Slut Turkey and guest Laura Griffin :o)

Hi everyone. I am thrilled to welcome Laura Griffin ( who is NOT a slut turkey) to the ‘vert today. Please make her welcome and wow, she’s got a GREAT giveaway for you all!



Slut Turkey

Is it really Thanksgiving? I don’t know how it got here when one minute ago I was rushing around Walmart looking for number two pencils and braded folders.

I sat down to write this blog, fully prepared to do the whole thanks-for-having-me!-please-buy-my-new-book! (but with some sort of clever twist that I was still banging my head against the keyboard trying to come up with). But then I looked at my calendar and realized I was scheduled to visit you all at Riding With The Top Down on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving!

So there went my book pitch (although, please do consider buying it). How about we talk turkey instead?

This is the story of my first Thanksgiving as a blushing bride… well, not really blushing. Actually, I was engaged and living up in Chicago and somehow my fiancé and I got roped into having our two college-student sisters join us for turkey… which I ambitiously offered to cook because my mother was way down in Texas. Of course, being hundreds of miles away didn’t stop my mom from wanting to help.

First, there was the barrage of “foolproof” recipes. I think I got at least twelve detailed letters from my mom and all of her closest friends. Lack of confidence in my culinary abilities? Perhaps. I am what you might call a distracted baker. My half-inch tall “cakes” are legendary. And then there was the three-layer sliding-icing cake that ended up naked in a pool of buttercream… But I digress!

Of the twelve helpful recipes, I chose Turkey in the Sack. I chose this recipe (which my sister dubbed Slut Turkey) not because it was pitched to me as foolproof–although that was supposed to be one of its attributes–but because there are few people I trust more than my mother’s best friend, and she swears by this recipe. Good enough for me.

So I bought my bird. I bought my ingredients. I even bought a card table so that our Thanksgiving guests would have an actual place to sit while they ate dinner in our closet-size apartment, where we usually ate on stools at the counter. I was prepared. And so on that bright Thanksgiving morning I got up and got straight to work.

The panic started early.

Step one: Prepare the bird.

My mom awoke at 7 a.m. to a desperate phone call. “Prepare?! What does that mean??

She quickly set me straight with instructions on washing, drying, etc., etc., this slimy, almost-frozen thing that had been sitting in my sink overnight.

For the next five hours (Yes, five. I assure you, this was a large bird. I was terrified of running out of food and not having leftovers.) I followed my mom’s best friend’s instructions to a T! I did not miss a step. I did not deviate. I did not get creative. I got that bird washed and seasoned and stuffed in that paper sack and sealed up tight, so it could cook to a succulent perfection. And I did not peek once, as I was strictly instructed by the recipe, and in my mom’s best friend’s handwriting off in the margin.

Finally, it was time. I took the bird out of the oven, and the kitchen smelled heavenly. It smelled like my grandmother’s house! Can you imagine how proud I was? The soon-to-be bride serving her sister and soon-to-be-sister-in-law a delicious, home-cooked Thanksgiving meal in our cozy little apartment with the card table beautifully set and the folding chairs arranged so invitingly around it… I was beaming with pride.

I put the roasting pan on the counter and decided to start the gravy.

Step One: Prepare the giblets.

I frowned. I pondered. I searched the kitchen, the fridge, the trash can for clues. For the sixteenth time that day, I called the Mom Hotline.

“Mom? Yeah, the turkey looks great, but what the heck is a giblet?”

Well, clearly I am not the only person incapable of following a “foolproof” recipe. I know this because I got off the phone with Mom and called Butterball, and turns out you know those nice plastic bags containing necks and turkey innards? The ones they stuff inside the bird for you to pull out before cooking? Turns out those bags are made of non-toxic material. My family is living proof.

What is your worst Turkey Day mishap? Leave a comment about anything at all and be eligible to win a signed copy of my new book, UNFORGIVABLE, and a $25 Amazon gift card to help you get started on that holiday shopping. Good luck!

Oh, and one last plug for the new book. Here’s what Publishers Weekly had to say about it: “The science is fascinating, the sex is sizzling, and the story is top-notch, making this clever, breakneck tale hard to put down.”

Happy Holidays and happy reading!

Laura Griffin is the bestselling author of seven romantic suspense novels, including UNFORGIVABLE, which comes out Nov. 30. Laura’s books have won numerous awards, including a 2010 RITA Award, a 2010 Daphne du Maurier Award, and the 2008 Booksellers Best Award for romantic suspense. Visit her web site at http://www.lauragriffin.com.

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About cindygerard

Cindy Gerard is a New York Times best-selling author of action packed romantic suspense novels. Learn more about Cindy at http://www.cindygerard.com
This entry was posted in Laura Griffin, Romantic suspense, Thanksgiving, turkey, Unforgivable. Bookmark the permalink.

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