For those who love second chances, “Misbehaving at Cactus Lanes” will be released Feb. 15 by One More Chapter.

Margaret Adams just buried her late husband but was widowed long before he dropped dead on the ninth hole at his beloved golf club. Now with children grown and her unhappy marriage over, Margaret goes in search of something, anything. Enter Las Vegas bowling alley, Cactus Lanes. With its beautiful neon sign, legendary chili fries and family spirit, stepping through the doors does more than put a smile on her face. She discovers the friendships she’s always craved and a chance at a true love with bowling alley owner Frank Martinez. She also realizes the bowling lessons she learns apply elsewhere, namely how to choose her lane and strike with determination through life.

Perfect for fans of Judy Leigh, Caroline James and Maddie Please. Available as an eBook and audio book.

Please enjoy this excerpt.

Chapter 1

Thunk, thunk, thunk.                                                                            

I prayed good taste would win out in the end. That my soon to-be buried husband of almost forty years would go to his maker with dignity and without one goddamn reference to golf.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

I was dead wrong.

Three men in black suits stepped out from the crowd at the graveside. They held golf clubs like soldiers carrying rifles in a military parade, except these guys were old and overweight in expensive clothes. But in seamless synchronization, the men teed up a ball and slammed it into an empty field next to the cemetery for a twenty-one golf-ball salute to my late husband, Robert Thomas Adams.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

As each ball hit the ground like a fat, round bullet, the mourners behind me emitted a surge of tears and sniffles. The pastor standing beside me discretely rolled his eyes at the send-off. Those rolling eyes seem to say, “By God, no dignity or good taste at this funeral.” Then again, when was death in good taste? But he had a point.

I couldn’t have stopped the golf-ball salute anyway. Bob had written the details for his funeral into his will years ago after watching a similar tribute on the Golf Channel. Dead man’s wish or not, the embarrassment of it all made me want to crawl into the hole too.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Within the shiny copper coffin, my husband’s body wore his best polo shirt, shorts, and golf shoes. The outfit was also written into his will, and I guessed I should have been grateful he wasn’t a WWF fan. Beside him was his cherished club. A Calloway driver with which he had won the country club championship senior-division for seven years straight. His will had also requested his body be arranged so his deceased fingers hold the grip as he did in life, but the mortician couldn’t make the arrangement work unless they buried him standing up. I made an executive decision to nix that.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.