A review of Chapter 1:
“Nebby” Murphy, heir to the Murphy’s Pub fortune, is out on the horse range:
As I raced along the horse range, I felt Garbo’s pulse quicken, in time with my own. We raced and raced, and then raced some more long into the golden hours of sunset. She could produce quite a lather did my girl, so I just knew I’d have to hose her down as soon as we returned to the horse kennel.
Suddenly, she runs into Scott Owen Scot of the Hartford Scots. Spoiler Alert: He’s naughty and Nebby swoons!
“Well I am certainly not touching that with a 10 foot pole anytime soon,” I stammered at him, and as my peach gloss lips blabberred along, a single diamond of spittle shot off my lower lobe of my lip and for a moment, just for one God-loving moment, but it was framed in sunlight between us; our gaze walking through it as if on another plane of love’s existence. Now now, Nebraska Antoinette Murphy, you come to your senses right now, silly dilly!
Suddenly, she runs into Samson, her trusted family laborer who Suddenly has a new farm hand, the rugged Gully:
His offbrand dungarees were as unstyled as two blue stovepipes and his utter disregard for what he might look like to women ignited a deep maternal instinct in me and instantly I could see us shopping, at farmers markets, leasing a car, naming our children. Screeching halt noise there, Nebby, have you gone plum dang out of your dang plum mind? You are a Manhattan socialite hand shouldn’t get twitter pated at the Help!