Aloha to Carolyn Brown and WHAT HAPPENS IN TEXAS

Reminder: I have a special giveaway for Military Appreciation Month at this link.

Carolyn Brown brings her unique voice to this tale of twin sisters finding love in a small Texas town ...

Cathy Andrews’s biological clock has passed the ticking stage and is dangerously close to “blown plumb up”. While her twin sister Marty thinks settling down with one man is just a waste of good cowboys, Cathy wants it all: the perfect husband, the baby, and a little house right there in Cadillac. But even as the town is laying bets on whose wedding will be next, Cathy doesn’t see happily-ever-after happening anytime soon.

Fortunately, Cathy and Marty have best friends who aren’t afraid to stir up a ruckus—and if it means Cathy’s got to bust out and set the town on its ear they’ll back her up—no matter how hot things get.

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Texas State Capitol: North side by night
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New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author and RITA Finalist, Carolyn Brown, has published more than seventy books. These days she is concentrating on her two loves: women’s fiction and contemporary cowboy romance. She and her husband, a retired English teacher, make their home in southern Oklahoma.

Learn more about Carolyn and her books at carolynbrownbooks.com.

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Carolyn offers an excerpt from WHAT HAPPENS IN TEXAS ...

If Prissy Parnell hadn’t married Buster Jones and left Cadillac, Texas, for Pasadena, California, Marty wouldn’t have gotten the speeding ticket. It was all Prissy’s damn fault that Marty was in such a hurry to get to the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society monthly meeting that night, so Prissy ought to have to shell out the almost two hundred dollars for that ticket.

They were already passing around the crystal bowl to take up the voting ballots when Marty slung open the door to Violet Prescott’s sunroom and yelled, “Don’t count ’em without my vote.”

Twenty faces turned to look at her and not a one of them, not even her twin sister, Cathy, was smiling. Hell’s bells, who had done pissed on their cucumber sandwiches before she got there, anyway? A person didn’t drop dead from lack of punctuality, did they?

One wall of the sunroom was glass and looked out over lush green lawns and flower gardens. The other three were covered with shadow boxes housing the blue ribbons that the members had won at the Texas State Fair for their jalapeño pepper entries. More than forty shadow boxes all reminding the members of their history and their responsibility for the upcoming year. Bless Cathy’s heart for doing her part. She had a little garden of jalapeños on the east side of the lawn and nurtured them like children. The newest shadow box held ribbons that she’d earned for the club with her pepper jelly and picante. It was the soil, or maybe she told them bedtime stories, but she, like her mamma and grandma, grew the hottest jalapeños in the state.

“It appears that Martha has decided to grace us with her presence once again when it is time to vote for someone to take our dear Prissy’s place in the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society. We really should amend our charter to state that a member has to attend more than one meeting every two years. You could appreciate the fact that we did amend it once to include you in the membership with your sister, who, by the way, has a spotless attendance record,” Violet said.

Violet, the queen of the club, as most of the members called it, was up near eighty years old, built like SpongeBob SquarePants, and had stovepipe jet-black hair right out of the bottle. Few people had the balls or the nerve to cross her, and those who did were put on her shit list right under Martha, aka Marty, Andrews’ name, which was always on the top.

Back in the beginning of the club days, before Marty was even born, the mayor’s wife held the top position on the shit list. When they’d formed the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society, Loretta Massey and Violet almost went to war over the name of the new club. Loretta insisted that it be called a society, and Violet wanted it to be called a club. Belonging to a club just sounded so much fancier than saying that one belonged to a society. Loretta won when the vote came in, but Violet called it a club anyway and that’s what stuck. Rumor had it that Violet was instrumental in getting the mayor ousted just so they’d have to leave Grayson County and Loretta would have to quit the club.

Marty hated it when people called her Martha. It sounded like an old woman’s name. What was her mother thinking anyway when she looked down at two little identical twin baby daughters and named them after her mother and aunt—Martha and Catherine? Thank God she’d at least shortened their names to Marty and Cathy.

Marty shrugged, and Violet snorted. Granted, it was a ladylike snort, but it still went right along with her round face and three-layered neck. Hell, if they wanted to write forty amendments to the charter, Marty would still do only the bare necessities to keep her in voting standing. She hadn’t even wanted to be in the damned club and had only done it because if she didn’t, then Cathy couldn’t.

Marty slid into a seat beside her sister and held up her ballot.

Beulah had the bowl in hand and was ready to hand it off to Violet to read off the votes. But she passed it to the lady on the other side of her and it went back around the circle to Marty, who tossed in her folded piece of paper. If she’d done her homework and gotten the numbers right, that one vote should swing the favor for Anna Ruth to be the new member of the club. She didn’t like Anna Ruth, especially since she’d broken up her best friend’s marriage. But hey, Marty had made a deathbed promise to her mamma, and that carried more weight than the name of a hussy on a piece of paper.

The bowl went back to Violet and she put it in her lap like the coveted jeweled crown of a reigning queen. “Our amended charter states that only twenty-one women can belong to the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society at any one time, and the only time we vote a new member in is when someone moves or dies. Since Prissy Parnell got married this past week and moved away from Grayson County, we are open for one new member. The four names on the ballet are: Agnes Flynn, Trixie Matthews, Anna Ruth Williams, and Gloria Rawlings.”

Even though it wasn’t in the fine print, everyone knew that when attending a meeting, the members should dress for the occasion, which meant panty hose and heels. Marty could feel nineteen pairs of eyes on her. It would have been twenty, but Violet was busy fishing the first ballot from the fancy bowl.

Marty threw one long leg over the other and let the bright red, three-inch-heeled shoe dangle on her toe. They could frown all they wanted. She was wearing a dress, even if it only reached midthigh, and had black spandex leggings under it. If they wanted her to wear panty hose, they’d better put a second amendment on that charter and make it in big print.

God Almighty, but she’d be glad when her great-aunt died and she could quit the club. But it looked like Agnes was going to last forever, which was no surprise. God sure didn’t want her in heaven, and the devil wouldn’t have her in hell.

“One vote for Agnes,” Violet said aloud.

Beulah marked that down on the minutes and waited.

Violet enjoyed her role as president of the club and took her own sweet time with each ballot. Too bad she hadn’t dropped dead or at least moved to California so Cathy could be president. Marty would bet her sister would get those votes counted a hell of a lot faster.

There was one piece of paper in the candy dish when Beulah held up a hand. “We’ve got six each for Agnes, Trixie, Anna Ruth, and two for Gloria. Unless this last vote is for Agnes, Trixie, or Anna Ruth, we have a tie, and we’ll have to have a runoff election.”

“Shit!” Marty mumbled.

Cathy shot her a dirty look.

“Anna Ruth,” Violet said and let out a whoosh of air.

A smile tickled the corner of Marty’s mouth.

Saved, by damn!

Agnes was saved from prison.

Violet was saved from attending her own funeral.

The speeding ticket was worth every penny.

Alamo at Night

Aloha to Carolyn Brown and ONE TEXAS COWBOY TOO MANY (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 3)

Carolyn Brown’s New York Times and USA Today bestselling cowboys prove that love is bigger in Burnt Boot, Texas.

She’s got too many cowboys on her hands

Leah Brennan has always been the good girl of the Brennan family, groomed to become the matriarch of the clan. When a dark-eyed, tattooed, ponytailed bad boy saunters into her life, Leah knows he’s off-limits—but his mesmerizing gaze makes her forget everything she used to think was important. As town-wide tension rises, Leah wonders if love really can conquer all…

And the whole town’s taking sides

When Rhett O’Donnell roars into Burnt Boot on a hot July evening, the first thing he sees is a beautiful blonde. She puts a little extra giddy-up in his heartbeat, but when Rhett’s desire throws him into the middle of a love triangle and a hundred-year-old feud, he realizes that winning his cowgirl’s heart will be a lot more complicated than he thought.

NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author and RITA Finalist, Carolyn Brown, has published more than seventy books. She has written historical single title, historical series, contemporary series and single titles, cowboy romance and women’s fiction. These days she is concentrating on her two loves: romantic women’s fiction and cowboy romance. She and her husband, a retired English teacher, make their home in southern Oklahoma. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young. When she’s not writing she likes to spend time in her back yard with her two cats, Boots Randolph Terminator Outlaw and Chester Fat Boy, and watch them protect the yard from vicious critters like field mice, crickets and spiders.

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Sourcebooks offers an excerpt from ONE TEXAS COWBOY TOO MANY ... 

The Burnt Boot Bar and Grill was not exactly what Rhett expected. The parking lot was gravel, or at least it had been at one time. Now it was thinly distributed gravel on top of dirt with only one streetlamp to illuminate the whole place. The building was weathered wood that didn’t look as if it had ever seen a drop of paint applied. Hell, it might have even been petrified, as old as that sign swinging above the entrance. The roof was rusty sheet metal, and the only window in the place was the one in the door.

“Not what you thought it would be?” Sawyer asked when Rhett got out of his truck.

“Looks more like a barn than a bar,” he said.

“The inside is better—air-conditioning, jukebox, and even paint on the walls.” Jill laughed.

“I like the air-conditioned part best of all.” Rhett followed them inside.

The bar itself was only eight stools long and had a small area for grilling burgers and making fries behind it. There were no pool tables, which surprised Rhett. But not as much as the shelves holding loaves of bread, hot dog and hamburger buns, and a small assortment of prepackaged pastries, or the refrigerated section beside that, with milk, beer, wine, and soda pop behind sliding glass doors. The other end of the long, rectangular room sported a jukebox, a few mismatched tables with chairs around them, and a small area for dancing.

“After the store closes in the evening, folks can get milk and bread or beer in here,” Sawyer answered the unasked question.

“And I thought Comfort was a small town. I’m not sure this qualifies as a town.” Rhett chuckled.

Sawyer clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, you know what Grandpa says. To be a town, the place has to have a church and a place to buy beer or get a shot of whiskey. So by the O’Donnell qualifications, Burnt Boot passes the test.”

At nine o’clock, he’d filled a few pitchers of beer for folks who’d drifted in and out, and Sawyer had shown him the process of making burger baskets. Sparks danced around Jill and Sawyer every time they brushed against each other. It damn sure didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that their honeymoon wasn’t over.

Two lonesome, old cowboys sat in a back corner drinking beer and telling tall tales. The jukebox had gone quiet and Rhett had wiped down the bar so often that it was shiny clean. If every night was like that, he’d have to bring some rope to make a bridle or something to keep himself from dying of complete boredom.

“Why don’t y’all go on home? I can handle it for the next couple of hours,” Rhett said.

“If you’re sure, we won’t argue.” Jill removed her apron and hung it on a nail.

Sawyer didn’t waste a bit of time hanging his apron right beside hers. “We damn sure won’t. Can’t remember the last time we got to go home before midnight. Sweep up and put the chairs on the tables. We don’t do mopping unless there’s major spills. Here’s the keys. Be sure to turn off the grill and the lights.”

“Will do.” Rhett rolled the sleeves of his white T-shirt and wiped down the bar one more time.

Jill and Sawyer were gone less than five minutes when the door flew open and suddenly the bar was crowded to capacity. Someone plugged money into the jukebox, and in seconds it was going full blast, playing “Boys ’Round Here” by Blake Shelton. Folks wasted no time getting out onto the dance floor and making a long line to do a line dance. The noise level went from zero to one hundred so quick that it took a while for Rhett’s ears to adjust.

“Hey, Rhett, we need three pitchers of beer and about six red cups,” Kinsey yelled from the end of the bar.

He quickly filled the pitchers, set them on the bar, and stacked up six plastic cups. Kinsey handed him a bill and he made change.

“And when you finish that, I need two longneck bottles of Coors,” Betsy said from the other end of the bar.

It kept him hopping, keeping the beer orders filled, the money straight, and making a few pitchers of margaritas. Then there was a lull, and there she was, sitting on a bar stool, her light green eyes watching him. His heart threw in an extra beat and his chest tightened.

“Well, hello, did you just fall from heaven?” he asked.

“I’ll have a double shot of Jack on the rocks, so the answer is no. I don’t think angels drink whiskey, but it is a fine line,” she answered.

“So you are a Tennessee whiskey lady?” he asked.

“Tonight I am,” she said.

Aloha to Carolyn Brown and THE WEDDING PEARLS

 

Bing Crosby is dreaming of a white Christmas ... while a bride is dreaming of white pearls.  Carolyn Brown is celebrating the release of THE WEDDING PEARLS from Montlake Romance ...

Tessa Wilson’s life is all over the map. She may be clumsy, but this time she’s stumbled into a pickle by choice, not by accident. She’s agreed to take a month-long trip around Texas jammed into a ’59 Cadillac with a drama-loving teenager, two elderly spitfires, and—oh, yes—her biological mama who gave her away at birth. And the ride gets even crazier when hot-as-sin cowboy Branch Thomas crosses into her lane. They don’t call him the sexiest man in the Lone Star State for nothin’.

As the miles pass and sparks fly between Tessa and Branch, her grandmother starts dropping hints about family wedding traditions. And as Tessa discovers the power of her budding friendships and the unbreakable strength of her newfound family of strong Texas women, she wonders if she’s also on the road to the biggest adventure of all: true love.

Carolyn Brown is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, as well as a RITA finalist. She has written several beloved and popular romance titles, ranging from historical to contemporary to cowboy-themed. She and her husband live in Davis, Oklahoma. They have three grown children, and enough grandchildren to keep them young.

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Caryolyn is hosting a special giveaway at this link ... and offers an excerpt from THE WEDDING PEARLS ... 

Tessa peeled off her shorts and knit shirt on her way to the bathroom, tossing them in the general direction of the sofa on the way to the shower. She dropped the soap three times, got shampoo in her eyes twice, but was happy her hair was dry when Branch rapped on the door. 

“You look beautiful, Miz Tess. But are you plannin’ on wearing shoes?” he asked.

“I was patting myself on the back for getting ready so quick and I forgot to put my sandals on,” she admitted.

“I think you are adorable in your bare feet. I could carry you to the car, but if you had to get out for the ladies’ room, you might get stickers since it’s an outdoor movie,” he said.

She sat down on the sofa and buckled her sandals. “Unless you carried me there, too.”

He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled down at her. “I could do it if you want.”

The scent of his shaving lotion wafted across the room when the air conditioner kicked on and stirred the air. Creased jeans, polished cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt that showed signs of an iron said he’d gone the extra mile to get ready that night. She stood up and waited a second before she took a step. With an empty bed that close and her roommate out for the evening, it would not be a good time to trip and fall into his arms.

“Are you sure you are a lawyer? I’d swear you were a sexy cowboy,” she asked.

He offered her his arm. “Thank you. I can clean up good when I have a reason.”

She slipped hers through it. “And this is a reason?”

“Of course it is. You are a beautiful woman and we’re going out to a drive-in movie in Mollybedamned. I feel like I’m taking a step back in time to the sixties,” he answered.

“And we’re sixteen again and this is . . .” She stopped.

“Our first date?” he finished for her.

She picked up her purse. “But it’s not a date. It’s two people going out to a movie.”

“Hey, I don’t offer my arm to my buddies when we go out for drinks or to the movies.” He chuckled.

“Then this is a date?” she asked.

“I think it might be.” He led her out into the parking lot. “Top up or down?”

“Up, at least until we get there.”

He opened the door for her and waited until she pulled the skirt of her sundress in before he closed it. Suddenly, she felt cramped and slightly claustrophobic. The old Caddy was big enough to haul eight people in a pinch and she’d ridden right up next to Branch for several days, so why did she have the jitters when there was at least three feet of space between them?

He started the engine and adjusted the air-conditioning. “I bet this hasn’t been used half a dozen times in all the years Mollybedamned has been going places. Does this feel strange to be just us in the car, or is it because the top is up?” he asked.

“A little, and I’m not sure which it is,” she admitted.

“I thought it was because I was alone in the car with you and your beauty filled the whole car,” he drawled.

Tessa wiggled down into the seat and wished that she was sitting right up next to Branch like always, but that would be presumptuous on a first date. “That, Branch Thomas, is a pickup line. Does it ever work?”

He found a radio station that played current music by Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert, Florida Georgia Line, and several of her other favorite artists. “It is a pickup line, and it does work in a bar.”

They’d gone through two little towns when she looked up and saw a sign that said they weren’t far from Turkey, Texas, and the town after that was Quitaque, Texas.

“I wonder how that town is pronounced,” she said.

“Tur . . . keee.” He drew out the syllables.

She air slapped his arm. “Not that one, the other one. Are we going to Tur . . . keee or that weird name? Is it Quit-a-eeek?”

“No, we’re not going to Turkey. We’re going to the other one, and it’s pronounced Kit-a-key,” he answered. “I looked it up on the Internet before we left. Had to get directions. It’s a little place, kind of like Boomtown. Lots of teenagers frequent these places. We’ll be the old people there.”

Tessa liked the comfortable aura in the car. She’d been afraid things would be awkward between them but they weren’t. She enjoyed his company whether they were riding in silence or talking about anything and everything.

“I don’t mind, do you?”

He kept time to a Miranda Lambert tune with his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Not if once we are parked, you slide across this seat and let me put my arm around you."

The Wedding Chapel at Ko Olina, Oahu

Aloha to Carolyn Brown and THE TROUBLE WITH TEXAS COWBOYS

Carolyn Brown is celebrating the release of THE TROUBLE WITH TEXAS COWBOYS, Book 2 in the Burnt Book, Texas series ...

Can a girl ever have too many cowboys?

No sooner does pint-sized spitfire Jill Cleary set foot on Fiddle Creek Ranch than she finds herself in the middle of a hundred-year-old feud. Quaid Brennan and Tyrell Gallagher are both tall, handsome, and rich...and both are courting Jill to within an inch of her life. She's doing her best to give these feuding ranchers equal time-too bad it's dark-eyed Sawyer O'Donnell who makes her blood boil and her hormones hum...

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Carolyn Brown is a New York Times bestselling author with more than sixty books published, and credits her eclectic family for her humor and writing ideas. Carolyn was born in Texas but grew up in southern Oklahoma where she and her husband, Charles, a retired English teacher, make their home. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.

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Sourcebooks is hosting a special giveaway at this link ...

... and offers an excerpt from THE TROUBLE WITH TEXAS COWBOYS:

Jill’s gaze started at Sawyer’s eyelashes, which totally fascinated her. How could a thick bunch of dark hair be so seductive? Finally she let her eyes travel past his nose and to his lips. The music in her head wasn’t haunting, but it wasn’t upbeat either. It was like the background music to an old gospel hymn, peaceful with the promise of something eternal.

When she got to his slightly parted lips, the chemistry between them reached a brand-new height. His knuckles moved to trace her jawline, and then his hand splayed out, palm resting on her cheek, pinky teasing her ear, the rest holding her neck steady as his lips closed over hers.

Jill cupped his cheeks in her hands and took the first step to deepen the kiss. Desire fanned the fires of arousal until they were both panting. He moved from her lips to her neck, nuzzling, tasting, driving her crazy.

With one tug, all the snaps of his shirt popped open, and she buried her face in the soft black hair covering his bare chest. He groaned, and she shifted her weight until she was sitting in his lap.

It should not happen, but it was going to. Plain and simple. She wanted Sawyer. She needed him, and not even an act of God was going to stop what they’d started.

Book 1 in the Burnt Boot, Texas series

Aloha to Carolyn Brown and HOW TO MARRY A COWBOY

I've been lassoed by Carolyn Brown so she can interview the twins from HOW TO MARRY A COWBOY, Book 4 in the Cowboys and Brides series, available now from Sourcebooks:

Rancher Mason Harper’s two little girls want nothing more than a mama of their own. So when a pretty woman appears on his front porch in a tattered wedding dress, while Mason’s looking for a nanny, he can’t help but wonder if it’s fate.

Annie Rose Boudreaux is in a downright hellish mess. She’s just a few steps ahead of the low-life ex who’s been hot on her heels, but she’s tired of running, and nannying Mason’s two sweet girls may be just what she needs. As her days on the ranch fly by, and the night’s with Mason get hotter, Annie Rose decides that she’s going to stay…for a lifetime.

Vintage truck in Kauai ... a cowboy must be near!

Good morning! I’m here today with the twin girls, Lily and Gabby, from How to Marry a Cowboy. They have agreed to let me interview them if I’ll take them to my hometown of Tishomingo, Oklahoma where Miranda Lambert has a store called The Pink Pistol. They went there for their birthday but they’d like to visit it again. If they answer my questions, then we’re going back there because I noticed last week that Miranda has a whole new shipment of western things and the girls do love their country music. They’re getting impatient with me so let’s get on with it…

Carolyn: Lily, what did you think when you went outside that Sunday morning and found Annie Rose on the porch swing?

Lily: Well, she was wearing a bride dress (rolls her eyes at Gabby) and even though it looked like shit (slaps her hand over her mouth). I’m not supposed to cuss but she did look pretty ragged but we didn’t care, our daddy had brought us a mama.

Gabby: I won’t tell that you cussed this time but if you get me in trouble with it, then you are on your own. I heard Lily squealin’ like a pig stuck in a barbed wire fence and I went runnin’. I thought Annie Rose was sleepin’ beauty at first and I just knew if Daddy kissed her that she’d wake up and be our mama.

Carolyn: Okay, so then you talked your Daddy into letting Annie stay. And then she started making rules. Right, Gabby?

Gabby: We found out real quick that nannies and mamas are two different critters. Nannies get mad and leave. Mamas make rules and we have to stick to them.

Carolyn: Like what?

Lily: Like cleaning out the play pens when we let our new baby goats that Doc bought us for her birthday stay in the house. They were so cute but holy shit (another hand over her mouth) they cried all night long and then nanny/mama, that’s what we called Annie Rose, made us clean out the play pens.

Gabby: I was ready to barbecue them goats and have them for supper after that first night. It was all Lily’s idea to ask for them and I thought it would be fun, but them goats in our bedroom was enough to make me cuss.

Carolyn: Tell me about the How-To books.

Lily: Well, we had to do something. Nanny Mama couldn’t remember anything and we just knew if she’d remember that she’d tell us about the wedding. Daddy was a rascal for not taking us. So we made her a How To Remember book. And then when we was afraid she wouldn’t stick around because she didn’t know about ranches, we made her a How to be a Rancher.

Gabby: And then we had to help her out because we could see that she was afraid that she didn’t think she would make a mommy so we made her a How to be a Mommy book. They all worked real good.

Carolyn: And the How to Marry a Cowboy book?

Lily: (Giggling) You’ll have to ask Daddy about that one.

Okay folks, the girls and I will be around most of the day. Do you have any questions for us? We’d love to visit with you! 

Horses on Oahu ... cowboys in paradise!

Carolyn Brown is a New York Times bestselling author with more than sixty books published, and credits her eclectic family for her humor and writing ideas. Carolyn was born in Texas but grew up in southern Oklahoma where she and her husband, Charles, a retired English teacher, make their home. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.

Website: carolynlbrown.com
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Sourcebooks is giving away a print copy of HOW TO MARRY A COWBOY to one randomly selected commenter.  To enter the giveaway,

1.  Leave a comment or question for the twins.

2.  Sourcebooks' giveaway is open to readers in the US and Canada.  

3.  Comments are open through Saturday, July 5, 10 pm in Baltimore.  I'll post the winner on Sunday, July 6.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore

Aloha Spirit in Charm City

Aloha to Carolyn Brown and THE RED-HOT CHILI COOK-OFF

I once entered a chili cook off at work.  My pot of vegetarian chili won the "NYC style" trophy.   Perhaps I will indulge in real Texas style chili this summer at the RWA National Conference in San Antonio.  Speaking of chili, Carolyn Brown delivers a humorous tale of chili ...

More Than the Chili's Heating Up Cadillac, Texas

Carlene Lovelle, co-owner of Bless My Bloomers lingerie shop, found a pair of fancy red-silk panties in her husband's briefcase, and all hell is breaking loose. She custom-made those fancy bloomers herself—and she remembers the bimbo who bought them. If her husband had a lick of sense, he'd known there are no secrets in a town like Cadillac.

Carlene's cohorts—and their mamas—plan to exact revenge on Lenny Joe where it'll hurt the most: break his ten-year winning streak at the prestigious Red-Hot Chili Cook-Off. Never before has a woman dared to compete. But the ladies of Bless My Bloomers are cooking up a storm...and it seems the whole town is taking sides in the showdown.

Welcome to Cadillac, Texas, where the chili is hot, the gossip is hotter, and friends stick by each other, no matter what the challenge.

Lacy things in Lahaina, Maui

I am giving away a print copy of THE RED-HOT CHILI COOK-OFF to one randomly selected commenter.  To enter the giveaway,

1.  Leave a comment about chili - love it or loathe it?  If you love it, what ingredients do you love best?

2.  Comments are open through Saturday, April 26, 10 pm in Baltimore.

3.  I'll post the winner on Sunday, April 27.

Mahalo,

Kim in Baltimore

Aloha Spirit in Charm City

To learn more Carolyn and her books, check out her website at carolynlbrown.com.