If you aren’t already familiar with my books, then you might not know anything about Trivia from Olivia. But in almost each and every story that I publish, I include a strange, weird, obscure trivia or history snippet. Hey, I’m married to a historian so it isn’t any wonder, right?
And in The Trouble with Holidays (A Lynlee Lincoln Prequel) my trivia was brought mostly by the hubby. First, there’s PMS. I was already dating the hubby when I decided to audit one of the history classes he taught at the local university. I will never forget the day he lectured about PMS; the common aspect of many Native American tribes to be Polytheistic, Matrilineal and to have Sex-linked traits. I explained the basics of what that means here in the story (read it to find out;-) but I just wanted you guys to know that I didn’t make it up. The college professor who swept me off my feet about sixteen years ago used that in all of his United States History courses.
During The Trouble with Holidays Lynlee makes this comment about her job:
“I feel like the third string quarterback who gets put into the game at the end of the fourth quarter when we’re already winning two hundred and twenty-two to nothing.”
Originally I wrote 100-0, but when I mentioned it to hubby, he proceeded to tell me about the Cumberland vs Georgia Tech game that ended with a score of 222-0. He thought he recalled the year of that game to be 1915, but it was actually 1916–still, pretty impressive that his brain can hold all of that “useless” information.
According to what I was able to find online, it appears that Cumberland College discontinued its football program, but that they weren’t allowed to cancel this particular game against Georgia Tech. The internet provides lots of myths about the game, some of which have been debunked. But I have to say the quote from the Atlanta Journal pretty much sums up what the game must have been like:
“As a general rule, the only thing necessary for a touchdown was to give a Tech back the ball and holler, ‘Here he comes’ and ‘There he goes.’”
Oh, and one more fun fact. The coach for Georgia Tech that year? None other than John Heisman.
It bothered me when my middle sister, Cori decided she wanted to be a writer. Writing was my thing and I was too immature to realize how flattering it should have been. More than that, I hadn’t the insight to see how talented she was either. I can only wonder what her gift might have developed into eventually.
Today would have been Cori’s 35th birthday. I realized about a month ago that 35 was sort of the “magic” number for me in realizing my writing dreams. And so, even though she’s not physically with us today, I thought Cori deserved to celebrate with her very first published work. I can almost hear the nervous excitement of her giggling about finding her name on the cover of a book.
Tiffani and Nikki had never been friends, though they’d known each other since kindergarten. When they’re forced to take cover with some of their classmates during a storm, they’ll discover that sometimes good friendships and first loves can be found when you least expect them.
Cori was a lover – She had a heart bigger than Texas and was as loyal as they come.
Cori was a giggler – To this day I can still hear in my mind the sound of that rolling laughter. And she laughed often.
Cori was a toucher – It sometimes annoyed me that she was constantly hugging and touching and grabbing my hand. What I wouldn’t give for that today.
Cori was a writer – she barely had time to explore this talent that I know she clearly had, yet still I know that we’re blessed to have a few pieces that were snippets of the dreams within her heart.
Ah the joys of Halloween, Rhiannon thought to herself.
By the time she got off the phone with Lynlee, Trip the dragon had already left. Geraldine his elf neutralizer was patiently waiting so that she could magically transport Rhiannon back to her home. Werewolves had lots of nifty tricks, but magical transportation wasn’t one of them.
“All ready?” Geraldine asked.
Rhiannon nodded but just as the elf was about to start her magic, Rhia’s cell phone began to ring again.
“Tell Monty to hold his horses. I’m just about to get home and I’d at least like a minute to eat.”
“Rhiannon, it’s Sandy.”
When she heard his voice it was as if the floor dropped out from under her and her mind started spinning. She glanced up at the waiting Geraldine, gaze pleading for help that the woman couldn’t possibly give her.
She licked her lips and struggled to take a breath so that she could speak. But it was no use. Her heart was pounding so hard she was pretty sure it was about to thump right out of her chest.
Her secret crush was on the line and she couldn’t seem to conjure a single rational thing to say to him.
“Rhiannon, are you there?” There was a rattling sound and she had the impression he was probably shaking his phone as if they had a bad connection.
She cleared her throat, then managed to mumble, “Mmmhmm,”
“Can you hear me?”
Geraldine took a few steps closer to her, waving her hand in front of Rhia’s face. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“I’ve got a problem with one of my kids. I think we need a doctor.”
She blinked in confusion and pulled the phone away from her ear to frown at it a few seconds before resuming the somewhat one-sided conversation. “You’re a dad?”
“A dad? No, I’m talking about my job. As a Sandman. You do know who this is, right?”
Of course she knew who it was. He was Bartholomew Winstead, one of about fifty Sandmen throughout the world. It was his job to help children and sometimes adults find their way into dreamland. By night, when on the paranormal job, he used the name Sandy; the names were his version of Superman vs Clark Kent identities.
But Sandy was more like the man from Krypton than just his penchant for nicknames. His looks were classically handsome with dark brown hair that was always coiffed just so and a nearly perfect body. His shoulders were broad above a narrow waist and he was tall enough that even she, a fairly tall werewolf female, had to look up at him.
The truth was that he was so strikingly sexy to her that simply looking at him turned her limbs to jelly. And the few times he’d spoken directly to her, she’d been in dangerous risk of simply passing out cold.
Yes, she had it bad for this particularly MAUC. Unfortunately for her, it was common knowledge that he only had eyes for Rhiannon’s BFF, Lynlee Lincoln.
“Yes, Sandy. I know you. So what’s going on with your … kid?”
“It’s a long story, but I’d really like you to get here right away. Do you have time?”
“Uhm, yeah. Sure I can do that,” she scratched at her belly to try to force away the butterflies squirming around in there. “Where are you exactly?”
“It’s a cabin in Colorado. Pretty far from you probably, but if we called Lynlee…”
“No!” she interrupted him a little too quickly and too loudly. She loved her best friend, but she knew the witch had absolutely no interest in the Sandman. And this might be her one and only chance to get to know him better without him being distracted by the girl he liked. “I’m just finishing a call with an elf. Let me give the phone to Geraldine and she can send me there.”
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