Emma, Mr. Knightley and Chili-Slaw Dogs (Jane Austen Takes the South, Band 2) - Softcover

Buch 2 von 3: Jane Austen Takes the South

Hathaway, Mary Jane

 
9781476777528: Emma, Mr. Knightley and Chili-Slaw Dogs (Jane Austen Takes the South, Band 2)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1476777527 ISBN 13: 9781476777528
Verlag: Howard Books, 2014

Inhaltsangabe

From the bestselling author of Pride, Prejudice, and Cheese Grits comes a new and comical contemporary take on the perennial Jane Austen classic, Emma.

Caroline Ashley is a journalist on the rise at The Washington Post until the sudden death of her father brings her back to Thorny Hollow to care for her mentally fragile mother and their aging antebellum home. The only respite from the eternal rotation of bridge club meetings and garden parties is her longtime friend, Brooks Elliott. A professor of journalism, Brooks is the voice of sanity and reason in the land of pink lemonade and triple layer coconut cakes. But when she meets a fascinating, charismatic young man on the cusp of a brand new industry, she ignores Brooks’s misgivings and throws herself into the project.

Brooks struggles to reconcile his parents’ very bitter marriage with his father’s devastating grief at the recent loss of his wife. Caroline is the only bright spot in the emotional wreckage of his family life. She’s a friend and he’s perfectly happy to keep her safely in that category. Marriage isn’t for men like Brooks and they both know it… until a handsome newcomer wins her heart. Brooks discovers Caroline is much more than a friend, and always has been, but is it too late to win her back?

Featuring a colorful cast of southern belles, Civil War re-enactors, and good Christian women with spunk to spare, Emma, Mr. Knightley, and Chili-Slaw Dogs brings the modern American South to light in a way only a contemporary Jane Austen could have imagined.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Mary Jane Hathaway is the pen name of an inspirational fiction writer. She homeschools her six children and lives in the small town of Milton-Freewater, Oregon.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Emma, Mr. Knightley and Chili-Slaw Dogs

Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing; but I have never been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.

—EMMA



CHAPTER ONE

Utter disaster on a cake platter.

Caroline Ashley stood back and surveyed her creation. The fabulous triple-layer fudge cake with light-as-air espresso-­flavored chocolate frosting did not look like the photo in the magazine. It didn’t look much like a cake at all. Leaning to the left and shedding gritty brown frosting in ultraslow motion, this cake wasn’t quite what her mother had requested for her Wednesday bridge group.

The recipe looked downright simple. Mix together, bake, frost. How hard could it be? Caroline blinked the sweat out of her eyes and stared around the sweltering kitchen, groaning at the sight. Flour, mixing bowls smeared with batter and butter-cube wrappers dotted the workspace. A purist would never have upgraded from the original Civil War–era fixtures, but her mama was not a purist. The long marble counters, custom Mississippi-oak cabinets and a heated flagstone floor were all top-of-the-line. The hammered-copper sink was original, but it was obscured by dirty dishes more often than not.

Their cook, Angie, loved to create her masterpiece desserts in here, although Mama had been giving her more and more time off. All the fancy kitchen equipment was going to waste on Caroline’s watch. She was trying, and failing, to be a personal chef. Not that it was a role she’d ever wanted.

Lifting the cake platter, she carried it to the freezer, sliding it in between the bags of sweet peas and a carton of vanilla ice cream. In only an hour the bridge group would show up, and there wasn’t time to make another. She could pray the cake would miraculously right itself and set into something more like the picture. Or she could run away from home.

“Something smells good.” Caroline whirled at the sound of the voice, even though she knew the speaker before she saw him. Brooks Elliot, her friend since before she’d learned to ride a two-wheeler down the long driveway, had a habit of showing up at all the best—and the worst—times. At his side stood a golden retriever, mouth lolling open, tongue half-out in a big doggy smile. Brooks looked cool, calm and collected in a perfectly tailored deep blue suit. His spotless white shirt and pale blue silk tie completed the picture of effortless style. It was unbelievably irritating.

He cocked his head. “Hiding something?”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Not from you, Professor.” She liked to use his title in a chirpy little voice that got on his nerves. Opening the freezer door, they surveyed the cake-that-was-not-a-cake together. “Although I don’t trust Absalom within five feet of anything edible.” She reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears, loving how the retriever’s whole body wagged against her leg.

“Hmmm.” Brooks pretended to be choosing his next statement carefully, but as her oldest friend, he knew he never had to watch his words. “Not so sure you need to take precautions.”

“Hilarious. You’re making fun of my cake, but I saw this dog eat through the leg of your grandpa’s best rocker.”

“Hey, we don’t bring up the past. Right, Ab?” Brooks reached down and ruffled the dog’s fur. Those two were thick as thieves. Better not get on the bad side of one, or you’d be on the bad side of the other.

It felt wonderful to stand inches from the frosty freezer. She wanted to crawl inside and never come out. But there was a bridge party to entertain. She closed the door and shrugged. The strands of hair sticking to the back of her neck reminded her she still needed to shower, and the reflection in the stainless steel door didn’t argue. Blond hair escaped from her ponytail in several different directions. Her cheeks flushed pink, green-blue eyes just smudges. Behind her was a wavery image as familiar as her own. A head taller than she was, with sandy-blond hair and dark brows, Brooks was the kind of man that made women check his hand for a ring. When they’d first met, she’d been too young to think of him that way and preferred dreaming of boy bands and the quarterback at her high school. But as the years passed, she couldn’t help noticing how the rest of the female population reacted to him. Every year it was more and more obvious that he was the catch of the tiny town of Thorny Hollow, and beyond.

She met his gaze in the reflection and grinned when he winked at her. Brooks, the consummate flirt. They were related, sort of, by marriage, and he always occupied that hazy area between cousin and guy friend. Whatever he was, catch or not, he was never less than a perfect gentleman.

“I’m sure it will be just fine after it sets.” She spun to face him, tugging on the strings of her red gingham apron, which seemed to have tied themselves into a knot.

Brooks gently turned her around and brushed away her hands, loosening the apron strings. Absalom wedged his furry body between them, his tail thumping against the back of her legs in a steady rhythm of happiness. “How’s the book?” Brooks asked.

Oh, that. “Coming right along.”

“I think you should call it The Never-Ending Story.” His expression in the refrigerator-door reflection was completely serious.

“Hardy har har.” It was just a little bit funny, she had to admit. Her idea of the great American novel had morphed into a Gone with the Wind remake, which had become a historical saga spanning the Russian Revolution. Why? Because she was bored. It was not a great reason to write a book and it showed. She’d been working on it for two years and it wasn’t even close to being finished.

“You know, just because your mama asks for a chocolate cake doesn’t mean you have to make one.”

She stared up at the high, arched ceiling, biting back words. It was easy for Brooks to give advice on family matters when he lived a happily independent life, or as independent as that of a good Southern son could be. He was still expected to come home for weddings and holidays and weekends regularly. But being a journalism professor at Midlands came with respect, a nice house and a decent distance from his cranky-pants father. No such luck for her.

“Bravard’s Bakery makes a great triple-layer cake. You could have asked me to pick one up on the way through town. You know I’m here almost every weekend. Absalom’s so used to the drive, we’re going to switch places next time. He’ll drive and I’ll stick my head out the window and yell at passing cars.”

She snorted at the image but regretted the ungenerous thoughts of a moment ago. Brooks lived a few hours away in Spartainville, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the call of the needy parent. “Your grandma moved in to keep your father company, but she wants to get out of that old house every now and then, too. Your mom passed away so quickly, I don’t think he had a chance to come to terms with what happened. I think he’s just lonely without her.”

“I’m not sure why. Maybe he misses the constant bickering. You know, I don’t really...

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Verlag
Howard Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2014
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1476777527
ISBN 13 
9781476777528
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
336
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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