Jamie Farrell's Blog, page 8

If You Give A Man A Project…

Sunday morning, SuperHubby announced, “I have a project to do.”

I cringed.

“It’s a small project,” he said quickly. “I just might have to run out to the hardware store for a little bit.”

“So what you really mean,” I said, “Is ‘I have a small project that’s actually a large project to do. I’m going to run to the store to pick up everything I think I need, but then when I get home, I’ll discover I’ve actually forgotten the most crucial part I need to complete said project. Much cussing will ensue, and I’ll attempt to finagle the project into submission without going back for said part. More cussing will ensue. Then I’ll get hungry, take a break for lunch, and after the kids are down for nap, I will have forgotten exactly how I was going to finagle said project. So I’ll go back to the store for that last crucial part (and to return three other parts I thought I would need but didn’t), and then I will come home and discover that completing this project has inspired three more projects that need to be completed today, despite me not knowing I had a need for them until this very minute, and I actually needed two of those parts that I returned, plus eighteen more.’”

“Is this like ‘If You Give SuperHubby A Project’?” SuperHubby said.

“Yes. Exactly like that.”

He grinned at me. “You forgot the part about how many beers it’ll take to complete the project.”

Ladies… our husbands. Gotta love ‘em.

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Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

The Annual Southern Magic Book Giveaway Is Back!

Southern Magic brings a special holiday giveaway once more
21 awesome romance books,
swag, and 2 gift cards by 15 of its talented authors

 

Get ready for some of the best romance around
From New Adult to Historical to Erotica
There’s a little bit for everyone

 

One lucky winner will be selected at random
Get ready to swoon the month of December away

 

Don’t delay, enter now!
Or the bustle of the holidays will get in the way

 

Here are the wonderful prizes from the authors participating in this special giveaway
Visit the websites below to learn more

 

Betty Bolte

(“Emily’s Vow” and “Amy’s Choice” Paperback)
Katherine Bone

(“The Rogue’s Prize” Paperback)
Nancee Cain

($25 Gift Card)
Louisa Cornell

(“Christmas Revels” eBook + $15 Gift Card)
Jamie Farrell

(“The Husband Games” Paperback)
Larynn Ford

(“Dreams Do Come True” eBook)
Christine Glover

(“The Maverick’s Red Hot Reunion” Paperback)
Callie James

(“Innocent” and “Student Bodyguard for Hire” Paperback)
Suzanne Johnson

(“Royal Street” Paperback)
Susannah Sandlin

(“Redemption” and “Lovely, Dark, and Deep” Paperback)
Ingrid Seymour

(“The Guys Are Props Club” Paperback)
Naima Simone

(“Secrets and Sins: Raphael” and “Secrets and Sins: Chayot” Paperback)
Carla Swafford

(“Circle of Deception” Paperback)
Peggy Webb

(“The Language of Silence” Paperback)
Meda White

(“Winter Formal”, “Fall Rush”, “Spring Fling” and “Christmas Give” Paperback)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here. 

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Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Jamie vs. Reality

Conversations in a romance writer’s home:

Me: “I’m really busy with the kids today. Not sure when I’ll get back to the manuscript. Which isn’t really a problem, I guess. I left my people making out. They won’t mind if it takes me a few hours or days to finish their scene.”

SuperHubby: “You know they’re not real, right?”

Me: “Oh, but it’s wintertime, and they’re outside, so we might have to worry about frostbite in their extremities if I wait too long to get back to it.”

SuperHubby, sighing and shaking his head: “As long as it’s not the most important extremity.”

In related news, my January novella has a name!! Smittened will be part of the Snowy Days, Steamy Nights anthology. Smittened is set in Bliss and is related to The Battle of The Boyfriends, which will be out later next year! (Psstt… It also has a bad boy Southern hero in it.)

More information soon!

* * *

Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here. 

Join The Feisty Belles, Jamie’s Facebook Fan Group: Click here.

Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Jamie vs. The Halloween Costume

How I know SuperHubby loves me: he surprised me with a new Halloween costume.

Now taking bets on if I can get him into an egg costume.

* * *

Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here. 

Join The Feisty Belles, Jamie’s Facebook Fan Group: Click here.

Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

New Book Tuesday!!

Y’all, I have so many friends with new books out this week! It’s a great day to be a romance reader. But first–a friendly reminder that Christine Glover and I are hosting a reader appreciation event tomorrow on Facebook! Hope you’ll join us and Kelsey Browning, Carmen Falcone, Pam Mantovani, Tracy Solheim, Naima Simone, Carla Swafford, and Zoe York for lots of  fun and prizes to celebrate YOU!

And now on to the books!! If you’re looking for something awesome to read, may I suggest…

The Second Chance Hero by Jeannie Moon

 

Navy combat nurse Kim Torres knew it was a possibility. But she never thought it would happen. She never thought she would cut through a critically wounded Marine’s fatigues only to find her fiancé, Tom Albanese. She never thought he would die in her arms. Or that she’d collapse against his commanding officer when grief overtook her. Fast forward one year, and Major Owen Kent has returned from Afghanistan to take his position as the billionaire CIO of Reliance Software. He’s happy to be home, and everything is business as usual–until he sees Kim Torres, the nurse he saw unravel in the Afghanistan hospital, the woman he could never quite get off his mind. Now Kim is Harper Poole’s nanny, a job she took to get her mind off of her heartbreak, and although she doesn’t recognize Owen at Harper’s Memorial Day barbeque, she feels an instant attraction. Kim hasn’t felt this spark in so long, and Owen is the exact opposite of Tom, who wounded Kim’s heart in more ways than one. But can Kim find it within herself to love–and trust–again?

Get your copy at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

And be sure to stop by Jeannie’s Facebook party to celebrate the release!! I’ll be there, along with Kelsey Browning, Geri Krotow, Jessica Scott, Tracy Solheim, Kristan Higgins, and more!

And speaking of Kelsey Browning, her latest Grannies book, written with Nancy Naigle, is out today!!
 
  Fit To Be Tied by Kelsey Browning and Nancy Naigle

Lillian Summer Fairview is settling right nice into the federal pen. She’s even making peace with Big Martha, the toughest broad on the cellblock.

After hearing Lil’s granny friends recently took down a swindler, Big Martha asks Lil for a favor. Her niece has fallen for a guy she met online, and Martha’s convinced Mr. Too-Good-To-Be-True is up to no good. All Lil’s friends have to do is a little look-see on the guy and report back. But when they poke around, they find the guy doesn’t really exist, and that triggers a wild ride through the world of online dating.

Meanwhile, a cantankerous septic system on Lil’s family estate in Summer Shoals, GA has the grannies fit to be tied. If Summer Haven isn’t in shipshape before the historic society’s inspection, they’ll be in deep you-know-what.

Big Martha sweetens the deal by promising to fix what ails Summer Haven if the grannies can find the elusive Romeo.

Will the grannies track him down before the inspection, or will they find themselves in trouble right up to their granny panties?

Get your copy at: Amazon

 

 

No Time Like Forever by Zoe York

It started with a kiss…

Mari Beadie needed a boyfriend, and former NHL hockey star Chase Miller happened to be in the right place at the right time. The kiss that followed wasn’t necessary, strictly speaking, but it sure was hot.

Hot enough that when the tables are turned, Chase knows just the pretty bartender to ask to be his pretend girlfriend. Only this time, it’s not a one-time deal.

Get your copy at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

 

 

 

Holiday at Magnolia Bay by Tracy Solheim

After a mission goes terribly wrong, ending in the death of a teammate, Navy Seal, Drew Lanham, is forced to take a leave from active-duty. Retreating to his godmother’s beach house in coastal Magnolia Bay, Drew plans to spend the three weeks R&R licking his wounds and catching some rays while the nightmares from his failed op fade. The last thing he wants to do is mingle with the locals. What he doesn’t count on is an early morning encounter with a goddess rising from the sea. His interest is piqued and his body put on alert when he finds out that same woman may or may not be after his godmother’s money.

Marine biologist, Jenna Huntley, has been searching her whole life for a place to call home and Magnolia Bay is that place. Unfortunately, she’s under utilizing her education giving tours at the town’s turtle rescue center. With the help of an octogenarian patroness, she maps out a proposal to develop a turtle hatchery on-site. Everything is going as planned until the older woman’s godson arrives. Suddenly, nothing is as it seems and Jenna’s future is hanging in the balance, with a sexy warrior pulling all the strings. Her natural tendency is to help the damaged hero, but she’s sworn off letting military men in her life ever again.

Get your copy at: Amazon

And a couple deals for you–

Daisy Prescott’s Missionary Position is on sale for $0.99, and Ava Miles’s Dare Valley Box Set. No idea how long either deal will last, though, so get yours quick! Happy reading, y’all!

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Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here. 

Join The Feisty Belles, Jamie’s Facebook Fan Group: Click here.

Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

A Year of Happy Mondays, the Monday Edition

Y’all, I’m falling behind here on my Mondays. So I need y’all to leave a comment with what’s made YOU happy lately, so I can use it next week.

(And do make sure you read all the way down to #2. My personal favorite is #5 (or maybe #6 – that was really cute), but I think you’ll like #2 better.)

In the meantime, here’s what’s making me smile this Monday:

10. Overheard at breakfast: “Do you have a tuba in your bottom?”

9. “Mommy, now that I’m in Cub Scouts, I want to have a little piece of cape to celebrate.” (Note: he was actually asking for cake, but SuperHubby and I both misheard.)

8. Overheard while the boys were playing Legos: “She’s so pretty!” (said falsetto.) “I HAVE A WEAPON!!” (said in deep Squeaker voice.)

7. “It feels like foam is on my feet right now.” (I really can’t even begin to explain this.)

6. Watching Buttercup attempt to kiss the cats on the lips. (Do cats have lips?)

5. Southern Fried Blues hitting the top 100 overall lists at both Amazon and Barnes & Noble last week, including topping the Military Romance list at Amazon. (Y’all. THANK YOU!!!)

 

4. This conversation: Me: “Munchkin, now you need to drink like a Cub Scout too.”

SuperHubby: “Boy Scouts don’t drink!”

Me: “WATER. The boy needs to drink more water.”

SuperHubby: “Oh. Right. Yeah, Cub Scouts drink lots of water.”

3. I had a dream my grandma remembered me. (Yes, this is sad, but I was very, very happy in my dream.)

2. I accepted an invitation to participate in a winter anthology. So, NEW BOOK COMING IN JANUARY!!! It’s a novella set in Bliss that runs concurrently with The Battle of The Boyfriends (coming 2015), and I’ll have more details soon! (p.s. If the blogging is a little scarce for the next couple months, those two books are why. But I figure y’all would rather have me writing the books.)

1. It’s salted caramel hot chocolate season at Starbucks. **happy flails!!**

Hope y’all have a fabulous week!

* * *

Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here. 

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Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

A Year of Happy Mondays – More Farrell Kid Delights

If it’s Monday, it must be time for me to share the top ten hilarious things my kids did this past week. Hope y’all have a great one!!

10. Buttercup decided toothbrushes were one-use items and has been throwing hers away every morning. (This is about to get very expensive.)

9. As I was helping Squeaker get ready for nap time, he looked at me and shrieked, “Mama! Get out of the lauver!” (Yes, “lauver.”) Eventually I realized he was talking about the lava river flowing out from beneath his bed, so we all huddled up on his bed until it was safe to walk on the floor again.

8. Munchkin has discovered the joy of composing songs. “Shake your butt, baby! Shake your butt, baby!” I think I need to investigate who he’s been hanging out with at school…

7. Squeaker mistook soapy water for milk.

6. Buttercup drove a fire truck cart through the grocery store while wearing her brother’s camouflage jacket and her glitter pink heart sunglasses.

5. Munchkin taught Squeaker the phrase, “I am not programmed to…” And then we fill in the blank. Munchkin is “not programmed to do the dishes.” Squeaker is “not programmed to take a shower.” Buttercup is “Me too!!”

4. When SuperHubby sneezed, Buttercup said, “Bess-oo, Daddy,” completely unprompted. (Cutest thing ever.)

3. Squeaker: “Mama, when I’m done with my Spiderman cup, can I get a Barbie cup?” (Note: Since when does Squeaker know what Barbies are?)

2. You know how kids yell, “Superman to the rescue!”? The other night at dinner, Squeaker launched into his battle cry, but his version went like this: “Peter butter and jelly to the sandwich!” (Yes, he calls peanut butter “peter butter.” It’s adorable.)

1. Buttercup tricked me into kissing her booger.

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Hey, y’all!! Southern Fried Blues is on sale for $0.99 this week only!!  Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Sign up for Jamie’s newsletter: Click here. 

Join The Feisty Belles, Jamie’s Facebook Fan Group: Click here.

Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

 

Throwback Thursday, Gran’s Booty Style

Hey, y’all!! Who’s ready for some Stealing Gran’s Booty, chapter five of my long-lost contemporary pirate treasure hunt romance from the days when I was but a wee writer learning to tell a story?

If you’re just joining us, you can start with chapter one here, or catch up with chapter two here, chapter three here, and chapter four here! And onward with the treasure hunt!

Stealing Gran’s Booty, Chapter Five

West scanned the hillside, searching out palm trees amongst the pine. Efficiently combing the island was impossible. Even if he could walk a straight line without dodging bushes and thickets of weeds, the mind games were hell. A lethargic firebush sparked memories of the skinny kid he’d been, spending his summers sword fighting anemic azalea pirates with a broom handle so one day he could get Charlie’s treasure back. The subtle perfume of tropical flowers smelled like the girl who’d relieved him of his virginity, then refused his invitation to homecoming. He was always good enough for a screw, but never for Daddy’s approval.

Charlie’s voice boomed through his mind again. You expect any better, boy? Only difference between them rich folks and us poor folks is we get to be their dirty secret and pay for it, too.

West pulled his shirt out of his waistband and mopped his forehead. The map said he was in the right part of the island, but the damn palm tree wasn’t here. He’d been searching since he got of the phone with Sheila and had nothing to show for it but a few scrapes and bruises. It was like the island was leading him in circles. Get in, get the treasure, get out. Right. He should’ve told Sheila to get her ass out here and do it herself. She could out-bitch this island with her mouth shut.

West froze. Speaking of bitching. Voices wafted up the hill. He didn’t pause to wonder what had possessed those women to take a nature hike. This was confirmation of what his gut had been telling him all day.

A quick scan of the scenery revealed a thicker clump of bushes up the hill. He shifted the backpack on his tired shoulders and pushed through the weariness in his legs and lower back to climb a little higher. Stepping gingerly through the mass of weeds and brush, he picked his way to the very center of the grove and ducked down. He stashed his backpack beneath him and flattened himself against the rocky ground to peer through the foliage. Time to see how the womenfolk’s day was going.

He didn’t have to wait long. The voices grew louder, all female, most of them whiny. Bits of conversation drifted to his ears. “I’m tired…” “Xena’s paws hurt… “…been at this all day…”

The women came into view below. Buttercup and the blond flanked the ancient one while the middle aged one huffed behind them. Xena plodded along on the blond’s heels, her tail dragging on the ground. Dumb dog would probably sniff out West’s hiding spot, but he still felt sorry for it.

The ancient one stopped. She pointed as she bounced on her heels. Pretty spry for a saggy old thing. “There be a crooked tree! We be finding Texas for sure this time.”

Despite suspecting as much, hearing her say it sent fire through his veins. Of course they were here to steal Charlie’s treasure. Why else would they have come here on Flaherty’s ship to plow through an overgrown tropical rain forest? So that was the game. Flaherty delivered tourists here to trick them into believing they’d walk away with a treasure. Bastard was letting a bunch of idiotic, out-of-shape pirate wannabes do all the work for him. Or maybe this was Flaherty’s way of luring West out. Appeal to his sense of chivalry to trick him into showing himself. Irritation hitched West’s shoulders. Now the island was making him paranoid.

Panting hard, the middle-aged one hunched over her knees. “Eleanor. That palm tree is perfectly straight.”

Eleanor the ancient stomped a foot. “This be the right tree.”

Somebody needed to beat some sense into these women. It was bad enough the dog could get hurt. Who was going to carry the old lady down the hill when she fell and broke a hip? Not Flaherty, that was for sure.

Buttercup rubbed at her eyes. Her voice was huskier than it had been this morning. “You said that with the last one, Gran.”

Flaherty hadn’t found the treasure yet. If he had, he wouldn’t be running a tourist boat here. That meant West still had a chance. He shifted in the bushes. The sooner he set them straight, the sooner he’d get the island back to himself.

“But this time I be feeling it in me bones, just like Charlie done said.”

Just like Charlie. The name zinged from West’s ears down to his tailbone as every muscle in his body went tense. So this wasn’t entirely Flaherty’s idea.

He stared hard at the old lady. She looked like an escapee clown from the pirate corpse circus. She was the one who stole Charlie’s map? The way Charlie told it, she’d been Snow White incarnate. West eyed the stuffed parrot on her shoulder. More like the California Raisin version of Snow White and Dopey’s secret love child.

She bounced up and down again, some parts of her more than others. “Point me east, mateys. I done got a treasure to be finding.”

Buttercup shook her head and opened her mouth. The blond poked her and gestured in West’s direction with her other hand. “That way, Gran.”

The old lady’s wrinkly face lit up like South Beach on Spring Break. He figured he was thirty-five paces from her, but he didn’t like that gleam in her eyes. It glowed evil intentions even from this distance. “This time we need to be taking Charlie-sized steps for sure.”

“Who’s Charlie?” The blond handed Eleanor a metal detector. “Does he have big feet?”

“Charlie done be the feller what give me the map after the war.”

West could’ve handled Flaherty. Listening to this gold-digger lie about how she got her hands on the map was another story. The fire in his chest was so hot, he shivered. He hunched closer to the ground, clinging to the warmth of the earth. Pathetic that he had to turn to the island for comfort.

Eleanor balanced on one army-booted foot as she stuck the other in the air and lunged forward. The parrot flopped sideways, its weight pulling her shirt off her shoulder. “That done look like it be a good Charlie step.”

The middle-aged one sagged against a tree. “Was Charlie a sasquatch?”

“You know, I always done wanted to be finding me a sasquatch. Maybe that be what we do next for vacation.” The old prune pulled the parrot upright as she studied the ground.

West’s nostrils flared as he struggled to keep his breathing under control. This treasure was everything he’d never had. New clothes instead of Salvation Army rejects. Toys from stores instead of dumpsters. Charlie had even claimed they were too poor to own library cards. This old lady and her family thought it was one big fat joke.

Buttercup cleared her throat. “How’d you meet Charlie?”

He knew he should cover his ears. Tune it out. It was bad enough Charlie himself had overshared details of that doomed meeting. But he’d never been one to follow the easy path. He dropped his head to the ground and inhaled slowly. Subtle scents of moss and early-blooming flowers lingered around him.

“Ah, Charlie.” Weeds and brush rustled below. “It done been during my bar wench time in Vegas. That handsome matey walked right up to me bar and said, ‘Arrr, lassie, I be buying your drinks tonight.‘”

An involuntary shiver racked his body. That wasn’t the Charlie he knew. Goddamn woman didn’t just take Charlie’s map, she took the joy right out of his life. How many times would West have to hit his head on that rock before he couldn’t hear her anymore?

“So we done drunk the bar under the table, and then he offered to show this wench what a real pirate treasure map be. Charlie done showed me a good time, then he done asked me to keep his treasure map safe for a while.”

Safe. There wasn’t a damn thing safe about that woman. West glanced up at the sound of a crash in the bushes below. The old woman wobbled on feet spread wide apart as she plunged through the vegetation. At this rate, she’d step right on him in ten more steps. “He done told me his partner be a bad man bent on double-crossing him, but he done knew the map be safe with me. So he done promised to come back when he weren’t in no more danger, but then a couple weeks later my George, God bless his soul, done walked in that bar. I took me one look, and my knees give out on me. We got ourselves hitched at a little chapel around the corner, and I never saw Charlie again.”

She pulled herself the rest of the way forward, then shrugged. “I done assumed them bad partner be catching up with him. Poor Charlie.”

West’s jaw ached. Her story was a ridiculous version of the truth, cheapened by the fact that she was here with them bad partner. But regardless of the old broad’s lack of morals and common sense, she still had a copy of his map.

She swung her leg out for another step, then suddenly disappeared between two saw palmettos.

“Gran!” Buttercup surged forward, swiftly picking her way through the island bushes and weeds. The other two women were right on her heels. The dog roused herself enough to give a mournful yip as she panted near the ground.

The old lady sat up as Buttercup reached the spot where she’d disappeared. Green leaves and twigs decorated her short white hair, a broken laurel wreath for the octogenarian pirate goddess. “That spot don’t be marked on me map.”

“Are you okay?” Buttercup brushed a few weeds and dried pine needles off the gold digger. West closed his eyes and dipped his head again. So it came down to this. Over thirty years of bitterness and hatred toward one old woman, and West was going to have to carry her out of the forest and deliver her to the only man he hated more than Charlie. Didn’t take a lot of imagination to come up with the most likely ending to that story.

“I done tripped over a stick. Nothing be broken or bruised. Don’t be fussing.”

“I knew this-”

“Mom. Shut up.”

“Gran’s right,” the blond said. “You need to get laid.”

Now there was an image. Buttercup’s long legs wrapped around his hips, her neck arched back, all that hot, creamy skin rubbing up against him as her throaty moan echoed in his ears.

No, it didn’t work. Even if she had better taste in relatives, she couldn’t loosen up enough. He shifted and looked back at Buttercup. She helped the gold digger to her feet and was carefully watching the old woman’s movements. Chica was wound tighter than Sheila’s grip on West’s balls, but he was grateful Buttercup could handle the old lady herself.

Buttercup frowned at her grandmother. “I think we’ve done enough treasure hunting for one day.”

She was close to right. If they’d agree to give up the hunt for the rest of their lives, he’d be grateful enough to help her with that little problem of hers despite who she was related to. He shook his head. Damn island was giving him bad ideas.

Eleanor stomped a foot, then winced. “But it be the tree.”

“And it’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Damn women. West rubbed at his temples while they argued some more. A passing cloud darkened the forest. Hell. They’d still be arguing when Mother Nature joined in on the fun. Why not throw an afternoon thunderstorm on top of everything else today?

Silence below caught his attention. The gold digger had moved to pout beneath a tree while the blond sulked beside her and the middle aged one muttered to herself a few yards over. Buttercup was headed his way.

Eyes roaming the ground, a goddamn metal detector in her hand, she took cautious steps through the vegetation. Her lips moved as she progressed toward him. Counting? Or cursing? And what the hell was wrong with him that he wanted to hear that sultry voice say it out loud?

Buttercup couldn’t have taken five steps before Eleanor wanted an update. “Did you be finding it yet?”

Buttercup shook her head. “Not yet, Gran.”

“You be taking too small of steps.”

Still moving, she spoke loud enough for her words to reach him. “Says the woman who called that pirate ship beautiful.”

Had she been anyone else, West might have appreciated the joke. But she was Buttercup, so he couldn’t afford to.

She paused and glanced up at the sky. “Gran, I’m at twenty-three, and I haven’t seen any rocks shaped like Texas.”

“Do you be seeing the treasure though?”

“Not unless you consider rain liquid gold.”

He didn’t want to find her funny. Her grandmother ruined Charlie’s life, ruined his life, and she was naively happy in her comfy little rich girl home, blissfully unaware of the harsh realities of the rest of the world. What had she ever done to earn that easy path?

But he couldn’t shake the image of Buttercup getting laid. And it was getting better every minute.

Eleanor gestured for the blond to help her up. “You done need to be looking around more.”

The middle-aged one wiped at her brow over pink cheeks. “Eleanor, it’s getting late, this island is dangerous, and I’m exhausted. If your little treasure isn’t here, we’re done for the day.”

“That be ridiculous.”   The parrot weaved and bobbled again. “We already be here, we darn tootin’ gonna be looking around some more for the treasure.”

West balled his hands into fists. Go home. He’d had enough of listening to the old broad.

“We need to get out of these woods before it gets darker.” The middle aged one sounded like a bat having a hot flash.

The old lady hobbled over to shove a finger in the other woman’s face. “Now you be listening here-”

“Enough.” Buttercup turned and headed back toward the other women. “It’s not here. We’re going back down to the beach.”

The blond covered her ears. “If I have to listen to one more of her lectures, I’m going to get a migraine.”

If blondie didn’t quit whining, West might have to help her with that headache. He watched Buttercup’s retreating hips for the second time that day, this time leaving him with a few more answers but still a lot of questions.

“I wanna done find that rock now.” The old woman could pout with the best of them.

Buttercup crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? So we can dig up a new set of directions that tell us to look for a pond shaped like a turtle, go five paces to the north, look under a misplaced armadillo and do the hokey-pokey?”

“If I be knowing that, don’t you be thinking we be doing the hokey-pokey already?”

Buttercup tilted her head. West couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine her lips screwed up in a prissy impression of a woman who thought she was in charge.

“One more looksie? It just be five minutes.”

“Tomorrow.”

“But we won’t be knowing where to start.”

Buttercup pointed down the hill. “Down. Now.”

Maybe she was in charge after all. The old lady whined a little more, but within minutes the group headed back down the slope toward the beach. The blond scooped up the dog for the trek before it could sniff West out, but Buttercup lagged behind. She wrapped a length of red yarn around the slightly curved palm tree and tied it off.

She was leaving a trail.

That wasn’t the right tree, but he didn’t want these women anywhere near his part of the island. Not when they were after Charlie’s treasure too. Once Buttercup had scooted further down the island, he snuck out of his hiding spot, pulled out his pocket knife, and cut her yarn. He’d follow her halfway down and leave enough of a trail for them to lose themselves in the lower part of the island tomorrow.

But as all sounds of her companions’ descent faded into the distance, he tucked his knife back in his pocket and decided to try a different approach. More direct.

More fun.

When she stopped at her fourth tree without looking back up, he approached her from behind, taking care to muffle his steps as best he could. “What’re you doing?”

She gave him a sharp glance but otherwise didn’t seem too surprised to see him which was more than a little unnerving. “Oh, goody. I found the treasure. Not sure I want it though.”

There was no way she’d found the treasure. He’d been over every inch of this ground. Even with the island messing with his mind, he knew it wasn’t here. “So you think you found the treasure.”

“Oh, come on. We both know what’s going on here.”

All he knew was that these women could search anywhere but here the rest of the week. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want it. If she didn’t, she must’ve been confused. Not even a spoiled princess would turn down the riches Charlie had always talked about.

So why didn’t she want it? While he pondered that, he nodded toward the tree that she was strangling with yarn. “Real beauty, ain’t she? You planning to take it home with you? Picture might last longer.”

She yanked at the string as she knotted it. “How lucky for me that Gran found you. The only thing your remarkable sense of humor is missing is the funny part.”

He’d never laid eyes on her grandmother before today. How could she have- Holy shit. The last few pieces clicked into place. Buttercup had some serious delusional problems if she thought he was supposed to be her island fantasy man. Her personal treasure that she didn’t want. Provided by dear Gran so she could get laid. And how many other people like Charlie had her gold-digging grandmother fleeced to pay for that? How many other children had gone hungry while this ignorant, selfish family had padded their fancy bank accounts with the spoils of another man’s work? “Princess, if your gran had half the sense of that parrot on her shoulder, she wouldn’t want me on the same continent as you.”

Her jaw worked up and down for a second before she found her voice, albeit squeakier than he’d grown used to. “You’re not the treasure?”

He would’ve laughed if it hadn’t hurt so damn much. Five damn years of getting over Charlie’s shit, and this spoiled brat thought he was nothing more valuable than a goddamn box buried in the dirt. “So many replies, so little time.”

Skepticism darkened her golden brown eyes. “Who are you?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and forced his shoulders to relax. He would’ve loved to teach her a lesson in how a man made himself instead of riding out the trust fund. But if he scared her, she’d turn him over to Flaherty, and then he’d be screwed. He didn’t want to push his luck much further, but maybe he could turn this little misunderstanding to his advantage. “Just a guy looking to get away from life for a while.”

“Or to hide from your prison guards,” she muttered.

He didn’t try to hide his scowl. “Never been to prison, sweetheart.” Came damn close once or twice, but she didn’t need to know that.

Her eyes swept down to his chest. “So they give those to the tourists?”

He followed her gaze, realizing belatedly that his shirt proudly proclaimed him property of the Miami-Dade County Jail. It was a gift from Nate Rodriguez, street kid turned cop and West’s best friend since childhood. Only Rodriguez had found the gift funny. West looked back up at Buttercup, finally reaching some of that sense of humor she’d accused him of not having. It was that or lose his temper. “Play your cards right, you can take it home as a souvenir.”

She snorted, the indelicacy a stark contrast to her femininity. The soft curves, the silky hair, the subtle scent of pineapple and sunshine he’d noticed when he picked the spider off her. Even when she freaked out, she was all woman about it.

He was an idiot to notice. Bigger idiot to care. Must’ve been the normalcy she brought to his life by bitching at him like Sheila. Or maybe it was a shame that such a pretty package was wasted on a chick who couldn’t have a good time if she had a male prostitute on a deserted island all week.

She finished tying the string around the tree, but he needed to figure a few things out before she left him to catch up with her family. Like how tight she was with Flaherty. And how likely it was that she’d surrender the treasure to West if she found it. Nevermind if she wanted to have some fun in the sand while they were all here screwing each other over. “So you go treasure hunting often? Nice touch, that pirate ship.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Tell you what. The next time you spend a week humoring an old lady’s notion that a seventy-five-year-old Elvis impersonator is proof that the King didn’t die, you can make fun of us for treasure hunting off a pirate ship.”

He’d figured out for himself that dear old Gran had reality issues. But he folded his arms over his chest and played dumb. The safer she thought he was, the better his chances that she wouldn’t screw it up for him. “You think you’re going to dig up Elvis on this island?”

Her forehead creased as her frown deepened. “If there’s a treasure on this island, it’s probably gummy worms and poker chips, and you can bet Gran arranged to have it buried here.”

Like hell she believed that. “So you’re not into kiddie treasure.”

“I’m not into any treasure. I’m into looking out for my family. She would’ve come here by herself and that’s not an option I’m comfortable with.” Fire flashed through her eyes as she cocked a hip. “If you’re thinking this is a great opportunity to take advantage of an old woman, let me save you the trouble and offer you my share of the gummy worms in advance. You let us do our thing in peace, and we’ll leave you alone to do whatever it is you want to do here. Deal?”

He had too much pride to settle for a share. “Do you offer your gummy worms to every stranger you come across on deserted islands?”

“Only the ones I feel sorry for.”

“You feel sorry for me.” She wasn’t the first, but she was the first in a long time. It stung more than he wanted to admit.

“You’re hiding from four of the least scary women on the planet.”

“Moody women are scary. Princess, your little group has that in spades.”

She rolled her eyes. “We enjoy picking on each other too much to make the effort to bother you.”

“My experience, women never get tired of that shit. You chicks love new victims.”

She raised a feathered eyebrow. “Wow. Muscles, spider friend, and so much masculinity you have to hide in the bushes all week. Gran did good with you.”

She had a lot to learn about baiting him. “And what are you hiding from?”

She gave him a half-hearted smile that held almost as much weariness as his aching body. “At the moment, the three of them and a couple fake pirates.”

She seemed sincere enough. Maybe things weren’t so dire. Yet. “Nice of you to be so understanding.”

“My pleasure. But at least I’m woman enough to go back and face them.”

He wouldn’t touch the woman comment. She was more woman than he’d noticed in a long time. “You want me to meet your family? So now we’re dating or something?”

It was the blush. Had she turned one of those irritating Sheila-glares on him, he would’ve been safe. But color rose from the skin peeking out over her top button all the way up to her roots. She liked him. He was a moron. Five years studying human behavior, and he’d missed all the clues.

Her stammer confirmed it. “Definitely not. But if you happen to meet them, watch out for Gran. She’ll try to pinch your butt.”

Mention of her grandmother almost brought back his sanity. “She got a thing for younger men?”

“No, she’s got a thing for asses in blue jeans.”

And he, unfortunately, had a thing for throaty-voiced, smart-assed, screw-him-up princesses.

She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. “Have a nice evening. Cut my strings, and I’ll hunt you down in the dead of night and show you a neat trick Pirate Pete taught me yesterday.”

Pirate Pete better not have taught her a damn thing. “Before or after you threw up on him?”

“Never underestimate a woman’s ability to multitask.”

Once again, she turned her back on him and marched away. Only this time, he knew exactly what she thought she was walking away from.

The pitter-patter of raindrops on palm fronds above announced the arrival of the next problem on the island. West glanced back down the path where Buttercup had disappeared. The island weeds had sprung back, already covering her tracks. Charlie was right. When it came to women, piss one off, and you piss ‘em all off. Between Sheila, Buttercup, the island, and Mother Nature, West was screwed.

* * *

Stay tuned next week for chapter six!

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The Farrell Children vs. The Dinner Table

We were sitting at dinner last night when Squeaker looked at me and said, “Mama, tell me how was my day.” Which is Squeaker code for, “Mama, please ask me how my day was too!”

So I asked him how his day was, and he replied with the normal, “Fine.” (Which is like asking him, “Squeaker, when’s the last time you went potty?” because the answer is always the same. “Five.”)

Dinner continued, and Squeaker asked me, again, to ask him about his day. So I did.

And then he said, “No, not you. Munchkin.”

So Munchkin said, “Squeaker, how was your day?”

And Squeaker replied, “I don’t want you to talk to me, Munchkin.”

We had a discussion about manners and being courteous, then dinner went on. Until Squeaker reached over and punched Munchkin in the arm.

Before I could finish saying, “Squeaker, we don’t punch people,” Buttercup also reached over and punched Munchkin in the other arm.

“Buttercup!” I said.

And both of my younger children promptly burst into tears.

Fast forward approximately eighty-two seconds, and no one is crying, and Squeaker reaches over toward Munchkin again.

“Squeaker,” I said in that don’t-even-try-it voice that comes pre-installed with the mom genes.

He slid me a sly grin and went for rubbing Munchkin’s back instead.

“Now that’s much nicer,” I said. “But eat your dinner. How does your nose feel? Is it stuffed up?” (The Second Coming of The Cold has struck our humble abode.)

“Yeah,” Squeaker said. “It’s full.”

“Aww, that’s too bad, Squeaker,” Munchkin said. “Can I see?”

Squeaker nodded. Then sat there staring at Munchkin, who tried to contort himself so he could look up Squeaker’s nose.

At the dinner table.

“Squeaker, look up,” Munchkin said.

Squeaker stared at him.

Munchkin repeated himself.

Squeaker just stared at him.

And finally, on the fifth time, Squeaker looked up, and Munchkin leaned over to peer up his brother’s nose.

At the dinner table.

“Nope,” Munchkin declared. “No boogers.”

SuperHubby has offered to do the same for me next time we have a date night at home after the kids are in bed. I think I’m going to decline. Politely, of course.

* * *

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Ten Things You’ll Smile About This Monday

My children are at it again, y’all. And so your Monday smiles today are ten things they’ve done in the last week. Enjoy!!

10. I helped Squeaker into the shower one night, where he promptly did the potty dance, grabbed a rinse cup, and peed in it. Then grinned up at me like he was brilliantly cute. (Never mind his sister always tries to drink bath water out of that rinse cup…) (Yes, it has since been washed and sanitized. Twice.)

9. We were in a hotel over the weekend, and The Princess Bride came on the TV just as Munchkin was getting ready for his shower. So he promptly sat down to watch the movie. “Munchkin,” I had to say, “We don’t watch The Princess Bride naked.”

8. Buttercup belted out “Drunk on a Plane” in the grocery store. (I am so in trouble when other people can understand her as well as I can.)

7. I accidentally taught Buttercup to say “monkey butt.”

6. Munchkin taught his brother and sister to say “Bubble nugget.”

5. Buttercup found a pile of her brothers’ clean briefs and systematically went through the pile, saying “Hat on,” and putting them on her head one by one.

4. SuperHubby rapping Snuggle Puppy by Sandra Boynton to the kids.

3. While the whole family was out to lunch with friends on Saturday, Buttercup decided to spit mashed potatoes all over the table. She did the same thing the next morning with her hash browns. (Side note: Don’t give Buttercup potatoes.) (Unless they’re french fries.)

2. Yesterday, while I was sleeping in (heaven!!) I overheard SuperHubby say, “Don’t call your brother a dirty rat!”

1. Buttercup discovered how to work the lock on our screen door while I was taking the garbage out. (In other words, she locked me out of the house.)

And there you have it. Ten little tidbits from the Farrells this week. Hope you have a great one!

* * *

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Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play