Read Online The Accidental Book Club by Jennifer Scott - Free Book Online

anyone but him. But that was the problem—Chuck wasn’t laying his hands on anything but the remote, and it drove Loretta crazy. Loretta’s way of dealing with it was sexy novels, inappropriate crushes, wine, and lots and lots of jokes.
    Jean poured Loretta’s wine, and they sat next to each other. “You’re full of it today,” she said, tipping her glass to clink against Loretta’s.
    “Aw, what the hell, I’m full of it every day. You’re just noticing it today.”
    “Oh, trust me, I notice it every day,” Jean said.
    The doorbell rang, followed by the sound of footsteps on the entryway tile. As always, Mitzi and Dorothy arrived together, Dorothy complaining about her sons and Mitzi offering tough-love advice that would make most people wince.
    “Hello,” Jean called out, moving into the kitchen to help them unload their food.
    “You’re back,” Dorothy exclaimed, wrapping Jean in a quick hug. “How is she?”
    Jean shrugged. “I haven’t heard a thing. I can only guess no news is good news.”
    “How odd,” Mitzi said, leaning against the counter and eating a piece of cheese. Loretta had been right—not a word about cheating. “Laura of all people. I never would have guessed. She always seemed to have it all together.”
    Jean nodded. “I never would have guessed it, either.” Jean hadn’t told them about Curt’s leaving Laura, or about Bailey’s misbehaving. She’d wanted to let Laura have some semblance of dignity. Or had she been too embarrassed herself? Was she that shallow, that she wouldn’t tell her friends about her own troubles, while they told about theirs? No, surely not. It was just about privacy.
    As they unpacked, the house began to warm up with heavenly smells—a rich tomato basil bisque, steaming in a Crock-Pot, something sweet and cinnamony in a foil-covered dish by the sink. May, and then Janet, arrived, each clutching a casserole dish in one hand and a book in the other.
    “Santa left us goodies on the doorstep, I see,” May said, setting down her cheesecakes and waving around the new book. She turned it over and read a blurb from the back. “
Provocative and timely . . . you will never look at your mother the same again
. Oooh, sounds . . .”
    “Provocative,” Loretta supplied, holding her wineglass in the air.
    “And timely,” Mitzi added, and she and Loretta giggled.
    Dorothy leaned over May’s shoulder to read more. “
Thackeray pulls the rug out from under the outdated American family model of Mother Knows Best
. Ugh, who wrote that?” she said.
    “My mother would die if she knew I was reading a Thackeray book,” Mitzi said. “He’s such a liberal, always saving this or that downtrodden somebody or other and going on about war. He’s gay too, isn’t he?”
    “Well, I don’t see why that should matter,” Dorothy said.
    “It doesn’t,” Mitzi said, a little too defensively to sound completely honest. “I’m just saying if my mother knows best, we wouldn’t be reading this guy’s book at all.”
    “We voted,” Jean reminded her, knowing Mitzi’s democratic convictions would outweigh her concerns about Thackeray. “You voted affirmative, from what I understand.”
    “Of course I did,” Mitzi said, popping a raw carrot into her mouth and moving toward the dining room with a mischievous grin. “I never did anything my mother told me to. Why would I start now?”
    “Starting with marrying Blake,” Dorothy added, picking up a carrot of her own and following her friend, her Keds looking very white against Jean’s hardwood floor.
    “Oh, yes, Mother did have a thing against Blake,” Mitzi said, pouring herself a glass of wine. She took a sip as Jean opened a second bottle and passed it down the table. “She thought he was—how did she put it?—horny as a dog with a brand-new humpin’ pillow. And worse, a Catholic.”
    The ladies burst out laughing. “Speaking of,” Loretta said, pulling Dorothy’s book toward her and opening it