Monday, August 18, 2014

Liza interviews Kristen Brockmeyer;s book Lucky in Love

Today, we are interviewing Kristen Brockmeyer's Lucky in Love.

Liza: All I know so far is its a book with a seam down it's hose and a slip showing.

Peep Rep: That doesn't bode well.

Liza: We'll know more once it arrives. How did you arrange for it to arrive?

Peep Rep: It wanted to walk here.

Liza: Books are terrible at walking and if they fall over, they cannot stand back up.

Peep Rep: Not to worry, I gave it a shoe.

Book: God, I've never been so exhausted in my life. Next time I'm demanding a limo!

Liza: Sorry about that. Peep Rep doesn't always have the best of judgment. What would you like to be called? Luck or Love?

Book: What's wrong with my name: Lucky in Love?

Peep Rep: Liza can't type more than four letters without mangling the letters.

Book: Are you kidding me? I WALK here in a high heel shoe from Michigan to New Jersey and she can't even bother to type my name?

Liza: Oh all right, you can be Lucky. But only because Peep Rep tortured you with his mode of travel.

Peep Rep: Better than a catapult.

Liza: Good point. He's done much worse to books.
But you are here, safe and sound, so allow me to move beyond your slip showing and your red seamed hose...

Liza: Ah, this is better. So tell me about your book, Lucky in Love.

Lucky: Well first of all, Lucky, McFarlane isn't.

Liza: Lucky for you, or I'd make you change your name to something else. So tell me more about NOT Lucky.

Lucky: Her bad luck streak is as much a part of who she is as her blue eyes and her vintage wardrobe. 

Liza: I thought her clothes seemed a bit outdated. Do people laugh at her?

Lucky: All the time. She's a total clutz and embarrasses herself constantly.

Liza: I'm much the same. Don't worry, she'll get used to it.

Lucky: Not even a lifetime of clumsy accidents and embarrassing moments can't prepare her for what happens when she runs into sexy ex-boyfriend, Chance Atkins. Literally. With her 1948 Buick Roadmaster.

Liza: Did you just say Unlucky Lucky ran over her future boyfriend & hero of the story with her 1948 Buick Roadmaster? I don't even know where to begin with the questions.

Lucky: Well my Lucky's got a few questions as well. 

Liza: Okay, she can go first.

Lucky. Let's start with why Chance moved away without a word 10 years before—right after a memorable scene in the backseat of her car.

Liza: Ouch! That had to destroy her womanly confidence. 

Lucky: She has more questions. Does his return have anything to do with the disappearance of Julian, her geriatric sometimes-roommate and drinking buddy? 

Liza: It's never good when geriatric drink and disappear. Perhaps he went on a walkabout.

Lucky: Then why did someone just shoot out her kitchen window? 

Liza: Maybe they thought I was holding the interview at her house...

Lucky: And her last question, which says so much about my hopelessly unlucky Lucky: Does Chance need a license for those dimples? Because they're killer hot.

Liza: Dimples! I love dimples! This book sounds great. Can I peek beneath your covers and read a bit.

Lucky: Okay, but do not dare go changing words around.

The growl of my 1948 Roadmaster downshifted to a throaty purr as I pulled into the jam-packed parking lot of the Spring Valley Wesleyan Church. I was so busy worrying about the serious bodily harm Addy was going to inflict on me if I didn’t get in there in time to do my maid of honor thing, that I didn’t see the black and white blur that dodged out in front of me from between two cars. I mashed down on the brake but my reflexes weren’t quick enough. There was a brief thunk and a moan loud enough to carry over my Sinatra-blasting stereo.

Oh, no. I instantly panicked. Did I just hit a Saint Bernard?

Images of a bloody Beethoven lying broken beneath the wheels of my Buick popped into my brain in appalling Technicolor. I threw it in park and jumped out of the car, tears already blurring my eyes. The tears dried up fast when I realized that, instead of a giant cuddly dog, I’d run over the guy who’d taken my virginity the night of my senior prom before abruptly moving to Illinois.

I nudged Chance Atkins with the toe of my shoe and fervently thanked God that he wasn’t a Saint Bernard.

My morning had started off surprisingly great, which should have been my first clue that some major bad luck was in the works. I woke to the sound of birds chirping, the neighbor’s dog barking and kids playing in the street, everyone apparently enjoying the unseasonably warm April weather. Granted, I immediately knocked a half empty beer bottle over on my alarm clock, frying it dead with a sizzling, popping hiss. And shortly after that, I stepped right into a cold, slimy puddle when I swung my legs over the side of the bed to feel around for my slippers. Louie, my one-eyed stray of indiscriminate origins, was apparently having hairball issues again. But a dead alarm clock and an icky gift from Louie were small potatoes, compared to what I was used to.

I wiped my foot on the rug and stumbled to the bathroom to flip on the little coffee maker I kept in there, hotel-style. I cranked the shower on for its usual five-minute warm-up, and squinted into the mirror to take stock. My reddish-brown hair corkscrewed out in various directions. There was a pillow pattern on my left cheek. Freckles stood out in stark relief on my small, pale nose. Normally a very nice shade of cornflower blue, my eyes looked almost purple today and clashed badly with the cluster of visible blood vessels that all shouted in unison: “You had too many beers last night!”

Nothing I couldn’t work with. That was what makeup and eyedrops were for.

After my shower, I wrapped my pink satin housecoat around myself and sat down at my Formica and chrome kitchen table to sip my second cup of coffee. The table was the latest phase of my furniture rescue project and went nicely with all the rest of the hauté crap that I’d rescued from the side of the road. Garbage-picking was kind of a hobby of mine. I was constantly amazed at some of the cool stuff people threw out.
Following habit, and cursing as I sliced my pinkie on the Entertainment page, I flipped the newspaper open to the horoscope section. Against my better judgment, I felt optimism rear its stupid head.

The cosmic spectrum is nearly aligned with Jupiter and you will begin to reap the benefits today. Your luck is changing!

 Tell that to my poor alarm clock. But wait, there was more.

Keep your eyes open—true love will soon cross your path!


Last time I read something true love-related was in a fortune cookie. It said, “Your true love will bring you joy and happiness.” That was the night I found Brent Hall, my boyfriend of 14 months, boinking my Journalism professor on my living room couch. 

Peep Rep: Oh this sounds delightful.

Liza: For once we are in accord. So find the links!


Lucky: Fabulous. Can someone call me a limo.

Liza: Sorry, I'll be keeping you three days. So take your shoe off and tell me about your writer.

Lucky: Kristen Brockmeyer is a romance writer.

Liza: That was pretty much a given when she focused on the dimples. Tell me something I don't know.

Lucky: She's currently up to her eyeballs in an awesome contemporary romance manuscript.

Liza: That's better. What else?

Lucky: She's a wife, a mom, an admin at an award-winning digital agency and a chicken-wrangling, weed-pulling, mosquito-slapping farming newbie. She enjoys reading romances, buying useless things at thrift stores, baking cupcakes semi-professionally, and hyphenating phrases, sometimes unnecessarily.

Liza: I see where her character got her dumpster diving trait from.

Lucky: She also has three kids, one husband, two dogs and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, there really is a pear tree out back, but the bird in it is probably just a chicken.

Liza: Better than three hungry kids, two deadbeat husbands and an angry cat in the dead oak tree.

Lucky: I'm going to be quiet and wait for my limo. You are starting to scare me.

Stalking Links for Kristen:


  1. What a fun interview. This book sounds like a blast to read.

  2. I loved the interview! Lucky in Love is a fun book. I have it on my TBR pile!

  3. Thank you Melissa. This does sound like a very good book.


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