Message From The Author

Author's Message

Harmony

Who ever said wedding nights and soda crackers don't mix? Not me! It's been 16 years and I still remember my wedding day. But it's the wedding night that sticks out in my mind. And not for what you'd think.

My husband and I planned a trip to Kauai for our honeymoon and rather than go back to our apartment, we got a room at a motel closer to the airport because we had an early morning flight. All went well in the beginning. We drank some champagne and talked about our life together. Then, as the time neared to retire for the evening, our hearts pounding, we turned the bed down... and could think of little more than hot soup, a cold winter's night and...crackers.

The sheets were covered with crushed-up soda crackers. There must have been 10 boxes worth at least. If a bed full of crackers hadn't made us suspicious that something sneaky was afoot, the fact that not a tell-tale crumb could be found on the carpet would have done the trick!

This had to be the work of Barry's "crumby" friends.

So there I stood in my snazzy little number that had screamed seduction in the lingerie department of Nordstrom, but was screaming for little more than a clean-up crew that night. Barry looked at me, and I looked at him. Then we shrugged and leaped into the sheets with a decidedly loud crunch.

We always do think alike. Weddings...you have to love them.

When I wrote Harmony, I didn't set out to write a series (which is now called The Brides for All Seasons), but I had so much fun with Tom and Edwina, I couldn't help wanting to continue writing about the weddings in Harmony, Montana. Here's just a glimpse of Tom and Edwina's hijinks:EXCERPT FROM Harmony:

Gazing at the wilting bouquet in his hand, Tom felt like a jerk. The front door muffled music. A phonograph recording sounded like it came from the side of the house.

He cranked the doorbell, but got no answer.

A minute must have passed before he decided to walk around the veranda to the side of the house. Leaning close to a window, he peered inside the parlor. A motion to his right caught his eye, and he tracked the figure to the center of the room.

Edwina was doing the high stepping strut...in her woolies. A fitted white lace corset cover-minus the corset-hugged her breasts and showed fine cleavage in the V-shaped neck. Her drawers were some frilly type that matched the lace on the top piece. Unbound hair fell in a curly cloud past her waist. Ivory skin, and a lot of it bare, teased his senses as she pranced by a settee, then back down the length of the room to end with a right sideward step.

Clearly, if he announced his presence he would be interrupting a very private moment. Something she obviously didn't want getting around. Edwina Huntington the finishing school teacher prancing in her whites dancing a two-step. And being pretty damn good at it, too.

Thinking the situation through, he had two options.

A gentleman would walk away and forget what he'd seen.

That one got quickly scratched off the list.


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