago, the hubby left for a month-long trip to Africa. And I got so excited, not because I was happy that he was leaving me with a four-year-old and a one-year-old while I was seven months pregnant, and not because I had an impending 12-hour drive to make by myself to visit family for Thanksgiving, but because I had an entire month to shop for and hide his super-cool Christmas present while he would be without good internet access and therefore unlikely to check the credit card statement, and therefore unlikely to notice that I’d gone overboard in getting him exactly what I knew he wanted.

Soon after he left, I dropped my kids at the sitter, drove to the store, waddled my pregnant belly all the way back to the electronics department, and I picked out a snazzy new iPad for him. And I had heart palpitations, and possibly a contraction or six, because I never spend that much money without talking to him first, but he works hard and he’s a good dad and he’s a good husband, and so I was going to be the Best Wife In The World and surprise him Christmas morning with the Best Present Ever. He would be so overjoyed at my thoughtfulness, at my willingness to splurge on him when he knows my miserly ways, that he would give me back rubs and make me hot chocolate and magically trade places with me so that he could have my C-section for me when Buttercup was due.

But really, the best thing would be watching him unwrap it Christmas morning. There’s a special joy in surprising someone with exactly what they want, exactly when they’re not expecting it. it makes gift-giving joyous for everyone.

He got home from Africa ten days before Christmas. The iPad was wrapped and stashed, and I’d been practicing my game face for weeks, because I’m nearly as bad at keeping a secret as I am at spending a big chunk of money without cross-checking with him first. I had even convinced myself that any variations in my game face could be blamed on Braxton-Hicks contractions. I was ready for this challenge.

Except I wasn’t anticipating the sneak attack at 4 AM the next morning.

Since the hubby was still on Africa time, he couldn’t sleep. And since I was massively pregnant, I wasn’t doing so good on that score either. So at 4 AM, I rolled over and found him staring at his phone.

“So,” he said, completely and utterly (and ignorantly) obnoxiously, “I think I’m going to run to the BX today and see if they have any iPads in stock.”

There it was. Four AM, nine days before Christmas, and he told me he was going to head out and buy his own present.

That I had already bought him.

And wrapped.

And stashed with all the kids’ Santa presents.

My parents had even helped – they’d sent along his favorite screen protector, since we all knew he’d want it, and that was wrapped and stashed with the kids’ presents as well.

I gaped at him. “Are you kidding me?” I said.

That’s all I said. I may have added, “It’s 4 AM and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

And I completely forgot to breathe and clutch my stomach and say, “Whoops, there’s another of those pesky fake contractions.”

My game face was gone, and my Christmas present for him was ruined.

Hubby knew it too. He knew he’d been told what-for, and that man didn’t say the word “iPad” again for the next nine days.

Because he knew he’d made one of the the fatal errors of the holiday season. (And trust me, you do not want to make fatal holiday errors when your wife is 8 months pregnant, because you’re likely to end up unwrapping socks and a ginormous honey-do list and an Elf on the Shelf while she unwraps your fancy-dancy iPad and keeps it for herself.)

The moral of the story?

Unless you really like getting snowman poop and reindeer droppings for the holidays (and those are probably two of your more attractive options), don’t buy yourself things after holiday shopping season has begun. Let someone else have the joy of making you happy. In fact, just the other morning, a reminder popped up on our calendar exactly to that effect.

The world can always use more happy, especially at the holidays, so let someone surprise you this year.

‘Fess us. Have you ever broken this rule? (Hey, I’m human too. And I see all those ads. I get tempted to buy what I really want too. It’s okay. Today’s really about forgiving ourselves and letting go of past mistakes.) Or have you ever had this rule broken against you?

Fun Times at the Marine Corp Birthday Ball

Over the years, the hubby has taken me to a number of formal Air Force functions, but this weekend, he took me to a Marine Corp Birthday Ball, and I can tell you one very important thing:

Marines know how to throw a party.

They had a chocolate mountain. (Yes, mountain. Though it was so popular that late-comers to cocktail hour (like us) got to see it as chocolate foothills instead.) The hugest birthday cake I’ve ever seen in person. (It was the size of my kitchen table, they cut the first piece with a sword, and it was delicious.) Red and white wine on the table. Roses. An ice sculpture. Men in mess dress (which is the uniform equivalent of a tuxedo). (Swoon!!)

What’s not to love?

And–bonus–it was the perfect excuse to spoil myself with a manicure and pedicure (and I am rocking this red sparkle gel nail polish still today).

Military balls are a lot of fun. They start with cocktail hour, which is a great opportunity to ooh and ahh over all the sharp uniforms and pretty formal dresses. Then there’s the “show” portion of the evening: A welcome from the master of ceremonies, the presentation of the colors, introduction of the special guests, and then, one of the most poignant moments–the POW/MIA ceremony.

The POW/MIA (Prisoner of War/Missing in Action) ceremony involves an empty chair at a table set for one to honor and remember members of the military who are no longer able to celebrate with their comrades, and it gives me a lump in my throat every time I see it.

Sometimes the guests speak before dinner, sometimes after. And after dinner and dessert, there’s dancing.

The hubby and I can’t remember the last time we got all dolled up for a date and went out dancing. We had a lot of fun. And we were somewhat coordinated (for an engineer and a recovering engineer), and we had our pictures taken, and we made new friends and ran into old friends, and we got home later than we’ve gotten home from anything since we had kids.

Hubby says we’re going every year from now on.

I am in full support of this plan. And maybe next year, I’ll remember my camera.

 

Bliss in Pictures

I’m getting super excited about The Husband Games. The book is still a few months out, but look what I found! The Bridal Retailers Association of Bliss put together this little promotional video about the town. Enjoy!

 

 

I don’t know about you, but it makes me want to plan a wedding in Bliss.

(And doesn’t it make you wonder how a divorced single mother would fit in?)

Sign up for my newsletter to be the first to hear when The Husband Games is available, and in the meantime, swing by my monthly contest page to enter to win a signed copy of Southern Fried Blues! The giveaway is open all month, and you can enter every day!

 

(Yes, yes, Bliss and the Bridal Retailers Association are figments of my imagination, but they feel real to me, so I give them credit for the video.)

Weekend Getaway Reads

A couple weeks back, I took a mental vacation here on the blog. Today, in preparation for the weekend (it really is coming!), I’m suggesting some of my favorite books to go with my favorite places. If you’re looking for something to escape with (and you’ve already read Southern Fried Blues), why not give one of these a try?

To go with Montana -

My One and Only by Kristan Higgins.

I absolutely adore Kristan Higgins. She has such a fun voice, and her characters are people I’d want to be friends with. She’s my go-to author anytime I need a story that will make me laugh and cry. My One and Only partially takes place in Glacier National Park, so it totally gets a nod here.

By Proxy by Katy Regnery is another great choice. By Proxy is a sweet story about a small-town Montana school teacher and a big city guy who are standing in for their friends for a proxy wedding. Totally cute set-up, and it made me smile and tear up in a lot of places.

 

Next up is London!

How To Dance With a Duke by Manda Collins is a fabulous, exciting read with a smart heroine and a wonderful hero. I loved the history of the Egyptian Club, and I also love that Manda gave Amelia Snow her own story to redeem her (which you should also check out!). If you like your historical romance with some mystery and intrigue, Manda is your gal! And one of her latest books, Why Dukes Say I Do, was nominated yesterday for an RT Reviewer’s Choice award!

 

Awakening His Duchess by Katy Madison is mostly set in the English countryside, but I’m including it here anyway because it’s a fabulous read with a hero who has returned home from the dead to discover the woman he fell in love with and assumed had him murdered in Saint-Domingue has moved into his ancestral home with the son he never knew he had. Great book!

And a bonus London book that I recently read - Knowing the Score by Kat Latham. Hello, hot rugby hero! Hot and funny and sweet–all the best a hero has to offer. I adored Spencer Bailey, and I liked Caitlyn Sweeney enough to not hate her for getting to keep him at the end of the book. (That is high praise, for the record, when I can sacrifice a book boyfriend for the heroine.)

 

And now for Alaska:

Off the top of my head, Janet Evanovich’s Manhunt is the only romance I can recall reading that’s set in Alaska. And it’s classic Evanovich – funny and fast-paced and fun. If you need a giggle and inspiration to snuggle under a blanket this weekend, pick this one up.

And while The Ghost Exterminator may not be set in Alaska, its author, Vivi Andrews, is from Alaska! She’s an RWA Golden Heart-winning author, an RT Reviewer’s Choice nominee, and also a very sweet person.

 

Then we move on to Toronto:

Flying Blind by Deborah Cooke isn’t set in Toronto or Niagara Falls, but Deborah is a Toronto writer, and she never disappoints. Flying Blind is the first in a young adult trilogy about dragon shape-shifters, and it’s related to Deborah’s Dragonfire novels. She also writes historicals and contemporaries, and they’re all fabulous.

And now I’m totally cheating, because there’s nothing related to Toronto or Niagara Falls in Tracy March’s Tempted in the Tropics, but it’s cold here in Alabama today, and I’m hearing reports of snow in Canada, and Tempted in the Tropics will definitely warm you up. It’s a sweet romance set in St. Lucia and I just loved it.

 

And our last mental vacation week destination was Ireland.

I was in the middle of Karen Marie Moning’s Darkfever series when we hit Ireland. And about all I can say about this is, this series is amazing. If you haven’t read it, you should. Start with Darkfever, and be prepared to sacrifice a few days of laundry and dishes and getting out of your pajamas. It’s that good.

 

If you took a mental vacation (or a real one!), where would you go and what would you read?

Happy Veteran’s Day

Grab a tissue.

Conversations With A Homebrewer

Hubby’s Mash (thing number… what are we on?), which is the precursor to Hubby’s Wort

Hubby’s a homebrewer, and he’s made a few batches of beer the last couple weekends. He’s seriously dedicated – no kits for hubby, he does it all from scratch, making his yeast grow in a beaker on the counter (thing number one I never thought I’d say about my husband), grinding his own grains (thing number two I never thought I’d say about my husband), re-engineering a freezer to use it as an appropriately temperature-controlled fermentation chamber (thing number three… you get the point.).

In Florida, we had a compost bin where he’d toss his spent grains after making his wort (thing number four…), but at our new assignment, no such luck. So he’s started getting creative on ways to be environmentally friendly with his beer waste (are we at five?), which led to the following conversation:

Hubby’s Spent Grains

Hubby: “I’m saving some of the spent grains to make bread.”

Me: “Oh, neat.”

We both eyeball a cooler full of like 25 cups of spent grains.

Him: “I don’t think I can make that many loaves of bread. Do you know any farmers who need slop for their pigs?”

Me:

Him: “Or we could make dog biscuits.”

Me: “Did you just say you’re going to make bread for me and our children with the same stuff you’d use for pig slop and dog biscuits?”

Him: “What’s wrong with that?”

We’re nothing if not adventurous, though, so we tried making the bread. It turned out grainy (shocking, right?), and I didn’t put enough flour in it, but I’d definitely try it again!

p.s. Hubby’s going to brew me up a special batch of beer to go along with The Husband Games! Isn’t that nifty?

 

Dreaming The Night Away

I’ve had lucid dreams as long as I can remember, though they’ve slowed down some since we moved. But in the last week, I’ve realized something weird.

Most of my dreams involve transportation.

Take last week’s dreams, for example. Monday night, I dreamed I was flying in a forest (like, the forest was on the airplane) with Luke Bryan (why yes, I do love my dreams some nights) and he was trying to dig a crop circle/fire pit in the forest plane. (Don’t ask. I can’t explain that part. I just tell it like I dreamed it.) Then Wednesday night, I dreamed my van broke down and I bought a Chevy Cavalier for $13,000 to replace my swagger wagon. And then I promptly had heart palpitations because my three kids will not fit in a Chevy Cavalier (which was my first car, though not how it looked in my dream–in my dream, it had really cool headlights and a funky grill smile like it was an extra in the movie Cars).

I have dreams that I’m flying quite often, either in planes, or simply by flapping my arms and soaring above the trees. In my favorite flying dream ever, I whipped my blow-up airplane out of my backpack and assembled it on the fly (yeah, pun intended) while the bad guys were chasing us, and then, when we got airborne, I realizes we were flying in an inflatable plane. And there were bullets coming at us. But this was Jamie Dream Land, so I looked at my companions as we approached the alien mother ship and said, “It’s okay, I can control the bullets with my mind.”

(Side note: Sometimes people ask me if I want to write in genres other than contemporary romance, and the truth is, I really don’t. Isn’t that weird?)

(Other side note: Yes, yes. I know. This whole blog post is weird. Moving right along…)

So. Is anybody good with dream interpretation? Best I can come up with is that my life is always in a state of flux, and being a military wife, that makes a lot of sense. But is there something more I should look at?

Do you think your dreams can tell you things? Do you remember yours?

p.s. Don’t forget to go enter my monthly giveaway!

p.p.s. There’s still time to enter to win a copy of Southern Fried Blues at So Many Reads, too, where Amy’s interviewing Anna and Jackson!

A Magic Southern Luncheon

Confession: Until two days ago, I had never been to a reader luncheon.

Now?

Now I want to go to them all!

Saturday was the Southern Magic Romance Writers Reader Luncheon, and I knew it was going to be something special when the parking garage entrance broke as soon as I pulled up, and the alternate garage entrance was blocked by the end of a 5K race in Birmingham, and then I had a phone malfunction while trying to call for help because I’m embarrassingly technologically-challenged when it comes to hands-free earbuds.

You know the luncheon is going to be magic when you have to do the Parking Garage Shimmy to be allowed entrance. (It’s like the Rain Dance, except you’re praying to the parking garage gods.) (Sorry, no pictures. I was too busy talking to the police.) (Don’t worry about that police bit. It was all good. I flashed him a romance novel and he shut down the 5K so the line of romance writers in their cars could get into the other garage entrance.) It’s like you’re earning your good time. And considering how much work the organizers put into the luncheon (HUGE kudos to the luncheon committee and volunteers!!!), using my superpowers against the parking garage was a piece of cake.

But back to the luncheon!

It’s Kelsey and me and our author basket stuffed full with goodies! (Yes, I’m wearing a tiara. Munchkin made me.)

It was fabulous. There were at least two hundred women and men there (probably three hundred even!), some authors, all readers. I ran into friends I hadn’t seen in years (like Susan Carlisle, whose relatives own a nursery I used to go to before we moved, and Tanya Michaels, who is a fabulous lady who once helped me hone a pitch at a conference, and my friend Denise, a fellow writer whose story is in the top fifty of Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest!). I also co-hosted a table with my wonderful friend and amazing critique partner, Kelsey Browning. (I have failed you all, because I didn’t get a picture of Kelsey’s boots.)

You know what’s at a reader lunch?

Books. Tons and tons of beautiful books! And baskets. Raffle baskets and giveaway baskets galore. At least a hundred baskets. At least. All for the winning by all the lovely readers.

Kelsey’s and my table – aren’t Kelsey’s covers fabulous?! Our readers got some great treats in their table gifts!

Also amazing speakers and hilariously fun videos and slide shows of heroes and romance writers in their native and not-so-native environments. (And next year? Next year Sylvia Day is the keynote speaker! Mark your calendars for the first weekend in November now!!)

A lot of other people have better pictures than I do and their own stories to tempt you too. Like Larynn Ford, Librarian JuJu, M.V. Freeman, Shiloh Walker, and the fabulous Barbara Vey. (Plus there are the Dark Knight Photography pictures, which are fantastic and really captured the event well!)

If you’ve never been to a reader luncheon or all-out reader event, find your nearest one and go!

And just so you don’t have to hunt for one near you yourself, I’ve done the work for you. Check this list out, and see if any of them are near you, and go! You won’t regret it.

Luncheons:

Heart of Louisiana’s Annual Romance Reader Luncheon (This year’s is November 16 – less than 2 weeks away, and Maya Banks is their keynote speaker!)

Barbara Vey’s Annual Reader Appreciation Lunch (Every April in Milwaukee)

Heart of Dixie’s Annual Reader Luncheon (Every May or June in northern Alabama)

Colorado Romance Writers’ Romance Lover Tea (I think the first one was last month – don’t know if this is an annual thing, but I hope so!)

(Somebody please tell me I’m missing a few, because reader luncheons are FABULOUS!)

Whole weekend events:

RomFest near Knoxville, Tennesee (a whole weekend in March!!)

The Novel Experience Event in Atlanta (the last weekend in March, and I’m crossing fingers I’ll know soon if I can register for this!)

The Romantic Times Booklovers Convention (The mother of all reader events, in New Orleans in May in 2014)

RomCon in Denver (A great reader event in June)

Authors After Dark (In Charlotte, NC for August 2014)

Arizona Dreamin’ (The last weekend in May)

Readers ‘n’ Ritas (Sponsored by Fresh Fiction, and it’s November 8-10. In other words, THIS WEEKEND! If you’re in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, check it out ASAP!)

The DFW Tea Readers Group annual Boas & Tiaras (In June)

Hot Mojave Knights Romance Reader Event (Just had their first one in Las Vegas this past October)

Lori Foster’s Reader & Author Get Together (In June in Ohio, and this one’s on my dream list!)

*phew*

So many fun things to do! Hope you find one near you!

Did I miss any? Let me know in the comments, and I’ll add it!

The Deleted Iron Bowl Scene from Southern Fried Blues

Thanks to everyone who told their friends to stop by and like my facebook page. We hit our goal!

So as promised, here is a very, very early (unedited) draft of an ultimately deleted scene with Anna and Jackson (and a couple others) at the Iron Bowl, the annual football game between Alabama and Auburn. You might recognize a few bits and pieces that filtered into the final story in different places.

(After reading this draft, my critique partners suggested I de-Southernize Jackson and Louisa a bit. I reckoned they had a point, and the Jackson and Louisa you see in Southern Fried Blues today are what resulted from their feedback.)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Football in Minnesota was usually a frigid affair, so tailgating in short sleeves with a chilled beverage in hand felt a little wrong to Anna. But the levels of body paint were about the same, though the blue-and-orange college kids here probably had no idea how lucky they were not to have to worry about frostbite in unfortunate places.

They’d been set up in the back of Craig’s big, shiny truck, trading barbs about Bama and Auburn with the occasional insult aimed at Minnesota for less than ten minutes when Louisa suddenly darted out of her seat and past a clump of kids practicing their War Eagle yell to another group of kids under an Auburn tent. She wrapped herself around a mangy-looking guy that Anna pegged as a sixth-year liberal arts major who still lived with his parents.

Both Jackson and Craig straightened from their positions over the grill. They exchanged one of those silent male looks, probably unnecessary since Jackson’s Bama attire already labeled him as the Bad Cop, but when they moved toward baby sister, Anna latched onto Jackson’s arm. “Wrong move.”

His jaw was locked, eyes squinting blue flame in the direction of the young couple. “That asshole’s molesting my sister.”

Anna barely held back a grin. It was cute when he cussed. “Kinda think you’ve got it backwards, bub.” She tugged on his arm again. “Sit. If she knows it bothers you, she’ll keep him around longer. Besides, he could be one of those brilliant computer kids who has the next Google tucked up in his dorm room. He could be the answer to her prayers.”

Jackson reared back and stared down at her like she’d lost her mind.

She choked trying not to laugh. “Or maybe not,” she admitted.

Louisa was dragging the kid over, the gleam in her eyes all the proof Anna needed she was just trying to get her brothers’ goats. “Jackson. Craig.” She paused, and as an afterthought, added, “Anna.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “This is Stone.”

Anna leaped forward before either of the men could. “Stone! It’s so great to meet you.” She pumped his hand, noticing the intricate angel wings inked on his forearm. “Love your tattoo. Did you design that?”

He tossed his bangs back and looked down his nose at her. “It’s henna.” His voice came out nasal and just a little high-pitched, as if puberty had slightly missed its mark.

“He paints them on himself,” Louisa said.

“Oh, wow, are there more?”

Jackson even managed to elbow her out of the way like a gentleman. “Stone.” With a flick of a glance in Anna’s direction, he shook hands with the younger man. Neither of them flinched, and they broke the shake too soon for it to have been a silent shake-wrestle. Craig gave Anna a curious glance, then followed suit with the simple handshake.

Louisa seemed dumbfounded. She jiggled from foot to foot, gnawing on her lower lip.

“Pull up a chair,” Jackson said. “Got lots of food.”

“We was plannin’ on eatin’ over there with the free-thinkers,” Louisa said.

A vein pulsed in Jackson’s neck. “Well, if’n they ain’t got enough to eat, come on back.”

Stone’s gaze flicked down to Jackson’s shirt. “Hope you don’t get beat up.”

“Ain’t too worried,” Jackson replied.

Louisa bounced faster. “C’mon, Stone, ‘fore all them good seats get gone.”

“Not good,” Craig sighed as Louisa skipped away, dragging the sedate Stone along with her.

Jackson clapped his Bama hat on and grabbed a spatula out of the back of the truck. “Better be right ‘bout this one, Anna Grace.”

For Louisa’s sake, she hoped she was.

Away from the house and family, Craig turned out to be more engaging than Ann had suspected at first. He and Jackson got along with an easy affability that spoke of a long friendship, which made sense, given their family history. They grilled up burgers over the small charcoal grill, then Jackson pulled a bag of marshmallows and a couple skewers out. “Just for you,” he told Anna with a grin.

All three of them kept glancing down at Louisa and Stone. In the big group, they’d gotten separated, and more than once Anna noticed the poor girl rubbing her foot against the back of her other leg. She couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with her arms, and her interactions with the other free-thinkers appeared short and one-sided. Once, someone from the tent next to theirs stopped to talk to her, and Louisa’s face lit up. Before long, she’d shifted over to join the other group, talking and laughing like a teenage girl at a slumber party beneath a banner of Greek letters.

Anna nudged Jackson. “See? She’ll be okay.”

“Them there’s sorority girls,” he said, not at all convinced.

“Sorority girls aren’t all that bad either,” Anna said with a wink.

He groaned.

Craig just laughed. “Ain’t gonna argue that one.”

By the time the game started, Anna was stuffed and sleepy. But she took her seat in the stands of Jordan-Hare Stadium between Jackson and Louisa, and after the kick-off, found herself on her feet cheering for whoever had the ball.

It was the best compromise, she figured.

Midway through the second quarter, Louisa flopped back into her seat. Auburn was up by fourteen, and apparently she was bored. Jackson hadn’t resorted to cussing yet, but he was surrounded by orange and navy. He’d taken to sighing and groaning a lot though.

Anna took her seat and smiled at Louisa. “You must be loving this,” she said over the roar of the crowd.

Louisa shrugged. “We always win at home. Bama just can’t bring it.”

Jackson glared down at her, then shifted so his back was to them.

Louisa crossed her legs, her foot bouncing up and down. “So you liked Stone.”

Ruh-roh. Dangerous territory. Anna wondered if maybe she needed a flashlight and a safety vest to wade through this one. “His artwork is beautiful. What’s he studying?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Still deciding. He just can’t be boxed in, you know?”

Anna smiled like the words didn’t make her want to jump out of her skin. “Yeah.” She crossed her legs and nudged Louisa’s foot with her toe. “I wish I’d had a Stone back in college.”

“Really?” Suspicion reigned supreme in Louisa’s blue eyes. “You would’ve dated a guy like Stone?”

Anna went for a casual shrug. “If I had to do it over again, probably. I didn’t date much in high school, and then I met my ex-husband pretty early in college. Didn’t really take the time to test the waters, you know what I mean?”

Louisa smirked. “You have no idea what you were missing.”

Ew. Just ew. “Well, I got a second chance.” She smiled brightly, though the words forming in her mind weighed on her heart, each one an anvil stacking atop the others, squeezing happiness from the little muscle like a juicer taking the best part out of an orange. “And I’m not wasting it this time.”

Louisa’s gaze flicked toward her brother’s back. “You guys seem serious.”

“We’re having fun.” Keeping her tone light was as easy as plucking her nosehairs. “But one day, I’ll finish up my masters degree and probably move home, or Jackson will get orders, and that’ll be that. I’m not interested in getting married again, but it’s been really good to remember how a man’s supposed to treat me. My ex-husband wasn’t a brute or anything, but if I’d dated around more, if I’d seen what else was out there, I don’t think we would’ve gotten married. But we did, and then we got divorced, and I get Jackson for now.”

Something prickled the back of her neck, and she glanced up to find Jackson watching her, his expression unpleasantly unreadable.

She tried to smile at him, to silently assure him she was playing Louisa like a fiddle. A referee’s whistle split the air. The crowd roared. Jackson blinked and turned back to the game, shoulders rigid, squeezing his water bottle until the sides caved in.

“Did your sister date around?” Louisa asked once the cheering had dropped to a level where they could yell above it once more.

“Beth?” Anna laughed, the fake sound choking her eardrums. “She got knocked up in high school, married right after graduation, and spit those three boys out before I even had my driver’s license. Then she put them all in daycare and went to dental school. They’re happy, but lordy, they’re going to be in debt until they day they die.”

Louisa picked at some invisible lint on her Auburn t-shirt. “Well, praise Jesus Russ’s payin’ for my schoolin’. And I ain’t ever havin’ kids.”

“Beth wasn’t planning on it either.” Anna gave another shrug and moved to stand. “Just never know what’s going to happen. But it worked out well for her.”

She reached her feet just as the Crimson Tide intercepted a pass. The linebacker with the ball jiggled on his feet, picked a direction, and ran.

And ran.

And dodged and ran.

Right into the end zone.

Jackson pumped a fist in the air, then swooped around and kissed Anna like his team had just won the Super Bowl.

* * *

And the rest of the scene explains who won the Iron Bowl, but since this scene didn’t make it into the final book, I’ll let you decide which team won. Maybe we’ll take a vote on it one of these days.

p.s. Don’t forget to swing by my monthly contest page to enter to win a signed copy of Southern Fried Blues!

p.p.s. If you haven’t read Southern Fried Blues yet, you can pick up your copy at any of the following places!

Ebook:

Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Smashwords

Trade Paperback:

CreateSpace  |  Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble

Your First Glimpse of The Husband Games

So The Husband Games and I are having some issues, but we’ve agreed to seek counseling to get it all worked out. I want to give you guys the best book I’m capable of producing, and I think we’re finally on the right track.

That means I have some deleted and modified-almost-beyond-recognition scenes lurking on my hard drive.

Anybody want to see? Yes?

Then scroll on down for your first glimpse!

(And then stop by my new monthly contest page and enter to win a signed copy of Southern Fried Blues!)

From The Husband Games:

 

CJ left the men to their gossiping and delivered a basket of jalapeño poppers to a little clique that looked like a sorority reunion at one end of the bar, then slid over to Georgie, the remarkable organist and choir director for St. Valentine’s. CJ had had the pleasure of meeting her yesterday morning after going to investigate the sounds of cats being murdered in the church.

Despite her unique talent on the organ, Georgie was a decent sort. She was slender but broad-shouldered, with glasses that she spent more time wiping than wearing. “Hungry, or just thirsty?” he asked her.

“Still deciding.”

A clean-faced girl with a white glob stuck in her curly dishwater hair slid onto the next stool. She looked sort of familiar, though he couldn’t quite place her. Georgie gave her a wincing kind of smile. “Uh, Kimmie…” Georgie fluffed her own tangled brown hair.

It took Kimmie another hint or two before her hair flew to her head. “Oh, pumplegunker.”

Eleven sisters, and he’d never heard that one before. He slid her a napkin. “What can I get you?”

A pink stain spread unevenly up her cheeks, looking almost like a sideways map of Africa on her face. While her fingers worked the goo, she cast a covert glance at the door, then flashed an awkward smile back at him. “I had a dream about you last night,” she said. “You were a llama, but I still knew it was you. You had your name on your trunk.”

And another something none of his sisters had ever said to him.

Pretty sure that was something no human had ever said before. Been a while since anyone had rendered him this kind of speechless.

Georgie slid her glasses back up her nose. “Like a luggage trunk, or an elephant’s trunk?”

“Elephant’s trunk.” Kimmie’s pulled a blob out of her hair and smeared it across the napkin.

CJ scratched his jaw. “Huh.”

“Not that I think you have a big nose,” she said quickly. “Or that anyone would mind if you did. I mean, a person’s more than the size of their nose, right?”

Both women peered over the bar at his crotch, Georgie with more contemplation than he expected of a Catholic organist.

“Size of a person’s heart counts for more,” Jeremy said. He strolled past CJ and grabbed the soda gun.

“Big hearts are important,” CJ agreed. “You ladies know what you want to drink yet?”

“I’ve heard the size of a person’s thumb is a good indicator of their intelligence,” Georgie said.

“I thought it was the size of a person’s chin.”

“No, that’s how you can tell if they’re cheaters or not.”

This, at least, was somewhat familiar. A bunch of women, not making any sense, not answering the question they’d been asked.

But now they were staring at his chin.

Time to go move onto other customers. Really was. “Beer? Soda?” CJ said. “Fried cheese sticks?”

Georgie shot another look at his crotch. “Depends on the size of the cheese stick.”

 

 

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(FYI – Kimmie’s getting her own book, The Wedding Games. So now you’ll know who I’m talking about when I say Kimmie’s story is giving me fits. And poor Georgie has been cut from The Husband Games entirely, but she’s still alive and well in Bliss. Don’t be surprised if she shows up again at some point.)