My mother claims that a girl can handle two great loves in her life–no more. And, perhaps she’ll never have the luck or constitution to sustain one. According to Mom, the female heart (and sensibility) can expend only so much love, tenderness, passion and warmth. By the same token, that same delicate heart can only withstand its due amount of sadness and betrayal before it becomes cynical and shuts down forever.

For once, I believe my mother and her thoughts on love.

Well thank God for the both of us (and our homespun theories on everlasting amour) that the second wedding dress I tried on was “the one.” Could I have withstood further disappointment, heartache and emergency phone calls to Visa, pleading for a higher credit line?? That first dress would have mandated a newlywed move from Lower Manhattan, out to Staten Island. (Though, that wouldn’t have been so terrible considering the fabulous Italian restaurants on SI…)

The elegant bustle, the sweetheart neckline and the drape of the finely corded silk fabric of my newfound, semi-couture treasure make me feel like a sophisticated Southern bride—not a creampuff. I think every bride–no matter how fashion-forward she might be–wants her groom to melt, smile and then tear up (yes, exactly in that order) when he first glimpses her walking down the aisle, in her wedding gown. Jamie and the dress will not disappoint.

And so, I fell in love with a man. And then I fell in love with a wedding dress. Thank the Lord he was the first, and that dress was the second. I’m still living in Mom’s good graces.

The gorgeous Charleston sunrise, over the Cooper River, from my hotel balcony…

Do I have to go back to New York?

And can Scribner please plan my honeymoon?@! I’ve never enjoyed such lovely accomodations…

When you get engaged, you start thinking about ridiculous, responsible, adult things like wall coverings, collecting “pieces” (this translates into “ridiculously-over-priced- furniture-your-salary-can-not-justify”), amassing matching Le Creuset pots and pans, babies…where you want to call “home” for the next 10-60 years of your life. Topics that used to make you snooze, bring an unmistakeable twinkle to your eye. 

“Oh, Baaabe! Let’s go for the cherry red Le Creuset stockpot! It’ll look wonderful on top of the Viking range (the stove that we’ll be able to afford in a decade)!”

At this point, hubby-to-be gives a devilish grin and starts tugging at you jeans.

Back to the point at hand…

How lucky am I that the BELLE book tour includes a stop in my favorite stronghold of Southern gentility, charm and fabulous, historic homes–Charleston! This is the city that we hope to call home in the next two years.

Jamie’s and my dream: restore a Charleston Single, start a little family, shoot a cooking show out of our kitchen and from the shade of our deep, columned porch.

Imagine Paula Deen, 30 years ago, married to a handsome chef. And, voila! My ideal life.

My Charleston book party and morning show appearance–both arranged by the absolutely fabulous, Annie Byrd– look to be the highlights of my southeastern book tour. If you’re in the area, please come by the boutique for a flute of champagne and… maybe a signed book?

But if you miss me in Charleston this time, I promise I’ll be back–hopefully for good.

And I’m thrilled to announce that Jamie and I are engaged!

It was a busy trip back home…

Okay, fine, it wasn’t a hodown. Really, the hometown party was more like a TriBeCa loft party than a Southern shindig.

Mom’s favorite party ‘favor?’ The 8-foot tall likeness of me and the book cover. 

Meanwhile, my favorite taste of home included pulled pork nachos and fried oysters with remoulade sauce. I’ll never understand those girls who don’t eat at their own parties.

I’m on the road, “book touring” with Mamma, and being a very bad blogger. There were the New York events, then Baltimore, Mobile, Alabama came next and now I’m in my hometown of Pensacola, Florida.

But when all the excitement happens, I kinda curl up, wanting to enjoy it but mostly disbelieving it. Blogging about it is actually the last thing I want to do.

But then the New York Daily News hits me over the head with an amazingly fun piece on me and BELLE!

“Think Paula Deen, Scarlett O’Hara, and – dare we say it -maybe just a hint of Rachael Ray. Brooke Parkhurst, Southern belle, highly energetic cook extraordinaire, and now, first-time novelist, just hit the road to promote her first novel, “Belle in the Big Apple”, and it’s somehow fitting that the Florida Panhandle transplant is taking along Mom…”  

“So this is the story of how I–a Southern girl from the Gulf Coast of nowhere–set out to become a part of it all, an elegant, colorful piece of the Manhattan media puzzle. How I tried to prove Granddaddy, Mamma and their newspaper wrong, make New York City my city, even if nothing was all good or bad or nearly as lovely and depressed as Joan Didion’s essays told me it was going to be. Things would work themselves out, I thought. Life always seemed to have a generous way with me.”

Enough with the free excerpts! Now go out and buy a copy!