Sarina Bowen's Blog, page 21

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OMG this song from Lies & Lullabies gave me chills!

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You need to hear this!

Guys, Lies & Lullabies is about a rock star named Jonas. And when I wrote the book, I put some lyrics in it. There's a song that Jonas wrote for Kira, called "Sweetness."

Now, usually a narrator just reads the lyrics. Authors aren't composers. I've never written any singable lyrics. I wouldn't know where to start.

Enter Tim Paige, ladies and gentlemen. He asked me if he should try singing "Sweetness."

I said, "you can try, but only if you can make the song, you know, suck less than it does." 

GUYS!!!!

IT BLEW ME AWAY! I got chills the moment I heard it.

The song is part of the audio book now! But you can get a preview from this YouTube video.

“Sweetness” is from Lies and Lullabies, by Sarina Bowen. Lyric (such as it is) by Sarina Bowen. Music and musical performance by Tim Paige.

Good Things in June & July

Boyfriend Material

By Hall, Alexis

I can’t believe I skipped June! I also can’t believe I started this habit of writing “good things” posts right before an international health crisis. So I guess timing isn’t my strong suit. But here we are!

You may recall that I adopted this habit from Alexis Hall. So let me say that one of the good things I experienced this summer was his brilliant book BOYFRIEND MATERIAL. If you need a lift, go read it immediately.

I guess this was the summer of smart Brits because my other pick was DON’T YOU FORGET ABOUT ME by Mhairi McFarlane. It’s just terrific. These two authors should meet each other. Except, oh wait, we don’t do that anymore.

Moving on.

Don't You Forget About Me: A Novel

By McFarlane, Mhairi

I finished writing LOVERBOY, and you can have it on December 1st. Whee! But the truth is that I rarely celebrate these milestones. I don’t know why. Similarly, I’m not very interested in my own birthday, etc.

But there was a moment in June that really made me step back and feel just the tiniest bit impressed with my progress. And that was the moment I got the first signed contract back for one of the World of True North books I’m bringing out in 2021. That contract landed in my inbox and I just stared at it for a moment. Like, holy cow, this is really happening. I put a bottle of Prosecco in the freezer and I remembered to take it out again before it exploded. Because that’s how you rock it Covid style. Picture me making the sign of the devil. Or not. You get the idea.**

Incidentally, my computer just flagged Covid as a misspelling. REALLY DUDE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

Other joys of June and July have included:

Pool floats! We have an in-ground pool that was built in the 1980s. It is kidney-shaped and not very large. It requires maintenance and chemicals and is sometimes a pain. But this summer I was determined to really enjoy it. So I bought two matching pool floats shaped like squishy chairs. I’m reading a hardback thriller a couple chapters at a time sitting in my pool on my garish pool float and this makes me happy. Don’t judge.

I joined a book club in 1995 and stayed a member until 2009. Then I left New York. But Covid has brought us back together again! I went to book club while sitting in my car waiting for my kid’s karate class.

Outdoor karate is really impressive, and I’m so happy my teenager gets to go three times a week. Most of the classes are weapons classes. Lately the teen is learning how to kill you with a wooden oar. It’s a big class so don’t start any trouble on Wednesday nights in a park in Lebanon NH. You might regret it when 20 teens rush you with their oars.

Pink wine.

Summer cooking is my last Good Thing, but not the least important. And teenage boys are very gratifying to cook for. They like food. A lot. The other day Thing 1 said “I’m still thinking about that bruschetta you made last night.” Is that praise, or what? Plus I taught them the proper way to say “bruschetta,” with a hard ‘k’ sound. If Americans are ever allowed into Europe again (and really, why would we be) my sons will be able to order Italian food without sounding like weenies.

Happy August!

Love, Sarina

This is not me. Her pool is nicer. Also, I am old enough to be her mother. But you get the idea.

Hints about Loverboy

You guys! I’m hard at work on LOVERBOY, the next book in the Company series. And it’s SO FLIPPING FUN. I’ve enjoyed escaping into this story about love, spies, secrets and…pie. Yes, pie. Lots of it. I’ve also written my first hero who doesn’t drink coffee. I know! It’s almost unthinkable.

I would show you the whole blurb except I keep changing my mind about how to approach it. The blurb and I are taking a little time apart right now. But I’m sure we’ll reconcile at some point. Hopefully before the preorder goes up.

Expect this book in very late 2020 or very early 2021. I know that’s vague. But that’s all I’ve got for now.

Love, Sarina

Lovely Things from May

Homemade ‘za

I have a column in my planner that’s simply called “Lovely Things.” It sits right opposite the “To-Do” list, as a reminder to stop and smell the proverbial flowers. When I added this trifle early in 2020, I had no idea how odd everything would get, or how much ugliness I’d see.

Guys, it’s been a rough one. I’m sorry. I hope you’re safe, and near the people you love.

Yesterday I read this essay in the Washington Post, and it really spoke to me about the week’s devastating events. It’s from a sports columnist who revisits the Colin Kaepernick story. I recommend it highly.

And earlier in the month, there were many other lovely things. Here are a few of them.

The mixed berry pie from the Umpleby’s Bakery & Cafe. Do you have a local business that you’re spending extra on right now? We have a couple. My husband is trying to singlehandedly prop up this lovely local bakery. We’ve always bought our bread from Umpleby’s. But since isolation began, we also buy our coffee beans, frequent lunches, and way too many desserts. If my backside is larger after Covid19, it’s definitely the pie.

Suzuki Violin Recitals on Zoom. This worked surprisingly well, and I didn’t have to leave my living room.

This moose in a pool.

That Snickerdoodle Pound Cake from the NYT. (See also: my giant behind.)

First pink wine of the season.

First black bear spotted in a meadow. (Not our meadow, luckily.)

Making homemade pizza with the 14yo. I didn’t drop any of them on the floor. (See: an incident from 2017…)

My husband teasing the teens that he’d joined a virtual scream therapy session that just happened to be starting during their school zoom meeting hour. (He gave us a demonstration.)

My snap peas climbing up their trellis.

Being interviewed by my 14yo son for a school project, with both of us laughing so hard that we had to start the video over four times. I can’t for the life of me remember what was so funny.

Why is potato salad so good?

Launching another book with Jenn, Natasha, and my ARC team to help. THANK YOU GUYS. It’s not so lonely when I have you!

Introducing the World of True North!

I have some exciting news! Next year we will bring readers EVEN MORE VERMONTY GOODNESS! We've just begun accepting applications from authors who would like to write books in the World of True North.

If you or an author you love would like to join the party, please see this web page for a complete description of my new adventure. I can't wait to share more!

World of True North

Now Live: Sure Shot!

There’s a new player in town. And all hell’s about to break loose.

On the eve of her thirtieth birthday, sports agent Bess Beringer is ready to make some changes. Armed with a five-year plan—indexed and color coded—she’ll tackle her personal life with the same zeal that she brings to her successful agency.

A big, tall, ripped hunk of hockey player who’s just been traded to the Brooklyn Bruisers is not a part of that plan. Mark “Tank” Tankiewicz has a lot of baggage. He’s a ride-or-die loner with a bad reputation. He’s on the rebound. He’s also the sexiest thing on two legs, and for some crazy reason it’s Bess that he wants.

She knows better. But then she falls stupid in love with him anyway. And for a while it seems like maybe he’ll do the same.

Until she asks him for the one thing he can never give her…

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Keep scrolling for an excerpt!

Have you heard the news?The audio’s narrated by Jacob Morgan and Emma Wilder

And it’s now live!

Click here to get Sure Shot in Audio 

Check out this audio sample:

 Excerpt

After we eat, the guys take another crack at putting together Delilah’s home recording studio. “Now that I’m actually reading the directions, I think we can figure this out,” Silas says.

“Didn’t I just suggest that a few minutes ago?” Bess asks, giving him a playful slap on the back of the head.

“Hush,” Castro says. “It’s hard for a man to admit he needs to read the instructions.”

“Especially when he’s naturally good with his hands,” Silas says, smirking.

“TMI,” Georgia says. “Somebody put me to work. Which piece goes on next?”

“All of them,” O’Doul says, reading over Silas’s shoulder. “But we need somebody inside this thing, applying pressure to the frame while we all screw in the panels.”

“I’ll do that,” I volunteer, stepping into the center of the frame. “You guys can trap me inside where I won’t be able to hear you mock my Texas beer.”

Silas laughs. “Fine. Actually, we need two people, one to lean on each side.”

“Bess will help,” I say before anyone else gets a chance to speak up. “She’s just standing there drinking a non-Texas beer.”

She gives me a grumpy look. But then she puts down her beer and steps into the sound booth with me. 

“Maybe we need one of these for the office,” Bayer quips, a screwdriver in his hand. “Bess needs privacy for when she’s dropping the hammer on the GMs during contract renegotiations.”

“Good call.” Bess turns her back to me, while O’Doul and Castro each lift a panel into place. 

“I’ll get the last one,” the rookie Anton says. “Bess, if you use your tuchus to brace the end-piece, you can use a hand for each panel.”

“Good idea,” she says. “This backside should be good for something.”

It’s a reflex when I open my mouth to make a joke. Because I have quite a few uses for Bess’s ass. But her glare silences me just in time.

One by one, the other players lift all six panels into place. As Silas fits the last panel in snugly, I’m closed inside the space with Bess. And it is quiet. I can’t hear any voices outside.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi,” she whispers back.

“Do you think this thing is actually soundproof? Because it might be the only way I can get you to talk to me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. You’re bonding with your teammates.”

“Don’t be silly. You can crash my party any day, sweetheart. But now I gotta know if they can hear us. Hey Castro!” I shout, because I can see him through the little window. 

The young forward doesn’t look up from his screwdriver.

“All right,” I say. “We have privacy unless he’s faking. Quick—tell me some team secrets.”

Bess smiles in spite of herself. “Fine. On the night you get your first goal for Brooklyn, don’t let them convince you that everyone celebrates by getting the Brooklyn Bridge tattooed on his ass.”

I snort. “Like anyone would fall for that.”

“I think Anton got one.” Then she raises her voice. “But it’s okay, you sweet summer child!” She waves at the young D-man through the window. “Chicks dig tattoos!”

Anton waves back, looking unconcerned. 

“So this is soundproof,” I say. “You can talk to me for real now. I know I’m your dirty little secret. But I’m fine with that. Because at least I like dirty secrets.”

“Tank,” she says with a sigh. “We can’t be each other’s dirty secret. I would never date a client.”

“This again?” I argue, bracing one of the panels a little more firmly as someone screws it into the stud. “I didn’t understand the deal I was making when I asked you to be my agent. I need to renegotiate our contract.”

“No.” She lifts her chin defiantly.

“But I’m your Kryptonite,” I point out. “You should be fainting right now. I could carry you out of here and back to my hotel room.”

Bess lifts her eyes to the ceiling. “That’s not happening, stud. And I hope nobody can read lips.”

“Let’s see if they can.” I turn my face a couple of degrees, so that I’m framed in the window. “Let’s get naked again and have lots and lots of sex.”

Since Bess’s hands are busy bracing the panels, she has to resort to kicking me gently in the shin. “Stop that. It won’t work, anyway.”

“It’s not nice to kick your client.”

“That wasn’t a real kick,” she says, her bright eyes full of fire. “If I kicked you for real, you’d be crying right now.”

“Uh-huh.” My face cracks into a smile, which is something that only happens when Bess is nearby. I don’t think I smiled for three months before she turned up. “But what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” she asks.

“About us.” I give her a hot glance. “You think you can just ignore me forever? I don’t think I’m that good an actor.”

“Tank,” she says gently. “We’re in a different place in life, you and me. I can’t be your rebound girl. The sex is great—”

“Amazing is the word I’d choose,” I break in. “And please don’t feel guilty about us just because I’m a player. If you feel guilty, then I’ll have to feel guilty. And I don’t want to feel guilty because I really like spending time with you.”

“It’s not just the professional issues.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to think about the little…habit we’re developing. You’re on the rebound. You aren’t thinking with your brain, Tank. Hell—you don’t even use condoms.”

Oh Jesus. Bess must think I’m an idiot. “Okay. Hold up. I’m really sorry about the condom thing.”

“I’m covered, Tank. I am not going to get pregnant. But you’re not in a place to—”

That’s when Silas suddenly opens the door to the booth. “You kids okay in here?” he asks. “I think we’ve got it pretty tight now.”

“Uh, great,” I mumble, stepping out of the booth. Bess follows me, her eyes full of unresolved tension. 

We need to finish our conversation, but obviously we’ll need to do it somewhere else. 

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First Chapter Friday: Sure Shot

Chapter One Cinderella Gets into a Limousine

Bess

September

When the black limousine slides to a stop in front of me, I feel a familiar tension right behind my breastbone.

Limos always have this effect on me. The same thing happens in expensive hotels and fine restaurants. For a moment, I feel like there’s been some mistake—that this girl from the wrong side of Detroit doesn’t belong here.

When the driver’s side door opens, I half expect one of Cinderella’s footmen to get out. But it’s only Duff, my friends’ bodyguard. “Hey, Bess! How are you?”

“Great, Duff. I can open doors by myself, though.”

“Just doin’ my job,” he says, halfway around the hood of the car already. He unlocks the door with a key fob and then opens it with a flourish. “Happy Friday.”

“You too. Thanks for picking me up,” I say as I duck into the back of the sleek car.

“It’s our pleasure,” my friend Alexandra says, waving to me from one of the two long leather seats. Her ten-month-old daughter is beside her, strapped into a car seat. When Rosie sees me, she babbles a greeting and stretches out her short little arms to me.

“Hi, gorgeous!” I coo, seating myself directly in front of her. “How are you both?”

“We’re great,” Alex says. “Except one of us is teething. Watch that pretty dress if you hold her at the party.”

“Oh, what’s a little drool between friends?” I glance down at my sundress and wonder if I should have worn jeans. The party is in a backyard. A billionaire’s backyard. I never get dolled up, but my sister-in-law talked me into buying this dress, and it would be a crime to just abandon it in my closet.

Alex is wearing a beautiful outfit, too—a flowing skirt and a stylish matching top. She always looks like a billion bucks. That’s because she has a billion bucks. If we carry this Cinderella metaphor a little further, Alex is the princess who’s used to finery, and I’m the villager who spent her childhood in rags before traveling the kingdom to find her own fortune among the knights and thieves.

The baby makes a little noise of complaint, so I take Rosie’s small hand in mine, and rub my thumb over her chubby wrist.

Honestly, I’m far more envious of Alex’s baby than I am of her Mercedes. I need to snuggle this baby. Although it’s rude to unclip a child from her lifesaving car seat just to fulfill one’s own hormonally driven baby-snuggling needs. So I have to be content with holding her hand and staring deep into her brown eyes.

“Tell me everything,” Alex says. “How was your vacation? How was Vermont? Did you really spend ten days offline?”

“I totally did. It was about as weird as you’d expect.”

“Did you experience any withdrawal symptoms?” Alex wrings her hands.

I narrow my eyes at her. “You know I only gave up my phone, right? I wasn’t secretly at rehab.”

She laughs. “I know. But going ten days without my phone would be a real challenge. I don’t like what it says about me. As if the world would stop turning if I’m out of reach for a few days.”

“Right? I felt ridiculous every time I reached for my phone, and it wasn’t there.”

Then again, Alex runs a billion-dollar tech corporation with over a thousand employees. People depend on her. I run a company with exactly two employees—myself, plus Alex’s boyfriend Eric Bayer—but it feels like more, because my thirty-five clients are accustomed to calling day and night.

That’s why Eric challenged me to unplug for a whole week’s vacation. “You hired me so that you could get away from your job sometimes,” he’d said. “What are you waiting for?”

He was right. So I scheduled my vacation and left my phone behind.

Across from me, the baby babbles loudly, and I don’t need a translator to know what she’s saying. Please take me out of this infernal five-point harness. And when I make no moves to free her, she starts to complain.

“Just a few more blocks,” Alex says, stroking the wispy hairs on her daughter’s head. “Then we’ll see Daddy, and you can crawl around on the grass.”

“Speaking of Daddy,” I say. “Where the heck are Eric and Dave?”

“Eric and your brother finished up early and headed over to the party. They’re meeting us there.”

“Okay.” I hesitate. “So you don’t, um, have my phone, right?”

“Nope!” Alex says cheerfully. “You’ll have to wait five more minutes to get your baby back. Eric left this for you, though.” She reaches into her laptop bag and pulls out a big manila envelope. FOR BESS, it reads. These are the big emergency items from your week away. Do not open this until after the party! No cheating! We have a deal.

When I squeeze the envelope, I realize it’s awfully thick. I lay it down on the seat beside me while the limo inches forward in traffic.

I last at least ten seconds before I grab it off the seat and slip my finger under the flap, tearing it open.

“Uh-oh,” Alex says. “I thought you weren’t supposed to—”

“Shh!” I hiss. “Don’t rat me out, okay? Girl code.” I pull the pages out of the envelope. The top one says. GOT YOU! And when I flip to the one beneath, it reads, THERE WEREN’T ANY EMERGENCIES. And the one beneath that says, NOW YOU OWE ME A SUSHI LUNCH.

“Goddamn it!” I squeak. “Your man is such a jerk!”

“What did he… Oh my God.” Alex covers her mouth and laughs. “I’m sorry. That is so rude.”

“This is entrapment,” I sputter. “This would never stand up in court.”

“Oh, Bess,” Alex says. “How did you not see that coming?”

I drop the envelope onto the leather seat in disgust. “That’s just mean. I didn’t even cheat on this vacation. I didn’t look at my email, or even at the hockey news.”

For the first time since I’d started my own business six years ago, I’d left it all behind for ten days in Vermont with my brother and sister-in-law. It was time for me to make some changes in my life, and the vacation had been a first symbolic step.

Alex grabs the envelope and shoves it back in her bag. Then she pulls out her phone. “I’m texting him to tell him that we’re almost there. And also—as referee—that I consider this an illegal maneuver.”

“So illegal.” I pout.

She tucks the phone away and smiles at me. “Don’t be mad at Eric. He’s on your side.”

“I know,” I admit. “And you can take the boy out of the locker room, but you can’t take the locker room out of the boy.” Pranking people is a basic life skill in professional sports.

“Eric will have to make it up to you. Ask him for something fancy for your birthday. Are you doing anything special tomorrow?”

My birthday. The big 3-0. Honestly, I’m trying not to dwell on it. “My brother is taking me out for dinner. And then he’ll head back to Vermont the following day.”

“Make Dave take you to a musical,” Alex suggests. “The Book of Mormon is funny.”

I laugh out loud. “Can you imagine my brother sitting through a musical?”

“Then you definitely should ask. I mean—it’s your first birthday in New York!”

Except it isn’t. And this is the other reason I’ve been trying not to think about my birthday. Right after college I’d lived in Manhattan for three years, before moving back to Detroit to start my own business.

One month into my fledgling New York City career as a sports agent, I’d turned twenty-one. The night of my birthday had been magical and unexpected. It began at a business dinner and ended in the well-muscled arms of a sexy stranger.

Every year on my birthday I remember that night, but this year the memory really haunts me. I’m turning thirty, I’m still single, and I’m starting over in New York. So I’m feeling extra wistful. I’d been such a starry-eyed little optimist at twenty-one. I had thought my life was going to be a long montage of fancy dinners and passionate kisses.

Actually, the fancy dinners still happen. I’m on my way to a billionaire’s backyard party right now. My life is amazing.

The passion, though? That turned out to be short-lived.

But I’m working on that, I promise myself. I’m making some changes already. I’ve moved to Brooklyn and hired Eric, for starters.

The rest of the changes aren’t so easy to pull off. My business is flourishing, but my personal life is stunted. That’s why I spent part of my vacation drawing up a new five-year plan for my life. It’s indexed and color-coded. I’m ready.

“Here we are, ladies!” Duff says from the driver’s seat. He glides to a stop in front of Nate Kattenberger’s mansion on Pierrepont Place.

Eric Bayer opens the limo’s backdoor immediately, leaning in to smile at us. “Hey! All my favorite women in one place.”

The baby goes into spasms of joy at the sight of his face.

“Look who’s Mr. Popular.” Alex snorts. She unclips her daughter from the car seat.

“He’s not that popular with me,” I complain, even as I take Eric’s hand and let him help me onto the sidewalk.

“You fell for it, didn’t you?” His chuckle is gleeful.

“It’s entrapment,” I complain.

He laughs and then takes the baby from Alex and hoists her into the air, where she gives him a big, chubby grin.

“Oh, sure,” Alex says. “You’re all smiles for him.”

And I’m a puddle of goo. Watching Eric play with his baby always knocks me flat. It’s the same with my brother and my niece. I’ve never been a crier, but when Rosie smiles at Eric, or when Nicole smiles at Dave, I just about lose it, every time.

Getting old makes you more emotional, I guess. Yay.

“Let me take her,” Alex offers. “You two have some catching up to do. I’ll find Nate and say hello.”

Eric kisses his girlfriend. Then he kisses the baby. And then he turns to me. “Welcome home, Bessie. You look great by the way. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Why? Because I don’t have my phone stuck to my face? Hand it over, by the way.”

“No, because you’re wearing a dress. Wowzers.”

“Oh, stop it.” I feel heat on my cheeks as I involuntarily glance down at the blue batik sundress. Zara had made me try it on when we’d gone shopping last week in Montreal. “Stop buying dresses for your two-year-old niece and buy one for yourself,” she’d said. “My kid has enough clothes to meet the queen. But you wear the same Red Wing’s T-shirt everywhere.”

She wasn’t wrong. But now I feel self-conscious.

“It’s a good look,” Eric says. “And congratulations on making it ten days away from the office. Are you sure you don’t want to go for eleven? Except for that little slip-up just now, you’ve turned yourself into a woman of leisure.”

“There was no slip-up! That was just you being a weenie. Now hurry up and give me my phone back. And fill me in on what I missed. Is it possible that none of my players got traded, injured, or arrested while I was gone?”

He laughs. “You think I’d hide something like that from you?”

“No. But it’s kind of wild how quiet everything was.” On any given week, someone has a major upset or a nervous breakdown. It’s as if I have thirty-five high-strung children in my care. Somebody is always breaking something.

“Nobody got arrested. But Nifty Silva had a tiny run-in with the town of Buckhead, Georgia.”

I stop in my tracks. “Omigod. What did he do? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I handled it.” Eric laughs. “And I enjoyed every minute of it. Nifty had outstanding library fines of eighteen hundred bucks. Ask me why.”

“Why?” I gasp. “That man makes five million dollars a year.”

Eric chuckles. “Five years ago he took a copy of Field of Dreams out of the library. Apparently the nice librarians of Buckhead fine you a dollar a day on DVDs.”

“And he was too busy setting records to return a fucking movie?” I swear to God this job is like teaching kindergarten but with a better paycheck.

“Not exactly. Right after watching the film, he threw his first no-hitter. So he didn’t—”

“—return it. I get it. He’s a superstitious crazy man. So how do we smooth this over? Did it hit the press?”

“It was going to. He called the office in a panic. But I handled it, Bess. I had a nice chat with the librarians. I told them that Nifty would donate ten bucks for every dollar he owed, but I suggested she let the fines keep running.”

“Oh, Eric!” I burst out laughing. “That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I would have done.”

He hip-checks me on the sidewalk. “I know, boss. And I had a blast talking to that librarian with her adorable southern accent. It’s all good.”

“Thank you,” I say as we walk around to the side of Nate and Becca’s mansion. They’re the only people I know in New York who can throw a big backyard party. Because they’re the only ones with a big backyard. “Thank you for letting me have all that time off.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “People take vacations all the time. Get used to it.”

I wonder if I ever will. My childhood was perilous. Dave and I were too busy avoiding my father’s fists to notice that nobody ever took us to Disneyland. Or camping. Or any of the things that families do. Summer break had only meant too much time with our angry father.

College was better. But I’d been too busy working my butt off to relax. And after graduation, my dream job kept me busy. And it still does.

“What else?” I demand of Eric. “What other weird calls did you get?”

“There’s that rookie who just showed up for training camp in Ottawa. Rollins?”

“Yeah?” My blood pressure jumps. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Eric says quickly. “But he panicked his first night there. He locked himself out of his new apartment, and he didn’t know what to do.”

“Aw.” Rollins is only nineteen. He comes from a town in Canada with more cows than people. “Did you help him find a locksmith?”

“Of course I did. I was home with the baby that night, just flipping channels before he called. So I put my earpods in and sat down in the rocking chair with the baby. And I talked to the rookie for ninety minutes while he waited for the locksmith. The kid just needed someone to tell him that it was all going to be okay.”

“Wow. Thank you. Bonus points for sure.”

“It was great, Bess. It made me understand what this job is for, you know? Negotiating contracts is only half the story. He’s just a kid in a strange city. I’d forgotten what that part was like. The only two things he knows how to cook are fried eggs and spaghetti.”

“Jeez. Next time I see him, I’ll make sure he eats a salad. Anything else? Any gossip? If not, I think I hear a glass of sangria calling my name.” Rebecca Rowley-Kattenberger—the new owner of the Brooklyn Bruisers—makes a great pitcher of sangria.

“Oh, there’s gossip.” Eric chuckles as he finally hands me my phone.

“What kind?” I ask, fondling the phone like a lost lover.

“I think I’ll let you see for yourself.” He opens Nate and Rebecca’s garden gate and then gestures for me to go in first.

Get Sure Shot at: Amazon | Apple | Kobo | Nook | Audio

Curious about the audio? Check out this short duet text conversation,

performed by Jacob Morgan and Emma Wilder!

 





 

Good Things in April

Jess had to drive 2 hours just to take this walk with us. I’m so glad she did!

Well here we are. Another bonkers month has passed. I am feeling two opposing emotions in great quantity: gratitude and anxiety. We are all still fine up here on our hilltop. Aside from a few grocery items that are now perpetually unavailable, I have very little to complain about. And then I read the news and my blood pressure shoots sky high.

In spite of the strangeness of the world, April had its pleasures. In no particular order:

Books I Enjoyed:

If I Never Met You by Mhairi McFarlane Terrific writing! So. Flipping. Good. The voice is just wonderful.

More than a Cowboy by Sarah Mayberry I think this is my favorite of the Carmody family! Super fun!

The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish It’s been a while since I read a big, sweeping historical fiction. This was great, with a cool twist at the end.

Places I Went:

I walked around the country road where I live. Luckily, Jess drove down to walk with KJ and I! It was the most fun I’ve had in quite a while!

I went to the grocery store. It was very exciting.

Foods I Ate:

OMG. Chocolove almond butter and dark chocolate easter eggs. Where have these been all my life? They also make a regular bar. I must buy one and shove it into my face hole.

I’ve been trying to keep the menu interesting to keep everyone’s spirits up. So I made some crowd-pleasers like baked mac and cheddar, greek salads, and even an apple crisp. I’ve been getting bi-weekly vegetable deliveries from Misfits Market. I love these guys. All the produce is organic, and the price is pretty great. They gave me a coupon code if you want to try it at 25% off. The code is COOKWME-EQ8XLX.

On Easter I made this Basic Bread Recipe by King Arthur Flour into dinner rolls. They were delicious.

Also? My sister in law makes these rectangular almond cookies dipped in chocolate. I don’t even like cookies, generally. But these are amazing, and I usually score some at Christmas. Well. I got a small flat rate box in the mail from her. And she had made some and sent me the exact number that could be crammed into the box. It might be the highlight of my April.

Onward, people! May is going to rock! Right?

Triple Cover Reveal! And $100 gift card giveaway!

It’s cover reveal day!