Monday, November 28, 2011

Liver Let Die

By Jordan McAllister

From Liver Let Die by Liz Lipperman

Hey, y’all,  I’m thrilled to be here with the wonderful ladies at Killer Characters. I’m supposed to talk about myself—maybe tell you something interesting or someplace exotic that I’ve been. I’ve got nothing other than living in a rundown apartment building with some of the wackiest people I know and love like family. Things have been somewhat  boring.

Did you ever look back on your life and want to just slap yourself?  Yeah, that pretty much describes how I felt explaining to my editor at the Ranchero Globe why I ended up in a small town fifty miles north of Dallas writing personals when I’d graduated at the top of my class with a journalism degree.

Three words—a cheating fiancé. I didn't need the editor to remind me how stupid I'd been to put my own dreams of becoming a big-time sports reporter on hold while I followed the jerk all over Texas and watched his dream become reality.

So, that’s how I ended up in Ranchero, Texas, writing personals and helping desperate women hook up after reading some redneck’s lies about himself. Loves to dance? Right. Probably doesn't have a job and still lives with his mother—thinking Norman Bates here. Needless to say, my expectations of ever being in another relationship were in the toilet.

I was beginning to think I would have to crawl back to Amarillo and listen to my parents and four brothers tell me they told me so—until my editor called me into his office. Seems the culinary reporter had been in a ski accident and would be out for six weeks rehabbing both a broken hip and arm. Needless to say, I jumped on it, despite the fact I couldn't cook myself out of macaroni and cheese box.

Did I mention my four older brothers? They’d needed me to even up the sides every day after school when they played flag football with my dad in the front yard.  Granted, I can throw a razor-sharp touchdown pass from fifty yards out, but I have yet to cook a grilled cheese sandwich without burning it. Consequently, my diet consists of fried bologna sandwiches, fast food, and Hostess Ho Hos, which I equate to Prozac.

How hard would it be to write about food as long as I didn't have to actually cook it?  No sooner had I signed on the dotted line—why, I'll never know since the man informed me there would be no increase in my already measly salary, and I still had to write the personals—that I began having serious second thoughts.

Then the editor informs me my job also includes an occasional restaurant critique, and in fact, my first one would be that night at a newly reopened steakhouse on the outskirts of town. Now might be a good time to tell you I hate steak and all fancy food. Since I had the sinking feeling I wouldn't see nachos and mozzarella sticks on the menu, I prayed at least there would be chicken.

Wearing hand-made jewelry and carrying a borrowed purse from my hippie neighbor who sold the stuff on eBay, I knew immediately after scanning the menu that I was in trouble.

"What on here isn’t red meat?" I asked the hunky waiter, explaining I was watching my cholesterol.

"Foie gras," he said. "I've never tasted it myself, but that guy over there orders every week. At this price, it has to be good."

I figured since I wasn't getting a boost in my salary, the newspaper could cough up the extra bucks for my meal. But as soon as the waiter set the plate in front of me, I knew I had made a big mistake. There was no way I could eat the foie gras, especially after hearing it was really fatty duck liver. When I thought no one was looking, I shoved the entrée into my borrowed purse, thinking I had just pulled off the con of the century.

Or did I?

Later, when the cops knocked on my door and informed me that said hunky waiter was outside my door with a knife in his back and my name and number in his shirt pocket, I had some explaining to do. What was he doing there at midnight and was I next on the murder menu?

* * *

So c'mon, did you ever look back on your life and want to just slap yourself?  

* * *

Jordan appears in LIVER LET DIE, the first of the Clueless Cook Mystery Series from Liz Lipperman and Berkley Prime Crime. BEEF STOLEN-OFF will follow in July of 2012. Liz can be found at or at her blog


  1. Yippe! I am so excited to see you here with a guest post today! My hubby picked up "Liver Let Die" for me a few weeks ago thinking it seemed like it might be a fun read (we had a little one undergoing surgery the next day and he thought it might be what the doctor ordered for me - a good, funny read in the midst of a challenging time). I haven't gotten to start it yet, but it sounds like a total riot and I am really looking forward to reading it.

    As far as looking back and wanting to slap myself, not that I recall. Oh wait! Twelve or so years ago as a 19 year old I bought a used Jeep from a car dealership and went for the extended warranty. I could've slapped myself for not just taking it into a mechanic for the once over instead of wasting my money on a warranty, that when work needed to be done, didn't cover squat. Lesson learned.

  2. Kristin, what are we both doing up at this hour?

    Kiss hubby for me for buying you my book. I hope said wee one did fine during the surgery. I think LLD might have brought a smile to your face to help. Jordan's friends are a hoot.

    As for your head slappin' moment--chalk it up to your being young. My question--was the sales guy cute?????

  3. Love Liver Let Die! Such a fun book with fabulous characters. I can't wait for the next one to comee out.

  4. Heck, I've looked back on last week and wanted to slap myself. :) I loved this post. Great post and a great book!

  5. Enjoyed the post, Liz. Great book. Great fun.


  6. I love that title! Can't wait to read this one and the rest of the series.

  7. Liz, so nice of you to share a bit of Jordan with us today.

    Jordan, yes, I've slapped myself silly. There are so many things in the past that I'd like to have changed, but life marches on, right? To the tune of ITS own drummer. LOL


  8. Welcome to Killer Characters, Liz! And Jordan -- it sounds like you're on the right track now. Just try to stay away from murder and the like.

  9. Not after reading about your life. LOL.

  10. LOL! I slap away regularly.

    What I really want to know is whether the cops found that fois gras in your purse!

    ~ Krista

  11. Hey, Kari, thanks for stopping by. I love your enthusiasm for LLD.

  12. Anita, personally, I've had way more head slapping moments than Jordan, but it sure was fun writing about hers. Thanks for commenting.

  13. Waving at Marilyn. Thanks for stopping by to check out Jordan.

  14. Hey, Janet, thanks for the nice words. And thanks for tweeting about Jordan today. I retweeted it.

  15. Avery, again thanks for inviting me to post today. And I agree, sometimes life has a whole other orchestra!!

  16. I just bought 'Liver Let Die' a couple weeks ago. It was definitely a fun read (and I love the title).

    I slap myself so regularly, I now look like a bobblehead!


  17. Erika, um no, I still find myself slapping my head. In my next adventure I butt heads with cowboys and rich ranch owners. Oy!!

  18. Oh, come on, Liz. Surely you have one bad decision you want to share!!! I saw your post and had to think for a minute why I'd written that. LOL

  19. Krista, the cops actually come the next night, and it's the foie gras that starts all the trouble for her!!

    AS for slapping yourself regularly, me too. What would life be without stuff we can look back on and laugh about later?

  20. Ellie, you sneaked that comment in while I was off answering the others. A big kiss for buying Liver Let Die and liking it. And I giggled at your bobble head analogy. It is so true. Thanks for commenting.

  21. Hi Liz! Hi Jordan! Love seeing you both here today. LIVER LET DIE was so much fun to read. Jordan is a girl after my own heart: doesn't cook, loves sports, followed a guy.

    Every 'slap myself' moment I can think of in my past involves a guy, including the guy I could slap myself for letting get away.

  22. Hey, Rochelle, now's the time to plug your blog tour which just happens to stop at my own group blog today.

    She's talking about her whirlwind first month after her debut and boy, can I relate. Jordan and I have had an insane two months. Today is the last time we'll show up until after she gets in trouble again--in July 2012.

    And isn't it the truth about all those moments involving guys? Now tell me why you can't go after the one who got away?

  23. Hi Liz,

    I loved this book and can't wait for the next one.

    I've slapped myself a couple of times and also the man that drove me to it.

  24. Hey, Dru, it's nice to see you here. LOL on slapping the culprit. Isn't it funny that men seem to be the basis for all our head slapping moments??