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😎 Happy Summer, Everyone!
👇 Sssssss … boy, has it been hot or what?? Usually during a hot summer, it’s a real plus living 30 feet from a lake, but this summer it’s more like 30 feet from a hot tub! YIKES! With 97+ temps at Lake of the Ozarks for weeks on end, “cool” only applies to having family and friends visit, and we sure have had a lot of that!
So … what have I been up to? Well, as you may or may not have noticed, I haven’t been real visible on social media this year or with my blog or newsletters, and the reason for that is two-fold. 1.) I’ve had a 2nd foot surgery and a cataract surgery, and Keith has had a hernia surgery, so after our recoveries, we’re like brand-new people (NOT!). But definitely improved, so thank you, Jesus!
2.) Following a stay in Florida, several trips to St. Louis for family functions, a trip to Omaha, and a trip to Destin, we are now enjoying lots of family and friends at the Lake, which keeps me quite busy.
Unfortunately … it hasn’t left a lot of time for writing. But to be honest, I can’t really blame that all on being too busy because the truth is, I guess God figured I needed a break. You see, I haven’t done any major writing since last August (YIKES! Has it really been a year since I’ve written a book??? 😳) and although that depressed me greatly initially, I finally settled in and started focusing more on God, family, and friends, which has ended up being a real blessing!
BUT … the good news is, I have finally started writing again in the last few weeks, (PRAISE GOD!), and now have a whole seven chapters and a prologue for my next book!
😎 Sneak-Peek Excerpt!
SO … ready for a sneak-peek at my next book? Well, keep reading and then check out the EXCERPT at the bottom of this blog.
As some of you may already know, I’ve decided to continue my WW2 series with a post-war take on Charity and Mitch’s adopted daughter, Winnie. And to continue in the vein of A Wing and a Prayer, A Hope and a Prayer, and A Dare and a Prayer … I have decided to call Winnie’s story …
A Whim and a Prayer
She’s a former orphan desperate to protect her heart.
He’s a best friend desperate to protect her.
Until love protects them both from a whim …
through a whole lot of prayer.
So … why title it A Whim and a Prayer? Because at age nineteen, Winifred Dennehy is an adopted orphan who despises her petite body and boyish figure, all exacerbated by baby-faced looks that make her appear closer to fourteen than almost twenty.
Much to her mother’s angst, Winnie longs to be more like Hedy Lamar than a flaxen-haired Shirley Temple. She loves Hollywood, lots of drama, Photoplay Magazine, and living life on a whim. She calls it “spontaneity,” but her two best friends—Beck, the older friend who protected her at the orphanage and her cousin Abby McGuire, who always tries to rein her in—call her flighty and unfettered, far too willing to fly by the seat of her pants.
“You’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days, Pooh,” Beck would warn, but Winnie never listened, figuring she was covered by two best friends who were annoyingly mature and protective and more than willing to keep her on the straight and narrow.
Until the day that they couldn’t …
Regrettably … I don’t think I will be able to release A Whim and a Prayer this year, unless it’s at the tail end (OR I get a lot of prayers to do so … hint, hint!), so I’ll keep you posted.
😎 Free Download: A Hope & a Prayer!
As Head Nurse at 2d Hospital in Nancy, France, Lieutenant Hope Dennehy is known for her healing touch, especially when it comes to mending the wounds and spirit of her best friend, Lieutenant Bren O’Neill. When Hope’s cousin breaks Bren’s heart, Hope is always there, helping to heal him with a friendship so anointed and deep, it threatens to break her heart too.
Flying high as a daredevil aeromedical evac pilot in the European Theatre, “Lieutenant Love” O’Neill crashes and burns when the woman he loves falls for another. Depending on the support and prayers of Nurse Hope Dennehy to save him, Bren re-evaluates his free-wheeling lifestyle when he witnesses the heinous atrocities of the Buchenwald concentration camp. Suddenly nothing in life is as important as taking care of those he loves … or is it? Battling demons from his past, Bren learns that only one thing can truly save him from himself.
Trust me, if you haven’t read Hope and Bren’s story yet, you’ll see from the clip below that poor Hope definitely has her hands full!
So, Mark Your Calendar for Free Download 8/25-29
on 5-⭐️ A Hope and a Prayer
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What’s the Story, Morning Glory?
A Memoir Devotional with a “Novel” Approach
to Practical Christianity
“DEAR LORD, JULIE … OUR WHOLE LIFE IS IN THIS BOOK!”
My heart went out to my sweet husband as he walked into our kitchen one day with a noticeable gulp, ashen-faced after reading my latest novel.“Yes, I know, babe,” I said with a repentant smile and a conciliatory hug, “but nobody really knows that.”
Ahem. Until now …
Trust me, “What’s the Story, Morning Glory? A Memoir Devotional with a ‘Novel’ Approach to Practical Christianity” is not a book I wanted to write. As a novelist, I have never been partial to nonfiction, either reading it or writing it, but I had little choice when God convinced me otherwise through a number of point-blank arm-twistings I couldn’t deny and not-so-gentle proddings from family and friends.
Thus, What’s the Story, Morning Glory: A Memoir Devotional with a “Novel” Approach to Practical Christianity was born. A memoir devotional that when combined with scenes from my novels, becomes a “novotional” where I relate the life lessons God personally taught me through His Word.
Here’s the format for each chapter of this book:
- The Real Story (How I learned and applied the spiritual lesson in my own life)
- The Novel Story (The scene where I teach the spiritual lesson to my characters)
- The Scripture Story (Scriptures applicable to the spiritual lesson)
- The Takeaway Story (Bulletized points for spiritual lesson in easy-to-read/apply format)
- The Prayer Story (Specific prayer related to the spiritual lesson)
MY QUIRKY MEMOIR DEVOTIONAL
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A Dare and a Prayer
She’s an aspiring missionary who wants to beware.
He’s a hotshot who takes up a dare.
But will love become a gamble with a dare and a prayer
Lieutenant Henry Dennehy is a cocky and carefree fighter pilot in the Pacific Theatre of WW2, known for scoring big, both in the sky and on land. But when his buddies offer a bet he can’t refuse to turn the head of the “untouchable” nurse at 369th Station Hospital—a woman who’s shot down more flyboys than the enemy—he’s bound and determined to win. Problem is, if he wins the dare, will he lose at love?
60% SALE E-DOWNLOAD A DARE AND A PRAYER HERE
PAPERBACK OF A DARE AND A PRAYER HERE
VIDEO TRAILER FOR A WING AND A PRAYER HERE
😎 Come See Me at ACFW!
Hey … are you going to the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference in Springfield, Missouri this year, September 4-7, 2025?
If so, I would LOVE to meet you, so let me know via the CONTACT tab of my website.
And guess what? Mary Connealy, Pepper Basham, and I are hosting a workshop called “Romance-ology Q & A,” where you can pick the brain of three award-winning romance authors on the pros and cons of writing romance and if time permits, participate in on-the-spot opening-paragraph critiques. (Note: IF YOU ARE ATTENDING OUR WORKSHOP and are interested in a possible on-the-spot opening-paragraph critique during it, please send your paragraph to Julie Lessman via the CONTACT tab of my website no later than August 31.)
There will be lots of paperback giveaways plus a free e-copy of my writer’s workbook, ROMANCE-ology 101: Writing Romantic Tension for the Inspirational and Sweet Markets for everyone who attends.
Hope to see you there! 😍
😎 Excerpt for A Whim and a Prayer
(Note: This is an extremely rough draft)
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord,
plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
~ Jeremiah 29:11 ESV
Prologue
The Boston Society for the Care of Girls, Boston, Massachusetts, September 1933
“Ewww … get away from me, you frog-eyed frea—”
Whop! Before the insult could even part from Harold Mertz’s lips, six-year-old Winifred Doe’s worn leather shoe aimed dead center on his patched corduroy pants, eliciting a harsh grunt that doubled the ten-year-old orphan over with a loud groan.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Winnie “Fred” Doe launched onto Harold’s head like a rabid monkey, slamming him to the black-and-white linoleum floor with a loud thud, pummeling away like her life depended on it.
Because it did.
“Help! G-get her off of m-me,” Harold sobbed while attempting to crawl away, fear lacing his tone as tears streamed from his eyes. “Stop!”
But Winnie couldn’t. Not until she felt the firm pull of a familiar tug, dragging her kicking and screaming backwards across the scuffed cafeteria floor as wide-eyed children and adults stared in shock, crowding around Harold like he was the one in need.
“Let me go now!” she hissed, bucking and thrashing while someone hauled her into the dim coatroom. But she knew he wouldn’t. Once inside the dark, away from the mumbles and murmurs, he’d just swallow her up in his skinny arms and gently rock her back and forth like she was some sniveling-snot baby.
“Shhh … it’s all right, Winnie,” he’d whisper, the scent of the Hershey kisses she shared only with him drifting against her cheek as he held her close, “he’s not worth it.”
And somehow, with those softly spoken words from the lips of the only boy she trusted, she knew that to him she was worth it—in his eyes, at least, if not anyone else’s.
Chest heaving, Winnie leaned into the solid embrace of the only real friend she had at The Boston Children’s Aid Society. An orphan like her, Beckett Campbell had taken a shine to Winnie at a BCAS function when some boys were making fun of her crossed eyes. He had defended her from their taunts, he said, because she reminded him of his little sister who had died, and somehow that had sealed her trust because heaven knows she always wanted a big brother. The tight press of her lips silenced the rise of a grunt. Or any family at all …
She only saw Beckett during mass on Sundays and social events like this—meet-and-greets to showcase orphans that nobody really wanted, least not while a depression was going on. After all, who wanted another mouth to feed?
“Did Sister Margaret Ann see it?” Winnie asked guardedly, well aware that Mother Superior had issued her final warning: any more fights, and Winnie would lose the privilege of the Hershey kisses Mrs. D. brought her every week. Winnie swallowed a thick gulp. And even worse, she thought with a shiver, possibly the affection of Mrs. D. herself?
Mrs. D.
Mrs. Charity Dennehy. A volunteer who, like Beckett, didn’t seem to mind Winnie’s crossed eyes nor troublesome ways, but somehow appeared to actually like her in spite of them.
“Not this time, Winnie,” Beckett continued, expelling a quiet sigh. His lanky ten-year-old frame slowly sank against the cold wall as he pulled her along, the scent of mildew strong amid the musty cover of winter coats. “But next time, you might not be so lucky.”
A grunt popped from Winnie’s lips. “Lucky.” Yeah, right. Hell’s bells, no one could ever call her that! Not after being abandoned on the stoop of the St. Mary’s Home for Unwed Mothers at the age of two, and cock-eyed to boot!
Tears immediately burned at cruel words she would never forget, spoken by an older girl named Lucinda who not only worked in the office, but whose little sister Winnie had clocked in a scuffle. “Hey, you cross-eyed creep,” Lucinda had said with a sneer, “I saw your file, and you’re not only mean and ugly, but your mama was a whore too.” Winnie’s eyelids sagged closed as she clutched Beckett all the harder, her voice barely a whisper.
“Beckett?”
“Yes, Winnie?”
“Will you …”—a knot jerked in Winnie’s throat—“tell me again?”
A long, wavering sigh drifted from Beckett’s lips that carried a trace of a smile as he gently brushed curls—or “ringlets of gold,” as he called them—out of her eyes. “You’re not ugly, Winnie—you’re beautiful.”
“Then why do I feel that way?” She sniffled as she swiped at a single tear that slithered her cheek.
His ribcage slowly rose and fell with another heavy exhale while he gave her a gentle squeeze. “Because, Winifred Doe,” he said softly, leaning to press the gentlest of kisses to her head, “you’re listening to people instead of to God.”
———
“The heart of man plans his way,
but the Lord establishes his steps.”
~ Proverbs 16:9 ESV
Chapter One
Boston, Massachusetts, August 1946
“A toast—to Henry’s blue moon.” Eighteen-year-old Winifred Dennehy raised her glass of punch while she watched her older brother Henry sweep his new bride, Amy, round and round in their first dance of the night.
“What d’ya mean?” Nose in a scrunch, Winnie’s nineteen-year-old cousin and best friend, Abby McGuire, lifted her glass along with the rest at the “unmarried cousins’ table” in the elegant ballroom of the Charles River Country Club.
“I mean,” Winnie emphasized with a clink of Abby’s glass, “Mama swore it would take a blue moon for any woman to tie Henry down, and she should know”—Winnie’s lips squirmed as she shot a sideways glance at her mother, Charity Dennehy, seated at the official “O’Connor” tables along with Grandpa and Grandma, aunts and uncles, her married cousin Gabe, and Winnie’s married sister Hope—“she’s been trying to do it for the last twenty-four years.”
“Oh, amen to that!” A soft giggle parted from Abby’s older sister, Bella, who was the spitting image of her mother, Aunt Faith, with shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, and just as spiritual. “Mama always said that Henry was Aunt Charity’s ‘comeuppance.’”
Abby bumped Winnie’s shoulder with her own, a bit of the devil dancing in her hazel eyes. “Along with you, of course.”
“Ha!” Winnie plopped her chin in her hand as she stared at Henry and Amy, her flaxen hair styled a la Hedy Lamar with center part and soft curls billowing onto her shoulders. “Next to Henry, I’m an amateur, but I do my best.” A sigh of longing parted from her lips. “I sure wouldn’t mind if my “blue moon” came along.”
“What’s a blue moon?” One of the younger cousins asked with an owl-blink of eyes.
“It’s actually the second full moon in a single calendar month,” Winnie’s twelve-year-old sister Julia sagely replied, her studious nature always making Winnie smile, “and it’s not really blue.”
Winnie couldn’t help but grin. Julia was like a wise old woman in a little girl’s body and so darn sweet, Winnie never begrudged her being the “good daughter” in the family, along with their older sister Hope. Because the truth was, just like Mama and Daddy and everyone else, she adored “Ju-ju-bug.”
“But in this context,” Julia continued, “it’s an expression that means something very, very rare”—she paused, her somber look suddenly edged with a hint of smile—“like Winnie getting along with Mama.”
“Hey, I get along with Mama!” Giggles rounded the table as Winnie feigned offense before she delivered a sassy wink. “She just doesn’t get along with me.”
“Uh, not to change the subject …” Winnie’s cousin Delaney peered around the ballroom with a chew of her lip, “but where’s Beckett?”
Mmm … I’m wondering the same thing … Tone dry, Winnie issued another weighty sigh, wishing her best friend wasn’t so darn diligent with his job. “He’s working late,” she said, mouth going flat. “Again.” She shot a squinted glance at the ballroom entrance doors. “I knew he was going to miss dinner, but he promised to be here by the time the dancing started.”
“Oh, good!” Bella, Delaney, and Abby all said at the same time, their affection for Beckett almost equal to Winnie’s own.
Almost. But not quite.
Huffing out a heavy blast of frustration, Abby speared her cousin Will—Aunt Katie and Uncle Luke’s oldest at age twenty-two, and cousin Teddy—Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Brady’s oldest at nineteen—with a hard look. “You know, we wouldn’t have to rely on poor Beckett if there were other gentlemen who would ask us ladies to dance.”
Lounging back in his chair, Will slid Abby a half-lidded smile. “If I’ve told you once, Abs, I’ve told you a million times—cousins don’t dance with cousins.”
“Says who?” Abby responded with a lift of her chin, her fearless pluck one of the many reasons she was Winnie’s best friend.
Teddy’s gentle tone held an apology. “The laws of nature, Abs—”
“And the powers that be who say it’s just flat-out weird,” Will finished with a lift of his glass.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Oh, pooh—you guys are no fun!”
A chuckle rumbled from Will’s lips as he slowly rose, dark brown eyes zeroing in on a non-related female across the room as he swiped a palm to his slicked-back chestnut hair. “Sorry, Abs, but I’m about to prove you wrong.”
Blasting out a noisy sigh, Abby plopped her chin in her hands. “It’s just not fair. There are no decent boys here to dance with except Henry’s Army buddies, and Amy said he threatened them within an inch of their life if they even looked our way.” In true dramatic fashion, she issued a long, wavering groan. “Beckett, where are you?!”
Winnie bumped Abby’s shoulder with a broad grin. “Walking in the door as we speak,” she said as she watched her best friend stride into the ballroom with that same quiet and confident air he’d always had when he’d defended her at the orphanage so many years ago.
As an abandoned child at the age of two, Winnie didn’t put much stock in trusting God like her family did, but she begrudgingly had to admit that at least the Almighty had done two things for her for which she’d be eternally grateful.
First, he’d given her a loving family through the Dennehy’s within the large Irish O’Connor clan, and secondly, He’d given her Beckett Campbell as a protector and best friend. Imagine her shock when that same friend moved in with his new foster family right down the street at the age of twelve and Winnie, eight. Despite the age difference, they had picked up right where they’d left off in the orphanage, closer than air.
Abby’s lovesick sigh breezed against Winnie’s cheek as her cousin leaned close, gaze fixed on Beckett while she fished her lipstick out of her purse. “Sweet mother of Job, I get so tired of reminding you, Winifred Dennehy—Beckett Campbell is too good and too good-looking to waste on mere friendship.” Touching up her lips with a swipe of glycerin gloss, she wiggled her brows at Winnie. “But on the other hand, if he’s mere friends with you, that means I still have a chance to snatch him up.”
Winnie grinned outright, studying Beckett as he paused to chat with several people on his way to their table, the gazes of her female cousins—and every other single woman in the room—now locked on his every move.
There was no question that at age twenty-four, her best friend was a dreamboat by most women’s standards, despite the slight limp from a leg injury that sent him home from the war early. A true patriot, Beckett had immediately enlisted in the marines after Pearl Harbor despite Winnie’s pleadings, stationed on Midway in the South Pacific until he was badly wounded during the Battle of Midway. In true Beckett fashion, he’d taken enemy fire to carry an injured buddy to safety, earning him the Medal of Honor, but even that didn’t make up for his acute frustration at not being back in the fray.
The poor guy had been so despondent for months after his medical discharge, that Winnie had begged her father—editor-in chief of The Boston Herald—to help get Beckett’s mind off of it with a day job on the docks of The Herald while he finished college at night. Since Beckett was a workhorse by nature, that had done the trick, along with spending what free time he had with Winnie.
Winnie sighed in contentment as she observed the best friend who was more of an older brother, and gratitude welled when he stopped to greet her parents, who considered him to be family as much as Winnie did. For pity’s sake, he even looked like family! Well over six foot tall like her father and brother, Beck had blue eyes just like Winnie’s and the rest of the Dennehys along with blond hair that turned almost white in the summer. Annoyingly indifferent to style—in stark contrast to Winnie—he’d finally relented to her badgering, allowing her to sweep his hair to the side with hair pomade like Cary Grant, Winnie’s favorite movie star.
Despite a lean build, Beckett possessed broad shoulders and muscled arms thanks to his manual-labor job on the docks—aligning her best friend well with the protector mode he always exercised with Winnie. But for some strange reason, Beckett seemed totally indifferent to the effect he had on women, doling out selfless attention to any and all—especially her.
And yet, as attractive as he was on the outside, Beckett Campbell was sheer heaven on the inside—kind, sensitive, smart, and the most caring man she knew outside of her family. And, unfortunately for Winnie, so spiritually minded, that God was one of the few areas in which they were not in sync. So much so, that when he periodically mentioned a deep-seated desire to become a priest, she would shiver in horror, threatening the death of their friendship if he did.
A priest for a best friend? A chill skated her spine. No thanks. Even so, it was no wonder women silently drooled over him. Holy Joe, if not for his obsession with prayer and God, Winnie figured she might, too, if he hadn’t been her lifelong best friend and big brother.
“Here he comes!” Breathy with excitement, Bella’s and Laney’s voices merged in unison.
“I get dibs on the first dance,” Abby declared, not about to let her older sisters edge her out when it came to Beckett—or on anything else, for that matter. Glancing up, she awarded him a bright smile. “Well, helllllo, Beckett—I see you finally made it to the “blue moon” of the year.”
Striding toward their table with the barest hitch in his gait, Beckett grinned, and Winnie couldn’t help but grin back. The flash of white teeth in his summer-bronzed face was one of her favorite things about her best friend, producing two of the deepest dimples she’d ever seen on a human being. Those pale-blue eyes sparkled in complement like aquamarine, which was more than appropriate because Beckett was a true gem, as evidenced by the eager greetings around the table.
“Hello, everyone,” he responded in kind, pausing to drape his plain gray single-breasted sport jacket—unlike Winnie, he wasn’t a clothes-horse—over the back of an empty chair. He shot Abby a teasing wink. “A Blue moon? What—Winnie’s behaving for once?”
Lips in a slant, Winnie slugged his arm with the obligatory elbow.
“Ha! That would take more than a blue moon, I’m afraid,” Abby said with an answering wink, deftly dodging Winnie’s other elbow. “No, silly, Henry tying the knot, which means, you lucky jive bomber, you”—she wiggled her brows—“get to dance the night away with all the gorgeous ladies at this table, beginning with me.”
His laughter was warm and low as he awkwardly cuffed the back of his neck, never comfortable with praise. “Well I’m not much of a jive bomber with this limp, I’m afraid, Abs, but I will agree that I am pretty lucky to be the only dance-eligible male at this table, so you’re on.” He quickly held up a palm when Abby shot to her feet. “After I get a bite to eat because unfortunately, I worked overtime and missed dinner.”
Winnie peered up with a squint and a scowl. “Again? You keep this up, Campbell, and you’ll be nothing but a scarecrow.”
“But a very rich scarecrow,” he teased with a tug of her hair before he glanced around. “Now where does a fella get some food around here?”
Gusting out a sigh, Winnie ambled to her feet, brushing out the skirt of her sky-blue taffeta gown. “I’ll get it, Beck. I asked the kitchen to keep a plate warm for you.”
“Great! I’ll go with you.”
She halted him with a hand to his chest. “No sir, you stay and relax—heaven knows you need it.”
His brows dipped low. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well, then, thanks, Win, I am pretty dead on my feet.” Smiling, he plopped into his chair while skimming a finger along his collar to loosen the tie she’d given him for Christmas. “You’re the best.”
“Maybe not,” she said with a sassy wink over her shoulder when the band started playing one of Abby’s favorite songs. She gave a nod toward her cousin who immediately jumped to her feet. “After all, you still have to dance with her.”
Chapter Two
“Uh-oh … the food must be here because your eyes just lit up like a 100-watt lightbulb, Beckett Campbell, and I doubt even Glen Miller’s Chattanooga Choo Choo OR I can light a fire like that.”
Heat braised the back of Beck’s neck as he spun Abby around several times in a Lindy Hop Swing, her words hitting their mark—and then some. Because nobody knew it wasn’t just the food that lit a fire within, but unfortunately, the girl delivering it—a secret he would take to his grave. He whirled Abby in a final airborne spin. “Whoops—you caught me, Abs. But keep in mind that man does not live by bread alone, but it sure helps if you want to dance the night away.”
“Amen to that, my friend, so let’s get you fed.” She led the way back to their table, where Winnie had set a silver-domed plate in front of his chair that instantly had him salivating like Pavlov’s dog.
“Bless you, my child,” he said with a purposely benign pat on Winnie’s head before sitting down to devour his meal. Placing a linen napkin on his lap, he lifted the silver lid and moaned at the sight of the menu Winnie had said Mrs. D. had chosen for the reception—a chicken breast stuffed with Swiss cheese and glazed with white wine, wild rice with mushrooms and toasted almonds, a pear poached in red wine, and fresh lemon green beans bundled in a real lemon slice. He sighed in pure pleasure, hard-pressed to keep the drool away.
“So, fill me in on the wedding,” he said before popping several green beans in his mouth.
“Oh, Beck, it was amazing!” Bella gushed, hands crossed over her chest. “Especially the kiss at the end!”
“Oh, yes, sooooo romantic,” Laney added with stars in her eyes.
“Boy, I’ll say!” Abby’s ribcage rose and fell with a lovesick sigh. “When Father Mac said, ‘You may now kiss the bride,’ I’ll tell you what—our Henry didn’t waste any time. He dipped Amy way back to lay an earth-shattering kiss on her, and boy-oh-boy, neither of them came up for air for a long, long while.”
“That so?” Beck grinned as he cut a piece of his chicken, homing in on the only other male at the table. “So, Ted—as a guy—what’s your take on the kiss. “Romantic’?”
Teddy shrugged, his patient smile edged with boredom. “It was just a kiss.” He paused, a sparkle suddenly dancing in his eyes. “But pelting them with rice after? Pretty keen.”
“Just a kiss?!” Winnie stared Teddy down, those heated blue eyes completely surrounded by white. “Just a kiss, you say?!! That was hands-down the best kiss I’ve ever seen, Theodore Brady, even better than the 2-1/2-minute kissing scene between Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman in Notorious! And if you can’t see that, Cousin—I’ll be happy to lend you a stack of my old Love Story and Photoplay magazines so you can study up.”
“No, thanks, Win. Real men don’t read romance, do they, Beck?”
Beck chuckled as he speared more green beans. “Nope.” He smiled as he chewed. “Until some girl catches his eye, then I’m afraid it’s a whole ‘nother story, my friend.”
“Ooooo … do tell … has some girl caught your eye, Beck?” Abby asked with a dance of brows.
Beck could feel the blood crawling up the back of his neck as he focused on bolting his food, barely taking the time to chew. “Naw, too busy,” he managed in between bites. “Between the Herald by day and school by night, haven’t had much time for anything else.”
“I can certainly vouch for that,” Winnie said, nose scrunched in that cute, little pout that always made him smile. “If Mama didn’t pester him to come for dinner once or twice a week, I swear I’d never see the guy.”
He delivered a half-lidded smile as he finished his chicken and green beans in record time and tossed a piece of pear in his mouth. “Sure you would, kiddo, because you’d hound me to death if I didn’t.”
“But you just graduated from college, so school’s over now, right?” Abby leaned in, arms crossed on the table as her teeth tugged at the edge of her smile. “Which means now you can take time for girls.”
“Well, I am taking time for girls now, aren’t I?” He quickly polished off the last of the pear and rice, throat glugging as he washed it all down with a goblet of water. He set it down with a thud. “So, who’s ready to dance?”
Abby sprung up like a Jack-in-the-box. “Me, me, me—”
“Oh, no you don’t, McGuire,” Winnie said with a lift of her brow, “you already danced with him. It’s my turn because after all, he is my best friend.” She rose to her feet, arms in a tight fold while she gave him the eye. “Or used to be …”
He grinned as he wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood to his feet. “Uh-oh … is this a dance or a deposition?”
She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the dance floor halfway through the lively sound of “Doing What Comes Naturally,” and he couldn’t help but smile because that was so Winnie—doing what came naturally for her—being pushy with him.
Or trying to be.
“So, Pooh,” he said in a definite tease, the use of her family’s nickname indicative of his typical big-brother mode, “what’s put the pout on your face instead of a smile at your brother’s wedding?” He swung her into an easier, slower jitterbug more suited to a man with a bum ankle.
Her perfectly manicured brows shot high once again as he swung her out and back with casual ease. “You have to ask? For pity’s sake, Beck, I only saw you one time last week—at church.” The pout was back. “Sometimes I think you like God better than me.”
He grinned as he gave her another spin. “That’s because I do, which is actually a good thing. After all, He’s the one who gave me the job of watching over you all those years ago, right?”
Her mouth skewed off-center. “Keep in mind one has to be present to watch over someone, Campbell.”
