You could say I’m a little weird about odd numbers. I like them. I always crack an odd amount of eggs when I’m cooking them. If there’s a number picking need, it’s normally 7 or at least odd. So you can imagine how stoked I was when I found out that Under the Magnolias would be releasing in an odd number month, the same odd number month of my birthday, May. And hello odd numbered year 2021. This is also my seventeenth published book! The oddness just keeps piling up. Lol. Please understand, I admit I’m weird, so stick around for it!
To celebrate my 17th book, I want to share an excerpt from my favorite odd numbered chapter from Under the Magnolias.
Chapter 5 – The Dead Shouldn’t Drive
In a mighty dust storm, a limo shot down our driveway like a silver bullet. As it neared, the long car fishtailed, performing a couple donut spins before coming to a stop near the porch. Once the dust settled, the driver’s door opened and Pa climbed out. His hair was past due a haircut and was dancing about in the wind. If he didn’t get it cut soon, it was going to take a Bush Hog to get the job done.
“Ah, shoot. Pa done an’ stole the funeral home’s limo,” Peg said out the side of his mouth, and I was pretty nervous about my brother being right in his assumption.
“Whew-ee! What y’all think?” Pa asked, waving an arm toward the dusty car. The engine ticked loudly, sounding spent from being driven hard and performing stunts it wasn’t designed to do.
“About what?” Peg asked, drawing the two-word question into a thick line of skepticism.
“About our new car. It’s a Fleetwood!” Pa grinned and continued waving at the car.
“No way,” Peg grumbled.
“We going to a funeral, Pa?” Boss mumbled without receiving an answer.
“But that’s the Lawsons’ funeral limo.” I stated the obvious. “For dead folks’ families to ride in.”
“It ain’t no more. Morty just got a new one, so I bought this one off him for a steal. Come check it out.” Pa beckoned us to move but we remained glued to the porch.
I swatted a fly away and crossed my arms. “That’s just one step away from riding around in a hearse.”
Pa pushed the wild locks of dark hair off his forehead and glanced at the car, looking proud. “Nonsense. Morty called it a family car. That’s what we are . . . a family.”
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