Hissy Fit by Mary Kay Andrews

From the Publisher

Keeley Murdock's wedding to A.J. Jernigan should have been the social event of the season. But when she catches her fiance doing the deed with her maid of honor at the country club rehearsal dinner, all bets are off. And so is the wedding. Keeley pitches the hissy fit of the century, earning herself instant notoriety in the small town of Madison, Georgia.

Even worse is the financial pressure A.J.'s banking family brings to bear on Keeley's interior design business. But riding to the rescue — in a vintage yellow Cadillac — is the redheaded stranger who's bought a failing local bra plant. Will Mahoney hires Keeley to redo the derelict antebellum mansion he's bought. Her assignment: decorate it for the woman of his dreams — a woman he's never met.

Only a designing woman like Keeley Murdock can find a way to clear her name and give her cheating varmint of an ex-fiance the comeuppance he so richly deserves. And only Mary Kay Andrews can deliver such delicious social satire. With Hissy Fit, she's created a story as outrageous, dishy, and true as Savannah Blues and Little Bitty Lies.

Performed by Isabel Keating

Publishers Weekly

Interior decorator Keeley Rae Murdock has designed her whole life, right down to the antique Oriental rug planned for the foot of her bed. What she never counted on was discovering her fiance, A.J. Jernigan, cavorting with her maid of honor in the middle of her rehearsal dinner. She pitches a hissy fit that reverberates through her tiny hometown of Madison, Ga., and captures the attention of Will Mahoney, a newcomer who recently purchased an antebellum plantation house. Headstrong, freckled Will pressures Keeley to restore the rundown mansion within six months. His plan: to woo a woman whom he has seen only on television by designing the house of her dreams by Christmas. Keeley knows it's an insane plan, but the Jernigans are now trying to put her out of business, so she begrudgingly accepts. As the house comes together, Keeley discovers links between the Jernigan legacy of infidelity and her mother's disappearance many years ago. Darker than the book's fluffy title suggests, this black comedy is riven with shocking secrets. And Keeley's vast knowledge of all things antique offers a fascinating peek into the luscious world of designer home furnishing, sure to make readers drool with envy over sideboards and sofas. Agent, Stuart Krichevsky. (Aug. 22) Forecast: Andrews's Little Bitty Lies built on the success of Savannah Blues, and this sharp Southern treat should bump Andrews up another notch. 12-city author tour. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

When 28-year-old interior designer Keeley Murdock catches her fianc with her maid of honor at her wedding rehearsal dinner, she pitches a hissy fit worthy of the Guinness Book of World Records. Then she meets Will Mahoney, the cute new owner of the town's local bra plant, who offers her a ride home. The next day, he gives her something else-a contract to decorate the historic home he's just purchased. Money is no object, but Keeley has to figure out how to make the d cor reflect the lofty visions of Will's prospective bride (the hitch: he's never met her). Readers who enjoy books set in the South that deal with love, friendship, and getting even (e.g., Anne Klein's The Ride to Dinah's Wedding) will find themselves laughing out loud at this latest novel by Andrews (Little Bitty Lies). For fiction collections of all sizes. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 5/15/04.]-Shelley Mosley, Glendale Community Coll. Lib. Media Ctr., AZ Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Southern belle raises a ruckus. Keeley Murdock always had the best of everything-and her upcoming wedding to A.J. Jernigan is just going to be peachy. Why, each guest will receive a precious little Limoges box with the names of the bride and groom hand-lettered in genuine 14-karat gold, just for starters. They've got to do things right, since it seems like everybody spent a small fortune on her and A.J.-and when the guests get done pawing through the heap of expensive wedding gifts at the Sip 'N See tea, maybe Keeley will calm down a little. Or maybe not. Just what is her best friend and bridesmaid Paige doing with A.J. on the boardroom table at the Oconee Hills Country Club? Why is A.J. hiccupping the way he always does when he has an orgasm? It's time to burst through that door and have a good old-fashioned-you guessed it-hissy fit. The wedding is off! A.J. decamps, using their honeymoon tickets not long after. Keeley will survive, though this is a mess that even her doting daddy can't fix. He's been trying to make her life perfect ever since her mother disappeared 25 years ago. And so has Keeley, an upscale interior decorator who's awfully particular about details. But her heart's in the right place. She complains that her latest and richest client, Will Mahoney, owner of the Loving Cup bra company, is trying to export local jobs overseas (she takes his money anyway). By the way, what the hell ever happened to her mama? Did that no-account relative of slutty Paige kill her and put the body down a well? Time to dig a little deeper-in this uneasy mix of chick lit, melodrama, and little-bitty mystery from the author of Savannah Blues (2002). Competently written, but not at all sure whatit wants to be. Author tour. Agent: Stuart Krichevsky

Product Details

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Reading Group Guide

Introduction

Discussion Questions

About the author

Read a Sample Chapter

Chapter One

If it had not been for my fiance's alcoholic cousin Mookie I feel quite sure that my daddy would still be a member in good standing at the Oconee Hills Country Club. But Mookie can't drink hard liquor. She can drink beer and wine all day and all night and not bat an eyelash, but give her a mai-tai or, God forbid, a margarita, and you are asking for trouble.

It was my rehearsal dinner, which the Jernigans were hosting, and I was the bride-to-be, so I don't believe I should have been the one responsible for keeping a grown woman and mother of two away from the margarita machine, even if she was one of the bridesmaids.

Nonetheless, I was the one standing there when Mookie went spinning out of control across the dance floor, and I was the one who got sprayed with a good six ounces of strawberry margarita. And across the front of my blue raw silk Tahari dress too.

"For God's sake," snapped GiGi, my mother-in-law-to-be. She of course had neatly sidestepped Mookie, leaving her own pale pink beaded gown spotless. "I told you not to have her in the wedding. You know how she gets."

"Keeley," Mookie yelped, lunging at me with her half-empty glass. "I am sooooo sorry. Let me help you get cleaned up."

She proceeded to dump the rest of her drink down my back.

"It's fine," I said, gritting my teeth. "Just a little spot."

Mookie's mother, who is used to this kind of behavior, snatched her up by the arm and started dragging her toward the door so she wouldn't cause any more of a scene, and all the women closed ranks around me, dabbing and fussing until I wanted to scream.

Actually, I'd been wanting to scream for several weeks now.

Enough! Enough parties. Enough presents. Enough luncheons and teas, enough sappy wedding showers, enough family and friends oohing and aahing over the perfect couple.

A.J. had had enough too. "Can't we just go somewhere and screw our brains out for a couple weeks, then come back and be normal?" he'd asked the night before the rehearsal dinner.

It had been a busy week. I'd already endured the "Sip 'n See Tea," where everybody in the county came by my daddy's house to paw over my wedding loot, and the bridesmaids' luncheon where GiGi let it be known that she thought it was awful my mama hadn't been invited to the wedding. As if I even knew where Mama had been living for the past twenty-some years.

And that was just the solo stuff. That very night A.J. and I had suffered through the "His 'n Her Barbecue Shower" given by one of his former fraternity brothers.

At the time he asked this question, A.J. was modeling the Hot Stuff! barbecue apron and padded oven mitt, which had been a shower gift from his Aunt Norma. To be perfectly honest, A.J. was naked under the apron. And he wasn't wearing the mitt where his Aunt Norma had intended.

I had A.J. backed into the corner with the barbecue tongs, and then one thing led to another, and pretty soon we were rolling around on the floor of his apartment, and my chef's hat came off along with the rest of my clothes, and the next thing you know, A.J. was having one of his attacks.

"Hee-upp! Hee-upp." His whole body arched backward. I pushed him away, not startled really. A.J. gets like that sometimes when he's, uh, in the throes.

"Breathe, baby, breathe," I instructed, slithering out from under him.

"No," he managed, between hiccups. "Don't stop, Keeley." He tried to pull me back down. "Come on. I'll be all right."

"Hee-upp! Hee-upp! Hee-upp." His body jerked violently with each hiccup. I was afraid he'd hurt himself. Hell, I was afraid he'd hurt me. Not to mention that I don't find fits of uncontrollable hiccups much of a turn-on. Not even when the hiccupper is the love of my life.

I scrambled to my feet, ran to the sink, and filled a cup with water. "Come on, A.J.," I said, helping him to his feet. "It's better if you stand up. Come on, sugar, drink some water for Keeley."

"I (hee) don't (up) want any damn hee-uppp! water," A.J. stuttered. But he took a sip anyway.

"Another one," I urged, rubbing his bare back. He caught my free hand and slid it down his belly. The man never stops trying.

"No, now," I said, giggling and moving away. He pulled me back toward him. I held out the cup. "Not until you drink all this water."

He frowned but started sipping.

"Go slower," I said. "You know it's the only thing that works."

"I know what works," he said, getting that look in his eye again. "Come back over here and rub on me again."

But I'd picked up my clothes and was already hurrying into the bedroom to get dressed.

"Hey!" he called after me. "That wasn't the deal."

I pushed the button on the doorknob. "I know," I called through the locked door. "I tricked you."

By the time he found the key to the bedroom door I was just zipping my skirt.

"Aw, Keeley," he said, his lip thrust out in that adorable pout of his. "I wanted us to do it one more time tonight."

I tried to kiss the pout away, but he wasn't having it.

"A.J.," I said, pushing his hands away from the button he was unfastening.

"Now, really. The wedding's just a few days away. I have an early morning meeting and a ton of stuff to do. I can't be staying over here fooling around with you all night."

"Come on, baby," he whispered, sliding the zipper on my skirt down while pushing my skirt up toward my waist. "Once we're married, it won't be as much fun as this. We'll be all legal and stuff."