Odd Mom Out
Contents
PRAISE FOR JANE PORTER’S NOVELS
Copyright © 2007 by Jane Porter
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
5 Spot
Hachette Book Group USA
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at www.5-spot.com.
First eBook Edition: September 2007
Summary: “Jane Porter returns with another entertaining tale of a bohemian, single working mother who finds herself at odds with the stay-at-home, alpha moms”—Provided by publisher.
ISBN: 0-446-40290-7
1. Single mothers—Fiction. 2. Working mothers—Fiction. 3. Stay-at-home mothers—Fiction. I. Title.
PRAISE FOR JANE PORTER’S NOVELS
ODD MOM OUT
“Jane Porter knows how to scoop the reader into the palm of her hand. She knows her characters intimately and makes sure the readers get to know them, too.”
—Stella Cameron,
New York Times
bestselling author
“Nobody understands the agony and ecstasy of single parenting better than Jane Porter. Alternately funny and touching, ODD MOM OUT champions a woman’s right to be herself, even at a PTA meeting.”
—Vicki Lewis Thompson,
New York Times
bestselling author
“Fresh, fun, and real, Jane Porter’s writing is a delight!”
—Carly Phillips,
New York Times
bestselling author
FLIRTING WITH FORTY
“Calorie-free accompaniment for a pool-side daiquiri.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Strongly recommended. [Jane] Porter’s thoughtful prose and strong characters make for an entertaining and thought-provoking summer read.”
—
Library Journal
“This is an interesting coming-of-age story . . . It asks the questions, how much should we risk to find happiness, and is happiness even achievable in the long run? True-to-life dialogue and, more important, true-to-life feelings.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“An interesting May-December . . . romance between two nice individuals who . . . must defy societal relationship taboos of the older woman and much younger man. Readers will want the best for Jackie . . . fans will enjoy this fine look [as] Jackie gets her groove (or does she?).”
—Midwest Book Review
“Don’t miss the sexy story of Jackie, a forty-year-old divorced mother who finds a romance she wasn’t even looking for with a much younger man.”
—Complete Woman
“A terrific read! A wonderful, life and love affirming story for women of all ages.”
—Jayne Ann Krentz,
New York Times
bestselling author
THE FROG PRINCE
“Witty, smart, sophisticated . . . I loved this book!”
—Christine Feehan,
New York Times
bestselling author
“Entertaining and witty . . . tugs the heartstrings in a big way.”
—Booklist
“A painfully funny, utterly true story for every woman who has ever wondered what happens after the fairy tale ends. I absolutely loved this book!”
—Susan Wiggs,
USA Today
bestselling author
“Porter . . . has a great ear for dialogue. She offers a fresh twist on the ‘broken heart and personal renaissance’ theme of so many chick-lit novels.”
—Seattle Times
“Witty and fun.”
—
San Francisco Chronicle
“Filled with vibrant, interesting characters, the world of
The Frog Prince
leaps off the page and keeps readers enthralled.”
—Kristin Harmel, author of
How to Sleep with a Movie Star
“There’s real heart in this book . . . enjoyable reading for those wondering what comes after the happily ever after.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“A winner! It will make you stand up and cheer.”
—Anne Lum, WritersUnlimited.com
ALSO BY JANE PORTER
The Frog Prince
Flirting with Forty
Dedicated to my mother, Mary Elizabeth Lyles Higuera. Thank you for teaching me all things are possible (although it will probably take a lot of hard work).
Being a single mom requires courage as well as immense support, and I couldn’t do what I do, or write what I write, if it weren’t for friends and family who (try to) keep me sane: my brilliant sister Kathy Porter for knowing me since birth and still enjoying my company; Jamette Windham, who somehow manages to organize my home and my life; the gifted University of Washington graduate Lindsey Marsh, for taking such good care of my boys—and me—these past few years; the dedicated Leena Hyat of Author Sound Relations for making sure my writer life doesn’t take over my home life; and finally, the one and only, and very funny, Lorrie Hambling (who really needs to star in a book of her own), for making sure I always have somewhere to go for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter dinner . . . as well as when the power goes out.
Odd Mom Out
was inspired by real women, women like Lucy Mukerjee, who was once my editor in London and now works in the movie biz in Hollywood, and Liza Elliott-Ramirez, founder and president of Expecting Models (Liza inspired me so much that I had to include her in my book). Lucy and Liza, I love seeing women take the world by storm. Brava!
To my true-blue writer friends Susanna Carr, CJ Carmichael, Barbara Dunlop, Elizabeth Boyle, and Lilian Darcy—thank you for trudging through the publishing peaks and valleys with me.
To my wonderful Bellevue friends, who nearly all juggle work and mommy hats—Joan, Lisa, Sinclair, Kristiina, Janie, Cheryl, Julie, Mary, Wendy—keep on keeping on.
To my beautiful young nieces Krysia Sikora, Maddie Porter, Betsy Porter, and Callen Porter—may you grow up to be brave, creative, and tenacious. (And never forget crazy Aunt Jane loves you.)
To young girls, young women, and old girls—don’t be afraid to go for it. Expect to get knocked down. Just make sure to get up again.
To my very own maverick, Ty Gurney, thanks for continuing the long-distance romance. It’s always interesting and it’s certainly an adventure. You’re my guy.
To my editor, Karen Kosztolnyik, and my agent, Karen Solem, thank you for helping me write the books I want and need to write. This is what I’ve always wanted to do.
And last but not least, this book is for you, my readers. Thank you for all your letters and insights and support. I want to be a better writer for you.
“Mom, can you still wear white if you’re not a virgin?”
My nine-year-old daughter, Eva, knows the perfect way to get my full attention.
I push up my sunglasses and look at her hard. This is supposed to be a special mother-daughter day. I took off work to bring her to the country club pool, but lately, being Eva’s mother is anything but relaxing. “Do you know what a virgin is?”
“Yes.” She sounds so matter-of-fact.
“
How?
” I demand, because I sure as hell didn’t tell her. My most gruesome memory is my mother sitting me down on my bed and explaining in horrendous detail “the story of the sperm and the ovum.” I’ve vowed to find a better way to introduce Eva to the story but haven’t found it yet. “You’ve had sex ed already at school?”
Eva sighs heavily. “No, Mom, that’s in fifth grade. I’ve still got a year. But I read a lot. Between Judy Blume and Paul Zindel, I know everything.”
That’s as scary a statement as I’ve ever heard. “So you know about sex?”
“Yes.” Her lips compress primly beneath the brim of her straw hat. It’s actually my hat, but she claimed it once we sat down.
I push my sunglasses even higher so they rest on top of my head. “You know about getting your period?”
“Yes.”
“You know how babies are made?”
“Doesn’t that fall under the sex question?”
Wow. She does seem to know quite a bit, and I watch her as she returns to the magazine she’s reading.
“This is so ick,” she says in disgust, turning a page in the bridal magazine on her lap. She brought three bridal magazines to the pool today and has been riveted for the last few hours by the oversize glossy publications. “There’s nothing nice in here at all.”
“Which magazine is that?”
“
Seattle Bride.
” She tosses aside the slender magazine with a contemptuous snort and reaches for another. “They don’t know how to do weddings in Seattle. The styles are so ugly. The best weddings are always in the South.”
I can’t stop staring at her. So hard to believe this little girl came from me.
“So, Mom, back to my question,” she says, flipping through the next magazine,
Southern Bride.
“Can nonvirgins wear white?”
“Yes,” I answer reluctantly, thinking this is a discussion I’d very much like to avoid. “It’s done all the time.”
“So you don’t have to wear ivory or pink?”
“That’s an old rule. No one follows that anymore.” Or there’d be no white weddings, either.
Eva pauses briefly to study a beaded gown with an equally ornate veil. “Obviously, virgins can’t have babies. Well, except for the Virgin Mary, but that was an exception to the rule, so if you’ve had a baby . . .” Her voice trails off as she looks up at me. “Probably not a virgin.”
“Probably not,” I agree.
“So you’re definitely not a virgin.”
“
Eva.
”
“I’m just asking.”
“It’s none of your business, but no, I’m not a virgin. Not that I had sex to make you.”
“Gross. Don’t talk about making me.”
“You’re the one talking about virgins!”
“That’s different.”
“
How?
”
“It just is. Ew.” She shudders and slams
Southern Bride
closed before turning on the lounge chair to face me, her long dark hair falling over her thin shoulders. She’s so skinny that her hipbones jut out and her long legs look vaguely storklike. “Too bad you can’t wear white at your wedding, though, because ivory dresses are u-g-l-y. Ugly.”
I don’t know who this child is or where she came from. I know she’s biologically mine—she looks just like me at nine—but what about the rest of her DNA? Whose sperm did I buy, anyway?
“I could wear white, Eva, but I don’t have, nor do I want, a boyfriend. And the last thing I’m interested in is ever getting married.”
She sighs wearily. “But if you don’t even give marriage a try, how can you say you don’t like it?”