by Shirley Jump
"Positive. I'd never do that." Though she knew she technically had done exactly that, she wouldn't admit it.
"Good." Travis dropped to one knee and took her left hand in his. "I didn't just go out for a lobster. I was hoping maybe you might have changed your mind." He reached into his back pocket withdrew a small velvet ring box and turned it around to face her. A round diamond, surrounded by a dozen smaller stones, blinked back at her from a platinum setting. "I bought this earlier today, hoping you might ah, want to break a family curse with me."
She laughed. "What kind of proposal is that?"
"After all this, you want me to be formal?" She nodded. "Okay, here goes." He cleared his throat, grinning up at her. "Meredith Shordon, will you marry me?"
"Only if you promise me one thing."
"Anything."
She took the ring, slid it onto her finger and hauled him up to kiss her. "I always get the last bite."
Then she brought her mouth to his and gave him a sweet taste of the future to come.
Ray Jr.'s Happy-Ending-for-Everyone Garlic Scallops and Shrimp
6 large scallops, halved
8 large shrimp, peeled and deveined
2 tablespoons flour
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon basil, chopped
3 tablespoons lemon juice
Salt and pepper
Before you make your great escape, you have time for one more meal. Everyone in your family is finally happy now, and it's up to you to bring that happy ending to a Holstein with a heart.
Rinse the scallops under cold water and pat them dry. Season all the seafood with a little salt and pepper, then dust with flour, shaking off the excess.
Heat the oil in a pan large enough to give each scallop his own space. Then add them and their shrimp neighbors to the pan. Reduce the heat to medium-high and cook for two minutes, then flip. Add the garlic and basil, then finish cooking for another two minutes. Shower it all with lemon juice and you've created a non-beef masterpiece.
Serve to all your friends and show them there's an option out there besides just cows for dinner.
Then get the hell out of town before anyone looks to see what you're hiding in the back of your truck.
Chapter Thirty-Three
"I don't think this is a good idea, Ray Jr., "Vernon said as they hurried west on the toll road in Cecil's truck. They'd left in the middle of the night, barreling out of Massachusetts as fast as the old pickup could go.
Ray Jr. flicked the wipers on to brush away the light rain that had started. "Hush up, Vernon. We couldn't let her stay there. God only knows what that guy would have done to her."
"Yeah, but kidnapping her in the middle of the night? There are laws against that."
"Let 'em try and catch me. I'll just rebrand her and put her on our farm. Nobody will know the difference."
Vernon shook his head and let out a sigh. "You're an old softie, you know that, don't you?"
"I am not." Ray Jr. hesitated, then shrugged. Maybe Vernon was right. How many times had he gone out hunting and come back empty-handed because he couldn't bear to hurt an animal? 'Course, he had to pretend to miss, so his friends wouldn't think he was a complete weenie. "I just... Well, I couldn't see her get slaughtered like that."
Vernon raised his hands in frustration. "She's a cow, Ray! That's what happens to them."
"Not to my Bessie. She's coming home with us to Indiana."
"Momma's gonna be mad. She told you, no more pets."
"Bessie's a... souvenir."
Vernon waved his Patriots hat around. "This is a souvenir. That is a side of beef." He sent a thumb in the direction of the trailer they were hauling.
"Not anymore, she isn't. I have plans for that cow."
"Plans?"
"Yep. Since Meredith is a little busy in Boston—"
"With that city boy." Vernon scowled.
"He's not so bad, you know. Any man who can take care of Meredith and love her like that is worth a place at our dinner table."
Vernon gave a grudging shrug. "As long as he doesn't eat the last biscuit."
Ray Jr. rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I think I solved Meredith's last problem."
"What do you mean?" Vernon gave a little wave as they passed the "Thank You for Visiting Massachusetts" sign and headed across the state line.
Ray Jr. gestured toward the unsuspecting cow chewing her cud in the trailer behind them. "Meet Bessie, the new Miss Holstein. She's gonna look mighty good on the front of that tractor."
"How are you going to do that?"
Ray Jr. grinned. "We have the glue. We can do just about anything now."
Vernon's grin was just as devilish. "Oh the trouble we can get into ..."
"You can say that again," Ray Jr. said. Then before Vernon could open his mouth, Ray Jr. picked up the foam Patriots finger and flashed it at his brother. "But don't. It's a hell of a long ride home."
Excerpt from The Bride Wore Chocolate
Book 1 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series
Chapter One
Candace Woodrow stared at the gooey, sunken mess inverting onto itself like there was a Hoover under the table. "This was supposed to be a groom's cake, not a pancake."
Rebecca poked at the chocolate failure. "Did you cook it long enough?"
"I thought I did," Candace said. "I lost track of time because Trifecta needed to go out."
"I've seen you with that dog." Maria wagged a finger at her. "Taking a three-legged dog for a walk is a comedy of errors." She gave an indulgent smile to Candace's shelter-rescued mutt, dozing in the front part of the shop, separated from the kitchen by a glass door. "We still love ya, Trifecta, even if you are a living tripod."
Candace laughed. The best thing about working with her friends every day was the laughter. Without them, she swore she'd have gone crazy planning her wedding.
Two years ago, the three of them had started Gift Baskets to Die For in the basement of Candace's Dorchester duplex. Within a year, their food-themed baskets had hit it big with the corporations in Boston, allowing them to open a storefront in a quaint building not far from Faneuil Hall Marketplace. Business had been brisk enough to pay both the rent and decent salaries for all of them.
Candace's life was settled, secure. On an even, planned keel. She was twenty-seven, three weeks from being married, and her life was chugging along on the path she'd laid out.
Everything was perfect—except the cake.
"Maybe the eggs were spoiled," Candace said. "I mean, look at this thing. It's an overgrown hockey puck."
"It's a sign." Maria nodded and her shoulder-length chestnut curls shook in emphasis. "Yep. Definitely a sign."
Rebecca shushed her. "Will you stop with that? This is Candace's wedding we're talking about. Don't make her more nervous than she already is." She took another look at the cake. "I think you just underbaked it. Besides, this was a trial run. We'll make another one before the wedding."
"What if it is a sign?" Candace threw up her hands. "Look at all that's gone wrong with my wedding. The DJ I booked had a heart attack—"
"He said the wheelchair won't stop him from spinning CDs," Rebecca pointed out.
"If he doesn't electrocute himself with the IV drip," Maria added.
"And then last week Father Kenny ran off with the church secretary."
"Who turned out to be a Daniel, not a Danielle like we all thought." Maria grabbed a raspberry thumbprint cookie from the Tupperware container on the counter and took a bite. Maria Pagliano's method of dieting involved buying the latest issues of Cosmo, Glamour and Woman's World, picking and choosing the parts she liked from their diets of the month, then chucking the whole thing on weekends.
"Don't forget the fire at the dress shop. I still can't believe the store burned to the ground, and with your dress inside." Rebecca twisted a scrunchie around her straight brown hair, creating a jaunty ponytail. On Rebecca Hamilton, almost any hairstyl
e looked good. She had one of those long, delicate faces made for Cover Girl. "It was kind of heroic, though, how that cute fireman kept you from going in after it. He saved your life"
"I would have rather he saved my dress," Candace muttered. "At least I have insurance. But I still need to find another dress. I can't get that particular one anymore and even if I could, there's not enough time to order it."
"You haven't bought one yet?" Maria's jaw dropped. "But Candace, the wedding's only three weeks away."
Since Candace had said "I will" to Barry, it had been one disaster after another. If she put stock in things like signs, she'd have called off the wedding months ago. But she didn't believe in any of that. It was a string of bad luck, mat's all. Marrying Barry was the right choice, she was sure of it Candace had never made a move in her life that she hadn't thoroughly researched, planned and analyzed.
Well, except one. But that had been a long time ago. Ever since then, Candace had subscribed to the "more control is better" life mantra. That's why Barry was so perfect for her. They matched like plaid and stripes.
On her marrying Barry list the pros had far outweighed any cons. Now if Murphy's Law would just see that too.
Candace sighed. "Between the business and all those last-minute glitches, I haven't had time to find another dress."
Rebecca looped her arm through Candace’s. "Tonight we're going dress shopping, and then well get good and drunk because tomorrow is Sunday, our day off, and we don't have a single delivery due on Monday."
Of the three of them, Rebecca was the oldest by four months and thus had become the unofficial decision maker. She was also the thinnest and the only one who came equipped with both an iron will and a Blackwell-worthy fashion sense. And, as the sole married one, the wisest when it came to matters of weddings and bridal gowns.
"Wow. An instant vacation." Maria grabbed a second cookie and finished it off in two bites. "I hope the bar is well stocked."
Rebecca gave her a wry look. "You mean you hope the bartender is well built."
"Yeah, that, too." Maria smiled. "But if he doesn't know how to make a killer margarita, what good are looks?"
Excerpt from The Devil Served Desire
Book 2 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series
Chapter One
Maria Pagliano was serious this time.
No-holds-barred, no-prisoners-taken, no-cheese-allowed serious. She had eight weeks to do what she'd never been able to do before—lose twenty-five pounds.
This time, she vowed, was going to be different. She wasn't going to cheat and fall victim to her own desires. But in order to stick to her plan, she needed a little help, which was why she had come here on a Tuesday night.
To a meeting of the Chubby Chums support group.
In the lime green basement of a tiny church in Boston's North End, a dozen or so people sat on folding chairs in a circle. Above them, a fluorescent light flickered and hummed like a pathetic disco ball. Maria crossed her legs, pantyhose swishing in the quiet, trying very hard not to think about the lone manicotti from Guido's Italian Cafe sitting in her apartment refrigerator.
"Welcome, group!'' A woman in tight jeans who looked like she'd never been tempted by a bowl of raviolis in her life stepped into the room and opened her arms wide, in an all-encompassing group hug. "And how are my Chubby Chums tonight?"
"We're peachy with light syrup!"
Maria looked around at the group, all laughing at their practiced pun. Had she accidentally stumbled into the Lunatics with Heart Support Forum?
The pixie leader's name badge said, Hello, my name is: Stephanie, with a smiley face and an exclamation point. Stephanie took a seat in one of the chairs, thrusting out her hands. The group copied her, becoming a human circle of joined palms. A portly guy—his tag declared his name was "Homer"—grabbed up Maria's left hand with a sweaty palm, giving her a smile that lacked a few teeth. "Jillie," a middle-aged sniffling woman, put down her stash of tissues to take Maria's right hand in a floppy fish grip.
Then, as if on cue, the group dropped their heads to their chests and began to recite: "God grant me the serenity to accept my goal weight, the courage to resist anything with more than three hundred calories, and the wisdom to check the fat grams before I open my mouth and insert a fork."
Goose bumps rose on Maria's arms. Bunch of lunatics.
She should leave. But...
Mary Louise Zipparetto had gone from a size twenty to a size two, with the help of the Chubby Chums. Mary Louise had told her mother, who'd told Maria's mother, who'd told Maria over a cheese danish, that Mary Louise would be wearing a sleeveless Band-Aid of a dress to the class reunion to show off her new figure.
No way was Maria going to let Mary Louise be the best-looking woman in the Sons of Italy hall. All her life, Mary Louise had been the one to compete against. The first one to get an "A" in Mr. Marcetto's impossibly hard geometry class. She'd run for class president and won— two out of four years in high school. The other two, Maria had taken the top spot and made Mary Louise serve as veep.
And now, Mary Louise was skinnier and planning on taking the spotlight at the reunion.
Over Maria's dead bruschetta-fortified body.
Maria straightened in her seat, yanked her hand away from Homer, who let out a sigh of disappointment, and started paying attention. Stephanie's hands danced around her head as she talked, dramatizing her clear joy at being among a crowd of wannabe-thin people.
"Let's get started with a little bit of sharing! Tell us the last food you ate today and then name an animal you'd most like to be."
Mary Louise Zipparetto. In a size two.
Starting today, Maria intended to leave the double digits behind for good. She'd been okay with herself as a ten, but as twelve edged toward fourteen, she'd begun to dread shopping. Getting dressed. Looking in the mirror. But most of all, she now dreaded dating and the inevitable getting naked part. For a woman who enjoyed sex as much as pasta, that presented a few problems.
Then the invitation to her ten-year class reunion had come in the mail, followed by a phone call that had sent her pulse—and her diet dedication—into overdrive.
Antonio Lombardi, captain of the football team in high school and God's gift to a sex-starved woman, had asked her if she was coming, and if she was still as pretty as the rah-rah cheerleader he remembered. He'd said something about letting him see her in just the pom-poms and she'd babbled some kind of agreement. It was, after all, Antonio, and she'd never been able to say no to him, not even on prom night.
Over the course of her life, she'd done every diet— the seven-day grapefruit plan; the all-the-meat-you-can-eat regime and the starve-yourself-until-the-dress-fits desperation diet only to make a mad dash to Macy's and buy the next size up. Nothing had worked. Inevitably, she gave in to the first thing with tomato sauce and cheese, her diets failing faster than a one-hit-wonder’s second album.
But now, there was no turning back. Hanging in her closet was a little black—and very expensive—dress from Saks in a size eight that she'd bought this afternoon. The dress, and the thought of Antonio eyeing Mary Louise at the reunion instead of her, kept Maria rooted to her seat.
Author Bio
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shirley Jump spends her days writing romance and women’s fiction to feed her shoe addiction and avoid cleaning the toilets. She cleverly finds writing time by feeding her kids junk food, allowing them to dress in the clothes they find on the floor and encouraging the dogs to double as vacuum cleaners. Visit her website at www.ShirleyJump.com or read recipes and life adventures at www.ShirleyJump.blogspot.com.
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