Where You will find Home is Where Your Boots Are

1. Edie's Fashions in Tahlequah, OK. Go visit Connie! She'll sell you a book and deck you out in THE most original attire. We heart Connie and the girls at Edie's!!!

2. Steve's Sundry in Tulsa, OK at 26th and Harvard. As a book lover and purveyor of a LOT of bookstores; this is, by far, my favorite!! They have everything literary imaginable. If they don't they will track it down. I go here to purchase my Spanish and Italian Vogues to practice my language skills.

3. Lulu's Bake Shoppe in Tulsa, OK at the Plaza on 81st and Lewis. Her food is sublime. No other words for it (and I've read the dictionary). Go on Wednesdays, and you can get the book and her goat cheese and black bean enchiladas!!!

4. Lulu.com. This is straight from the publisher. They are fast, easy and a great way to get your copy if you're not from Tulsa or Tahlequah.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Everywhere I go, I see signs of the holiday season. Those that have the "ho-ho spirit" rejoice in the details of Christmas-time. Those that don't; well, you're all Grinches, Scrooges and Bah-humbuggers and you can just get over yourself. As I write These Boots Are Made for Butt-Kickin', I get distracted by a holiday adventure I'm writing about Miss Lilly and her cast of characters. I thought I'd take the time to list my favorite things about this special season that will, no doubt, make it into the someday Christmas volume of The Misadventures of Miss Lilly.

1. The hot chocolate from Starbucks that tasted like a chocolate covered pretzel. Holla.

2. Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation. My family always has the hap, hap, happiest holidays since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny frickin' Kaye. Or else my mom starts throwing food, and that gets real ugly real fast.

3. That I can decorate anything and everything as craptacularly as I dang well please. As long as it comes down after January 1.

4. The look of wonderment on my soon-to-be nephew's faces when discussing Christmas.

5. The ring of candy cane juice around the youngest one's mouth as he's listening to Christmas stories.

6. My ultra-cheesy fiance gets even ultra-cheesier.

7. Making really ugly Christmas cookies.

8. Deciding they're too ugly to give away and keeping for oneself.

9. My family sitting around, listening to my medical-field cousins tell horrific stories.

10. My family, sitting around, together.


Happy Holidays Y'all! I'm sure I'll get mushier as the days roll on, so get ready!!!

First Book Signing a Success

Our first book signing at Edie's Fashions in Tahlequah, Oklahoma was a smashing success! I got to see all my old teachers, who take great pride in having a hand in my raising; my fabulous friends, without whom I would have no stories: and the amazing women of Tahlequah, who will always be my favorite people!

It's a contest, folks

Lulu has graciously offered the top seller of December a fantabulous prize of $1500!! You all know what a perfectionist Lilly is and she wants to win!
That is why, for the month of December, we're offering a 25% discount on Home is Where Your Boots Are when you purchase it at Lulu.com. In addition, Lulu is offering incredible daily deals all month, so you could score an event better price on the book. Stock up on stocking stuffers and help us out in the process. $1500 could go a long way toward our next book production!

Thanks readers!

Where I Come From

Things I did yesterday:
1. Stressed about the book signing being perfect
2. Hot-rolled my hair, did my nails and put on silly leather pants
3. Got to Tahlequah and realized I should take a page out of my own book. No one cares. No one is impressed if my hair is fixed (they're used to it not being fixed). No one notices if my nails are done and my silly leather pants were, while cute, not important.
Because in Tahlequah, people value you for what you are and what you do; not what you wear or what you look like. You should all be so lucky as to get to grow up in a place like that.

A very Merry discounted Christmas!!!

Miss Lilly loves a bargain just as much as the rest of us! That is why, for the month of December, Home is Where Your Boots Are is offered at a 25% discount if purchased from Lulu. In addition, Lulu is in the holiday spirit as well and they've agreed to give our readers another 10% off at checkout. Just enter the discount code PEARTREE at checkout to receive the additional discount!

That, my dear readers, is a fabulous deal, if I do say so myself!
Happy Reading and Happy Holidays!

See you all Friday in Tahlequah!

Book Launch at Edie's Fashions on Friday in Tahlequah! Join us! We're giving away prizes!

Steel Magnolias Meets Hank the Cowdog

Just today, a reader wrote me to tell me how much they were enjoying Home is Where Your Boots Are and to ask when Volume Two (These Boots are Made for Butt-Kickin') was coming out. I love that anyone would have a fun time with these characters, because I had such a fun time creating them and telling their story! The best compliments were when the reader told me 1) it was funny (I love to be told I'm funny), and 2) the book was like Steel Magnolias Meets Hank the Cowdog. I love that description! Home is Where Your Boots are is a whole lot Southern, a whole lot country, and a whole lot rock and roll!!! Thanks for understanding it spot on!

Remember, if you've got questions, comments or criticisms; we take them at
kalanchapman@hotmail.com

Home is Where Your Boots Are is Now Available at Steve's Sundry in Tulsa, OK

Home is Where Your Boots Are is now available at Steve's Sundry in Tulsa, OK! Stop by for their famous chicken noodle soup and grab your copy!


Steve's Sundry Books and Magazines
2612 S. Harvard
Tulsa, OK
918-743-3544
Toll free: 888-743-0989
Steve's Sundry Books and Magazines

Events and Email

Hey y'all! We're gearing up for our book signings and parties. We've got two scheduled so far; one in Tahlequah and three in Tulsa. Here are the pertinent details:


Tahlequah Launch and Signings
Friday, December 3rd, 4:30pm
Edie's Fashions
301 N. Muskogee
Come and go, buy your copy, get it signed and enjoy some light refreshments with Kalan.


Tulsa Launch and Signings

Saturday, November 20th, 10-4
Hearts of Confidence Christmas Bazaar
Lulu's Sweet Shoppe
8132-C S. Lewis
Come out and support awareness for domestic violence victims and get some great Christmas presents!
Hearts of Confidence
Friday, December 10th, 6pm
Lulu's Sweet Shoppe
8132-C S. Lewis
Enjoy some Lilly-inspired fare by the very talented Preeti Waas!

Tulsa Appearance and Signing
Saturday, December 18th, 10am-12pm
Steve's Sundry
31st and Harvard
Come meet the author and get your book signed!


Email: If you've got questions, comments or just want to rant about Cash email Kalan L. Chapman at kalanchapman@hotmail.com.


Happy Reading, y'all!

No.1, No. 1, No. 1

Can I say it one more time... number one! That's right, Miss Lilly  has topped the list of Literature and Fiction at lulu.com! If there's one thing Lilly loves, it's being loved. Keep us going by going on the site and buying the book, rating the book and reviewing the book.

Thank you all so much for all your support. I love these characters and the stories that come out through them and can't wait to share more. Still working on These Boots Are Made For Butt-Kickin'!!

Visit the book here: Miss Lilly Number 1 in the Top 100

Rave Reviews

Extra, extra, read all about it! Miss Lilly is lovable. Visit http://www.localfixx.com/ to see our latest review! It's nice to be liked! Home is Where Your Boots Are Book Review

The Gang's All Here!

Just what we (yes, we) have all been waiting for! Let the Misadventures of Miss Lilly commence. She's made her digital debut and is now available in print as well. Please visit Lulu to purchase your copy of Home is Where Your Boots Are and be on the lookout for book signings and launches coming soon!

Thank you again to all my wonderful people!!!!!

Home is Where Your Boots Are

By Kalan L. Chapman

View this Author's Spotlight

Paperback, 259 pages

 (1 Rating)

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Price:	$15.99

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Small-town girl turned big-city lawyer, Lilly Atkins is both southern belle and rhinestone cowgirl, balancing sugar and steel with wit and grit. She traded her hometown for Dallas to earn a law degree and an old money fiancé, losing herself in the process. While her law career flourished, her relationship floundered and she finds herself the brunt of a bad cliché. So she hauls her bags and cheated heart back across the border to her hometown; Brooks, Oklahoma, where the creek is cool and the gossip is hot. Having grown up in there, Lilly has always known Brooks is the kind of place where everyone knows whose check is good and whose husband isn’t. But when she comes back, she’s smacked with some down-home deceit. Lilly is suspicious and intrigued when her “bad-boy turned good” old-flame wants to be her first client and the local funeral home director is her second.

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For Your Reading Pleasure!!

http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/home-is-where-your-boots-are/13031371?showPreview

Miss Lilly has made her debut! She's available for purchase through e-readers! If you've got an iPad, Kindle, Nook, Sony e-Reader, get her while she's hot. And trust us, she's hot like a doughnut out of the grease!

Miss Lilly's Playlist

Often, a song on the radio will trigger a feeling for me, which will trigger prose for a book. With Home is Where Your Boots Are, there were so many songs that made me think of Lilly, her feelings, and the things she does. Below, I've compiled a playlist of songs to Lilly by...

1. Miranda Lambert's butt-kickin' songs (for when she's going to look for dead bodies). Miranda gives Lilly courage. And Fae Lynn loves to rock out to her.

2. Carrie Underwood's car-smashin' with a baseball bat songs (for when she's going to seek vigilante justice). Lilly's not a fan of Carrie's sweetness, but she's sure a fan of her sass.

3. The Bellamy Brothers' classic hits. These songs make her think of good times with Cash. "Let's get persuaded".

4.  Dierks Bentley, Billy Currington, and George Strait. Umm, hot. Plus Dierks sweat on her one time as they were running down the same street in Dallas.

5. The Randy Rogers Band. Every song was written about her relationship with Cash, her relationship with Van, or the hotness of Spencer Locke

6. Christmas Songs. Lilly's sister, Tally, is constantly singing "Santa Baby".

What are the songs of your life?

Debut of our New Cover

Home is Where Your Boots Are!
Cover art is done and couldn't look better.
Big thanks to Mike Bridges with http://www.digitalventuredesign.com/ who designed the cover, after being brutally honest about my own lack of design skills. He is awesome!
and Catie Lawrence for the cover art: http://www.catielawrencephotography.com/. Catie is a fabulous photographer who knew exactly what we were looking for!

Without further ado....drumroll please...

Lettin' the Skunk out of the Bag...

I've had requests for another excerpt from the book before publication. I'm itching to share hopefully as much as you are to read. So I decided to let the skunk out of the bag. Below, for your reading pleasure, is another snapshot of Lilly's life in Brooks. Do not mess with a Brooks woman.

   “Yes ma’am?” I answered with a lilt. Then I listened and shot to attention and my feet. Mama and Nonnie and Tally had already gone on point, alerted by my body language and tone. “We’ll be there in a minute.” I turned to them all as I clicked off the phone, nodding at their questioning expressions. “Get dressed, black. Bring gloves. We’ve got twenty minutes.” I paused with a slight grimacing smile. “And we’re gonna need a dead animal.” 

  Tally grinned like Santa baby had given her a ’54 light blue convertible. (Tally was always singing Christmas songs, which interrupted my normal stream of country song consciousness).

  “I’ll get the gloves,” she grinned. Without questioning me, Mama and Nonnie sighed and exchanged glances, getting up to take action.

   “I’ll get the cheese,” Mama offered.

  “I think the gun’s at my house,” Nonnie remembered, “Pick me up.” She gathered her purse and the sweet tea she had been nursing, grabbing a cookie from the plate on the table that Mama had no doubt baked for two very different reasons. One, to calm herself down after hearing Cash had come to see me and two, in an attempt to encourage me to give up all the details.

  “Twenty minutes!” I yelled at Nonnie’s back as she headed out the door to her golf cart bedecked in metallic and fringe. The golf cart had at one time been Daddy’s. He’d bought it when he’d taken up golfing to cure stress and had given it to Nonnie after breaking his seven-iron over his knee on the fourteenth tee.

Forty-five minutes later we’d piled into Nonnie’s big SUV, me at the wheel, Nonnie riding shotgun in the passenger seat and Tally and Mama in the back with the necessary supplies.

“Who is it now?” Mama finally asked as I turned onto the highway toward town and Fae Lynn’s house.

 “Brandy,” I replied grimly.

“Well good grief,” Nonnie huffed, “I swear, I told that young lady a hundred times. Any man that walks around calling every female darlin’ including his own mama, is probably walking around waving his pecker at them too. They can’t be trusted. I cannot believe I had to put that skunk in a trash bag after I warned her sorry behind,” Nonnie clapped her hands over her mouth in shock at her bawdiness, then giggled with glee. Let me reiterate one more time, she’s never been the same since the pacemaker.

“Oh, Nonnie, it wouldn’t matter who it was, you’d have gotten a skunk for any one of us girls, no questions asked,” Tally giggled. It was true. There was some unwritten, unmentioned code of the South that forced women of all ages to set aside petty differences to help out one of their own, not including white trash or the uppity, although the lines had been stretched a time or two. So, when a sister of the South needed support, that icon that encompasses all things southern and all things female reared its genteel head. The backbone of the steel magnolia snapped into place and duty deferred to grievances past and squabbles present.

We parked at Fae Lynn’s beside a silver Lexus, a green minivan, and a red Mustang. We opened the door as Fae Lynn’s husband, Scott, came out, shoving his arms into a Carhartt barn jacket.

“I don’t want any part of this,” he muttered, shaking his head. He buttoned his jacket over his stomach softened by beer and his wife’s cooking. “Y’all’re crazy when you get like this. If Fae Lynn calls me one more time to bail y’all out, I’m not speakin’ to any of you until Christmas.”

“Cool down, sugar,” Tally retorted, “Lilly’s back. You know she can talk any officer out of arresting us.”

Scott eyed me suspiciously, “I’ve heard. I just hope you don’t have to prove it.”

“Tell you what Scotty, go stay with Lloyd and come back tomorrow morning before you have to be at the station. Everything will be fine,” I assured him with a wink. He shook his head skeptically but walked away toward his truck.

“Isn’t he in a twist,” Tally giggled as we followed the sound of a blender toward the kitchen and the beginning of tonight’s entertainment.

Ever proper, Nonnie chastised Tally, “Mind your manners, he’s just upset he’s missing dinner.” Mama rolled her eyes and strolled ahead down the hall.

“You two quit goofing so we can get down to business.”

We entered the kitchen to the scent of limes and baking chocolate. In the midst of five women sat a petite female with once mousy brown hair, now streaked with strategic highlights. Tear stained cheeks held little remnants of once artfully applied makeup. The tears had ruined the mascara so necessary to southern beauty. Lipstick had been bitten off. Brandy’s small shoulders shook with sobs as she hiccupped and blubbered on, “Adam’s such a good decent name. He took me to meet his mama. He said I was the perfect woman to have his children. Why would he do this?”

“Well,” drawled a tall, plump, dark-haired beauty of Indian descent, “he is from Texas, and you know what they say… steer and queers.”

“Hush, Charlotte. Everything’s supposed to be bigger and better too,” said a busty blond of barroom hair and a heart shaped face with big grey eyes. “Now honey, don’t mind her, you know how she gets.”

“I get honest, Jacqueline, which is more than I can say for most women around here. God forbid we say the truth instead of sticking our heads in the sand and forgiving a man and taking him back every time he strays. It’s not like she’s married to him.”

I decided to enter the conversation with my usual diplomacy.

“Now y’all calm down, there’s no use us ganging up on each other when the real party who needs to be reckoned with is out having a grand time. We don’t stick our heads in the sand, Char, we just don’t sit around discussing it. We get proactive, and make sure they don’t do it again.”

“Lord Mercy, Lilly, I thought I’d never have to hear your hoity-toity voice again. Darlin’ how the hell are you, and what the hell was Cash Stetson doing in your office this afternoon?”

“We were just catching up,” I tried to explain away the implication with a wave of my hand, “You know, old friends and all that.”

“Since when are y’all friends of any sort?” Fae Lynn’s mama, Grace snorted, “I swear, that man is still a heathen, no matter if he is Chief of Staff at the hospital. I still remember him peeing on my prize rosebush and killing it off before the contest.”

“He was nine, Grace,” I defended, as I usually did for Cash. Some things never change.

“Exactly,” she asserted, “old enough to know better.”

“Ladies, damnit, can we get down to business?” Fae Lynn steamed. Fae Lynn already had all the gossip on me she needed and wasn’t one for wasting time on things she didn’t deem imminent. We all took one more gulp of sustenance and returned our attention to the task at hand. We exchanged gossip and giggles, trying to calm Brandy down with soothing pats while we plied her with liquor and brownies. I got a round of hugs from everyone until Fae Lynn’s phone rang and she confirmed we were set to go. Charlotte, Fae Lynn and Grace gathered up a variety of cheeses and stuffed them into a black cloth bag while I grabbed the keys. Nonnie, Mama and Jacqueline gathered up a tear-stained and tequila-soaked Brandy and led her to the foyer.

“You brought the gun, right?” Fae Lynn questioned.

“Yes ma’am. You’ve got the tool don’t you?” I asked.

“Ooh, dang. I forgot that and the goldfish,” she turned back towards the kitchen.

“We should get the tequila,” Nonnie volunteered as she followed Fae Lynn. They both returned a minute later, Fae Lynn carrying a small metal tool that looked like a tire gauge and a plastic baggie of what appeared to be dead goldfish. Nonnie held up the thermos triumphantly, “Got it!” she chortled.

“What in heaven’s name is in that bag and where did you get that?” I gasped at Fae Lynn.

“Goldfish, I overfed them and they died real quick. I figured I’d go get some more before Hazzard missed them.” I won’t go into why Fae Lynn and Scotty’s son was named Hazzard right now. I’ll save it for later, we had justice to extract.

“You murdered your son’s goldfish?!”

“It’s for a good cause, Lilly. Don’t get on your high horse. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,” she snapped defensively, “He’ll never miss them. He’s with Daddy.” I shook my head and headed out the door after everyone.

In Dallas I used to go out and have a glass of wine with my girlfriends. I come home and all of a sudden I’m an accessory to knocking off goldfish. I guess it was for a good cause.

We piled into the car and checked seatbelts. We were dressed in a variety of black, from Saks to Wal-Mart. Black slacks, stretch pants, jeans, yoga pants; black tops, sweaters, blouses and boots, tennis shoes, and heels were our intermingled outfits. Our one common accessory was the dark maroon cotton gloves we all sported. It was obvious we’d all been in this same situation before, as we all knew the drill. Never let it be said that a man got the best of a respectable woman in Brooks, Oklahoma. I headed toward main street and the only bar in town.

Chester’s was a karaoke “bar” with a small stage, a big bar, and a room off the back where patrons played pool. My uncle actually owned the bar, his name was actually Chester, and yes, much to my father’s dismay we actually claimed him as family. Chester was a character. Thick white hair and a beard the same color, along with his ruddy nose and broken capillary complexion gave him the appearance of Santa Claus except for the pearl snap shirts, chest hair and gold bling hanging from his neck.

He was married to Nonnie’s sister, Jewel, who taught 3^rd grade Sunday school at the First Baptist Church.. Anyway. See how being in this town makes me get off track? So much for my sharp legal reasoning mind! I swung onto Main Street and the car chatter went silent. We all searched the street for our prey.

“There it is,” Tally started, almost leaping out of her seat. The white Envoy sat, for all to see, parked in front of Chester’s. Any self-respecting man with a significant other knew to park in back of the bar, lest they advertise their presence and start the gossip grapevine.

“Well that is a fine piece of horse shit,” Charlotte harrumphed, “Look at the man, parked on the street, like the uppity asshole that he is. Honey, if he’s not any smarter’n that, you don’t want him.”

“He’s not a manly man, you can tell that. Any man that drives a soccer mom car isn’t worth the toilet paper he wipes his butt with,” Tally agreed.

“I’m parking around back, y’all get ready. Remember the drill, do it fast, do it silent, and get out of there. We got a five minute limit. Everybody got their stuff?” I was back to taking charge. My adrenaline was hyped. I’m telling you, don’t get therapy, get even.

Fae Lynn passed the dead goldfish back to Char and held up the small metal tool. Grace passed out the cheese to Mama and Jacqueline. Nonnie gathered up her sack of dead varmint and handed me the gun. Tally turned in the back seat and produced a small white bag.

“What is that?” I drawled warily.

“Dog poo,” Tally grinned. Man if she wasn’t evil, “and a spatula, to spread it around.”

“Shit,” Fae Lynn smiled, shaking her head at Tally and her recent antics.

“Exactly,” Tally said slyly. I parked behind the bar and we all took a collective deep breath.

“Let’s do it,” I placed my hand on the door handle. ”Go!”

We piled out of the car and scurried around the building. Grace, Mama and Jacque went to work stuffing Camembert, Gouda and Muenster in the tailpipe. Fae Lynn went to work on the tires, while Tally opened her sack and took up her spatula. Char popped the hood and emptied the sack of fish into the engine as Nonnie tied the dead skunk around the antenna. I took up the gun and made short work of my assignment. Four minutes and seventeen seconds later we were back in the car where we had left Brandy. I envisioned the look on Adam’s face when he walked out of Chester’s drunker than Cooter Brown and saw his new white Envoy smeared with dog “poo” on the hood and ‘Die Bitch’ spelled out down both sides with neon splats from a paintball gun, smells of dead fish and cheese emanating from the interior and a dead skunk dangling from the antenna, not to mention the four flat tires. Fae Lynn turned and handed Brandy four small rubber pieces.

“Here’s a souvenir, honey. He won’t get very far without his valve stems. Daddy could use the extra business. That’s where he’ll come to get new tires,” she rationalized.

The Worst Part of the Job

Writing is fun. I get to take all my fantastical daydreams and turn them into something tangible. If I were to share in another forum, people might want to lock me up. As it is, that part of the book process is the easy part.

The hard part is going back through and revising, realizing how many grammatical, factul, and plot mistakes you made. Even worse, when someone else is drawing attention to it. I heart my editor, he has such an amazing understanding of good literature. However, when he told me, kindly of course, that parts of the book needed to be developed and my characters could be "deeper"; I had several moments of anxiety. What if my characters weren't deep? What if he was seeing something I wasn't? What if this book stinks and I've wasted several years of my time and squandered possible law school class "A's" and it's all for not.

And then I got over it. So what if no one likes it, I do. So what if no one thinks I'm funny, I do. So what if I wasted time, what really is wasted time, anyway?

I'm knee-deep in revisions and all I have to say is, you'll either love it or hate it. I do.

Ciao!

Only in Oklahoma

I love the details of life, and people, and events. Bliss to me is being able to observe a single snapshot of life down to the minutia and describe in detail. Today I saw a well-timed snapshot of life one can only see in Oklahoma...

I was getting ready to make an illegal turn onto a popular Tulsa street. I almost ran my car into overly manicured Mid-town landscape. He was about sixty-five, leather-skinned, and the lines in his face told stories of stampeding cows, rattlesnakes, and bucking horses. The chambray pearl-snap shirt and well-shaped straw Stetson topped off the picture. If he'd been strolling down the street, he would have had a bow-legged swagger, I'm sure. As it was, his shiny, candy apple red, convertible Mustang was the horse he was driving today.

Love me some Oklahoma!

What's in a Name?

I may be stepping out on a limb here, but naming a novel character is harder than naming your own offspring. With a kid, you just have to pray that they end up living up to the name that you give them, that they "fill it out", so to speak. In naming a character, you really already know who they are, or who you want them to be. Oddly, the names of some of my book characters have changed quite a bit, but Lilly has always been Lilly. I personally think it perfectly suits who she is; strong, a little sassy, a bit old-fashioned and classic, and ultimately the kind of southern gal you want by your side if you find a dead body.

Sweet Tea and Cigarettes

Recently, we sat down with Fae Lynn Wiseman, best friend to and cohort in shenanigans with Lilly Atkins. She had some in-depth dirt on the citizens of Brooks and adds a unique take to Lilly's "misadventures". We love Fae, and hope you will too!

What’s your primary occupation?

Chief Deputy Dispatcher at Brooks County Sherriff’s Office

What’s your secondary occupation?

Chief Investigative Associate, Lilly Atkins’ Law Office.

Really?

Really enough. I gave myself the title, but Lil’l get over it if she doesn’t like it.

What does that involve?

As the title would imply, investigating. Basically, I talk Lilly into doing the stuff she doesn’t want to.

How do you know Lilly?

She’s been my best friend since we were 7. I love her even if she does have a stick up her butt most of the time.

What are you best at?

Being a badass, cussing, telling people what to do.

Biggest regret?

Not running over Cash Stetson when I had the chance.

You’re not a fan of Cash?

Can’t stand the sonuvabeeyatch.

Got any kids?

Yup, Hazzard Lane Wiseman. He’s a little shit.

What do you think of the new lawyer in town, Spencer Locke?

He’s a hottie, but he talks funny.

Meet Cash Stetson...

Below is the continuation of the scene I previously shared with you. To know Cash Stetson is to hate him. Unfortunately for Lilly, the thin line between love and hate has been blurred a few times. When she comes back home, it's even harder for her to decide if she should continue to harbor ill-will. Read the book when it comes out and you decide whether Cash is a doer of dastardly deeds or if he's a reformed trouble maker looking for a second chance...

Cash Stetson hadn’t changed. Oh, he had, of course. Those shoulders had gotten broader, the muscle in his arms heftier and less sinewy than his pitching days. The clean shaven jaw no longer resembled the goatee and mustache of youth. The ball cap so often settled on that head had been tossed off in deference to distinguished graying hair at the temples- premature, I supposed; caused by anxiety and grievance, I hoped. Did I really just describe Cash Stetson as distinguished? I did, didn’t I. Must be the heat. I’ve got to get that window unit fixed.

I remembered long legs in Wranglers and cowboy boots, and polo shirts bought by a doting mother. He’d worn outrageously expensive cologne that smelled outrageously sexy and never seemed to meld with his ‘good-ole-boy’ image.

Today, however, that same scent emanating from him matched the expensive light-weight gray suit, coordinated black leather shoes and belt, and light blue dress shirt that lit up his lyin’ twinklin’ eyes. Only the open collar that I suspected had been closed and covered by an equally expensive tie at one time today hinted at the recklessness that had once fascinated and intimidated me.

But he was still the same. Those baby blues still smirking but hesitant, wanting to challenge me but afraid of how I would react. Those lips, expressively curving into an insolent grin, the top lip smaller than the bottom- giving his mouth an almost feminine quality that only serve to enhance his overbearing masculinity. He cocked one thick eyebrow, the same color as his thick dark hair that held a hint of auburn, explaining the childhood photos of a grinning, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy. He cocked the eyebrow and waited, knowing full well that he was being inspected and knowing full well that I damn sure liked what I saw, as it was rare a female in Cash’s vicinity didn’t.

Yep. Still same old Cash, I determined as he licked his lower lip.

I gazed up at all 6’2” of him with a simper and bat of the eyelashes that would have done Nonnie proud, drawling,

“Huh. Well, look what the cat drug in. And just as I thought my day couldn’t get any more unpleasant.” He laughed, showing wicked rows of white teeth. I wished I’d been able to find my straightening iron this morning along with something elegantly expensive instead of one of my sister’s tight sweaters, a denim skirt and a ancient pair of Stuart Weitzman’s I’d found stashed in my childhood closet. Stuart was a classic. I knew though, if I stopped to think, that all the expensive hair products in the world or any army of designer shoes were no armor against Cash. Rationally, I knew this- but emotionally, I yearned for that perfectly sophisticated shade of Laura Mercier lipstick hidden in an unpacked bag instead of Tally’s Dr. Pepper Chapstick. I would never understand her penchant for cheap cosmetics.

That evil grin flashed again as he surveyed my curls and casual outfit.

“Didn’t take you long to return to your roots, did it sugar? I guess we all come home to roost sooner or later. I always did enjoy those curls…,” he drawled as he lazily sauntered over. I flushed and flashed a haughty look, embarrassed by the change in temperature my body produced whenever he invaded any space I was in. I needed a glass of iced tea. Even after seven years he still…

But he didn't. I was no longer that twenty-one year old nervous wreck lacking in self-confidence inspired by his so-called sexual prowess and womanizing reputation.No sir, I was a twenty-eight year old female with a strong sense of self, hours of therapy, a law degree, a host of morons I’d dated to forget him and a new knowledge of why our relationship hadn’t worked. He couldn’t resist me and he couldn’t handle it. End of story. I was his weakness and had prepared myself for this moment when I could use it to my advantage. So as he stood there in the doorway in the sunset light (isn’t that an old country song – I can’t remember if she left him or took him back.). Anyway, as he stood there attempting to convince himself he had the upper hand, I triumphed with a silent chuckle, thrusting my chest forward and cocking a hip in typical gunslinger’s fashion- adjusted into a challenge inspired by Tally in her modeling days.

“Darlin, you’d better state the intent of your visit, ‘cause my time’s probably more expensive than you can afford,” I bluffed. I knew full well that he was wealthier than I at the moment thanks to Mama’s chatter about how he’d finally ‘made something of himself’.

Nostrils on his sharp, prominent nose flared as he took in my face, and my challenge. ‘Darlin’,’ between us was not an endearment and he knew it. He walked over to the bookcase filled with law books and picked up a framed photo of me and Tally at a baseball game down in Texas- his first genuine smile since he’d come into my office.

“She’s a mess, huh?” he asked. It was the one thing we’d always been able to agree on. I smiled too.

“Yep, and if we ever forgot, she’d be sure to tell us. But that’s not why you’re here- to talk about Tally,” I stated, not a question.

“No,” he turned, piercing me with those vividly cool, true-blue eyes that could easily melt you like a Popsicle at an August county fair. He took a deep breath, set his jaw and said to me words I’d never heard and never thought I’d hear from those lips.

“I need your help.”

Blurb's the Word

I am no blurbologist. However, when you live and breathe your own work for a few years, it's hard to turn it loose enough to let someone else come up with the right words to tout it for you. So I didn't. What can I say? I'm a diva, and no one knows Miss Lilly better than I do. So below is the blurb (i.e, back cover and promotional synopsis) for Home is Where Your Boots Are. Later this week, look for an in-depth interview with Lilly's best friend....

Small-town girl turned big-city lawyer, Lilly Atkins is both southern belle and rhinestone cowgirl, balancing sugar and steel with wit and grit. She traded her hometown for Dallas to earn a law degree and an old money fiancé. While her law career flourished, her relationship floundered and she finds herself the brunt of a bad cliché. So she hauls her bags and cheated heart back across the border to her hometown; Brooks, Oklahoma, where the creek is cool and the gossip is hot.  Having grown up there, Lilly has always known Brooks is the kind of place where everyone knows whose check is good and whose husband isn’t. But when she comes back, she’s smacked with some down-home deceit. Lilly is suspicious and intrigued when her “bad-boy turned good” old-flame, Cash Stetson, wants to be her first client and the local funeral home director is her second.

It soon becomes apparent to Lilly that practicing law in Brooks is a lot more about being an undercover detective than a lawyer. As she and her childhood best friend, Fae Lynn, slowly unravel the seedy underbelly of Brooks and a black market body smuggling scandal, they must juggle old rumors, new hearsay and desecrated toenails.

Infamous in a Small Town

Recently, the Yankee I'm to wed and I went home to my home town. As a semi-official citified gal with some highly observant tendencies, I noticed some things. As the author of a book that centers around the comings and goings of a fictional Oklahoma small town, I thought it only fair to share some of my observations...

1. Things that should take you 30 minutes may take 5 hours. It's easy to get distracted in a small town. This is because everywhere you go, you see someone you know; and when you meet them, you have to ask about their mama, their mama's mama, and their mama's mama's, mama. Then they have to observe the societal niceties by turning it back to you. By the time you're down asking about everyone's people, everyone needs a tea.
2. You have no identity without "your people". I did not know how offensive this could be to persons without "people" until my mother (who never makes a manners faux-pas) inquired of a recently transplanted wife. My mother recognized her last name, but not her particularly. When she followed up by asking which section of the family she "belonged to", the lady got down-right huffy. Poor Yankee, bless her heart.

Characters

You know you've got at least one, and if you're honest, probably several. Upwards of the Mason-Dixon line, they call them crazy. Down here, they're cherished, regaled, and pulled out for parties. We call them characters. So my question of the day is, who is your favorite? Your aunt Lolly? Your sister's husband's cousin's uncle? Your mom's best friend's college professor? The neighborhood Wal-Mart greeter? Somewhere amidst "your people" there's a character lurking, just itching to get out of the closet. Open the door!

I love Catie Lawrence

I must confess I have a serious creativity crush on Catie's skills as a photog. We had such a wonderful time with the cover shoot for the book covers and all the pics turned out fantastic. I have to post just a few so you can see just how great she is. Thanks again to all my model friends who sweated it out in the Oklahoma heat and enjoyed their picture taken not only by Catie, but by some curious downtown Tulsa onlookers who probably thought they were shooting celebrities. Visit Catie at:
http://www.catielawrencephotography.blogspot.com/
http://www.catielawrencephotography.com/

Where it Comes From

I have to give a shout-out to my hometown. Had it not been for the array of fracas' that occurs in Tahlequah on a daily basis, I would have no story. Had I not grown up with such a zany cast of people, I would have no characters. Had I not been exposed to the kind of people with absolutely no compunction about showing you their best and their worst, I would have no depth.

I will continually be grateful to have grown up in a small town. It sure makes me able to relate to Miss Lilly and her cohorts.

A snippet of one of my favorite scenes...

I think every writer must remember their first good piece. This is mine. I was pretending to study for the LSAT one rainy Saturday in college when this scene popped into my head and I could hardly make my pen fly fast enough to get down the scene played out across my mind. It's amazing to me that a whole book came out of this scene. I must confess that the book I envisioned writing to go along with this scenario is not the book that now exists, but I firmly believe in following my mother's advice, "Let the characters write themselves." Had I forced my first vision, I don't think we'd have the product I'm so proud of. Below is a very small glimpse into Miss Lilly and Home is Where Your Boots Are. Enjoy!

Late Tuesday afternoon, I sat at the old Chippendale desk procured by my mother, in the office procured by my father, surrounded by stacks of files and miscellaneous papers-old work product that I didn’t need any more, left over from the days at Hurst and Edwards. I had often used my previous cases to prepare for current ones. But now, instead of handling only real estate contracts, I was going to be a “Jill of all trades”, taking care of traffic tickets and wills and any other problem the citizens of a small town thought they needed a lawyer for. I also had a fearful premonition that I would be doing a lot of pro bono work. I doubted any of the high profile cases I had dealt with in Dallas would add clarity to any situation I needed to prepare for in Brooks. Although the law was the law on either side of the border, I supposed.


I still hadn’t been able to fully get a handle on my usual methods of organization. My hair, instead of the smooth, quietly sophisticated style I preferred, had given way to the mop of unruly curls it had a natural inclination for. I had done better with the makeup this morning, and along with my normal skin regimen, had managed mascara. Probably due to Nonnie arriving at the house at six a.m. with a cup of her coffee and the biscuit she so thought I needed.

“Lilly honey, don’t even think of stepping out of this house without your lashes covered – it makes you look tired.”

I think I mentioned that Nonnie had long dispensed with the niceties. When she handed me the mascara, she surveyed me critically and dug through my array of cosmetic enhancers for blush and simply handed it to me. Thank God for Nonnie, and God Bless her meddling little soul. I’d always thought she could sense what needed to be done before anyone else and today would prove no exception.

I pushed the mop back from my face and blew out my breath upwards, causing wayward curls to dance on my forehead as I surveyed the mess of what was now my “office.” Daddy’s connections had proven themselves and had found me a quaint little downtown space to “get me away from the hustle and bustle and back to my roots.” Just close enough to his office and Mama’s shop for either of them to pop over and say ‘hey’. Bless their hearts – heavy on the sarcasm. But I supposed that was to be expected; the keeping. You see, in Brooks, everyone knows whose check’s good and whose dog isn’t. If you weren’t sure, guaranteed someone could find out within the hour. The grapevine of gossip in Brooks was more efficient than the PTA phone chain in Stepford.

So here I was; 5:30 on a balmy, breezy Oklahoma evening, putting off going home to either run or have Tally drill me on commercial real estate contracts while trying to talk me into investing in her latest fashion business venture. What I really wanted was a nap and the ability to wake up and have control over my life.

I heard the door open out front and the bell jangle in a hokey fashion. Pushing my chair back from my desk with a sigh, I searched for the cup of caffeine that had long lost its warmth and appeal. I bumped my hip against my desk, muttered “ouch”, and headed toward the outer portion of the office, calling “Comin’,” in the redneck drawl that had crept back into my speech.

I stepped through the doorway, glanced up, saw him, dropped my favorite mug, not noticing when it shattered, and silently cursed, like I always do around him.

“Howdy, Miss Lilly.”

Photo Shoot Styling is Tough

Recently, I had a cover shoot done by the fabulous Catie Lawrence. She took both my headshots, and the covers for the first three books in the Miss Lilly series. I know Catie's job is tough, but as a writer trying to do everything yourself without a "real" publisher, styling the shoot was a huge coup for me. I know nothing of this type of thing, other than I knew what I wanted in my head.
After some blood, sweat and blisters, we managed to make it happen. I now have great cover art for the first three books. Home is Where Your Boots Are will be available for purchase late October. I look forward to sharing the journey of self-promotion with you all!
By the way, I have fabulous friends. They were the ones sweating in the hot Oklahoma sun, without any complaints!