Strawberry Days, High School Sweethearts, and Small-Town Life ––Small-Town Inspiration: Pleasant Grove, Utah

 People often ask where I get my inspiration for the small-town feel in my books.

While Juniper Valley is fictional, many of its heartbeats come from real places. One of those places is the town where we raised our kids: Pleasant Grove, Utah.

A place where privacy is mostly a myth. Not because people are nosy (okay, sometimes because people are nosy).

But mostly because everyone knows everyone. Your mom knows your teacher. Your teacher knows your grandparents. Your grandparents were the grand marshalls in the Strawberry Days Parade.

It’s hard to reinvent yourself in a small town because there is always someone around who remembers when you permed your hair and the vice principal called you a poodle.

Not that I’m speaking from experience…

Growing up in a small town means growing up alongside the same people year after year. We sat together in classrooms, played on the same sports teams, attended the same church activities, and showed up at the same community events.

By high school, everyone knew everyone else’s siblings, cousins, and embarrassing stories. Despite knowing far too much about each other, people still fell in love.

They married their high school sweethearts, left for college, missions, jobs, or adventures and then eventually found their way back home.

Because small towns have a strange gravitational pull.

You spend your teenage years convinced you’ll escape forever.

Then one day you find yourself driving past familiar streets thinking, “Maybe staying wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Where did you grow up?

Small-Town Crushes and Other Humiliations Part 3

 Writers are collectors of moments. We gather little snapshots from our lives and tuck them away for later. A conversation here. A smile there. A humiliating hand-holding incident that follows you for decades.

Then one day, those memories show up in a book.

Maybe that’s why small-town romances feel so real to me. They’re built from real moments.

*The crush everyone knew about before you admitted it.

*The late night truck rides in the summer.

*The shy, cute boys who take their sweet time.

*The awkward girls (ME).

All the stories that seem embarrassing at seventeen but become treasured memories years later.

Although if either of those boys ever reads this and remembers the hand-holding incident...

I’d appreciate it if we all agreed to forget it happened.

What memory came up as you read this story?

(Actual picture from my high school days!)

Small-Town Crushes and Other Humiliations Part 2

 A normal person might have accepted this obvious gift from the universe.

In what remains one of the most awkward moments of my teenage years, I suggested that all three of us hold hands.

All three.

I still cringe thinking about it.

To this day, I have no idea what possessed me to say that. Panic, probably. My brain saw romance approaching and immediately pulled the emergency brake.

Needless to say, it did not have the smooth, swoony effect I was hoping for.

The older I get, the more I realize that those awkward moments are exactly why I write small-town romance.

Real crushes aren’t polished. They’re sweaty palms and nervous laughter. They’re saying the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment.

They’re accidentally making a situation ten times more embarrassing because you’re trying so hard not to be embarrassed.

It’s those the memories that stick with us.

The sweet, quiet country boy from that truck ride may never know it, but pieces of him will probably live forever in my stories. Not exactly as he was, of course. Characters have a way of borrowing traits from a dozen different people before becoming someone entirely new.

The same goes for the friend sitting on the other side of me.

(Part 3 next week!)

Please tell me I’m not the only one with embarrassing and innocent memories! Please share!

Small-Town Crushes and Other Humiliations Part 1

 One of the reasons I love writing small-town romance is because small towns don’t let you forget your crushes.

Ever.

I was reminded of that recently while thinking about high school and some of the stories that eventually find their way into my books.

One memory stands out.

It was my senior year. I was squeezed into the front seat of a pickup truck between two country boys who were a year or two younger than me. (If you grew up in a small town, you already know exactly what kind of truck I’m talking about). Dust on the floorboards. Country music on the radio. The kind of vehicle that had probably seen more dirt roads than paved ones.

I had a crush on one of them.

Naturally, I thought I was hiding it brilliantly.

I was not.

At some point, he figured it out. Maybe someone told him. Maybe I turned bright red every time he talked to me. Whatever happened, he knew.

And I was mortified.

The funny thing is that he was probably one of the sweetest boys I’ve ever known. Quiet. Kind. The type who listened more than he talked. Looking back, I realize I always had a weakness for the quiet ones.

In fact, I eventually married one.

But at seventeen, all I knew was that my crush knew I liked him, and I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

Then he tried to hold my hand.

(Cliffhanger, I know! Hopefully you'll be back for the next installation!).

The Magic of Small-Town Romance (And the Real-Life Inspiration Behind Juniper Valley) part 1

 If you’ve read Strawberry Kisses or followed along with my upcoming Juniper Valley stories, you might be wondering where the town came from.

Being totally transparent: Juniper Valley isn’t a real place, but pieces of it, and memories, absolutely are.

It’s loosely inspired by growing up in Wellsville, a small town tucked beneath the towering Wellsville Mountains (fun fact: they’re the steepest mountain ranges in the world!). The kind of place where the mountains don’t just sit quietly in the background, they’re main character vibe

When I think about small-town romance, I don’t think about grand gestures or dramatic declarations.

I think about summer. I LOVED summer in Cache Valley.

*I think about those long June evenings when the sun seemed determined to stay awake forever.

*Kids riding bikes until the streetlights flickered on.

*Baseball tournaments that took over entire weekends (and I was often the announcer!).

*The smell of fresh-cut grass and alfalfa filled the air. Alfalfa will always be the signal that summer is in full bloom.

*Local festivals where everyone showed up, even if they complained about it first.

*I think about parades where you knew every face waving from the floats.

And I definitely think about crushes.

Because in a small town, having a crush wasn’t exactly a secret.

Your best friend knew.

Your cousin knew.

Your neighbor knew.

And somehow, the person you liked usually knew too.

I had a huge crush on the cutest junior boy( he should feel so honored since I was a senior.) Somehow, he found out and asked me on a date. I was elated. There were 2 strikes to our date: we went by ourselves (it’s so much easier to get to know others when you’re in a group) and we went to a movie (so no interaction). We went to Arby’s for dinner and didn't talk much. Needless to say, we didn't go out again. 

Did you ever have a crush where they knew before you knew they knew?