Spotlight & Giveaway: The Lucky Shamrock by Carolyn Brown

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Carolyn Brown to HJ!

Hi Carolyn and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Lucky Shamrock!

 
Happy Independence Day to all y’all. I hope you are having a wonderful celebration with family and friends.
 

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Three cousins, Jorja, Taryn and Anna Rose, each with personal issues, have never been able to see eye-to-eye on anything. Now, they are forced by their grandmother to live together in a small trailer and learn to get along while keeping their granny’s flower shop running. Add in a handsome bachelor, Clinton, McEntire, who helps out in the flower shop when he’s not busy taking care of veterans who need his help, and a baby. Pretty soon all four of them are revealing their secrets and resolving the past so that they can move on to a more hopeful future.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

*“You are the oldest. Anna Rose is next, and Jorja is the baby of the group. Anna Rose likes to party. Jorja likes to pray. And you are the peacemaker. What did she tell you about me?” (Clinton asked)
*So much for slipping in and out of town without anyone remembering me, Taryn thought, and then muttered, “The past is always lurking in the shadows.”
*Anna Rose and burst out laughing. “It’s not blood or broken bones, but it sure was hilarious. I was tempted to call Nana Irene. I’m proud of you, girl.”

What inspired this book?

We were out on a research book for another novel that I wrote several years ago, and I fell in love with Shamrock, Texas when we drove through it. When Taryn, Jorja and Anna Rose knocked on the door to my mind and told me their stories, I had to write the book.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

My characters come to me and whisper their stories in my ear as I write. They always surprise me as I get to know them. Jorja was the sweet natured one, but when push came to shove, she could hold her own, especially when her cousins showed her that, despite their differences, they would support her. But she wasn’t the only one who brought baggage to Shamrock, Texas with her–Anna Rose and Taryn had their fair share to unpack also.

What was your favorite scene to write?

I loved writing about the surprise and different attitudes the three cousins had the morning that Clinton brought a baby into the flower shop. Here’s a little snippet:

“A baby?” Jorja frowned. “Where did that come from?”
“I could answer that question, but your face would go up in flames,” Anna Rose teased.
“And why do you have it?” Taryn asked. “Are those witches sending you babies instead of cakes now?” She peered into the carrier to see a fat-cheeked little person infant dressed in a pink onesie. She had dark hair, thick lashes, and looked like a little angel.
Clinton shook his head with a smile. “Zoe’s mother is one of the vets I’ve been counseling and helping use her VA benefits. She’s got PTSD, and the doctors think it’s best if she goes into a rehab facility for six weeks.”
“But—” Jorja started.
“How?” Anna Rose butted in.
“She gave me temporary custody of Zoe to keep her from going into the foster system,” Clinton said and picked up a ticket. “I’ve kept her for a couple of days at a time before when her mama was having problems, so she knows me. Irene and Ruby loved having her in the shop.”
Taryn sat down on the stool beside Clinton, but she couldn’t keep from staring at the baby. Even though the baby’s eyes were closed, Taryn thought for a moment that they would be brown. She had fallen in love with a friend’s baby belonging to a friend when she was in the air force—a little girl with dark hair and brown eyes. She had often babysat her, and Taryn had cried until her eyes were swollen when Alicia’s family was sent to Germany.
Clinton picked up a ticket from the basket. “Her father’s name was Larry,” Clinton went on to say. “I knew him very well.”
“Was?” Taryn asked.
“He was killed when an IED went off under the Humvee he was driving. Rebecca had finished her second enlistment and had been sent back to the States a few months earlier. She was six months pregnant when Larry was killed. His time was up in another month, and as soon as he got home and discharged, they were going to get married. His death put her in a tailspin that she can’t seem to crawl up out of.”
Taryn looked down at the sleeping baby and sighed. “Poor little darlin’. How old is she?”
“Four months today,” Clinton answered. “Irene and Ruby have helped me with her when I had to go out for deliveries.”
“Don’t expect me to do that,” Jorja said.
Taryn whipped around and glared at her cousin. “You teach kindergarten. You have to like kids.”
“I like them just fine.” Jorja met her gaze with one just as cold. “After they are potty-trained and won’t throw up on me. I’ll wait on the front, do floral arrangements, or even clean the bathroom, but don’t ask me to change diapers or babysit that child. That’s why I teach the five- to eight-year-old Sunday school class. I love kids, not babies.”
“If she’s asleep, I’ll help with her,” Anna Rose said, “but I’m with Jorja on the diaper duty. No, thank you. I would like to take some pictures of her with Goldie, though. People drool over baby and kitty-cat pictures.”
“I’ll help with whatever she needs, and if you’ve got evening appointments, I’ll babysit her,” Taryn said.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

I could imagine pain and emotional upheaval in Clinton’s heart when Rebecca returned for Zoe. The cousins had gotten attached to the baby as much as he had, and now he had to tell them that she was gone. A little snippet from that day:

“I’m worried whether you are ready for this step,” Clinton told Rebecca.
“I’m fine. The therapy helped, and it’s time for me to move on,” Rebecca assured him. “Where’s that trash bag I brought the rest of her things in?”
She pushed a strand of red hair back behind her ear. Her blue eyes darted around the room, looking for the used trash bag. Clinton wanted to help her, but it was evident that she just wanted to take Zoe and run.
“I threw it away when I unpacked her things.” Clinton picked Zoe up from the playpen and hugged her close to his chest. “There’s a whole roll under the kitchen sink. Rebecca, you can’t run from your problems. You’ve got to face them and get better before you can be a mother to this baby.”
Her hands shook as she peeled off a single bag from the roll and threw the baby’s neatly folded things into it helter-skelter. “We don’t have room in the car to take her playpen or anything else, and Kyla’s waiting for me, so I need to hurry.” She reached out her hands for Zoe. “Thank you for all your help, but a new place with down-to-earth, healthy people is what I need, not listening to a bunch of people depressing me with their war stories.”
Clinton couldn’t let go of the baby. “Please, Rebecca, leave her with me until you get settled, and then I’ll bring her over to Arkansas myself, along with whatever she needs. She’s outgrowing the playpen. Why don’t I just buy her a crib and bring it at that point?”
Rebecca took the baby from him and shook her head. “Thanks again for everything and for the offer, but she’s my daughter.” She slung the bulging diaper bag over her shoulder, held on to Zoe with one arm, and opened the door. Within seconds, her new friend from the center had gotten out of an older-model car and come to the bottom of the stairs. The woman looked as frazzled as Rebecca; she couldn’t stand still, and her whole body seemed to hum with anxiety. Clinton had seen soldiers in that shape when they had severe PTSD. Knowing that Zoe was leaving with Rebecca and that woman caused his chest to tighten.
Rebecca hitched up sweatpants that seemed to be at least two sizes too big for her, picked up the garbage bag, and tossed it out the door to the landing. When she stepped outside, she kicked it to the bottom of the steps and yelled, “Throw that in the trunk, and we’re ready to go once I get her car seat out of Clinton’s truck.”
“I’ll do that for you,” Clinton offered as they walked down the steps.
“I can do it,” Rebecca said, shifting the baby to her other hip. “I don’t want to listen to you try to talk me out of what I’m doing. The little commune in the hills of Arkansas will be a good place for me and Kyla both to heal from our problems. My baby will grow up with a mama who is there for her.”
Dread and hope warred in Clinton’s gut as he picked up his truck keys and opened the doors. “If you ever need anything or change your mind, you’ve got my phone number.”

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

I would say that this book showcases my style. Women empowering women, and helping each other through tough times.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’m working on a women’s fiction book now, and when I finish it, I will go right into the third book in a trilogy that debuts in September.
Upcoming releases are:
Paradise for Christmas – October 10, 2023
On the Way to Us – December 12, 2023
Meadow Falls – January 9, 2024

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

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Excerpt from The Lucky Shamrock:

“No, no, no!” Taryn slapped the steering wheel with each word. Nana Irene hadn’t said anything about bringing her two cousins, Jorja and Anna Rose, back to Shamrock for the summer. But right there, parked in front of the flower shop, was were Jorja’s car, with its “Honk If You Love Jesus” bumper sticker, and Anna Rose’s truck, with its own statement to the world stuck to the back window: “Forget the Blarney Stone. Kiss a Cowboy.” Taryn jerked her phone off the dash holder in her SUV and called her grandmother.
“Are you there yet?” Irene asked.
“I’m here, but I’m not sure I’m even going in,” Taryn answered.
Irene laughed. “Suck it up, buttercup. You’ll be so busy that you’ll be glad for their help. I’ve put Clinton McEntire on the payroll as a full-time employee, too. It’ll take all four of you to keep up with the weddings and funerals this summer, on top of the small jobs.”
“Can I live in the upstairs apartment?” Taryn asked.
“Nope, I gave that space to Clinton last fall, when he came home from the service,” Irene said. “You’ll be living in the trailer out back with your two cousins. Believe me, they aren’t happy with the arrangement, either, but you’re three grown women. You don’t have to like each other, but you do have to work together till I get back. I’ve taken the guns out of the shop, so the only things there for the next few weeks are floral knives and a hammer in the storage room. We’ll see y’all on Saturday for a late lunch. One o’clock. Other than that, don’t be calling me every day. Learn to get along and work together. Bye, now.”
Taryn laid her head on the steering wheel for several minutes, then raised up and sighed. She’d promised Nana Irene that she would help run the flower shop—the Lucky Shamrock—after Nana’s best friend, Ruby, had fallen and broken her hip, and Taryn wasn’t one to go back on her word. Truth was, she was afraid of the lecture she’d get from her grandmother if she did, so she had no choice but to suck it up. She’d worked in the flower shop, right along with Anna Rose and Jorja, every summer since before she was old enough to go on the payroll. Nana Irene had given the three of them a generous allowance to help her in the summer months. She was of the firm belief that working together helped build friendships; Taryn thought that might have been the only time her grandmother had been dead wrong about an issue.
“She also said it was to teach us responsibility and to keep us out of trouble. The first part worked. The second, not so much—at least in mine and Anna Rose’s stories. Jorja didn’t do so bad, but then, she loves Jesus more than we do,” Taryn muttered as she got out of her vehicle.
A soft breeze ruffled the petunia blossoms in the hanging baskets on either side of the door into the shop. Nana Irene had taught her that there were some plants that could withstand the hot western sun of the Texas Panhandle in early summer, but nothing would survive the scorch of July and August. Taryn made a mental note to take the baskets inside before that time came. She opened the door, heard the familiar jingle of the bells, and did her best to put a smile on her face.
Anna Rose looked up from behind the counter and frowned. “It’s about time you got here. We’ve got a funeral on Wednesday, and we’re swamped. I’ve been running back and forth between making a wreath in the back room and coming up here to take orders.”
“I’m ready to go to work.” Taryn wedged her purse beside two others on the shelf under the counter. One was pink with a Bible verse embroidered on the front. The leather one beside it was embellished with sparkly gemstones. “Where is Jorja?”
“She’s in the back. We’re taking turns waiting on customers.” Anna Rose tucked a strand of her curly chestnut-brown hair up into the messy bun on top of her head. She wore skinny jeans with a top that hugged her curvy body and showed just a little bit of cleavage. Her green eyes—the only thing all three cousins had inherited from their Irish roots—twinkled with mischief, just like always.
“Isn’t this awesome?” Jorja came out from the back room with a big smile on her face and wrapped Taryn up in a hug. “God is really good to give us this time together.”
Except for the eyes, no one would have ever guessed that Jorja was related to the other two women. She was tall and slender, and she wore her blonde hair in two thick braids that were wrapped around her head like a crown. Somewhere, there was a nice figure, but Jorja hid it under what folks called mom jeans and a baggy chambray shirt that buttoned up the front. Taryn knew because she’d seen Jorja in a swimsuit before they all grew up and split seven ways to Sunday, as her grandmother had often complained.
Jorja took a step back. “We’re making the flowers for poor Miz Leona Gatlin. She only needed a few days to reach her hundredth birthday, but the Lord decided it was time to take her home.” Her tone reminded Taryn of the day they had found a dead bird on the porch of the trailer and Jorja insisted that they bury the poor thing and have a funeral. Anna Rose had dug a shallow grave with a spoon she borrowed from the kitchen. Jorja had wrapped the bird in a paper towel and said a few words over him—and her voice sounded the same this morning, even though more than twenty years had passed.
Anna Rose rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and pursed her full lips. Evidently, she was already tired of listening to religion, but Jorja was probably tired of listening to bar stories and jokes. Taryn just nodded and hoped that they each took that to mean she understood.
“Well, I suppose . . . ,” Taryn started, but stopped when a tall man with black hair darkened the doorway.
“Hello,” he drawled as he stuck out his hand. “I’m Clinton McEntire. You must be Taryn.”
She shook hands with him. “Yes, I am, and I understand that you’ll be here, too, until Nana Irene can come back to work?”
“That’s right. Miz Irene gave me a job delivering flowers for her after I left the military last fall. When we didn’t have deliveries, she and Ruby taught me the business,” he answered. “I’m just part-time here, but Irene wants me to work full-time at least until the end of summer.”
“She usually knows what’s best,” Taryn said. “I understand that we’ve got a funeral this week, so I guess we’d better get busy.” She headed toward the back room, where all the work went on.
Clinton moved to the side to let her pass and then followed her. Nana Irene hadn’t told her that he had a limp—or that he was one of those tall, dark, and handsome guys Taryn was attracted to. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing tight-fitting jeans and boots, or Anna Rose would have already staked a claim. Not that Taryn was thinking about flirting with him—oh, no. Never. She had a steadfast rule about dating men whom she worked with. Even though the last fiasco had been several years before, she remembered what could and did happen when things went south in a relationship, and she still had to work with the fellow. Nana Irene’s favorite saying, Don’t shit where you eat, came to mind. That applied to life in general, for sure.
Clinton sat down on a tall stool behind the worktable. “Y’all know the system. Orders are in that basket. Miz Irene says that you take the top one, and you don’t get to pick and choose.”
Jorja pointed to a half-done wreath. “That’s what I’m working on. The order of things around here hasn’t changed in the past ten years.”
Anna Rose put a pink-and-white-striped bow on the bottom front of a wreath and set it to the side, then grabbed the ticket on at the top of the basket. “This one is for a peace lily. All I have to do is make a bow and fill out a card.”
Taryn took the next order. “A bouquet of pink and white carnations,” she said as she opened the glass-front cooler and took out a half a dozen of each, along with some feathery greenery. She remembered Leona Gatlin very well and had helped make her a birthday bouquet a couple of times back when she worked in the shop with her grandmother.
Taryn was thinking about Leona’s deep southern accent and all the stories she’d told about living down on the bayou as she laid her flowers on the table, picked out a pretty white vase, and sat down on the only vacant stool—the one beside Clinton. Anna Rose twisted wire around a pale pink ribbon across the table from her. Jorja was cutting the stems from pink roses and placing them on a heart-shaped wreath. Clinton had finished the greenery for the base of the casket piece and had begun to add an array of different flowers—from roses to carnations and even hydrangeas and orchids.
“Miz Leona did love pink,” Jorja said.
“The funeral is going to look like a gender-reveal party.” Anna Rose glanced around at a dozen arrangements and threw up both palms in a jazz-hands gesture. “The baby is a girl!”
Jorja shot a dirty look her way. “That’s disrespectful.”
“I was making a joke,” Anna Rose defended herself.
Jorja stuck her nose in the air. “Well, it’s not funny.”
Here we go, Taryn thought as she looked up at the clock. Less than ten minutes into the morning, and they’re already arguing.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

New York Times bestselling author Carolyn Brown’s bighearted novel about family, secrets, small-town Texas romance, and—with a little bit of luck—starting over.

Family doesn’t mean everyone has to like each other. That’s the case when cousins Taryn, Anna Rose, and Jorja return to Shamrock, Texas, to help manage their grandmother’s flower shop, the Lucky Shamrock. The reunion isn’t exactly a beautiful arrangement—considering they’re as compatible as ranchers and coyotes.

Thank heaven for a handsome go-between like Clinton, who lives above the shop. The easygoing war vet, and most eligible bachelor in Wheeler County, is now throwing romance into the mix and setting the local women to gossiping. But as the hot months wear on, hidden secrets begin to surface for the temperamental Irish trio. And it’s bringing them closer together than they ever thought possible.

With a flurry of weddings, a love story in the making, a surprise baby, and crazy good fortune, maybe that shamrock painted on the window does bring luck. Because for Taryn, Anna Rose, and Jorja, this could be the summer that’ll change their lives forever.

Book Links: Amazon | B&N |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Carolyn Brown is a New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Publisher’s Weekly and #1 Amazon and #1 Washington Post bestselling author. She is the author of more than 100 novels and several novellas. She’s a recipient of the Bookseller’s Best Award, Montlake Romance’s prestigious Montlake Diamond Award, and a three-time recipient of the National Reader’s Choice Award. Brown has been published for more than 25 years, and her books have been translated 21 foreign languages, and have sold more than 10 million copies worldwide.
When she’s not writing, she likes to take road trips with her husband, Mr. B, and her family, and she plots out new stories as they travel.
Visit her at www.carolynbrownbooks.com
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