posted on September 17, 2020 by Shelly Douglas

 Risqué Business

In Trained by Her Daddy, the heroine is a twenty-four-year-old crime fiction novelist who wants to write stories within the Daddy Dom genre. Unfortunately, Lori’s publisher knew her lack of success was due to an absence of knowledge in the alternative lifestyle. Of course, in real life— there is a plethora of romance authors who possess an abundance of expertise on the subject, and they love blogging about their escapades. My guess is they do with the hope of attracting more fans who enjoy reading racy blog material. What reader doesn’t want an author to be immersed in the same risqué lifestyle they pen?

In full disclosure, this is not your typical blog post. But it is a true story.

Four years ago, my husband Mike and I were invited to a party to watch the Kentucky Derby— I was asked to wear a large hat and bring a batch of my homemade brownies. For those you who’ve never seen me—I look absolutely ridiculous in any type of hat and hoped the rich confection would make up for my comical appearance. The brownies are a recipe of Ina Garten’s which is pinned daily from my Pinterest page. The chocolatey dessert is delicious, and you’ll want to bake a batch.

They might come in handy someday.

While we were at the party, a friend of mine asked if I could supply her with a pan of brownies as a gift for one of her customers. Naturally, I said yes—so we chose a date and officially sealed our agreement with a hug. A month later, we decided to meet on a Friday night at a convenient location. She already had dinner plans with her family, and I was meeting my former co-writer, Doug and his wife. When Mike and I got to the restaurant, we quickly took a pan of brownies to my friend JoAnn and kept one for our table—hoping the chef would create us sundaes from my decadent dessert.

After trotting over to the patio, the drinking commenced. Doug and his wife both ordered a glass of chardonnay while Mike and I chose to toast the end of the week with vodka. After two glasses of Ketel on the rocks with the juice of one cranberry, I spotted my friend coming toward us with an envelope in her hand. Assuming she was carrying a gift card for me, I stood to thank her—and she whispered in my ear.

“Where are the brownie edges?”

“Whatever do you mean?” I uttered innocently, tilting my head to the side.

“There aren’t any edges on the brownies. Not only are they Guy’s favorite, but they’re the best part. Come on, Shelly—everyone knows they’re chewy, fudgy and delicious. So, what in the hell happened to them?”

“No one gets my edges, JoAnne.”


I shook my head. “Nope. I bag and freeze them for emergencies.”

“Whoever heard of a brownie emergency? You better come up with something better than that— I was really looking forward to them.”  Her lips curved downward and after hesitating, she finally handed me the envelope.

Doug inched his chair closer to where JoAnn and I were standing. Of course, my friend the busybody was dying to hear our conversation. For a man, he’s such a yenta.

I threw him a quick smirk and then swiveled to face my friend. Let the record show, I never made eye contact with Mike. “Okay. Here’s the truth. When Mike is in a frisky mood, and I’m not—I feed him brownie edges.”

As she gazed at me in disbelief, I saw Doug’s eyes twinkle. There was no doubt he was operating on high alert, and I was certain he’d use the information against me some day.

“It’s why I’m stingy with the edges. I always keep a batch in the freezer, you know—in case of an emergency.”

“That’s it? That’s the brownie emergency?”

Most of us laughed out loud (except for Mike), and the next thing I knew we were all served brownie sundaes, sans the edges, courtesy of the restaurant chef. For the time being, it took everyone’s mind off my big mouth—but as a punishment for my indiscretion, Mike decided I should give Doug the frozen edges I’d stored at home. Do you have any idea how long it takes to fill a bag with small-edged pieces? I don’t have too many not in the mood moments, but it happens on occasion, and those little delicacies are like storing gold in my freezer.

Stop booing out there—even someone who pens romantic novels isn’t always in the mood.

The next year, I found myself at another Kentucky Derby party sporting another large ridiculous hat. JoAnn wasn’t there, but my friend Diane once again requested I bring a pan of brownies. As usual I siphoned off a few for Mike, but since everyone knew my secret (who in Western Pennsylvania didn’t know), I decided to leave most of the edges on. After all, Diane was a longtime friend.

“I’ll remove the edges and toss them in the freezer for you.” We were in the process of cleaning up the dinner buffet, so I went into the drawer and took the liberty of pulling out a large Ziploc bag.

“What are you talking about, Shelly?”

“Really? You don’t know?” I whispered, peering around her kitchen like a double-knot spy.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“The next time your hubby is in the mood and you’re not—pop a few edges in his mouth. They’re an instant channel changer.”

Watching her jaw unhinge in surprise, I slowly turned and walked away.

Several mint juleps later, Doug and I were discussing a blog hop, and we decided to include an innocent bystander into the conversation. After all, you never know who might buy a book in the romantic genre. In minutes, a crowd formed around us—and from a distance Mike’s eyes burned into me as I educated a small group of interested men about Daddy Dom stories.

“Is it my imagination, or am I hearing my name echoing around the room?” I asked Doug without moving my lips.

“It’s not your imagination. You’re a popular subject, kiddo.”

I was feeling tired, and it was time to call it a night before my mouth got me into more trouble. There was no doubt Mike had been observing my every move, and I figured it was time to head home. I thanked Diane for dinner, and she thanked me for the brownies.

“I hope you still have some edges stored in the freezer,” she said, watching me yawn. “You’re going to need them tonight.”


*Thanks so much for reading my story. A random reader will have the chance to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card just by commenting on this post.  I’m always interested in hearing what you think!







Shelly Douglas

Shelly Douglas

Born, raised, and still residing in Western Pennsylvania, USA Today bestselling author Shelly Douglas creates fiction that is a combination of her actual experiences and a fantasy world which she’s been immersing herself in since she was a young girl. Her books usually involve authentic personalities engaged in a struggle with who they really are on the inside, and she makes sure that her heroes and heroines always find a happy ever after at the end of their long journey.

4 thoughts on “ Risqué Business”

  1. Who knew brownie edges could stave off a frisky husband? I wonder if it would work on mine. Funny story with a cute twist. I liked it.

  2. Avatar bn100 says:

    funny story about brownie edges

  3. Avatar Lisa Sapp says:

    Chocolate is magical! I loved reading your blog, I’m still grinning..

  4. Avatar Tina Alicea says:

    Funny story…love the blog post!!

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