Welcome, brave guest author Hildie McQueen as she decodes man’s secretive heart. Hildie loves storytelling and unusual settings, pair that with humor and you’ve got an idea of what her writing is like.
She makes sure action, intrigue, and sizzling romance add up to a story, her readers won’t soon forget. Her favorite past-times are traveling, shopping and reading. She resides in beautiful small town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and two unruly Chihuahuas.
My mother rolled her eyes when a teenage me asked if it were true that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. “I don’t agree,” she replied while wiping a damp cloth over the stove.
“Well then why the saying?” I asked persisting. She took a breath, and a swallow of her rum and coke and pinned me with a resigned look. “I don’t know. Probably made up by a hungry husband in an effort to get the woman to cook better.”
Could that be true? I see her point, but I also know that one of the ways my husband shows his love for me is by cooking some spectacular meals. Of course, I’m a girl, so that doesn’t answer the question now does it?
I asked my husband what he thought about the saying. He frowned and stared at me for a minute then said. “Why you asking me for?” When I asked again, he proceeded to say that he believes the saying became popular because women used to do all the cooking and it was incentive for them to be good at it.
Well he’s a pretty smart guy and pretty much said the same as Mom, so I’ll go with that.
Now maybe I’ll do a cooking class or something, because I’m not a good cook. I believe you have to love cooking to be good at it. I can follow directions and on occasion the food actually comes out decent. But I don’t like to cook.
Come to think of it, nah, I’m not going to learn to cook, it’s too much trouble. Heck, the way to anyone’s heart may be through their stomach, but I prefer a more direct approach. Kiss them until they lose their appetite for food!
Enjoy this excerpt from Where the Four Winds Collide, available on Kindle.
This is your home now, Adeline,” Jackson told her, watching her closely for a reaction. “We were married earlier this afternoon. You are my wife.”
The color drained from her face and she froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. He feared she’d faint again so he jumped up and went to her. The action startled the woman, who yelped and leaned away from him, only to topple over. Both she and the chair landed on their sides on the floor.
When Jackson tried to help her up, she scrambled to her feet and moved away from his reach.
“Married?” The shock in her voice made him wonder if the woman was mad. Surely she remembered signing the documents before the judge?
“Yes, Adeline, the judge explained it all to you before you signed the papers at the hotel. Do you not remember?”
“I…” her widened eyes met his and he fought the urge to reach out to reassure her. “I thought it was a dream.”