Boogie, Boots, & Cherry Pie

Illustration of Reggae for “Boogie” video
Illustration by Sherri Bails

Chapter 1. Cherry pie

The great guy Lily meets at her company’s St. Patrick’s Day party doesn’t own half of Microsoft, but he isn’t a leprechaun either, so he has that going for him…

Lily half-heartedly flipped through the clothes hanging in her closet. Blue, blue, blue—yellow. White. Pink. Pink. Pink. Black. Lots of black. There wasn’t a darn green top in the whole closet, and she knew it, but she kept looking anyway. Why was it every St. Patrick’s Day she had this lack of green thing going on in her wardrobe? Was there a law somewhere against department stores putting a green sequined top on sale?  Of course, there were green tops on the full-price racks, but what woman would pay forty or fifty bucks for a green sequined top if she didn’t live in Dublin? Or unless she was trying to catch an Irish geek—who owned half of Microsoft—and was a real hunk. Lily had a nagging hunch if there were any rich, Irish hunks at Microsoft, they’d already been spoken for by women who had a lot more going for them than she did. That was okay. She could settle for just hunky. Hunky could be good.

Well, she’d just have to run through the mall on her way home from work and pick up a green scarf or a pair of green rhinestone earrings. She was in no mood to spend a bundle on something she wouldn’t wear again until next year. She’d rather spend her money on a new twelve-megapixel camera she had her eye on. Not only was it a better camera than the one she had now, but it had a viewfinder in addition to an LCD monitor and took longer videos. The viewfinder was necessary for her outside shots. The monitor didn’t work for her when the sun was shining.  She didn’t know why; no one else she knew had any trouble. She’d found the perfect camera at a photography store near her work for three hundred dollars. It wasn’t something a professional would drool over, but it had every feature she was looking for plus it had the added bonus of being as small as the camera she had now, so it would still fit into her purse. Lily resisted the obvious option: buy a bigger purse.

Because she really wanted the camera, even a green sequin top on sale probably wouldn’t have tempted her. Besides, if this year was like the last, there wasn’t much incentive to spend a lot of money and effort for this event. She knew from the last St. Patrick’s Day company party the men there would be the same men she saw at work during the day, only drunk. And still married. It was a pretty sure bet she’d end up spending the night talking to the other single women on her floor, eating stale cookies with foul-tasting green sprinkles, and drinking green beer out of a paper cup. No wonder St. Patty’s Day was her least favorite holiday. Wardrobe stress, green beer, and no eligible men, even if they were leprechauns. What was there to love? The year before last, when she was still in college, the little tavern off campus at least served free hotdogs with their green beer. She hoped this wasn’t a sign she was moving down in the world instead of up.

Actually, Lily’s frustrated mood had nothing to do with sequined tops or green beer or even leprechauns. Her real problem was she was lonely. In her thirties, she was anxious to move on with her life. At every company function, she looked at the executives from out of town, hoping in vain to see someone who looked promising. Luckily, she liked her job and it took her mind off the other areas of her life that weren’t as fulfilling. Still, if she were ever going to have a family, she needed to get started. She’d already looked in the usual places like the local grocery stores, community events, churches, and social clubs without any luck. Since she didn’t hit the bars like some of the other single women, there wasn’t any place else to look except the Internet. She had no interest in picking out the father of her future children on a dating website. Lots of women had been successful and found wonderful men using an Internet dating service, but Lily made her living with computers, and she knew how easy it was to make a donkey look like a racehorse on a computer screen.

After work that night, Lily strolled past the photography shop to look at the camera she wanted. It was still in the window, and she knew there was no shortage of that particular model; she just liked to look at it. Then, she grabbed a slice of pizza at the Italian kiosk and headed for the jewelry section at her favorite department store. She was on her way to the sale table when she spotted a pair of green rhinestone earrings edged in clear crystals on a shiny glass counter. She yelped out loud when she turned them over and saw the price tag. “Forty-three dollars?” she said out loud. “For rhinestones?”

“Oh, they’re not rhinestones, they’re real Austrian crystals,” said a helpful clerk.

They’re glass, Lily thought. Crystals are just glass. And they’re not even set in vermeil, but some kind of mystery pot metal…maybe salvaged from some old World War II submarine.

The clerk, sensing one of her last chances to sell the earrings was slipping away, said, “Wouldn’t they be great to wear tomorrow night?”

What? Almost fifty dollars to go to the company lunchroom and watch everyone drink too much green beer and fall all over themselves? Not going to happen. Even so, she slipped the back of one of the earrings off and tried it on. Oh, she thought to herself when she looked into the mirror. They are gorgeous. The bottom half of the earring was set with a big, tear-shaped stone that caught the light with every movement and lit up her face with tiny flashes of green light whenever her head moved…

New cover!

Free preview on the book’s Amazon page!
Cover by CreateSpace

Buy now on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Boogie-Boots-Cherry-Pie-Third/dp/1500703915/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1550772443&sr=1-1&keywords=boogie+boots+%26+cherry+pie

I don’t think Guttenberg and I have an understanding yet…
but the link works…
This video has the first cover but I love Sherri Bail’s artwork, and the cover by Ryan McDonald!

Please share this blog, my thanks! Janelle

Bears in the Hibiscus. For the love of cake. An excerpt.

 

   PB & Kindle
Buy now on Amazon

Excerpt: For the love of cake

You know how I love cake. Always have. I just found a few words about cake in my first romance, Bears in the Hibiscus. In this book, it was a huge wedding cake that had been ordered to be the centerpiece in a double wedding…

For weeks after he and Mary were married, Mark offered the leftover wedding cake that was taking up a whole shelf in his mother’s freezer to Jackson and Cameron for their marriage. It became such a joke that Mary was afraid Jackson would actually try to use it. She, Elizabeth, and Cameron devised plan after plan of how to get rid of the leftover cake that wasn’t aging well because it had a custard filling. Most of the schemes involved dynamite of some kind. In the end, Jackson and Cameron, the two lovebirds, opted to get married in Hawaii, so Elizabeth and Mary shoveled the unwanted cake into a wheel barrel, rolled it to the dock, and fed it to the seagulls, bite by bite…


 This is a fun book; perfect if you need a break from politics!

Buy on Amazon

Please share this post! Many thanks! Janelle

“Pig! Pig!” Pigtunia’s Vacation, a humorous short romance

 

“Pig, Pig!”
(romance writer invents a new genre: Pig Romances!)
Blog only (Not in one of my books.)

Janelle Meraz Hooper
Note: I use my blog for fun. Please see my  books
and short stories at the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/author/janellehooper

‘Tis the season for silly. I found this in my files; it was written after a writer-friend sent me a photo of a pig jumping out of a truck of pigs headed for market in the middle of a busy intersection. The top of the truck was very high off the ground and the pig sailed right over the railing and landed safely on the ground. I wanted to post the photo, but I don’t have permission to use it; I’m sure it’s copyrighted!

“Pig, Pig!” Pigtunia shouted as she stood on the corner of a busy street in downtown Santa Monica. In between shouts for help, she squealed. Squealed until she literally stopped traffic at the busy intersection. Passersby, drivers, kids on bicycles, motorcycles driven by hairy black-jacketed men wearing black goggles—all looked around to see if they could figure out what the pig’s problem was.

Nothing looked amiss. Well, granted, there was a very upset pig on the corner of Cork and Vine, but no one could figure out why. The noise persisted until a businessman carrying a briefcase cautiously approached the angry pig and asked, “What’s the problem, Miss Piggie?”

“What kind of a town is this?” answered Pigtunia. “I’ve been calling for the cops for over twenty-minutes and there’s not a pig in sight!”

“Oh, you want the police? We don’t use the pig-word here unless we’re talking to an actual pig, like you. Here, you have to dial 911 if you need help.”

“Dial? Dial how?”

“Why, on your cell phone.”

“Do you see any pockets here?” Pigtunia asked as she looked down at her legs.

Just then, a news crew and cameraman from a nearby television station ran up and started filming. Sticking her microphone in the pig’s face, the newsperson began to interview the distressed pig. With no prodding, Pigtunia launched into her rant:

I signed up for a road cruise that was supposed to take me along the coast for a 6-day vacation. I was promised fresh mud every day, good food, and luxurious sleeping quarters. What I got was the back end of a crowded truck, “mud” that was far from fresh, sloppy slop, and it was so crowded I had to sleep standing up!” hardly pausing for a breath, she continued, “And as for the ocean views, the darn truck headed east on the freeway toward someplace called Kansas. To make matters worse, some bimbo riding with the driver was carrying a purse made from a sow’s ear and she had some kind of a Spam cookbook in it that looked suspicious to me. That’s when I jumped out.”

“You jumped out of a moving truck over twelve feet off the ground?”

“I did. Who needs it? I’m going to insist on a refund.”

The interview of the distraught pig was picked up on YouTube and got millions of views. In a Kansas meat-packing plant, the owner watched the video and called his attorney. “This is bad publicity. If this keeps up, no one will ever eat pork again. Call the legal department! Send that pig a contract and get her over here. Fly her out here first-class and bring her to me.”

And that was how Pigtunia flew cross-country in a first-class seat with a window view and swilled champagne all the way to Kansas.

But wait. It gets better. When she arrived, the owner of the packing plant took a close look at her and knew she was a very special pig. All of her parts were prime pig. In fact, she was much too good to butcher. The meatpacker made her an offer she couldn’t refuse and Pigtunia found herself in a luxury pin with cable TV and 24/7 gourmet food service.

But wait. It gets even better. Pigtunia was visited once a year by the most handsome pig in the yard. He romanced her for days while she squealed with delight. Each year, when the time was right, Pigtunia gave birth to at least ten piglets, making her much more valuable than she would have ever been in the bacon department…

And, thus, a new romance genre for books was born: Mail Order Jumping Pig Brides.

The end

P.S.: At least every 13th word of this story is true, I swear! Originally, this was an actual email that I sent to my cousin Elaine. I send out a lot of messages like this to friends and family. They’re very forgiving. Sometimes they share them with their friends. What fun!

(Illustration–such as it is–by author. My cousin sent me an actual photo of the pig jumping out of a truck that inspired this bit of nonsense, but it didn’t have the name of the photographer.) JMH

Chapter 3, The Montana Kahuna- from Bears in the Hibiscus (excerpt)

3-21-10 Final Bears cover

Bears in the Hibiscus on Amazon

Chapter 3. The Montana Kahuna
Janelle Meraz Hooper

My website: Janelle Meraz Hooper

Mary was so busy getting her ducks in order so she could get out of town, she didn’t have time, at first, to think much about Mark spending the night at her house. When she did, she wondered why had he picked her house when he had a brother nearby? Actually, he had his own place a few miles away, on his parents’ compound. Why was he spending the night on her floor?

Before she went to bed the night before his visit, she made sure he could find the floor. All of the old newspapers, newsletters and mail, were either banished to recycling or put into a box in her car trunk so she could take them to Ray, who ran the layout department. Other peoples’ magazines were a gold mine for layout and design ideas, not to mention leads for new clients for the advertising department. Mary would almost sooner throw away money than old magazines.

A rental car was in the driveway when she got home the next night, and she had a rush of guilt for not offering to pick Mark up at the airport…what was she thinking?
She forgot her guilt when she got a whiff of something wonderful. Something only vaguely familiar. Something—trout! She raced upstairs, not sure which sight was more welcome, Mark or the trout he and Kate were cooking in the skillet.

“Mark! You brought the fish, I could have at least cooked them!”

“That’s okay, sis,” Mark grinned. “Kate wanted to learn how to cook fish that aren’t named Charlie.”

“It smells wonderful! I love the way you cook fish with just salt, pepper, and flour. I hate all those Frenchy sauces.”

“When there’s sauce on the trout, lookout!” Mark cautioned, “It’s probably covering up a fish that’s older than you are.”

“I guess being frozen kept them fresh on the trip,” she said as she admired the full skillet.

“Actually, I got up early and caught these before I left the park. You’d been without so long I figured you were due. Kept them cool in an old Styrofoam ice chest.”

“Did you get any strange looks at the airport when you checked your fish box luggage?”

“No, the floor was covered with ice chests bigger than mine that belonged to people who had been fishing for Kings in Alaska. My little chest looked kind of pitiful next to theirs.”

“The best things come in small packages, they say.”

Mary left the cheerful cooks to change into a boxy pair of khaki walking shorts and a forest green tank top. She had a closet full of similar clothes. Her outfit was fine for the Northwest, especially since she was having dinner with a Montana Ranger, but she had trouble picturing it on a Hawaiian beach. She’d have to dig a little deeper into her closet and see if she could find something a little brighter.

Before she returned to the kitchen, Mary gave herself a quick look in the mirror. What looked back at her was a woman with long brunette hair and a medium frame. She was a few pounds lighter than the last time Mark had seen her, and she’d lost her tan. Both changes could be attributed to an increased workload. She hadn’t stopped any cars lately, but she thought she looked as well as she could without the benefit of one of those instant facelifts she kept reading about in the women’s magazines.

How she hated being the ex-wife. What would this ex-brother-in-law say to Brian the next time they spoke? Maybe, “I saw your ex, she looks pretty good for her age, but your new love is a real knockout.” It distressed her to imagine other people commenting, “I saw your ex, she had wrinkles all over her face! No wonder you’re shopping around for a trophy wife.” Well, she doubted that people would actually make those comments out loud, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t think them. Mary hated most to hear, “When I look at Kate, I can see just how pretty Mary must’ve looked years ago.” Mary loved her daughter, and they did look a lot alike, but who could compete with someone half her age?

Well, she was hungry, and she doubted that her two cooks would deliver fresh, pan-fried trout to her bedroom door. “There she is!” greeted Mark when Mary entered the kitchen, “How about some wine?”

“Oh, you must have found my cardboard box in the fridge,” Mary said as she held out her glass.

“Yep. Park rangers know how to find their quarry. It was marked Wednesday, so I thought it must be fresh.”

“Very funny. Actually, I’ve got a box dated Thursday, I’m giving you the old stuff.”

“It tastes good to me.”

Dinner was delicious. Mary looked down at a plate of fresh trout, green salad with raspberry dressing, and lightly buttered and toasted Como bread, and thought she was in heaven.

After Kate downed her trout like it was a burger at Dollar’s and left with a carload of friends, Mary and Mark settled down with fresh glasses of wine on the sundeck. Mary cringed as a whole flock of fruit bats flew into her big cherry tree. The crows stripped her fruit trees in the daytime and this was the night shift. Not surprisingly, she preferred the crows.

“So, how’s it going, sis?” Mark asked as he eased into a deck chair that had seen better days.

“Not bad. How about you?”

“Good. I’m really looking forward to getting away for a few days. I didn’t get much rest this year after the forest fires started.”

“Kate and I watched the news every night. It was the worst we’d ever seen.”

“That’s for sure. We were lucky we didn’t lose any of the firefighters.”

The niceties were over, and Mary asked what she really wanted to know, “Mark, you know you’re welcome here, but why did you come here instead of the compound or your brother’s?”

“Mom is letting company from Minnesota use my house at the compound while they’re here on vacation. And I didn’t feel up to spending the night staring at the bare chest of Brian’s latest Seahawk cheerleader. I think he should start carding those girls. Besides,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I thought it would be tacky to sleep on my brother’s floor when I was thinking about dating his ex.”

Mary choked on her wine, and reached for a tissue from her pocket before wine came out of her nose. “Mark! Don’t go there!” Mary said with surprise.

“Too late! I’ve already bought a ticket! What’s wrong? Have someone else?”

“No…”

“I have cooties?”

“No…Mark, I like you, but I’m just not sure if it’s smart for me to get involved with a Bergstrom again. You’re a great guy, but I don’t think I fit in with the rest of your family.”

“Mary, you fit in just fine. Don’t be intimidated by the Bergstrom money. It has nothing to do with me or us.”

Mary was still wiping wine from her nose when she said, “I can’t help the way I feel.”

“Well, I always like to leave a woman in a state of shock, so I’ll go to bed now,” he said with a grin. “Thanks for the hospitality, sis. I’ll be gone when you wake up, so I’ll call you in Hawaii to see if you’ve managed to get your mouth closed yet.” Mary felt him hesitate as he walked behind her chair, but he kept walking. Was he going to touch her? Pat her on the head? What?

Whatever he almost did, Mary was glad he hadn’t. Her brain was occupied trying to list all of the reasons why their dating wouldn’t be a good idea. Mark had already left the sundeck, so whatever thoughts she had remained unspoken. She was left with an empty deck chair, half a glass of wine, and a big full moon that she was sure was laughing at her. Or was the laughter she heard coming from the bathroom where Mark was? She vaguely felt a mosquito chewing on her bare arm and swatted it with one hand while she finished her wine with the other. She groaned when she heard him turn on the shower. There was no question that Mark was a hunk. Knowing he was less than ten feet from her made her knees tremble. What would Roxanne do? The answer to that was easy. What was Mary going to do? “Nothing!” her friend’s voice ridiculed from the darkness.

The next sound Mary heard was Mark shaking out his sleeping bag. And fluffing his pillow. He made a big deal out of fluffing his pillow. There was something else. She was sure she heard another laugh when she scooted to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He was laughing at her. She was sure of it. And why shouldn’t he?

Kate was due in soon, so any thought of giving in and crawling into Mark’s sleeping bag with him was pointless, even if she could find the nerve which, of course, she couldn’t.

By the time Kate’s friends dropped her off in her driveway, Mark was already fast asleep. How could he do that? How could he make a pass at her and then just go to sleep? Mary was in her bedroom, wide awake, curled up into a tight, fetal position, with her pillow over her head so she couldn’t hear the soft gentle breathing of a man who was totally at ease on her living room floor. For now.

Read the book- Bears in the Hibiscus, paperback & Kindle, suitable for NA (New Adult) & up. Published by CreateSpace.

Buy now on Amazon

 

I’ve got two more in the romance genre:

Custer & His Naked Ladies- Sometimes, Naked Ladies are just old women in capri pants, and Custer is just an ole yeller dog…
Boogie, Boots, & Cherry Pie- “Kiss me, I’ve got cherry pie on my lips!”
All three are available in paperback and on Kindle.


If you like this post, please share! My thanks! Janelle

Indie writers have more fun!* 2016- Photo taken at The High Chaparral Reunion in Tucson after my Geronimo, Life on the Reservation show that I wrote for Rudy Ramos. *And I get to meet a lot of cowboys! ALL of them are taller than I am! I’m working on this photo section. Every time I get a new computer I lose track of my videos and photos–augh!

Don Collier, High Chaparral (and more)

Neil Summers, actor/stuntman

 

Rudy is currently in Kevin Costner’s Yellowstone series on the Paramount Channel.

Geronimo, Life on the Reservation

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bears in the Hibiscus, a few lines…

3-21-10 Final Bears cover

A few lines from Bears in the Hibiscus…

There is life after divorce! (If you don’t mind a few bears and emus!)

…When Mary’s husband, Brian, decided to end their marriage, it didn’t take him long  to pack. That was because he had already been leaving, piece by piece, for years. Most of his clothes were already on the yacht that belonged to his father’s timber company. He had never been the outdoorsy type, so they had no closets filled with tents and blue speckled coffeepots to sort through like some divorcing Northwest couples did. When the end finally came, she didn’t cry a tear; all she felt was relief. As he rushed from room to room, opening closets and cupboards to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Mary searched for parting words to mark the occasion. She found none. The best she could think of was a few hand gestures that she managed, with great effort, to keep to herself…

Bears in the Hibiscus, a humorous romance, suitable for NA (New Adult) and up. Paperback and Kindle.


author pages pink

Visit me on Amazon:

www.Amazon.com/author/janellehooper