L.C. Evans knew when she was eight-years-old that she wanted to be a writer. She grew up in a small Florida town where she read every book in the children’s library at least three times before she was in third grade. Then she started writing her own stories. She now lives in North Carolina with her husband Bob and their three Chihuahuas. Though L.C. is the author of many published mystery stories and children’s stories, she has also published four novels. We Interrupt This Date is her most recent. Written in 2008 and published in 2009, the idea for the book came about when L.C. was thinking one day about some of the southern mamas she’d met while growing up and how they’d influenced their daughter’s lives. She decided to write about a divorced woman who lets family obligations–and her bossy mama–get in the way of her own happiness and a chance for romance.
Other novels by this author include the horse lovers mystery, Talented Horsewoman, Night Camp, a children’s vampire tale, and Jobless Recovery, a satirical look at corporate greed and job losses.
L.C. Evans is also proud to be an Operation eBook Drop author. Operation eBook Drop supplies free ebooks to all American troops deployed overseas.
About We Interrupt This Date:
Since her divorce a year ago, Susan Caraway has gone through the motions of life, feeling at best mildly depressed. Now she is finally coming out of her shell. Just when she decides on a makeover and a new career, her family members call on her for crisis assistance. First there’s her sister DeLorean who has come back from California with a baby, a designer dog, and no prospects for child support or a job. As soon as DeLorean settles in at Susan’s home, Susan’s son Christian comes home from college trailing what Susan’s mama refers to as “an androgynous little tart.” Then there’s Mama herself, a southern lady who wrote the book on bossy. A secret from Mama’s past threatens to unravel her own peace. But not before Mama hurts her ankle and has to move into Susan’s home with her babies—two Chihuahuas with attitude. Susan would like to start her new job as a ghost tour operator. She would like to renew her relationship with Jack Maxwell, a man from her past. But Jack isn’t going to stand in line behind her needy family.
From a Review by World Traveler:
LC Evans’ writing style is hilarious and I found myself laughing out loud at least once in every chapter. If this book were a movie it would have as many one liners as Steel Magnolias or Sordid Lives. And if it were a TV show, move over Designing Women… all the lady characters have sass. As a matter of fact I think this book would translate well to the silver screen, or as a tv series. I have one question for you, LC Evans; have we heard the last of Susan Caraway or will we be blessed with a sequel detailing her adventures with family, friends, spooky new job, and of course…. LOVE!
Book Excerpt:
I had my back to the stairs, but that didn’t matter because Mama was prepared, as always, to keep me up to date.
“I must say, I am shocked. Susan Nicole, you’d better put your foot down now and put it down hard. Your son headed straight for his room with her like a bee back to the main hive. It’s obvious he’s planning to keep that brazen little thing in his own room right here under your roof. Why, she has hair shorter than Christian’s. And she wears mens’ clothing. Army clothing.”
I bit my lip. It wasn’t as if I’d had planning sessions where I contemplated how to react if my son brought home a girlfriend and installed her in his bed. Did I care? Okay, I had to admit to feeling uncomfortable for no reason that I could articulate. But was that reason enough to put up a fight? And after I’d daydreamed about having a fling with a boyfriend if the opportunity arose, was I fair to point fingers at my eighteen-year-old son?
DeLorean rolled her eyes. “Mama, puh-lease. This is the twenty-first century. You are such a dinosaur.”
“If being a dinosaur keeps me from having a child out of wedlock, then I’m quite happy with myself, thank you.”
“So you’re going to throw it in my face that Baldwin and I didn’t get married. What’s next, are you going to call my baby a horrible name because he was born out of wedlock?”
“DeLorean, the accusations. I declare. I would never.” Mama fanned herself with an envelope I’d left on the table.
Christian and Trinity had just walked back into the room.
“Whoa.” Christian put his hands in front of him, palms facing out. “I’m taking Trinity into Charleston. She has a friend who goes to the Citadel and we’re going to get with him for the afternoon and do the tourist thing. Hope you people have your problems sorted out by the time we get back.”
“Come on, Trinity.” He flung himself across the room and out the door. Trinity was right behind him, hanging unto the back of his shirt. “Nice meeting you all,” she called politely over her shoulder.
“Well,” Mama said, after the door banged shut, “that was ugly.”
“Ugly doesn’t begin to cover it.” DeLorean’s jaw was thrust out.
“Please, let’s not fight,” I said, before Mama could say she’d told DeLorean a million times that a man doesn’t buy the cow if the milk is free. “I’ll think about whether I want to tell Christian he can’t sleep with Trinity while he’s in my house.” Like I didn’t have anything more important to obsess over.
“You’d better think fast. I’d hate to imagine what would happen to his college career if he sired a child before he was halfway through his first semester. How would you cope then, having to look after a grandchild?”
The same way I’d cope looking after a mother and a sister and a nephew and a giant dog with too much hair and a live-in flea colony. The same way I coped every day at work up until the day Odell fired me. Cope should have been my middle name.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mama. I’m sure Christian doesn’t want a child any more than you want him to have one.”
“You’d better have a talk with that boy about birth control then.” She picked up her empty teacup, peered inside, and set it back down with a thump.
“I believe that’s a required subject in junior high these days. I distinctly remember signing a sex education permission slip some years back.”
“How do you know Christian was paying attention in class? A mother can’t be too careful, Susan. God knows, I’m aware of that better than anyone.” She paused to glance pointedly at DeLorean. “Since you refuse to listen to reason, I’ve a good mind to call his father before it’s too late.”
I had a quick mental flash of T. Chandler showing up on the doorstep with a giant bag of condoms slung over his shoulder. I got up and handed Cole to DeLorean before I started putting dishes in the machine.
Mama scurried over and rearranged the dishes as fast as I could get them into the rack. “You can’t convince me you’re happy your son is in lust with a girl who would look more at home running an obstacle course at the nearest boot camp than attending a tea party.”
“A tea party?” DeLorean blinked. “Do such things even exist these days?”
“You would be surprised. You would be very surprised if you ever tried to live up to your upbringing and act like a lady. But whether tea parties exist isn’t the point, miss. This Trinity person is entirely unsuited for my grandson. And there is no reason to allow her into his bed and chance disaster.”
“But if she’s wrong for him,” I said, “then maybe it’s a good idea not to fight him on this sleepover thing. No need to give him even more reason to rebel.”
“That sounds like utter nonsense to me. Mark my words, Susan, you will wish Christian had never laid eyes on that—that androgynous little tart.”
Learn more about L.C. Evans and her books at lcevans.com
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