Showing posts with label Under The Tiki Hut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Under The Tiki Hut. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Carol Kilgore Presents: Gracie and the Peach Thieves - Part Two
Before Gracie concludes her thrilling cliffhanger adventure, I would like to thank her for sharing her story here. To show my appreciation, I tried to make her feel at home by putting out a peach spread. Unfortunately, peaches are out of season here, but I don't give up easily. I thought I might be able to track down a few on the Internet. This is what I found instead: Peaches & Hot Sauce (Comedy Production Studio), Peaches Boutique (specializing in prom dresses), and a company that ships Peach Bourbon Fried Turkey.
Since I couldn't reach any of these places in time, we'll have to settle for some hot peach tea, and fresh scones with peach jam. Wait a minute, a truck from the Peaches and Hot Sauce Comedy Studio just pulled up. Gracie, I'll try to stall them while you tell your story.
Gracie and the Peach Thieves – Part Two
Hi, this is Gracie again. When I left you at Carol’s blog on Monday, I was trapped in a peach tree with peach thieves on the ground below. Here’s what happened.
My only weapons were peaches. They’d have to do. Some of the ones around me were still as hard as rocks. I’d have to take care not to disturb the branches when I pulled the fruit, and I wondered if I could do that. I had to try. I shoved Mama’s basket into a fork so it wouldn’t fall.
Then I pulled a hard peach. Both men kept picking. Petunia and Daisy yapped in the distance, but I couldn’t tell where they were. They didn’t sound concerned. I pulled another peach and looked down.
The men were working fast. They’d already picked a bushel of Mama’s peaches and were working on another basket. They didn’t know how mad Mama would get, that’s for sure. With my two peaches in my pockets, I yanked off two more, took aim, and fired the first peach. The second. Two hits!
The men were loud! All the words I was taught never to say spewed from their mouths. I fired the next peach, and then the fourth. The dogs were louder and coming our way. I reached for another peach, but I wasn’t careful enough.
I lost my balance, and fell through the branches.
The next thing I knew, a wet nose was pushing on one cheek and a warm tongue was licking the other.
“Gracie, wake up. C’mon, honey, wake up.” Daddy’s voice.
I opened my eyes. “Peach thieves.”
“Buster saw them drive up and called the sheriff. He’s out at the road with them now waiting for the deputy. They said you hit them with peaches. One’s got a black eye.”
“Good. They got into Mama’s trees. I couldn’t stop them in time.”
“Thanks to you, Mama still has plenty of peaches. She can make an extra cobbler for Buster. Maybe some ice cream, too. If you hadn’t stopped them, they could’ve wiped out a whole row of trees before the dogs found them.”
I smiled, remembering how good peach ice cream was on top of warm peach cobbler.
“Let’s check you out. Move your arms and legs.”
I sat up. “I’m okay. I have to get Mama’s cobbler basket.”
Daddy took the two bushel baskets along with Mama’s basket and sent me off to play. When he walked into the kitchen, I heard Mama all the way from the hay barn. Those thieves were lucky they only had to face the deputy and not Mama.
After high school, I went on to college, graduated, and joined the San Antonio Police Department. Nothing there quite equaled the thrill in that peach tree, so I searched for more.
Now I’m the newest member of a still unnamed taskforce to be based in San Antonio. We’re all still training, so look for more to come! My name is Gracie Hofner, and I’m Carol Kilgore’s newest character. She’s writing a whole trilogy of books based on me, which is why I’m writing this instead of her.
You can find out more about Carol here:
Under the Tiki Hut blog: http://underthetikihut.blogspot.com/
Website with Monthly Contest: http://www.carolkilgore.net/contest/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/carol.kilgore1
Twitter: https://twitter.com/carol_kilgore
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6094110.Carol_Kilgore
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Carol-Kilgore/e/B008FRCXQY
----------
SECRETS OF HONOR
By the end of a long evening working as a special set of eyes for the presidential security detail, all Kat Marengo wants is to kick off her shoes and stash two not-really-stolen rings in a secure spot. Plus, maybe sleep with Dave Krizak. No, make that definitely sleep with Dave Krizak. The next morning, she wishes her new top priorities were so simple.
As an operative for a covert agency buried in the depths of the Department of Homeland Security, Kat is asked to participate in a matter of life or death—locate a kidnapped girl believed to be held in Corpus Christi, Texas. Since the person doing the asking is the wife of the president and the girl is the daughter of her dearest friend, it’s hard to say no.
Kat and Dave quickly learn the real stakes are higher than they or the first lady believed and will require more than any of them bargained for.
The kicker? They have twenty-four hours to find the girl—or the matter of life or death will become more than a possibility.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Top Ten Reasons Why Carol Kilgore Is An Ideal Nest Guest
Since Carol Kilgore from Under The Tiki Hut is famous for her Friday's Top Ten lists, I thought I'd join in the fun to thank her for a wonderful week.

Top Ten Reasons Why Carol Kilgore Is An Ideal Nest Guest
10. She didn't complain about my cooking.
9. She never left the toilet seat up.
8. Carol brought a lot of fabulous guests to the party.
7. She kept every conversation to 1000 words or less.
6. She was always gracious, and willing to lend a hand.
5. Carol didn't break into my liquor cabinet.
4. She didn't break anything.
3. She didn't snore.
2. She didn't post embarrassing photos on Facebook.
And the #1 reason why Carol Kilgore is an ideal nest guest:
1. She made us all laugh.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Presenting Guest Author Carol Kilgore
I'm delighted to welcome author, and blogging friend Carol Kilgore. Carol has written Solomon's Compass, and In Name Only. Thanks for sharing this guest post with us today Carol.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A WRITER
A few weeks ago, I noticed the fuel gauge in the car was on EMPTY. I was pretty sure there was a station about a mile to my left.
I was wrong. It was a Sonic. Tots and a slush? Not a good idea.
But I did know where a station was for
sure. At the highway – one block down and a mile or two over. I don’t have
enough words for the full story, but it includes a dump truck, approaching
traffic, and a long hill. You see the picture.
A hundred words later, I pulled to a pump
with fumes to spare.
I grabbed my debit card and keys and locked
the door, did the card thing and lifted the nozzle, but I couldn’t open the gas
tank. So I thought there must be a release button on the dash.
I hung up the nozzle and searched. No button. Nothing on the door or the side of the seat.
On the other side of the pump, a man was filling
his truck. “Excuse me,” I said. “I can’t get my gas tank open. Can you help me?”
He tried to open it. Tried to find a button. No success. I didn't feel quite so stupid, even though it was my car. As we rounded the back of the car … I remembered.
When we bought the car, the salesman went
over the details. To open the gas tank lid, you press on the left. It popped
open!
You’d think that would be enough for one
morning. Not quite.
The transaction must have canceled when I hung up the nozzle, and this time the screen asked for my zip code. Numbers and I don’t always get along, and we've lived in umpteen jillion zip codes. With our current zip, I often transpose a couple of the numbers. But it let me pump gas, so all was good.
I was back at the Sonic intersection, and contemplating a slush, when my phone rang.
Husband said, “The bank just called. They want to know if you used your card at someplace called Big Red’s Number Two, if you have your card, or if you’re under duress.”
“I did just use it. The gauge was on empty.”
“That’s what I forgot to do!”
I could picture the expression on his face, and smiled.
I have to digress. Husband is Coast Guard. Semper Paratus … Always Ready. Well, Husband is always ready for a lot of things … but as Always Ready pertains to vehicles, ours are always road ready.
Whatever makes a car work always works or is quickly repaired. Tires are always safe. Fuel gauges rarely dip below the halfway point.
As life would have it, Mr. Always Ready married the woman who can no longer recall how many times she’s run out of gas, had flat tires, dead batteries, and more. Left to my own devices, fuel and maintenance barely make my list, much less work their way to the top. Until: I. Need. Gas. NOW!
So, back to the story. I told Husband where I filled up and that I had no idea the name of the place. “And I used it twice at the same pump. I couldn't get the gas tank open the first time.”
“What?”
“So I asked the guy pumping gas next to me, and he couldn't figure it out either.”
"What do you mean you couldn't get the tank open?”
"So I finally remembered the salesman showing us, and then I had to use my card twice. I’m sure that’s what triggered the alert. Or maybe I put in the wrong zip.”
“How could you not know how to open the gas tank? We've had this car two years.”
“I've never put gas in it before.”
So he starts to laugh. “Let me get this straight. You have people who do that for you.”
“Yep. I love my people.”
“Wait. What did you say about the zip code..."

Carol Kilgore is an award-winning author with several short
stories, essays, and articles to her credit. Her two novels, Solomon’s Compass and In
Name Only, are a blend of mystery, suspense, and romance she calls Crime Fiction with a Kiss. Carol and her
Coast Guard husband live in San Antonio, Texas, with two herding dogs whose
mission is to keep them safe from all danger, real or imagined.
You can find Carol and her books here:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

