An Exclusive Excerpt From Book #2.

The founder of Honey & Home, Brandi Bowman Putnam is writing a second book! After Peppermint & Pine released last season, the writing of the second book began. And while the books are standalone stories, readers of Peppermint & Pine have a new surprise waiting within the pages of book #2.

This book will be released later this year but for now, we are giving you an exclusive sneak peak of this new book in the form of an excerpt! Keep scrolling to read it!

Stay tuned for later this Summer for the release of the title, cover and so much more!

Please note: this excerpt is from a draft. Final edits have yet to be made, however we are sharing an early sneak peak exclusively here to share our excitement with you!

An exclusive excerpt from Book #2:

Strolling down Main Street with the warm Spring sun soaking my skin, relaxation washing over me like a warm wave, I am reminded at what a good idea this trip was. The Main Street in Camridge is the quintessential downtown. Little shops line the street on both sides, fresh flowers are hung from the black lamp posts dotting the sidewalk every 12 feet or so, with black metal benches resting next to the small trees in between the lamp posts. The buildings are brick with each shop offering a different colored door or awning, giving each of them their own personality. Today though, the shops are covered by a string of vendor tents with the scent of fresh flowers, caramel corn and freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air creating an intoxicating blend I want to bottle up. I feel like I could get lost here for hours exploring this happy little three-block corner of the world. Starting in the tents, I stroll in and out of them and before long, I am walking away with a coconut candle from the cutest couple, a bouquet of fresh flowers and tote with Camridge stamped on the side to put all of my new finds in. The next tent I enter is filled with baskets and baskets of fresh picked strawberries. The scent of the ripe strawberries takes me back to my Grammie’s kitchen in an instant. The memories rush in like a flood, spending summers at her cottage on the coast in North Carolina with my sister and my parents. Days were spent at the beach while nights were spent baking in Grammie's kitchen and staying up way too late watching classic older movies like The Sound of Music and Dirty Dancing when we got old enough. Her garden was brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables all summer long. We would sneak bites of raspberries and blueberries as we picked them, gathering enough to take to the cottage for Grammie to turn them into some delicious baked good, like blueberry cobbler, a classic pie or my favorite strawberry cheesecake. Every Spring since she passed, whenever I was in Boston or somewhere with a kitchen for even just a weekend, I would make one. It made me feel connected to her and those sweet memories at the cottage. Lisa, my older sister, became a professor and works at Harvard where she met her husband. They had two perfect girls, with a two-year age gap like Lisa and I, and I can only hope the closeness they share now lasts longer than ours did. There was no falling out, just distance, one that started with physical distance leading to an emotional one. I know she is disappointed I am not around for birthdays and smaller everyday occasions, but I send gifts and visit when I can. My parents are both still in Boston too. I have never missed Christmas or an Easter. They are all so close and spend so much time together, but for me every holiday reminds me of how much I miss Grammie. My grandpa died before we were born so it was always just Grammie. She was around to see me start the show and was gone shortly after the first episode aired. My parents sold the cottage, against my pleas to keep it in the family and that was that. I kept traveling, the show took off and I became the ‘distant’ relative that never really felt like I fit in anymore. Grammie’s absence was felt at every gathering and I would be lying if I said I felt like I was the only one to feel the sting so intensely. Everyone was moving on, and I just didn’t fit anymore. Glancing down at the strawberries, I grab a couple baskets. This afternoon is the perfect time to make Grammies strawberry cheesecake. I smile to myself as I tuck my berries into my bag after handing cash to the older woman sitting behind the table. While her strawberry cheesecake is hands down my favorite, it is also the only recipe I have from her. By saving grace, when I was in college I called her and asked for the recipe, no doubt from feeling homesick and craving a piece of ‘home’ in my dorm room. She wrote it on a piece of paper and mailed it to me. The now cherished and worn piece of paper stays in my purse at all times, just in case. Every once in a while, when I am searching for something in the far corners of my purse, I catch a glimpse of the folded piece of paper and a zap of warmth fills my soul. It feels like the only piece of her I have left to cherish our connection. I didn’t have the heart to ask my parents or Lisa what happened to her recipe books in the sale of her cottage. I can’t bear the thought they were donated or worse, thrown out.

A few booths down there is a coffee cart with a delectable aroma, the one I could smell lingering through the street since I arrived. I grab a hazelnut iced latte and continue to stroll. I almost reach the end of the row when I come to the last tent with a little play pen off to the side. Before turning around, I notice a sign for the humane society along with a donation bucket. Grabbing out some cash out of my wallet, I place it in the bucket in the front of the tent.  Just as I am about to walk off, a woman about my age working the tent alone greets me with a smile.

“Hi,” she says pulling me into her tent as she catches me trying to get a glimpse of the animal in the play pen off to the side.

“Hi.” I smile back.

“Are you in the market for a puppy?” she says, glancing down in the direction of the playpen.

“A puppy? Oh, no. I am just…” My voice trails off and my gaze moves over to follow hers to the play pen and I see him. A little golden retriever puppy. This happy little ball of fur playing with an oversized red ball in this big pen all alone. The perfect shade of blonde cream fur with big brown eyes. I swear I melted right on the spot, unsure if it was the Tennessee heat or the charm of this ball of fur. I have never been able to even consider a puppy. The show’s travel schedule was not conducive to a pet of any kind. But that is not a factor anymore, I remind myself.

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Copyright 2024 Brandi Bowman Putnam.