by Lauren Clark
I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
I’m in the very place where my father found love forty-eight years earlier.
Eufaula, Alabama.
Exactly where I was supposed to be all along.
Readers Guide
Dancing Naked in Dixie
Readers Guide
1. At the outset, Julia is harried and unorganized. How much do you think her mother’s death and her father’s subsequent absence affect her ability to focus on her job?
2. Is travel a way for Julia to escape her past and avoid dealing with the pain?
3. Julia is, at first, upset about her assignment in Alabama. Did it surprise you that a person so well-travelled might be unhappy about being sent to a small town in the Deep South?
4. Southerners, by nature, are open, friendly and gregarious. Contrast that with the people Julia encounters in New York city.
5. Shug Jordan’s relationship with his father is tense and strained. Should TJ have pushed Shug to follow in his footsteps or embrace the fact that his son wants to forge his own career path?
6. What was your initial view on Aubie? How did other women in the community and her own family handle her alcoholism?
7. Mary Katherine appears to be a superficial Southern Belle with aspirations to marry Shug and secure her portion of the Jordan family fortune, but it’s later revealed that she has a tough, scheming side. Why didn’t Shug see this?
8. When she first meets Julia, PD isn’t as warm and welcoming as the rest of Eufaula’s residents. Why do you think this is?
9. Julia is accident-prone and often lands in embarrassing or awkward situations. How do the people of Eufaula take care of her? How does that kindness change the way she sees her career and the focus of her article for Getaways magazine?
10. Does David Sullivan, Julia’s father, redeem himself with his daughter? How did you feel about David at the end?
11. Discuss a time when people were at odds with a new building project in your own community. What happened? At what point does “progress” interfere with an area’s history?
12. Spoiler Alert! In the last chapter, Shug tells Julia he’s bought property in the historic district and is building a home. What do you think will happen with their relationship? What else is next for Julia and her career?
PD’s Pillow Pockets
2 packages Puff Pastry (frozen, let thaw slightly)
1 jar of Nutella Chocolate Hazelnut Spread
1 bag of Mini Marshmallows
1 Egg White plus 1 tbsp Water (whisk together in a small bowl)
Powdered Sugar (sift)
Cut each pastry sheet into four equal pieces. Spread a tablespoon of Nutella in the center of each piece, leaving an inch border. Add 6-8 mini-marshmallows to each piece and fold over to form a triangle. Press edges with fork to seal. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with powdered sugar. Place on a parchment paper lined cookie sheet to prevent sticking. Bake at 350 for 22 minutes or until just golden. Remove and let cool, sprinkle with powdered sugar. Makes 16 Pillow Pockets. Enjoy!
Acknowledgements
To my husband, Mark, my biggest supporter and partner in everything. Love you, honey! Patrick and John David—you are my world—forever and always. Loads of appreciation to my entire family, especially my Mom and Dad. We can’t wait to see you at the Lake this summer!
I am indebted to my wonderful early readers: Ashleigh O’Dowd, Kimberly Kinrade, Tara Turner, Laura Pepper Wu, and my mother, Maxine Kidder.
Further thanks go to Melissa Ringsted of There For You blog, and Kitty Bullard of Great Minds Think Aloud, for proofreading Dixie. Kitty, you were divine to work with, as always. Big Hugs! And Melissa—if you can dream it—someone can make a movie about it! Let’s find out if Reese is available…
To Laura Pepper Wu, my adorable and sweet publicist—I will try to quit emailing you fifty times a day. Thank you for your advice, guidance, and friendship! To Laura’s husband, Brandon Wu, technical expert extraordinaire, I can’t thank you enough for helping with my website.
Much praise goes to the very talented Damonza, who created the fabulous cover for Dixie in the midst of moving his family to a new home! You are amazing and so talented. A shower of appreciation to Guido Henkel for formatting Dixie.
To fellow author Emlyn Chand—a wave of my magic wand and three wishes. A late-night text message to Jen Neese…you always make me laugh! A bottle of wine and any missing Lego bricks go to Yvonne Edeker—the best neighbor in the entire world! Lisa Daughtry—thank you for listening—even at midnight.
A big Hey, y’all! to Lizz Gentry Woodrich, Lynnette Spratley, Doug McCourt, and Ron Smith for all of your support these past months! You have been unbelievable!! I am so blessed.
A plate of mystery rolls to Jane McEnerney, who shared delectable recipe ideas for PD. Hugs to Stacey Howell, who introduced us and welcomed me into her lovely home for book club.
I’m so fortunate to know Mary Epps Ellingwood, Rebecca Castillo, Jen Gallaspy, Jana Simpson, Karen Alford, Ashleigh O’Dowd, and Julie Flotte—who’s up for another Pensacola trip?
I raise a delicious latte to celebrate my favorite bloggers, among them Liz & Lisa at Chick Lit is Not Dead, Samantha Robey at ChickLitPlus, Marianne at Goddess Fish, Amanda LaConte, Roxanne Rhoads, Majanka Verstraete, Novel Girl Rebecca Berto, Julie at AToMR, Melissa Amster, Jessica Sinn, Ashley Wiederhold, Shah Wharton, Mandy Reupsch, Marie Borthwick, Lucy D’Andrea, Lindsay at Turning the Pages, and BK Walker.
It’s been such fun getting to know the gang at Page & Palette Bookstore in Fairhope, Alabama. A special thank you to Doug for believing in Stay Tuned and Dancing Naked in Dixie.
And finally, a perfect summer sky full of incredible fireworks for all of my readers. I adore getting your emails and I am humbled by your many lovely comments on Amazon, BN.com, and GoodReads. A heartfelt review is the highest compliment an author could ask for! Thank you so very much.
About the Author
Lauren Clark writes contemporary novels set in the Deep South; stories sprinkled with sunshine, suspense, and secrets.
A former TV news anchor, Lauren adores flavored coffee, local book stores, and anywhere she can stick her toes in the sand. Her big loves are her family, paying it forward, and true-blue friends. Check out her website at www.laurenclarkbooks.com.
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Coming February 2013
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Read on for an excerpt from
by Lauren Clark
Available from Monterey Press
Stay Tuned
Chapter 1
Alyssa Andrews was missing.
Gone, vanished, MIA with just minutes to airtime.
“Melissa, where is she?” Our news director, Joe, shot a harried look in my direction. After dealing with a broken studio camera, spotty satellite reception, and last-minute script changes, his nerves were fried to a crisp.
“She’ll be here,” I promised, knowing my confidence was a front. Alyssa, one of WSGA-TV’s main news anchors, was a constant source of angst in my already-stressful job.
She was young, talented, gorgeous…and chronically late.
This lack of punctuality was a problem, especially when WSGA ran a show at exactly six and ten o’clock every night. Not a moment later.
WSGA was Macon, Georgia’s number one news station and had been for two years running. If we wanted to keep it that way, timing was everything. Every second mattered.
I produced both evening shows, which meant—among a dozen other tasks—organizing the day’s stories, writing copy, and checking video. Each segment had to run seamlessly between three-minute commercial breaks.
Deep breath, Melissa. Send up a little prayer. She’ll show up.
The red numbers on the clock continued to march forward.
Another deep breath. Everything’s in place. Alyssa just needs to walk in and get on set…
“Tighten up on camera one.” Joe peppered the room with demands. “Mic check, now, not yesterday.”
Tim Donaldson, Alyssa’s co-anchor, obliged, counting backwards from the number five.
Joe’s thick fingers punched buttons on the massive keyboard in front of him. “Bring up the live shot.”
Still, no Alyssa.
Joe raked a huge hand through his long gray hair. “Five minutes!” he growled, with a glare into his empty coffee cup.
At this point, it was Joe’s show to run. He was in charge. I shuffled my scripts. “How about I call her?”
“She’s an adult,” he grumbled. “You shouldn’t have to.”
Joe expected nothing less than perfection. He was experienced, hard working, and a stickler for detail. Alyssa’s nonchalance made him crazy.
Which, at 9:55:36 on a Friday night, gave him the patience of a gnat. On crack.
This was particularly dangerous for an unsuspecting new employee, all of twenty years old and pimple-faced, who crept up behind us.
Joe ignored him at first, barking an order to me instead. “Fine, fine. Melissa, tell Princess A. she’s needed in the studio.”
On autopilot, I punched her extension, eyes focused on the row of monitors above my head in case she decided to appear.
While the phone rang, the new kid rocked on his heels nervously. I flashed a smile and shook my head gently in his direction, hoping he’d get the hint.
Not now.
Nope. The kid stood there, coughed lightly, and waited for one of us to turn around.
“What?” Joe finally snapped.
The force of the word made the kid’s body jerk back. Jaw open, unable to speak, his face turned crimson.
Joe waited about a second for the kid to talk, and then leaned back over the control panel. He pressed at switches, clearly annoyed. The kid looked sick. Joe rolled his eyes. My anxiety level cranked up ten notches.
9:58:09. Less than two minutes.
Wait…a flash of an ivory suit and blond hair.
“There she is,” I interrupted the tension with a cool nod toward the monitors.
Front and center, Alyssa sauntered into the studio, lips puckered, blowing her shell-pink nail polish dry. She slid into her seat next to Tim, and gave him a playful pat on the shoulder.
Joe muttered something I couldn’t repeat.
I stifled a loud sigh of relief and glanced around the room. The new guy was the only one in the building unimpressed with Alyssa’s arrival. With a shaking hand, he reached out and tapped Joe’s burly shoulder.
“Mr. Joe, there’s a problem with one of the machines—”
Joe’s back stiffened. He turned a millimeter in the kid’s direction and exploded. “Get your butt back there. Get one of the engineers. Fix it. Call someone.”
I caught the now-completely mortified kid’s eye, and motioned for him to come toward me. Grabbing the nearest piece of paper, I jotted down the engineer’s extension and held it at arm’s length with a kind smile. Poor guy. Lots to learn.
With a grateful look, the new kid plucked the scrap from my fingers and darted away.
Time to get started.
I settled in, gripped my pen hard, and looked up.
Okay. Alyssa’s collar was turned under. Minor detail, but sure to garner at least five viewer complaints. You wouldn’t believe what people called in about.
I leaned toward the microphone to let Alyssa know.
“Dare you not to tell her,” Joe muttered. It wasn’t a secret that the guys would willingly let Alyssa go on air with underwear on her head. She hadn’t made friends. Or tried to.
Tim, her co-anchor and current boyfriend, didn’t count.
“Just part of those darn producer duties, Joe. You know that.” I flashed him a smile and pressed the button to talk. “Alyssa, fix your collar.”
Her mouth parted into an O. Alyssa frowned, glanced down, and straightened the pale edge. Just in time.
Like a well-directed movie, the WSGA-TV opening video flashed across monitor one. Macon, Georgia’s skyline filled the screen.
My body tingled with a familiar rush of excitement. It happened every time we went on air. The cameras and lights, the beat of the music, the thrill of live television.
Here we go.
Seconds later, Alyssa and Tim appeared under the lights, their bright anchor smiles pasted on.
“Good evening, I’m Alyssa Andrews.
“And I’m Tim Donaldson.”
And on it went, without a blip, for the first ten minutes. I started breathing again after the third break.
Stanley and Sunshine, the weather cat, were ready for the five-day forecast, check.
Commercial break, check.
Sports, check. I didn’t worry about that three-minute slot. Plenty to talk about, visual stories; the anchors could get away with jokes and ad-libbing. Viewers loved it.
We rounded out the show with an inspirational kicker about a local scholarship winner, a kid first in his family to go to college. He’d won forty thousand dollars and was going to Georgia Tech to study astrophysics.
The show wrapped with a standard goodnight, credits, and a wide shot of the WSGA set.
The second the master control operator switched to break, Alyssa flounced off the set in silicone fashion. She barked into her jewel-encrusted cell phone about her min-pin puppy’s cancelled spa appointment and stomped out of the studio, teetering precariously in four-inch heels.
Yikes!
I climbed the flight of stairs back to the newsroom, relieved the night was almost over.
The phones started to ring five seconds later.
Table of Contents
Praise for Lauren Clark & Stay Tuned
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Readers Guide
PD’s Pillow Pockets
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Preview: Stay Tuned