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First Chapter Friday: Just Desserts

Liam Bailey is my sexiest dream and my worst nightmare, all rolled into one delicious, forbidden package.

I‘m the girl with an ironclad plan. Everything in my world is about succeeding, excelling, and making my large Italian family proud of me. That means graduating college with honors, landing the perfect job, and not letting anything–or anyone–get in my way.

But Liam is the guy who makes me want to break all my rules.

He’s the embodiment of all my naughtiest fantasies, with his incredible body, his brooding eyes, and his tempting smile.

Liam’s also the sweet-talking, complicated son of a well-known politician, the big man on campus, the athlete, the rich guy who’s never had to work for anything in his life.

When I don’t fall into his lap like the other women do, I fully expect him to walk away. After all, why would a girl like me matter to someone like him?

But it turns out that Liam doesn’t give up easily. He’s not going to let our friends’ opinions, his parents’ disapproval or my own walls get in the way of what he wants . . . which, apparently, is my heart.

Well, after all, rules were made to be broken.

Read the first chapter now!

            “Well? What do you think?”

            I dragged my eyes from the Behavior Disorders text I’d been reading and glanced up at my roommate. She’d been changing her clothes since I got back from my last class, trying on one outfit after another.

            “Ava, are you even looking?” I knew the hint of exasperation in Julia’s voice covered up her nerves. I swallowed my impatience and studied her as she shifted from one foot to the other.

            “Yes, of course, I’m looking.” I narrowed my eyes, taking in the jeans and gray sweater. “That looks nice.”

            Julia turned back toward the mirror. “I don’t know. It’s just not what I wanted. And the sweater itches.”

            “Then try something else. You don’t want him to think you’ve got fleas or some weird body rash on your first date.”

            “Thanks.” She disappeared into her closet again and came out with another hanger, this one bearing a pretty green scoop neck shirt. “Does the green look too much?”

            I tilted my head, considering. “Too much what?”

            “You know, too much. . .like, too dressy for the movies.”

            I kept from rolling my eyes, but just barely. “It’s a date, Jules. You want to look pretty. And that color really brings out your eyes. Besides, he’s going to like you, whatever you wear. Go for it.”

            She didn’t look convinced, but she did stop talking as she stripped off the sweater and pulled the shirt over her head. It really was her color, and I smiled a little before I went back to my book. This date was a big deal: it was Julia’s first time out with Jesse Fleming, the handsome son of her boss. They’d met while she was babysitting his little brother, and she was more excited than I’d seen her in a long time.

            I managed to ignore Julia’s mumbled debate with herself over shoes and actually got through two more pages before she planted herself in front of me again.

            “Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

            I marked my place again with my finger. “Breathtaking.” I couldn’t help grinning at the sparkle in her eyes. “Seriously, you look awesome. Is Jesse coming up here?”

            “He’s coming to the dorm, but I think I’ll go down to meet him.”

            I arched an eyebrow. “Really? What, are you ashamed of me?” Ack, that was my mother’s voice, coming right out of my mouth.

            Julia laughed. “Of course not, silly. You can come down with me if you want. I just don’t think he should have to brave the Friday night freshmen.” She gave a mock shudder.

            I sighed. Being a resident advisor to a floor full of emotional first-year college girls wasn’t for the faint of heart. “Yeah, I get that. I think I’ll pass on going down. If I go out there, someone who’s having a crisis will find me and need nurturing. If I stay in here, there’s a better chance the crisis will pass before she can track me down.”

            Julia snagged her coat off the back of her desk chair and shrugged into it. “Hope springs eternal.” She took a deep breath and heaved it out. “Wish me luck.”

            I hopped off the bed and hugged her, the top of my head just about reaching her shoulders. “You don’t need luck. Just relax and enjoy yourself.” I stepped back, tamping down the unexpected flare of wistful envy that put a lump in my throat. “And text me at some point, so I know he hasn’t taken you off into the woods to be his love slave.”

            Jules made a face at me as she turned the doorknob. “Please!” Whatever else she might have added was lost in her gasp of surprise when she swung the door open, revealing a tall familiar figure in the hallway.

            Liam’s hand was raised as though he had been about to knock. He looked as taken aback as Julia was.

            “We need a peephole in this door so we don’t open it to just anyone.” She glanced at me over her shoulder, her eyes wide and pleading. I bit the corner of my lip, not sure what I could do to help. I didn’t have experience with ex-boyfriends. Hell, I didn’t have experience with boyfriends at all.

            “Excuse me, I need to leave.” Jules made to step around him. Liam didn’t move.

            “Where are you going?” He sounded more skeptical than curious, and I saw Julia’s shoulders stiffen. Now he was just making her mad.

            “Out.” If he knew her at all, he would have just stood aside at that tone. But apparently, nearly a year of dating hadn’t given him a clue.

            “Where?”

            “None of your business.” Julia craned her neck to look down the hall, and I knew what she was thinking. The last thing she needed was for Jesse to come up and run into Liam. Talk about awkward.

            “She has a date.” I didn’t mean to say it, but the words flew out of my mouth anyway. I stood with my arms folded over my chest as they both stared at me. After a minute, Jules took advantage of Liam’s distraction and slipped past him.

            “That’s right. And I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

            “Which one of your new men are you seeing tonight? Do you know what everyone is saying about you? Or don’t you care?”

            She stopped a few paces away but didn’t turn around when she answered him.

            “I thought I made it pretty clear this afternoon. I’m not your business any more, Liam. If I want to bang the whole football team, I will. So, good night, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

            “But I wanted to talk with you. This afternoon—”

            “Should have told you everything you wanted to know. Leave me alone, Liam. Please.”

            I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved forward to hold onto the door, leaning out so I could catch Julia’s eye.

            “How about this, Liam. You tell me what you have to say to Jules, and I’ll decide if it’s worth her time. If it is, you can talk to her later, when she’s ready.”

            Julia smiled at me in gratitude, and I mouthed one word to her.

            “Go.”

            She didn’t need me to say it twice. Before Liam could speak again, Julia was down the hall, to the steps. I breathed a silent prayer that Jesse was waiting for her in the lobby.

            “So who is he?” Liam stretched one arm to lean against the door jam, his eyes fastened on me now. “Who’s she seeing tonight?”

            “No one you know. Really, Liam. Why are you here?”

            He shifted his gaze away. “I told you. I’m worried about her. About what people are saying. Everyone’s talking about Julia screwing around, sleeping with any guy who looks her way.”

            “You’re going to want to shut the hell up. That’s my best friend you’re talking about. And you might remember she was also your girlfriend for ten months. What does that say about you?”

            “Exactly. Do you know how my fraternity brothers are talking? It’s sick. It makes me look bad, too.”

            “Oh, yeah? You mean like someone who dumps his girlfriend in front of all of their friends at the surprise birthday party she threw him?”

            He had the grace to look away from me.  “So it wasn’t my finest hour. But like I told Julia, it was for the best. Even if she doesn’t get that now, she will.”

            “Breaking up is one thing. Humiliation is another. She might get over it, but she’ll never forgive you. And neither will I.”

            “I don’t expect forgiveness from either of you. I just think she should rein it in, to stop slutting around campus. She needs to have a little self-respect.”

            Tomorrow morning, I was going to think of a killer comeback, but at the moment, anger closed my throat. I reached for the edge of the door to slam it in his face, but before I could do it, a group of freshmen girls appeared around the corner, giggling and talking in the high-pitched voices that went right up my spine.

            Liam’s face froze, and he stepped forward. “Ava, please. Let me come in. Just for a minute.”

            I frowned. “Are you crazy? No, you can’t come in.”

            “Ava. Please.” His eyes darted back down the hallway, and I followed his gaze to one of the girls. Aha. Suddenly everything was clear.

            I hesitated just long enough for Liam to sense weakness. He slid between the door and the wall, brushing against my body. Instinct made me shy back away from him. He pushed the door shut and leaned on it.

            He was entirely too close to me, and I struggled to say something to get my balance back.

            “Too many pissed-off girls, Liam? What’s the matter? Your little freshman fuck-buddy giving you problems, too?”

            He ran a hand through his light brown hair, scowling. “She wasn’t my fuck-buddy. She was just. . .convenient. And now she’s a major pain in my ass.”

            His obvious discomfort made me feel better. I’d never seen the cool and aloof Liam Bailey in anything less than total control.

            “What’s she doing?”

            Liam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Typical freshman shit. She just happens to show up outside my classes.  Drunk texts me late at night. Has her friends talk to me in the dining hall.” He pulled out Julia’s chair and sat down.

            “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.” I rolled my eyes, sinking onto my bed across from him and tucking my feet up beneath me.

            “Sorry, but I’m not going back out there until the coast is clear. If she saw me come in here, she’s probably walking back and forth down the hall, hoping to catch me leaving.”

            “Are you claiming sanctuary?” I couldn’t help a little smile.

            “Something like that.” Liam’s mouth tightened a little. “I didn’t sleep with her, you know. With Rachel, the freshman. Not that night, not since. Not ever.”

            I raised one eyebrow, my skepticism clear.

            “I didn’t. The night of my birthday party, Giff walked her home after everyone left. And I haven’t talked to her since. I mean, not to say more than, ‘Go home, you’re drunk. I’m not interested.’”

            “If you weren’t interested, why did you show up at your party—the party my best friend, your girlfriend worked long and hard planning, by the way—with your hand down the shirt of another woman?”

            He shrugged. “The guys had a little pre-party for me at the Alpha Delt house. They’d invited some girls, and she was one of them. She was wasted before I even showed up. And she wouldn’t leave me alone, kept saying she’d been watching me around campus and had a big crush on me. I don’t know, one thing led to another and it seemed like it would be a way to make sure Julia knew I was moving on.”

            “Because just telling her, privately, and maybe with a little bit of sensitivity just wouldn’t get the job done.”

            He sighed and sprawled back in the chair. “I never said it was the smart thing to do. If I could do it over, yeah, I probably would have made better choices. But there was more going on than you know. The whole thing is complicated.”

            I dropped to lie down on my side, bunching a pillow under my head. It didn’t seem like Liam was planning to leave any time soon, so I decided to get comfortable. My textbook mocked me from the foot of the bed, and I ignored it.

            “Complicated, huh? Care to elaborate?”

            “Not really, no. Just take my word for it. But don’t worry, I’ve felt like a dick since the morning after. And even if I hadn’t, Giff would’ve made sure I did. He was really pissed at me.”

            “Can you blame him? If you felt so bad, why didn’t you apologize? Make it right with Julia?”

            He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I told you, complicated. Plus, I figured it was done. Better let her just move on.”

            “And now that she has, in fact, moved on, suddenly you feel compelled to come back into her life?”

            “Thanks, Dr. DiMartino. I didn’t realize I was here for a session.”

            I grinned, unfazed. “You’re stuck in a room with a psych major. You have two choices: leave and risk assault by freshman, or stay and answer my questions.”

            “I could stay and ignore you.” Liam hooked one foot over the rung at the bottom of the chair.

            “You could try.”

            He frowned, rubbed one hand over his forehead, and blew out a breath. “Look, I don’t want to talk about Julia. I know I screwed up with her. What’s the point of rehashing the whole thing?”

            I held his eye. “You tell me. You’re the one who showed up here tonight, insisting on talking to her. You still haven’t said why.”

            “No, I told you. The guys are talking about her. Everyone is calling her a slut.”

            “And you care. . .why?”

            “Because I feel responsible.” The words came out as though he hadn’t meant to say them. “Okay, is that what you wanted to hear? You know what Julia was like when we started going out. She was shy. Quiet. I was the first person she. . .” His voice trailed off.

            “I know.” The flash of vulnerability on his face took away some of my mad.

            “So if she’s doing all of this, fucking around, because of what I did to her. . .yeah, I feel like I have to say something.”

            I hesitated. I was right smack in the middle here: my best friend was looking for revenge on the guy who had screwed her over and humiliated her in a very public way. She wasn’t actually sleeping with any of the guys Liam saw with her. It was all a giant con, a big set-up engineered by Julia, Liam’s friend Giff and me, designed to make Liam want her back so she could shoot him down.

            But there was no way I could tell Liam this, even if I wanted to. I wasn’t going to break the sacred girlfriend code. Maybe he wasn’t quite the jerk we thought—though I wasn’t sure I bought it—but still, I couldn’t forget who he was, and what he’d done.

            “You may have been Julia’s first serious boyfriend, Liam, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel responsible. And. . .” I licked my lips, trying to decide how to say what I wanted without giving away anything. “Come on. You know Jules. Does it seem like she’d start sleeping around, even if you did break her heart?”

            He shook his head. “Yeah, I do know her. Or I thought I did. But what if she’s, like, gone off the deep end?  Some girls can’t handle break-ups. They go nuts.”

            I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing. “Wait a minute. So you’re saying you think Julia’s lost her mind because of what you did? Good God, Liam. Talk about arrogance.”

            I half-expected him to get defensive and maybe a little mad, but instead, he surprised me again by laughing, too.

            “Yeah, I guess when I hear myself say it out loud, it sounds that way. Okay, so I didn’t drive Julia to the edge of sanity by breaking up with her. So then why is she acting like this?”

            “Maybe she’s just enjoying her freedom.” It wasn’t even close to being true, but it sounded good. I decided a change of subject was in order. With one last longing glance at my book, I stood up. “Since it looks like you’re going to be here for a little while, do you want a drink? I’m going to break out some wine coolers. I think we have some beer in the fridge, too.”

            “Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.”

            I dug out two of our high-class plastic cups, took two wine coolers from the fridge and poured us each a healthy portion.

            “I can drink from the bottle,” Liam offered.

            “Better to hide it in a cup, in case Rachel the freshman or one of her buddies decides to come in.” I tucked the empty and the extra behind my wastepaper basket.

            “Gotcha.” Liam held up his cup. “To. . .friends, I guess.”

            I raised my eyebrows but touched my wine to his anyway. “Okay. If you say so.”

            He sipped and nodded. “Not bad. The wine cooler, I mean.” He set it down on Julia’s desk, carefully avoiding the mess of papers she’d left there. There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

            “You know, I always enjoyed spending time with you.” Liam traced a drop of moisture on the side of the cup. “Sometimes I felt like I could talk to you more than I could to Julia.”

            It felt disloyal to agree with him, but I nodded anyway. “I know what you mean. Jules said the same thing about Giff, actually. She misses him.”

            “Yeah. Too bad she isn’t his type. They always got along better than Julia and me. If it weren’t for Giff, we probably wouldn’t have stayed together as long as we did.”

            This wasn’t news to me. I’d seen the tension between my roommate and her boyfriend for months before the break-up had become official, but neither of them seemed to recognize it. If I’d said anything to Jules, she would have accused me of trying to psychoanalyze everything.

            “Why did you? Stay together, I mean.” I took another drink.

            Liam lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. Why not? Julia is a nice person. She’s pretty, she’s smart. . .my parents liked her. My dad kept saying she would make a good politician’s wife.”

            “Julia? A political wife? That’s crazy.” I laughed and tilted my cup to catch the last drops. “I mean, seriously? You weren’t thinking that far ahead, were you?”

            Liam stared at me, an odd look on his face. “You should laugh more often. It makes your eyes sparkle.”

            I didn’t know what to do with that. Liam paying me a compliment felt somehow wrong. “Don’t change the subject. Were you seriously considering marrying Jules?”

            He looked away from me. “I’m going to graduate next year. My future is pretty well mapped out, at least as far as my parents are concerned.  And a girlfriend, who becomes a wife who can make me look good, is definitely on the list of things I need. According to the congressman, anyway.”

            I reached for one of the bottles and poured myself a refill, holding it to Liam in question. He hesitated a minute and then took it from me, adding to what was still in his cup.

            “I’m sorry, is this 1954? And is your last name Kennedy? Who thinks that way anymore?” The booze warmed me and loosened my tongue.

            “Yeah, I know. But it’s my dad’s dream. His father only got to county politics, but Dad made it to Congress. And maybe he’ll go further. But he’s counting on me to take it all the way to the big time.”

            “Do you want to do it?” I finished my second glass and curled on my side again, looking up at Liam.

            He met my eyes, and something flashed there. Defiance or pain, I couldn’t tell which. He didn’t answer me at first. Instead he tossed back the last of his cooler and took another refill.

            “Here, why don’t you kill it?” Without waiting for me to answer, he poured the rest into my cup. I rarely had more than two drinks, even if we were just staying in the room, but I couldn’t think of a good reason not to right now.

            “Nice dodge and re-direct, but you didn’t answer me. Do you even want to go into politics?”

            “I don’t know.” He spoke low, his eyes on the floor. “I thought I did. I mean, I’m good at it. My parents have been training me as long as I can remember. I never thought about doing anything else.”

            “So what changed?” I maneuvered the cup to my lips and managed to sip without shifting.

            “Nothing. Or maybe everything. Maybe me.”

            This Liam Bailey was not the same smooth, confident guy I’d known for the last year. He seemed troubled, almost sad. Or maybe that was just the three cups of wine talking.

            “Well, guess what? The good news for you is that you’re only a junior in college. You have time. You’re a history and poli sci major, and that can translate into something other than running for office. Or you could change your major, though it’s a little late in the game for that. Or you could—”

            “Or I could do this.”  Before I could move or react, Liam slid off the chair onto his knees and leaned over me, covering my lips with his.

            At first, I was stunned into complete paralysis. Liam Bailey was kissing me. Me, Ava DiMartino, the dumpy little Italian girl. The one who didn’t do dates, who had a plan and goals and no time for boys.

            And then he moved his hand to the side of my face, and his tongue traced the seam of my mouth. A moan caught in my throat, and I opened my lips, kissing him back for a wild minute of insanity. Liam slid his free arm under my back. The wall of his chest teased against the tips of my breasts, and he lifted his head to trail kisses across my face and murmur into my ear.

            “My God, Ava, you feel amazing. And you smell like. . .” Nose buried in my neck, he inhaled deeply. “Lilacs. Like my grandmother’s garden in spring.” His hand covered my breast.

            Something within me snapped, jerking me back to reality, cutting through the wine-haze.  I pushed against his shoulders.

            “Liam, stop. Move. We can’t do this. What’s wrong with you?”

            He leaned up, frowning down into my face. “Why? What?”

            “Holy—you need to get up. God, what was I thinking?” I kicked at his leg. “Get the hell off me.” I squirmed, trying to get away from the heat of his body. “Clearly I wasn’t thinking at all. It’s the alcohol. Wine is bad. Wine coolers, I mean. So, so bad.”

            “I hope you were thinking that you liked me kissing you.” He lowered his face toward me again, and without thinking about it, I hauled off and smacked him.

            “What the hell—” He jumped to his feet, holding his jaw. “What did you do that for?”

            I scooted up to sit near my pillows. “Be happy that was all I did. I’m Italian. You’re lucky I didn’t rip your balls off.”

            Liam climbed onto the foot of the bed, avoiding me with care, and leaned against the wall. His face was flushed, especially where I’d hit him, and his light brown hair, usually in such artful disarray, was looking decidedly rumpled. He dropped his head back, and it thumped against the wall.

            “I don’t get why it’s so bad.” He spoke with his eyes closed.

            I eyed his long, lean body, trying to ignore the evidence of desire that stretched the zipper of his jeans.  Swallowing hard, I focused on his feet. Black Converse. Totally unsexy. Except they weren’t. Okay, so no focusing on any of his body parts. What in the hell was wrong with me?

            “How can you not get it?” I gritted my teeth and curled my legs up, wrapping my arms around them until I was huddled in a ball. I let my hair drop around my face, giving the illusion of protection. “Whatever else might have been screwed up with you, I always thought you had a logical brain. Point A: Julia is my best friend and my roommate. Point B: She was your girlfriend for nearly a year—”

            “Ten months.” Liam didn’t move as he mumbled.

            I pushed my hair back and peeked out at him. “See, that is such a guy thing. Ten months is nearly a year. What I’m saying is, it’s not like you just went out once or twice. You were together. Like, together, together. So it is not cool at all for you to kiss me. It violates every rule in the girl code.”

            “Maybe I’m out of practice, but it sure felt like you were kissing me back.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me, the smolder in his gaze making it hard for me to sit still. Even though most of me was flooded with guilt, another part was telling me to leap down the bed and climb into his lap. The image made me groan.

            “Stop looking at me like that. Okay, yes, I was kissing you back. But I was wrong. I’m a terrible person. I’m probably going to hell now. At the very least, I’m looking at extra time in purgatory. My mother is going to have to light so many candles for me.”

            A slow smile spread across Liam’s face as he dropped to his hands and knees and began crawling toward me. He reminded me of a mountain lion, and the look in his eyes was definitely predatory.

            “Well, if you’re already damned, you might as well have some fun, right?” He grabbed one of my feet and yanked down, pulling me flat again.  I kicked at him, missing his shoulder as he dodged.  He planted one hand on either side of my hips and dropped to kiss my neck, running his lips down to my collarbone.

            “Liam.” I pushed at his head. “Stop.” My words were weak, probably because him stopping was really not what I wanted. It was what I should want. But he complied anyway, rising up again so he could look at me.

            “I know what you’re saying. Yeah, it’s kind of weird, I guess. But not really. I always liked you. What I said before was true. I thought we got along pretty well, and God, Ava, if Julia is moving on, why shouldn’t we?”

            “Oh, so if you walked in on Giff and Julia in bed together, you’d be okay with that?”

            He smirked. “I’d be shocked. Ava, I hate to break it to you, but Giff is gay.”

            I swatted his arm. “It’s the principle of it, and you know what I mean. And not only that, but I’m not looking to get tangled up with you or with anyone. I don’t have time for this.”

            “Can you tell me honestly you don’t feel this spark?” He moved to lie alongside me and skimmed a hand down my side, from my hip to the side of my breast. “You weren’t pushing me away a few minutes ago.”

            I heaved out a breath. “Just because I feel something doesn’t mean I have to act on it. I don’t have any interest in being your fuck buddy tonight, Liam. Spark or no spark.”

            “I’m not looking for that either. Didn’t you hear what I said? I like you, Ava. I always have. Kissing you might not have been what I planned to do tonight, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought of doing it.”

            I squirmed as he ran a finger up my bare arm. “Oh, really? So you’re saying you thought about this when you were going out with my best friend? Because that doesn’t make you look any better.”

            He fell back on the bed, hard. I could still feel his warmth all along one side of me.

            “Remember I said that my reasons for breaking up with Julia were complicated?”

            “Yeah. . .” I frowned as the meaning of his words dawned on me. “You’re saying I was the reason you did it? Oh, come on, Liam. What kind of idiot do you think I am?”

            “I don’t think you’re an idiot at all, and what the hell does that mean?”

            I held up one hand and began counting on my fingers. “One, you’re trying to say that you broke up with Julia because you had feelings for me? If you expect me to believe that, you really must think I’m stupid. Or desperate. I’m neither. Two, if I were to believe that, you feel it should be enough to make me want to fall into your arms here and now? If that’s the case, you must think I’m not only dumb but really shallow, too.”

            “I didn’t. And I don’t. The complications are a lot more—uh, complicated than just me liking you. But it played into it. You can believe me or not, but by last fall, I started to realize that the only time I really enjoyed hanging out with Julia was when you were there, too. So I knew it was time to end things before I did something really stupid like get drunk and try to make out with you while I was still dating your friend.”

            I snorted. “Like that would have ever happened.”

            Liam shook his head. “Yeah, I know, but I wanted to. And that was enough. So no, it wasn’t the only reason, but it was a factor. I didn’t come here tonight to tell you that, or to do. . .this. . .” He turned over again so he was looking down at me, and he touched the side of my face with the tip of his finger. “But I’m not sorry it happened, and I’m not sorry it’s out there. And I don’t think we did anything wrong.”

            I held still, hardly breathing. I was afraid if I moved, I might not be able to control my hands. Or my lips. Good God, when did this happen? When did I stop hating Liam Bailey? Or maybe I still did, but maybe hating him didn’t necessarily preclude wanting to rub my body all over his. . .

            I rolled away from him. “That’s the difference between us, isn’t it? I know what we did was wrong because it’s not something I’d be comfortable telling Jules.  Plus, I think you’re just saying what you did to make yourself feel better. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not going to be part of it. Just go away.”

            Liam sighed, and for a minute, he didn’t move. Then he threw one leg over me, and for one dizzying breath, I thought he was going to kiss me again. But instead, he perched on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands.

            “I can’t blame you for not trusting me, Ava. I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe me. But I’m going to. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you see that I’m not that guy. I want a chance with you.”

            I kept my eyes trained on the wall across the room. “Don’t bother, because I’m not interested. I don’t have time for games, and I’m not looking for a booty call.”

            He stood. “I’m not, either. No offense, but if that’s what I wanted, there are plenty of willing girls.” He pointed at the door. “I could just call Rachel the freshman, right? But I don’t. I didn’t mean to act on this yet, but I’m not sorry you know.”

            Liam snagged his coat from the chair, picked up his empty plastic cup, and chucked it into the trash.

            “Thanks for the wine. And the sanctuary. I’ll talk to you soon.”

            He opened the door and disappeared into the now-quiet hallway. I heard the click of the lock as the door shut.

            I should have been mad. Pissed and outraged and full of righteous indignation. But instead, a tiny seed of something unexpected and unfamiliar took root within me. I hugged my pillow to my chest for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling.

            When I reached to the end of the bed for my psych text, it no longer held the same appeal as it had a few hours before. I closed the book, slid it onto my desk, and climbed under the covers. It was the first time I’d gone to bed without finishing my reading in a very long time.

            That lasted about five minutes before I jumped up, turned the light back on, and grabbed my book.

 

First Chapter Friday: The Love Song One

Meet Tori and Hunter . . .

Tori

Who doesn’t love a love song? Especially a love song that’s crooned by Hunter Jaymes, the hottest new star in country music?

I don’t have time for love songs. Now that I’m finally moved off my parents’ farm and ditched my cheating, lying boyfriend, I’m ready to start life on her own terms. Those terms definitely do not include falling in love with the sexy and irresistible Hunter. Yes, he’s the kind of guy who makes me laugh, takes my breath away with a single touch and tempts me to imagine what could be . . . but he’s also not planning to stick around Burton. 

Hunter

When I look at Tori, I see the possibility of forever. The road is my life, but she feels like my home. Unfortunately, convincing this woman to give love a chance will take more than a song. But I’m not giving up on her. Not when I know she sings the song of my heart.

Read the first chapter now!

Tori

“C’mon, Tori. Please. I’ll owe you forever.” 

Narrowing my eyes, I stared down my baby brother. “You have got to be out of your mind, Matt. No way.”

Matt heaved a huge sigh and flopped back onto my couch. I winced a little; my furniture was second-hand, and it hadn’t necessarily been top-of-the-line even when it was new, but still, it was mine, and I wanted to take care of it. My brother was a good kid, but he was also a fifteen-year-old, and he didn’t care about things like that. 

“Tore, you’ve got to take me. If you don’t do it, I can’t go. I’ll miss meeting Hunter Jaymes. You don’t want to deny me my dream, do you?” He sat up and leaned forward. “If I don’t meet him, I’ll probably be so depressed that I’ll give up music. Then I’ll end up having to get some dead-end job to pay the bills, marrying the first girl I date, and we’ll be stuck here in this Podunk town for the rest of our miserable lives. You’ll have to live every day with the knowledge that you’re the one responsible for ruining my life.”

I rolled my eyes. “Drama much, Matty? I think you’ll get over it. Besides, Mason has bands playing at the Road Block almost every weekend. In a few years, you’ll be able to get in on your own and meet them. You don’t have to, uh, give up your dream.” I made air quotes with my fingers. “God forbid.”

“Tori, Hunter Jaymes isn’t just any musician. I’ve been following him forever. Since I first started paying attention to music and what I like to listen to. I know every one of his songs. I can play most of them. I just want to see him in person.” 

I exhaled long and heavily through my nose, but I didn’t answer him. Taking that as a sign of encouragement, Matt went on.

“The minute I saw Hunter was coming, I asked Mason if I could work the night of his show. He laughed and said no way in hell was he getting in trouble for having a minor working the bar at night. But then I told him how much I love Hunter’s music, and finally, today he said that if you came with me to the first set, he’d let me in. As long as we leave after and I don’t try something stupid, like getting a beer or whatever.” He frowned, shaking his head. “As if I’d even want to do that. I want to be there for the music, not for the booze.” 

“Why did Mason suggest I take you?” I was suspicious about the bar owner’s motives. I’d known Mason Wallace for a long time, and I was friends with his wife, Rilla. He knew how I felt about country music. I never made any secret about it, even though I knew that Mason’s former life had been all about that industry. 

“Well, he didn’t say it had to be you, exactly,” Matt admitted. “He said an adult member of my family. So technically, Mom or Dad could take me.”

“Hmmm.” I regarded my brother. “Did you ask them?” 

“No.” Matt shrugged. “The thing is, if I asked Mom or Dad, I know one of them would do it, no questions asked. But they’re so tired all the time as it is. Asking them to do something extra like this . . . it would make me feel horrible.”

“Ah, but it’s okay to ask me, huh?” I loved that Matt was the kind of kid who was considerate enough that he realized our parents worked themselves practically to death on our family farm. He was right, too; they were such wonderful parents, it would never occur to them to tell Matt no about something they could do. They’d just get by with a little less sleep the next day. 

They were the same way with me, and that’s why I realized that I really didn’t have a choice here. I had to take Matt to the Road Block, if not out of love for him, then out of compassion and gratitude toward my mom and dad. And seriously, I reasoned with myself, was it that big a deal? Sure, I detested country music, but I could grit my teeth and get through one show. 

The truth of the matter was that there was a bigger and more compelling reason for me to avoid doing this favor for my brother. I hadn’t been back to the Road Block in over six months, not since the night that I wanted to forget had ever happened. Maybe I was making too big a deal over it, and maybe no one else would even remember, but I did. I gave a little shudder and opened my mouth to tell Matt no way, no how. 

But I made the mistake of looking at him before I spoke, and the earnest, pleading expression on that sweet face took my voice away. This kid . . . he’d been wrapping me around his little finger since the day he was born when I was nine years old. I’d never been able to deny him anything that I could give, and I realized now that today wasn’t going to break that streak. It might be hard, and it might be unpleasant, but dammit, I was going to end up taking the kid to see his idol this weekend. 

“What time should I pick you up on Friday?” 

“Tori!” He yelled so loud, I was pretty sure the glasses in my cabinet reverberated with the sound. “Oh, my God, you’re the best sister in the entire world. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it.” I pushed my finger against his adorable nose, the same way I used to when he was a toddler. “I’m going to make sure you won’t.” 

He rolled his eyes, but I could see his excitement there anyway. “Whatever. I don’t even care, as long as I get to see Hunter Jaymes. I can’t believe I’m going to actually meet him.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” I frowned a little, concerned. “Buddy, you know, you might not get the chance to meet him or talk to him. I know the Road Block is a pretty small venue and all, but still—Mason might not want you stalking the talent. He’s kind of protective of the acts he books.”

Matt shook his head, impatient. “Tori, Mason told me I could meet Hunter. He said if I get there early enough for the first set, I could help with soundcheck. And he promised he’d, like, actually introduce me to him.” He grabbed my hands. “We’re going to hang out with Hunter Jaymes.”

“Whoa, there.” I disengaged my fingers. “I’m not hanging out with him. I’ll sit in the car until Mason says I have to be inside with you. I don’t need anyone thinking I’m a fangirl.”

“No one would ever think that about you.” His voice was dry. “But you can’t sit outside. That would be weird.”

“I’m okay with weird.” I sent him a sunny smile. “Cut your losses here, bud. I said I’m willing to drive you to the bar, and I’ll go inside during the show so that Mason doesn’t have to worry about you. But that’s it. Once he’s off the stage, you and I are out of there. Got it?”

“Yeah, okay.” Matt reached down for his backpack, which was on the floor next to his feet. “Whatever you say.”

“And now, I suppose, you’d like me to drive you home.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I assume that you missed your bus and walked over here to my house.” My tiny cottage was only about five blocks from the high school, and it wasn’t unusual for my brother to drop in if I happened to be home. 

“It was more the other way around.” He cast me a winsome smile. “I walked over here so I could talk to you, and so the bus left without me. I didn’t really miss it so much as it missed me.” 

I gritted my back teeth. Lord, save me from teenage boys. “Semantics, Matty. You need a ride home. Get your bag, and let’s go. I have work to do.” 

He frowned as he stood up and hefted the backpack over his shoulder. “But today’s your day off.”

I scooped my keys from the small primitive antique bowl that sat on the table by my front door. “It’s my day off from the boutique, but I have blog work to do.”

“You’re always working.” Matt’s tone verged on whining, but I pretended I didn’t hear that. 

“Yeah, I am.” I swatted his arm. “That’s how I got this sweet crib and all my killer threads. Not to mention my bitchin’ ride, yo.”

“Tori.” He looked pained. “Please don’t try to sound . . . you know. Like you’re cool. You’re using all the wrong words.”

“I know. I did it on purpose to annoy you.” I grinned widely. “Now let’s get moving, bud.”

We both climbed into my ancient truck, and I patted the dash before I started her up, mentally whispering a prayer of gratitude when she turned over without issue. Matt buckled his seat belt and leaned back.

“Since you’re raking in all the dough now, pretty soon you’ll be getting a new car, right?” He patted the worn molding on the door of the truck. “When you do, I get the old hussy, right?” 

I smiled. My grandfather had bought this truck new when I was a baby, and he’d taken good care of it, the way he had everything in his life. He’d been proud to hand me the keys when I was sixteen, telling me that it was mine for as long as I needed it, but that when I was ready to move on, the old hussy, as he called his truck affectionately, had to come back to the family. 

“We’ll have to see, Matty.” I swiveled in my seat to look out the window as I backed out. “It’s fine with me, but really, it’s up to Mom and Dad.” Shifting into first gear, I shot him a look. “And you know, you have to keep your grades up and be able to cover your car insurance on your own. Just like I did.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I can do that. Well, the grades, I mean. But I don’t know what kind of job I could get to afford to own a truck. I don’t make much at Mason’s.”

“You’ve got time to think about it. Another two years, anyway.” I turned onto the main street of our town. Burton wasn’t a bustling metropolis by any means, but still, all the shops along here were pretty busy this afternoon. It was spring, and people were thrilled to be outside again. More than a few of those strolling along the sidewalk waved to me. The old hussy was familiar to just about everyone in Burton. 

Matt and I didn’t talk much on the fifteen-minute ride out to the farm. I could make the drive on automatic pilot as I’d been taking this route since I’d been seventeen. Once we were out of Burton proper and on the rural highway that meandered through the surrounding farms, we rolled down the windows, and I turned up the radio, blaring Ed Sheeran as we sang along. 

“You’re so weird, you know that?” Matt shouted to be heard over the wind and the music. “We’re in a pickup truck on a country road in Georgia. This scene is just begging for Garth Brooks or Brad Paisley or Miranda Lambert!” 

“Nooooo!” I yelled back. “No country music!” 

He laughed at me. “You were totally adopted.”

It was an old joke in our family, a ridiculous poke at the fact that my coloring was identical to my father’s while Matt looked just like my mom. But my brother wasn’t wrong about me being the anomaly, in that I was the only one of us who wasn’t a huge country music fan. Growing up, I’d been dragged to festivals and forced to endure hours of twanging songs about heartbreak, Mama, apple pie, dogs, and pickup trucks. The minute I’d been deemed old enough to stay home by myself, I’d seized the opportunity. 

Happily, by that time, Matt had been old enough to go—and he’d enthusiastically embraced all things twangy. Not only did he love our parents’ favorite tunes, he actually had a gift for playing just about any instrument he picked up—and he possessed an incredible singing voice. 

When I still lived at home, he used to harass me about being the oddball when it came to music, and I’d taunted him for being a stereotypical good ol’ boy, a camo-wearing redneck. There was very little we agreed on. But then I’d found Ed Sheeran, and even though he couldn’t be classified as even remotely country, Matt had decided that he respected the man for his amazing musical abilities—and that he enjoyed his songs, too. That’s why we always played Ed when we were together. He was our demilitarized zone. 

Slowing as the truck approached the driveway that led to our farm, I felt the familiar sense of pride in the weathered wooden sign that my great-grandmother had originally hand-painted over a century before. 

Westin Family Farm

Est. 1846

Over the years, the lettering had been touched up by various family members—most recently by me—but none of us ever changed the design. In the dining room of the big old farmhouse where I’d grown up, there was a framed photo of Great-Grammy next to the sign, and I’d always thought that her wide smile was a little like my own.

“You coming in?” Matt glanced at me as we bumped up the drive. “Mom’s probably getting ready to make dinner. She might even make fried chicken if you stay.”

“That’s mighty tempting, honey, but I need to get home so I can—”

“Work,” he finished for me. “Right.”

I held my foot on the brake and reached over to tousle his sandy brown hair. “Hey, I need to make sure I’m caught up, because it turns out I have this hot date on Friday night, and I don’t want anything getting in the way of that.”

He grinned. “Okay. Can you pick me up by six on Friday?”

“You got it, buddy.” I watched him maneuver the handle to open the door, which often stuck. As he swung his legs out and hefted the backpack from the seat, I added, “Give Mom a hug from me and tell her I’ll be home Sunday for dinner. Oh, and tell Dad I’ll be here early enough to watch the Braves play.”

“Sure.” He slammed the door—which he had to do so that it wouldn’t fly open on the road as I drove back to town—and gave me a quick wave over his shoulder. I watched him jog up the steps of the wide porch that wrapped around our family home and then round the corner, heading for the kitchen door. We never used the front entrance except for company, weddings, or funerals. 

As I drove away, I pictured the scene that probably greeted him once he’d gone into the kitchen. Mom would be there because it was a point of pride that she never missed greeting us after school. Even during the busiest planting or harvest season, my mother was waiting for us, always with some kind of snack and a drink. No matter what else was going on in her life, she paid careful attention to our chatter and looked over our homework and other school papers. 

I didn’t know if I would ever have kids, but if I did, she was the kind of mother I wanted to be. 

Thinking about kids and family and parents made me a little lonely and wistful. I loved my new independent life here in town; at twenty-four, it was time for me to be on my own, and I’d worked hard to make it happen. Still, I missed the easy camaraderie of my family, the meals around the table, the steady dependability of my parents, and the fun of being with my brother. My little cottage was adorable, but it was also quiet. 

Growing up on the farm, I’d come into Burton for school, and of course, I’d made friends. But most of those people had either moved away or were occupied with their own busy lives. In the six years since graduation, we’d all changed, and I wasn’t in touch with anyone from high school. 

But that didn’t mean I was a big old lonesome loser now. With that in mind, I took a left instead of the right turn that would’ve taken me back to my house and pulled up in front of a small shop with lighted windows. 

The sign on the door read Phoenix: Beauty from Ashley. That door opened as I hopped out of my truck, and two women, one about my mother’s age and the other a few years younger than me, stepped outside. Both smiled when they saw me. 

“Hey, Tori. How’re you doing?” The older woman called over. “You going in here, honey? Ashley’s with a client, but she’s about done, I think.”

“Hey, Mrs. Hyles. Hey, Donna.” I leaned against my truck for a moment. “Yeah, I was just stopping in to chat a little. Thanks. I’ll wait for her in reception.” Taking the door Mrs. Hyles held for me, I added, “Y’all have a good evening.” 

I slipped inside the salon, inhaling deep. I loved the scent of this place. Phoenix didn’t smell like most beauty parlors. There was no lingering sulfuric odor from old permanents or the overwhelming cloying hairspray. Somehow, Ashley’s place was all relaxing and pleasant scents. She swore it was a matter of excellent ventilation, but I wasn’t sure about that. I was pretty sure she had some kind of magic voodoo that made the difference. 

“. . . but I told her she was out of her mind.” Ashley’s voice floated out to me, and I heard the click of her heels on the tiles. “I mean, who does that? It was—” She appeared in the doorway that connected the main salon with the reception area and spotted me. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. How long have you been out here, sugar?” 

I shrugged. “Not long. Mrs. Hyles just let me in as she was leaving.”

“Oh, good.” Ashley turned to face the tall, good-looking man who’d followed her out. He had a square jaw and dark hair that clearly had just been cut. He stood a good head above my friend, and the eyes he turned to me were light blue and friendly. 

“Zane, this is my friend Tori. Tori, this is Zane, my favorite client.” 

He reached over Ashley’s shoulder to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, but I’m pretty sure she tells all her clients the same thing.”

Ashley gave us both wide eyes. “No way! Some of them I can barely tolerate. Ask Tori. She hears all my horror stories.”

I nodded. “It’s true. Some of the people she takes care of are crazy demanding and downright mean.”

“Not like you at all.” She beamed at him and then pointed toward me. “Tori is the most creative person I know. See what she’s wearing? She makes almost all of her own clothes or repurposes things in new ways.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Tell me what you’ve got on today.”

Nice way to put me on the spot. I glanced down at my body, as though I’d forgotten what was on it. “Uh, the overalls came from a thrift shop in Savannah. I cinched the middle and added the sash in this floral cotton from another dress I’d bought, and then I turned up the cuffs and covered them in the same material.” Plucking my shirt away from my chest, I added, “And I bought this shirt at the boutique where I work.” 

“She works at a shop in Farleyville,” Ashely told Zane. “Where her talents are totally wasted.”

“Ashley.” I rolled my eyes. “Please. I like my job at Niche.” 

She turned to face her client. “You could give Tori an old burlap sack and a yard of ribbon, and five minutes later, she’d have a beautiful dress. She’s that good. And she’s working at a store that sells frumpy suits to old women.”

Zane glanced at me and then back at Ashley, uncertainty in his eyes. “Uh, okay. I guess that’s bad?”

“Of course, it’s bad. She has this fashion blog that has a ton of followers, because she’s so awesome, and she needs to stop wasting her time dressing the elderly and pay attention to growing her own career.” She tilted her head and drilled me with steely, narrowed eyes, daring me to tell her that she was wrong. 

The annoying thing was, Ashley wasn’t wrong. I’d been working at Niche since I was sixteen, and the truth was that my original plan had been to quit four months ago. But that had been back when the plan had included Andy the asshole, my ex-boyfriend. I’d assumed we’d be marrying . . . or at least moving in together. Since that was never going to happen now, I’d had to make the decision to stick with my day job for a little longer.

Ashley knew the practicalities of my plan, but she was more impatient than I was. That was the sign of a good friend, I decided, which was why her nagging wasn’t quite pissing me off. Yet. 

So I ignored her pointed words and cast a brilliant smile at Zane, who seemed more than a little uncomfortable caught between two strong-minded women discussing a topic he didn’t quite understand. 

“Are you new in Burton, Zane? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

He grinned ruefully. “If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that . . . yeah, I’m from Charlotte. Just moved here about three months ago.”

“He took over Clark Morgan’s law practice,” Ashley added. 

“Well, welcome to Burton.” Hooking my thumbs into the belt loops of my baggy overalls, I leaned into the wall. “Everyone here is nosy, and they’ll give you advice even when you don’t ask . . .” I slid my friend the side-eye. “But they’re also the kindest, most loving folks you’ll ever meet.”

“So far, I’d have to agree.” I didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on my friend, and instantly, my attraction alert went off. He liked Ashley. Did she know this? She hadn’t even mentioned this guy to me. 

If Ashley noticed Zane’s attention, she didn’t show it. “Tori, let me cash out Zane so he can get going, and then I’ll be right with you.” She began leading him toward the desk in the corner. “I hope you want to go eat because I’m famished.”

I stayed quiet, watching her go through the process of ringing up the charge, accepting Zane’s money, and being sweetly surprised when he insisted that she keep the change. When he said good-night to us both, he added that it had been nice to meet me. With one more glance at Ashley, he left, the bell over the door jangling as he did.

“Well, he’s adorable.” I quirked an eyebrow. “Hmmm, funny that I don’t remember you telling me about him.”

“Didn’t I?” Ashley busied herself with something on her computer, running the end-of-day sales report. “Huh. Well, I don’t tell you about every client who comes in here.”

“Sure, but one who’s hot as hell and clearly wants you to take off more than just his hair? I just think it’s, uh, very interesting that you’ve been so close-mouthed about it. I assume he’s single.”

“Yes, he’s single, but he’s not looking for anything with me, I promise.” She sighed and slid the cash drawer closed, turning the key in the lock. “He’s in love with his receptionist.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why do you think that? And who is she?”

Ashley waved her hand. “I don’t know, some girl just out of the community college. Younger than you and me. This is her first job. And I think that because it’s true. You should see him when he talks about her.” 

“I think you might be wrong about that, Ash.” I dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs that served as waiting room seating. “I think he likes you.” When she opened her mouth to contradict me, I only shook my head. “I’m not going to argue with you about it. Time will tell. So what were you thinking for dinner? Kenny’s or barbecue? Or Franco’s?”

She came out from behind the desk and leaned against it. “I guess it wouldn’t do any good for me to suggest the Road Block, would it? It’s only Tuesday, and it’s early. It wouldn’t be crowded. We’d bring down the average patron age tonight, eating with the early bird special crowd.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” I stuck out my tongue. “And no, I don’t want to go to the Road Block. I need someplace cheap. I’m broke, remember?”

“Broke has nothing to do with why you won’t go eat at Mason’s place,” Ashley retorted. “You’re still afraid people are talking about what went down there with you and Andy. Get over it, girlfriend. The rest of the town has. They’ve all got better things to talk about.” 

“I hope they do because it turns out I’m going to be there on Friday night.” I dropped that little bombshell and waited for her to react. I didn’t have to wait long. 

“No way!” Her mouth dropped open, and she pretended to stagger backward. “No way in hell. You’re not only going to the bar, but you’re going on a Friday night?” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a date? Who asked you out?”

“No one, and you should know that. The Road Block is the last place I’d take someone if I was interested in making it something important. As for who asked me out, that would be Matt.”

“Awwww . . .” Ashley shoved out her lower lip. “That’s so sweet. He’s taking big sister out?”

“No, big sister is going along as his chaperone, so he can see his musical idol. Mason made my being there a condition of him getting in. And I’m such a sucker for that kid that I said yes, against my better judgment.”

“Oh, you’ll have a great night.” She began making the rounds, closing the blinds on all of the windows in the reception area. “It’s about time for you to go back there, honeybunch. Your boycott has been seriously impacting our social life.” 

“Sure, it has,” I laughed. “That’s a nice thing to say, Ashley, but I know you haven’t been staying away from the bar.” 

She lifted one shoulder. “Well, I haven’t been able to enjoy it as much without you. You’re my favorite dancing buddy. So a big thank-you to Matty. Tell him his next trim’s on me.” 

“I’ll pass on the message.” I wriggled to sit up on the edge of the chair. “Are you almost ready? I’m starved.”

“Yep. Just let me go turn off the lights.” 

I watched my friend make her usual end-of-the-day rounds, checking that curling irons, flat irons, and hair dryers were all unplugged, that all the faucets were turned completely off, and that the lights were out. This salon was Ashley’s baby, and she was passionate about both nurturing it and making sure it grew. She was one of the savviest businesswomen I knew, and I understood that her own passion for entrepreneurship was one reason that she pushed me to make my move forward. She was afraid that I’d get stuck in the relative safety of being a paid employee at Niche, where things were safe and secure, if somewhat limited in opportunity. 

But I wasn’t going to rush anything. I had a plan, and even if I’d had to tweak it here and there, I knew it was a good one. I just had to be patient for a little longer. 

“All set,” Ashley announced as she sailed back into the waiting room. “And I’ve decided I’m craving fried chicken, so let’s go to Kenny’s.”

“Sounds good to me.” I stood up, stretching my back a little. Ashley had the most comfortable chairs in any salon waiting area I’d seen—she said that the pampering should begin the minute a person walked in—but they wreaked havoc on my posture. 

“And Tori . . .” She paused next to me, laying a hand on my forearm. “I was teasing before, about you avoiding the Road Block, but it really is time for you to go back. It’s crazy that you’ve let Andy keep you away so long. It’s going to be fine, you know.”

“Sure.” I mustered up a smile. “Of course, it is.”

And maybe if I said those words enough between now and Friday, I’d even start to believe it.

Super Bowl Recipes for a Winning Party!

Is there anything that goes better with football than food? The perfect Super Bowl gathering this Sunday has to include recipes that are delicious, fun and easy to eat. Each dish is the perfect opportunity to score big for the home team!

The top five must-serve football foods for the 2020 season are:

  • Beermosa Let’s face it: mimosas aren’t really football drinks. In those prissy little flutes, they don’t hold up to yelling at theIMG_2732 refs or chest bumps when your team scores. But a beermosa, served in a sturdy mason jar, is just what you need for a Sunday late morning or early afternoon gathering . . . or basically any time.  My recipe is simple: two fingers of orange juice, then fill the jar with my favorite beer. I used Bud Light with Lime, to add a little more citrus kick.
  • Buffalo Chicken Pinwheels Wings are a football party staple, but they’re a mess to make and to eat. These pinwheels give you a taste of buffalo and bleu cheese together without all the napkins! They’re quick and easy to make, and they go a long way. There are many variations, but this is one I like.
  • Roasted Garlic Cheese Dip Football party dips have to possess enough ooomph to knock down a linebacker. This one seems delicate enough, but it packs a punch. The cheese is rich, FullSizeRender 22but it’s the roasted garlic that makes this dish soar like the pigskin through the uprights. Serve this dip with toasted croutons, and you can’t go wrong.  Find the recipe here.
  • Tot Skewers Plain old French fries are so 2014. And even if you dress them up with cheese and bacon, they tend to become soggy–and hard to eat. But these tot skewers are a step up: they stay crispy, and they’re super-yummy, too. The ranch seasoning is the secret here–get the whole story!
  • Bread Bowl Chili Having a football celebration without chili is a definite flag on the play. But serving it up in a way that’s new and fun is the real challenge. That’s why these adorable bread bowls are perfect. They contain just enough chili to satisfy–and these crusty sea salt and rosemary rolls are just the thing to add both flavor and a brand-new way to enjoy it. Pipe a little sour cream over top to form the football stitching and add FullSizeRender 20some creaminess.  Use your own favorite chili recipe, scoop out the rolls and dish it up.

I’ll be serving all these dishes this Sunday as we enjoy the game! I think Leo, Quinn and the rest of the gang would approve of this menu!

Why iBooks? (iBooks FRiDAY 1)

Once upon a time, I read books just the same way the rest of the world did: paperbacks or hard-cover books that I could hold in my hands and turn the pages . . . usually procured from the library or a book store.

And then came ebooks. I had a Nook first . . . I bought my first Kindle Fire well after I’d published my own books. But even before that, in 2011, I had my very first iPhone. Still, I didn’t know anything about iBooks (which wasn’t really even a thing then).

In the last three years, though, I’ve read more on my iPhone than on any other device. Yet I’ll admit it: I usually read using my Kindle app. I’ll bet many of you do, too.

Recently, though, I’ve realized that it’s kind of ridiculous. After all, my iBooks app is specifically designed to work on my iPhone. And there are features which are super-cool on iBooks, like integrated music and playlists . . . and many of my favorite authors release exclusively on iBooks now, too.

So I’ve made a commitment: for the next year, I’m only buying–and reading–my books on iBooks. I’m also going to share what I’m reading and maybe give you some fun things I learn about along the way.

Which leads us to the next part (a bonus post for this first iBooks FRiDAY) . . . which is about how to navigate in iBooks for those of us who haven’t been there before and might find it a bit confusing.

Read it here–and be sure to follow along with me!