As always, I consider the Cajun culture and the southern Louisiana landscape almost like characters themselves. I love the fact that Louisiana is such a diverse state, most noted for its picturesque bayous, but just as beautiful are its prairies. Many people are not even aware that cattle ranches exist in Louisiana, and yet some say it was the birthplace of the Old West.
I try to get things right, but many of you told me that a true Southerner would know that you don’t peel okra. Ooops! My apologies. Can you tell I’ve never eaten okra?
Please check out my Web site for Cajun links to wonderful music, recipes, cowboy clubs, charities, gift shops, and humor. And another contest.
Next up is René’s story, which is called The Red-Hot Cajun. All I can say is it’s an especially hot summer in Terrebonne Parish, Tante Lulu has developed a sudden crush on exercise guru Richard Simmons, René is burned-out from his lobbyist work and hiding out in the bayous where he is building his own log home, and a bunch of wacky environmentalist friends kidnap a celebrity TV reporter and dump her in René’s lap. Literally. I promise you this: The LeDeux family is back, and René is the hottest of the bunch.
After that, who knows? Do you think Tee-John will have grown up by then? I already have some ideas about the rogue he will become. How about you?
I enjoy hearing from readers and wish you much good reading in your future, hopefully with a bit of humor tossed in.
Sandra Hill
PO Box 604
State College, PA 16804
Web site: www.sandrahill.net
email: shill733@aol.com
About the Author
Sandra Hill lives in the middle of chaos, surrounded by a husband, four sons, a live-in girlfriend, two grandchildren, a male German Shepherd the size of a horse, and five cats. Each of them is more outrageous than the other. Sometimes three other dogs come to visit. No wonder she has developed a zany sense of humor. And the clutter is never-ending: golf clubs, skis, wrestling gear, baseball bats and gloves, tennis rackets, mountain-climbing ropes, fishing rods, bikes, exercise equipment…
Sandra and her stockbroker husband, Robert, own two cottages on a world-renowned fishing stream (which are supposed to be refuges), two condos in Myrtle Beach (which are too far away to be used), and seven Domino’s Pizza stores (don’t ask!). One son and his significant other had Sandra’s first grandchild at home with an Amish midwife. Another son says he won’t marry his longtime girlfriend unless they can have a Star Wars wedding. Another son at twenty-three fashions himself the Donald Trump of central Pennsylvania. A fourth son… well, you get the picture.
Robert and Sandra love their sons dearly, but Robert says they are boomerangs: They keep coming back. Sandra says it must be a sign of what good parents they are, that the boys want to be with them.
No wonder Sandra likes to escape to the library in her home, which is luckily soundproof, where she can dwell in the more sane, laugh-out-loud world of her Cajuns. When asked by others where Sandra got her marvelous sense of humor, her husband and sons just gape. They don’t think she’s funny at all.
Sandra is a USA Today, New York Times extended and Waldenbooks best-selling author of seventeen novels and four novellas. All of her books are heavy on humor and sizzle.
Little do Sandra’s husband and sons know what she’s doing in that library.
More
Sandra Hill!
Preview of
THE RED-HOT CAJUN
available soon
from Warner Books.
Chapter 1
The long hot summer just got hotter…
“That Richard Simmons sure is a hottie.”
Whaaat? René LeDeux put down the caulking gun he’d been using to chink the logs of his home-in-progress, and stared in astonishment at his great aunt Louise Rivard, who had made that astounding revelation. Tante Lulu, as she was known, lounged in a hammock in the front yard, cool as a Cajun cucumber.
René wore no shirt, only cargo shorts, a tool belt, and work boots, in deference to the scorching heat—the hottest summer in Louisiana history. He swiped the back of an arm across his forehead, as much to gather patience as sweat, before speaking. “Tante Lulu! Richard Simmons is not a hottie. Not by any stretch of anyone’s imagination.”