Wedding Whoopsies in the Month of June ~ by M.J. Schiller #RomanceGems

Ahh, June. The fairer month. June for me means two things which can seem contradictory, freedom and commitment.


Freedom because the school year's over. To celebrate, on the last day of school, I would always blast Alice Cooper's "School's Out" (for the summer) in our carpool on the way home. There I'd have waiting my Peanut Buster Parfait Ice Cream dessert to make things even more festive. After the daily grind of the school year, a much-deserved break was welcome.

June also means commitment to me. The commitment I made to my husband on our wedding day. On June 3rd we celebrated our 33rd anniversary. (Man it feels weird to say that!) I wanted to share a few memories with you of that day...

All weddings are going to have their glitches. Some big, some not so big. We had our fair share. The first thing was the fact that, through miscommunication, one of the bridesmaids showed up having not altered her dress to tea-length as the others had. She was distraught, believing she'd "ruined" the wedding. Luckily a quick-thinking florist provided floral tape to adjust the dress to the proper length and save the day.

I was walked down the aisle by my stepfather on one side, my dad on the other. During the rehearsal we'd worked out that I would turn to my stepdad first, he would lift the veil and give me a kiss and then I would turn to my dad. But I was so nervous--shaking with more fervor than a Latin dancer--that I blanked out and turned to my dad first. He just said, "Honey, you're supposed to have RJ lift the veil." Minor mistake. I was counting the fact that I'd even made it down the aisle as a win.

Our next little hiccup was sort of just that. One of my bridesmaids was extremely pregnant and felt so nauseous she had to step away. But she did it so discretely I barely noticed that. (Although she also cried and said she'd ruined the wedding. Weddings are very emotional days all around.)

I didn't notice Lori's exit, but I certainly did notice the moment my nightmare came true. I had a dream the night before that our best man, Tate, dropped the ring and it rolled under the pews and for some reason, I had to get down in my dress and crawl around searching for it. "Umm...excuse me. Excuse me. Pardon me. Just searching for a ring..."

I have to explain that the best man's real name is Jerry, but everyone calls him Tater, or Tate for short. The name Tater does not inspire a lot of confidence or call to mind someone who is the portrait of responsibility. And our boy is a true Tater. I have never seen him serious a day in his life. So, as you can see, I had reason to be worried about him. During our real ceremony, the priest asked for the rings and I heard a ding. Unbelievably, Tate had dropped the ring, but he scooped it up on the first bounce and in one fluid movement put it on the plate provided for blessing it. I've gotta tell you, though, my heart stopped beating for a moment there.

The rest of the ceremony went fairly well, but I had made a fatal error. I should have worried about more than Tater dropping the rings. Like the fact that they were in his possession and had a very personal message engraved inside them. The cat was pretty much out of the bag, though, when we went out to our car and it was covered in shaving cream reading "D-bear (my husband) and Bubba (you're right, I have no right to question the name Tater) forever." What a schmuck I was!

But, I was married to my best friend, so nothing could phase me...until I searched for the car keys. My mom, in an effort to help, had taken my purse to the reception venue. (And remember, these were the days before cellphones.) I remember thinking, "There's a party going on for us. Too bad we're not there." I don't remember how we worked things out, but we eventually did.

At the end of the night, one of our dear friends (come to think of it, his name is Jerry, too) locked his keys in the car. We spent part of our wedding night sitting on the curb with Jerry until a locksmith came. But Jerry was and is hysterical, so that wasn't a problem.

Shoo! What a day to remember! If I had to do it over again, I would be more than happy to rush down that aisle to my handsome groom. However, I would probably rethink my inscription on the ring.

Well, thanks for listening to me reminisce. What wedding snafus have you been witness to? Come on! I know I'm not the only one.

Hope the rest of your June rocks! -mj

My Grandparents by @KaraONealAuthor #RomanceGems

My grandmother was a teacher and a working mom in a time when women didn't do that. She was an English teacher for 30 years and ended up being Regional Teacher of the Year. She was a Kansas Princess who became a Texan's wife. She started and maintained the public library in her town, and she owned over 1000 books herself. Which she organized into her own personal card catalog. And boy howdy, was she smart. Playing Twenty Questions with her was like...well...the hardest thing ever.

My granddad, her husband, was a pharmacist. He took over his father's confectionary shop when he got home from WWII -- he was a Sea Bee -- and put a pharmacy in it. It was a drug store, complete with a soda fountain and booths and swivel seats. And Blue Bell ice cream. He was a hard worker. Gentle. Kind. And his parents were from Spain -- but that's a story for another time.

My grandma grew up picking cotton. She quit school when she was in 3rd grade in order to help her family pick cotton. They moved around a lot. She was German, Texan, sweet as jam and pie, and couldn't raise her voice. Even when she tried. She had three rowdy boys -- and I do mean rowdy -- and she couldn't holler at them. She could cook like you would not believe and playing scrabble with her was impossible. She won every time.

My grandpa started working when he was 12. He had twelve brothers and sisters and he had to make money. He was the second oldest and worked on a diary farm. All the money he made he sent home. His employer fed him, and he slept in the loft. He was German, hard-nosed, hard-working, and a Sergeant in the Army during WWII. He died on Thanksgiving Day.

I've been thinking about them a lot lately. Probably because of the holiday. I hosted Thanksgiving this year. It was my second opportunity to host.

I also happen to be the keeper of many of my grandmother's and grandma's things.

I served the turkey on my grandmother's Thanksgiving platter, and we ate off of her wedding china. I sat at her Duncan Five table and in her folding chairs. And all of the platters and china I used are stored in my grandma's china cabinet.

This Thanksgiving was a sweet and blessed day. I felt so very close to all four of them. Losing my grandpa on Thanksgiving was tough. He died in 1998, the year I got married. He's been gone for awhile now, so I can think of him without tears, but that love/pain is there in my chest. I miss him. I miss all of them. They're all gone now, but I know they watch over me.

I also ended up dedicating my most recent book to them. It's weird how things work out. The story got me thinking about them because, well, the heroine, Truly Cunningham, gets married on Christmas day. And my grandma got married on Christmas day. That's the day my grandpa had off from work. The only day, in fact.

There's so much more I could say about these four people. Even now, I thank them often for being there for me and shaping me into the person I am.

The Christmas Bride released on November 21st! It is $0.99 cents and ready to help you snuggle up and get cozy during this upcoming winter season!

The Christmas Bride

Historical Romance

Truly Cunningham flees after her fiancé jilts her for her sister. With nowhere to go, she ends up in Pike’s Run, Texas, hiding in the town’s opulent Royal Hotel. As she nurses her pain, finding no comfort in the Christmas season, she is slowly running out of funds. She must find a way to support herself or return to Dallas where her sister is the wife Truly had planned to be.

Alfred Taylor, manager of the Royal Hotel, hates Christmas. The decorations. The celebrations. The presents. All of it. And he must help the Ladies’ Auxiliary put on the Christmas Eve social. The only bright spot is the presence of a new guest, Truly Cunningham. She is beautiful, mysterious, and warming parts of his heart he thought dead.

When Truly asks for a position in his hotel as hostess of the establishment, Alfred immediately hires her. Which becomes dangerous. He can’t stay away from her, and even worse, wants to spill his secrets. Will he lose his one chance at happiness, or will Christmas finally give him the hope it promises?