Quick Update about the winners with a teaser!

Okay, I have notified the two winners and will post about that once I hear back from them. Congrats!

Also, I had a look at the responses I received on ARC requests. You guys are awesome btw! Looking at the list, I’ve decided to do more than the original ten I’d thought to do. Instead I’ll be sending out 30 as soon as I have the book back from the formatters. I’m sorry I can’t send to everyone who put in requests, but when I do this again, the guys who didn’t get an ARC this time, will get one next time, I promise. I’ve saved the list.

I really, REALLY appreciate you taking the time!

Now for a little slice of Riley’s life with Honey…

Tonight while I was cooking the potatoes, making the salad, and chopping the vegetables – because you know Honey was exhausted cooking the one meat item on the BBQ, I was looking around for an oven mitt.

“Do you really need three oven mitts? Are you hiding an hand I’m not aware of?”

He pops his brows. “Not a hand.”

Okay, yeah. Nothing spells sexy to me than my guy standing over a smoking BBQ.

I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and then left because…well, I’m not a big fan of flirting over smelly meat. *shrug* could be me. Bah! I just read that line back! Hilarious. Smelly meat. I’m talking about chicken not, you know. Gee, you guys are bad! Anyway men have no problem about cook smells. If you don’t believe me read this. But back to the oven mitts.

There I was cooking up a storm, when Honey comes in and has the stupidest look on his face. I’m like, “What now?”

He says, “Guess what I found?”

Did I mention I don’t like to play guessing games when I have three different foods cooking at three different temperatures on the stove? “Can’t guess. Just tell me.”

Truthfully, I was expecting him to carry on with the direction of our earlier conversation and say something about his third hand needing attention. Instead he held up two matching oven mitts. Admittedly, one was darker with wear and age, while the other was pristine and beautiful.

“I found the missing link,” he announced. “There always was two of them. You owe your sister an apology.”

I didn’t really, because all the bitching I did – about her giving me a basket full of kitchen stuff all those years ago with only one oven mitt in it, I did behind her back. “Where the hell did it come from?” I’m thinking it was stuck in one of the drawers out in the BBQ area, but that didn’t explain why I’d never – and I mean never – seen the matching Eiffel Tower mitt in my life.

“It was stuck inside the other one.” He demonstrated and then said, “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

There I was thinking, the only miracle surrounding those mitts was the fact that I’d kept what I thought was only one for so long. If you guys knew how many times I picked that lone sucker up out of the drawer, wondering what my sister was thinking giving me one effing oven mitt, you’d die. The kids practically canonized it.

Oop, now that I think about it, I better tell the kids. They used to enjoy making up stories about it. How there was a whole line of kitchen products designed for a one armed chef who had a French fetish. Bummer. I bet they’re going to be disappointed to learn that the Eiffel Tower glove has a twin. Exciting, right?

Yeah, I didn’t think so either, but Honey did. There I was getting my hair steamed over the boiling potatoes while he made lobster claw moves with the glove through the window at me. That’s my life people! One solved mystery after another.

Thanks for stopping by!

Riley