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Read an Excerpt
She’d felt the bump of her lower abs, firm with life as she stood from the vanity and twirled in the fitted, beautifully cut gown, its swishy A-line skirt floating beneath her waist. In the mirror, the iridescent beads shimmered against the sun drifting through her bedroom window.
Her parents’ fifteen-room Beaux Arts mansion spoke Southern elegance at its uppity best. As she admired the gown, she heard staccato raps at the door. Without invitation, her mother burst into her pink-and-cream bedroom with its billowing canopy bed that made Josie feel protected. “You look beautiful,” she said, scanning her in her entirety. Josie waited for the “but.” “Turn around and let me see you from the side.”
Katherine looked striking—and intimidating—in her ruby mother-of-the-bride gown, its ruched waist showing off her incredible figure and a front slit opening to reveal a long, tanned leg. “The dress is deliciously posh. However…” she said, hands on Josie’s shoulders as she angled her in the light. She rubbed her forehead. “I’m having second thoughts about you wearing white. Anyhow, too late now, isn’t it?”
Josie inhaled sharply, refusing to let her mother ruin this day. “Can’t you wear a support garment? Around your middle?”
“I’m four months pregnant, Mother. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“Secret or not. We’re not the bloody sort to display our premarital lust at the altar.”
Josie flushed but said nothing. Her mother’s barbs and put-on British jargon would not get to her today. She had nothing to hide. It was 1994, for heaven’s sake, and not puritanical times when young women like her had been shuttled away to stay with “beloved relatives.”
About the Author:
Bucking the norm, Susan spent her free time water skiing almost every day, fishing, and pining for a ragamuffin boy who was always up to no good.
Earlier in her college years, she pursued nursing, but most of her patients were terminal and her mastery and frequency of giving enemas had her questioning this line of work, though she adores nurses and often wishes she’d have stuck with the field.
She recently took a part-time job caring for adults with disabilities and loves the work, figuring it would at least make up for past misdeeds and get her a better shot at the Pearly Gates.
Writing has always been her first love. And she became good enough at it to earn many dozens of awards, including three Best of Gannetts for her feature stories and columns. Along with a bunch of other junk that really doesn't matter in the end.
What matters to Reinhardt is making people laugh. And think. And love others.
She is married to her second and final husband, country and genius lawyer Donny Laws who is bald but has a ponytail and loves to ride a bike. She has two adult kids, three steps, and a granddaughter.
She’s been on national TV, has modeled for one glossy magazine, and was the subject of a British documentary on aging and body image. She hopes that the documentary is lost and never resurfaces.
She once had a radio show called Susan Uncensored; a sold-out one-woman show called “From Hilarity to Insanity and Back.”
She no longer water skis but performs fairly decent front and backflips from a diving board and half-ass rides a unicycle and twirls a baton simultaneously.
Her hobbies include a vintage camper obsession and she’s owned three. Recently she’s settled on her 1968 Scotsman, which she hopes to paint pink and teal with polka-dots and haul on book tours.
She has two rescue cats who vehemently hate each other.
In her next life, she’d like to be a figure skater.
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