My Falcon Football series has been described as FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS meets SWEET HOME ALABAMA. And, I have to agree! Football plays a part, but even more it's about life and love (and food!) in a small Southern town. As Alec, my hero in Book 3, MELTING INTO YOU, thinks "Old lessons from his mother surfaced. In the south, births, deaths, thank yous, and apologies all involved food."
Check out my previous recipe posts from the FALCON FOOTBALL series, Ada's Banana Pudding, Darcy's Chicken and Dumplings and Logan's Skillet Blackberry Cobbler, and Logan's Bacon-Basil Mac and Cheese. This week I'm featuring a Wilted Bacon Salad. Enjoy!
SLOW AND STEADY RUSH is a RT Book Reviews TOP PICK!!
"....marvelously funny, engaging, and memorable in a place where everyone knows your name."
"Laura Trentham writes an intricately woven story that throbs with rich emotion. I laughed, I cried, I loved Slow and Steady Rush!"
Bestselling Author of the Sweet, Texas Series
"The instant chemistry and dynamic give-and-take...Trentham pulls the various elements together in time to deliver a sweet, satisfying story."
While fresh-picked straight out the the garden lettuce works best, you can substitute a mixed greens or buttercrunch lettuce
6-8 cups lettuce
4 slices bacon
1/4 cup water
Cook bacon, crumble. Remove, but retain grease. Turn off stove. Sprinkle in sugar. Add vinegar. Add water. Toss with lettuce and crumbled bacon. Add toppings of choice. Serve immediately. Can be a side or meal.
Ingrained training had him crouching low and moving across the short open field as if a sniper had him in his sights. He squatted at the edge of the bank and parted low-hanging willow branches. Leaning forward, he hung onto a ropey, pliable limb, his fisted hand stripping a row of leaves. His heart nearly stopped but then galloped out of his chest to match his bulging eyes.
Holy shit. It was a naked woman. A fine, naked woman.
She stood hip deep in a slow-moving eddy with her back to him. Her face tilted to the sky, she shook wet hair and squeezed out the water. The feminine, graceful movements dried his mouth. Rivulets raced from her shoulders to the hollow of her lower back. Water bobbed around her ass, framing perfection. The beauty of the scene went beyond the erotic.
He was intruding on a private moment and needed to leave. He squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing but the whisper of the wind in the trees and the flow of the river filled the quiet.
He took a step back, cracking a dead branch under his boot, and froze. He’d be fired from the team if he were accused of voyeurism. Had she heard him? One eye opened and went straight to woman in the river. He tried his damnedest to look away, but hell, he was only human.
Another intruder captured his attention. The water lapping the far bank rippled. Wide body, flat head. He mouthed a curse. Cottonmouth. Big one, too. A bite might not kill her, but it would cause excruciating pain. The snake swam straight toward his fine, naked woman.
He stood, thumbed the safety, and cupped the gun in both hands. He had one shot to get the job done. Not the first time he’d been in that position. His finger caressed the trigger. The gun’s report and the woman’s scream trampled the seductive beauty of the scene.
The woman fell and stirred up enough silt to darken the usually clear water. Bits of snake floated down the river. “My God!” she repeated as a litany, giving the snake remnants wide berth.
Shallow, fast-moving water eddied around her shoulders and concealed her curves as she scrambled backward on her hands and feet. Dark hair streamed into her face. She brushed it aside only to have the water push it back in front of her eyes.
He couldn’t let her panic and drown. Pushing willow branches aside, he called out, “You’re welcome.” He’d aimed for nonthreatening, but had landed closer to surly. Wincing, he rubbed his nape. Jesus, he was an idiot.
She startled and shielded her eyes against the sun. Her other arm curled over her breasts. “You could have shot me. What are you doing out here?”
Her voice shook, and he recognized the emotion. Fear. He followed her darting gaze to the near bank. Clothing hung from a low tree branch.
Her words jumbled out. “The state forest starts on the other side. You’re on private land. Were you spying on me?”
“Of course not.” Maybe he’d looked a little longer than necessary, but damn . . . what man with a beating heart wouldn’t? “That was a cottonmouth, by the way. You wouldn’t want to get hauled to the hospital like that, would you?” He tried a jokey smile and made vague gestures toward her nakedness. Her expression remained stony, turning his smile into a grimace.
“It looked like an innocent little water snake to me. I was in more danger of getting shot than bit.” She crouched. Water cascaded over her shoulders. Her arm pressed her breasts together, only the top curves visible. The hand not covering her breasts shooed him away like a dog. “Hello? Would you mind giving me a little privacy?”
What the fuck was the matter with him? He was acting like a perv.
“Of course. I’ll be on my way and let you get decent, ma’am.” He inclined his head and touched the brim of his baseball cap with a forefinger, playing the gentleman even as base impulses urged him to watch her nude body rise out of the water.
“Wait just a minute! We’re not done, mister.” Her voice, husky and melodious now that shrill fear no longer colored it, sent a tingle down his spine.
Halfway across the field to his truck, he stopped and tugged his cap lower and thought about the firecracker scrambling up the bank. He hadn’t seen her around town. Who the hell was she? A more important question forced itself into his consciousness. Was she still naked?