1. By submitting your receipt for the It’s Raining Men preorder campaign, you agree to these Terms and Conditions.

2. Entrants have until July 27, 2021 to purchase the book and send in their receipt via itsrainingmenbook@gmail.com

3. This promotion is open to United States residents who are at least 18 years old as of July 27, 2021. 

4. To redeem the prizes you must submit your receipt via the instructions at juliehammerle.com.

5. Prize: Entrants will receive one bookplate and bookmark. One winner will be chosen at random to receive one (1) signed copy of Knocked-Up Cinderella. Prizes available while quantities last and will be mailed no later than 60 days after the campaign ends on July 27, 2021.

6. Prizes are non-transferable and non-refundable. No cash alternative is available.

7. Limit of one prize per receipt. If an entrant buys multiple copies of the book, they may submit separate receipts equal to the number of copies they have purchased.

8. Unsuccessful entrants will not be notified. It is the responsibility of the entrant to submit valid receipts via the email address.

9. Author’s decision on all matters is final. Entries that do not comply in full with these terms and conditions will be disqualified.

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11. Author may amend or cancel the promotion at any time for any reason without notice.

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When I heard about the Marie Kondo show on Netflix, I had to watch it. Two years ago, after reading her book, my husband and I turned our home inside out—decluttering everything from our clothes to our cleaning supplies. We completed each stage in turn, and I maintain it was one of the best things I ever did for myself.

(I’ll let my husband tell you if he agrees.)

After starting the process, I immediately felt lighter. I donated clothes that no longer fit. I threw away socks with holes in the toes. I tossed underwear that had gotten faded and grungy looking. I went to Costco and bought a $9 pack of undies in all colors of the rainbow. Opening my unmentionables drawer, which had previously been filled with balled up bras, now elicited a calming sigh of relief.

The KonMari Method is not about getting rid of things, just because. It’s about keeping whatever sparks joy. I’ve found, through the process, that there’s always a way to repurpose those things that spark joy, but have outlived their primary usefulness. My pens and pencils are sorted and displayed in glasses and mugs I’ve retired from the kitchen or bar. I used old, sentimental T-shirts to stuff my purses. Now, whenever I change bags, I’ll see the shirt from when the Cubs won the World Series or from when I played Sarah in Guys & Dolls back in high school a (a crowning achievement).

Fast forward two years, and we’re in a new house. While I’ve managed to hold on to most of my KonMari principles—look in any of my kitchen cabinets and behold the tidy glory—some parts of our home have started to look like hoarder’s paradise, namely my kids’ rooms.

During our original KonMarification, the kids were seven and five. My husband and I took on the burden of sorting through their toys. Yes, I asked them to decimate their stuffed animals, a task that elicited many tears, but they remained only tangentially invested in the tidying process.

This time would be different.

Last week, after all the Christmas presents had been played with and we’d run out of things to do with six days left of winter break, we sat down as a family and watched the show together. I told them, “We’re all going to do this. You’re going to go through your stuff, and Dad and I are going to go through ours.”

The kids, now ten and eight, watched the show with wide-eyes, marveling at the mountains of clothes piled on beds and hanging on every word out of the spritely Ms. Kondo.

And then the whining began.

“No,” I told them. “We’re going to do this. We’re not going to do it in a day. We’ll start with clothes tomorrow and go from there.”

The next day, they dumped all of their clothing into piles and started sorting, touching every item, and noting which “sparked joy.” I stayed with my ten-year-old, my son, the one who, like me, never met a shortcut he didn’t want to take. My daughter, normally so sensitive, shocked me with her ruthlessness. “I don’t need these pants. I never liked this shirt. This dress itches me.” We went through the lot, and I presented them with the rub: “Now you have to fold everything.”

They took to Kondo’s folding method like a child to any new technology. I assisted my daughter, to help move the process along faster, but they filled their drawers on their own and I made a mental note to myself that this would not be a one-time occurrence. This was their new normal. From this moment on, they would fold their own laundry. I made a second mental note, tallying up all the extra minutes I’d have to read or write or watch old episodes of Frasier.

We KonMarie-ed paper and books—my son kept most of his, because they all sparked joy. Then, yesterday, we moved on to “komono,” the albatross hovering over all of us, their toys and, just, stuff.

I decided their stuff was their stuff. I would not influence their decisions when it came to what to keep and what to get rid of. If I saw something in the trash pile that sparked joy for me, I’d deal with it. This was how I added a few baby books to my own bookshelf.

First I had the kids empty every drawer and find every tiny dollhouse spoon tucked in every corner. They sorted their belongings into categories, including one mountain of miscellany. After each kid had collected all their belongings, I asked them separately, “What do you think?”

Assessing the accumulation of possessions on his floor, my son said, “I’m so disappointed in myself.”

My daughter, “I feel ashamed.”

I felt socked in the gut.

We’d done this to them. We’d bought them this stuff. They now experienced “shame” and “disappointment” because we adults couldn’t say no, because we wanted to make sure they were happy on Christmas, because they were sad, because they’d done something well, because, because, because. We’d been showing them that love equals stuff.

I’d known for a long time that we were heading down the wrong path. I’d beg my husband not to buy them anything at the collectables shop down the street, then I’d take them hunting for Kinder egg toys at Aldi.

Well, no more.

We now knew the price of all this stuff: shame and regret.

We could dwell on it or move forward.

I asked my son what he wanted to do with his superfluous toys. He opted to donate them to the pre-K classes at his school. We moved some furniture around and made his room feel homier and more conducive to Lego creation. This morning he woke up, made his bed, and threw his dirty laundry down the chute.

We watched another episode of the Netflix show last night, and he, now an evangelist, mentioned that he knew some other people who should watch the show. He’s been building Lego towers and reading and hugging me more. He’s lighter, happier.

I asked him how he feels about his new, tidy room. Watching his sister dance around his room singing “Shallow” from A Star Is Born, he said, “Fun, but I want her out of here.”

Well, you can’t KonMari everything.

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In the beginning of the year, I set out to complete the POPSUGAR 2018 Reading Challenge. I did not…do well. The prompts were a nice idea, but I had a lot of books already on my shelf or that I needed to read for contests and whatnot that didn’t fit the categories. I found myself shoehorning the books in, like, sure The Frontrunner counts as a “celebrity book club” pick because the guys on Pod Save America promoted it.

There’s still a week-and-a-half left of 2018, so I hope to add a book or two, but this is the list, for the most part. 31 books. 9 (or so, depending on how the next 11 days go) short of my goal to read 40. In 2019, I’m planning on adding more daytime reading to my routine. Part of the reason my count is so low is because I can’t read for more than ten minutes at night without passing out. Reading Outlander–that beast of a book–took me a whole month, is what I’m saying.

I’d like to read more widely in the new year. For me, reading is part of my job. I’d like to read more outside my genre and really enjoy reading again, for reading’s sake.

Here are, by genre, the books I read in 2018–presented without shame. I am not a high-brow reader, but you probably knew that.

Which books did you read this year? Which were your favorites?

Romance

1. Break Point by Rachel Blaufeld
2. A Family of Convenience by Amy Ayres
3. Full Court Seduction by Synithia Williams
4. Raw Deal by Cherrie Lynn
5. Snapdragon by Kilby Blades
6. The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory
7. Butterface by Avery Flynn
8. Muffin Top by Avery Flynn
9. The Eyewitness by Nancy C. Weeks

General Fiction

1. The Mitford Murders by Jessica Fellowes
2. Big Sexy Love by Kirsty Greenwood
3. Last Christmas in Paris by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb
4. Rich People Problems by Kevin Kwan
5. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
6. It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover
7. The Royal Runaway by Lindsay Emory

YA

1. Raise the Curtain by Kirby Hall
2. Dumplin’ by Julie Murphy
3. Fat Girl on a Plane by Kelly DeVos (kind of YA, kind of NA–either way, you should read it!)
4. About Last Summer by Patricia Tighe

Non-Fiction

1. The Daily Show by Chris Smith
2. Spoiler Alert: The Hero Dies by Michael Ausiello
3. Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes
4. This Will Only Hurt a Little by Busy Philipps
5. The Frontrunner by Matt Bai

Self-Help

1. Mini Habits for Weight Loss by Stephen Guise

2. Book Launch Blueprint by Tim Grahl

3. Feng Shui That Makes Sense by Cathleen McCandless
4. Move Your Stuff, Change Your Life by Karen Rauch Carter
5. Feel the Fear…and Do It Anyway by Susan Jeffers, Ph.D.
6. The Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod

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I’m in “get ready for the new year” mode.

I understand that time is a construct and January 1 is no different than December 1, but it certainly feels different.

On January 1 (or 2), the holiday festivities are over–or they should be. (Events keep creeping into November and January because nobody has time for anything in December, and this introvert can’t stand it. But that’s another post.)

Between all the parties and obligations to others, I like to engage in an obligation to myself–cleaning house before the new year.

A few years ago, I forced my family to Kon-Mari with me, so we cleaned out a lot of stuff. This past May, we moved into a new house, so most of my drawers and closets are still fairly tidy. I’m going to do a deep physical clean of the house in the next few weeks, but again that’s not what this post is about.

It’s about cleaning up my digital life.

Two years ago in December I declared “email bankruptcy.” I have about five email addresses (for REASONS), and all of my inboxes were about a mile long. I deleted everything. Since then, I’ve made a habit of cleaning out my inboxes every week, dealing with what needed to be dealt with (more or less).

So this year, between now and January, I’m going to continue clearing my digital clutter. I’m going to:

1. Continue my quest to Kon-Mari my photos. I completed all Kon-Mari steps except the last. Before January 1, I will have gone through all of the photos on my computer and in my phone, saving and printing the ones I want and deleting the ones I don’t.

2. Clear out the files on my laptop. My downloads folder is a hot mess. I’m going to save what I need and want, and then empty the trash on the rest.

3. Clean out my email folders and unsubscribe to the newsletters I don’t read.

4. Delete samples I haven’t read from my Kindle.

I think all of this will put me on pace to start 2019 with a clearer head and more free gigabytes.

How can you get your digital life in order before the new year?

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I’ve been thinking a bit about my favorite bands/albums/that kind of thing, and I compiled this list–going in order of when I discovered them. It’s in no-way comprehensive, and I’m already thinking about albums that aren’t on here (Counting Crows, Pearl Jam, Alanis…) I allowed greatest hits compilations and soundtracks, but I forced myself to pick only one album from each of my most favorite artists.

What are your favorite albums?

1. “Out of Time” by REM. Okay, so, this album is very chill and great for driving. In fact, driving is how I got into it. My dad had bought the album—“Losing My Religion” was a very big song at the time—and we used to listen to it on every car ride to my brother’s baseball games that summer. This marks the first time I remember really listening to an entire album. Before that, I’d only buy albums (actually, cassette tapes at the time) for, like, one or two songs. My favorite track is “Half A World Away,” which is so atmospheric and lovely.

2. “Sand in the Vaseline” by the Talking Heads. I love, love, love the Talking Heads. They are (were) so weird and fun and political and of the ‘80s. “Sand in the Vaseline” is not an album album. It’s a greatest hits compilation. But if you want to dive into the Heads this is a great place to start–it’s where I started, freshman year of high school. The most famous songs (“Once in a Lifetime,” “Psycho Killer,” “Burning Down the House,” etc.) are all on there, but I particularly love a few lesser known tracks like “Don’t Worry About the Government” and “Blind” and “Love -> Building on Fire.”

3. “Dilate” by Ani DiFranco. We’re now deep into my high school life, and asking me to choose just one Ani album to highlight is a difficult task. But this one, which follows her relationship with a dude she cannot/should not have is a gem. It’s a bit harder than some of her other stuff, but the angst is raw. I particularly love “Shameless,” but every song is great.

4. “Rites of Passage” by the Indigo Girls. Also Sophie’s choice having to pick an IG album. I chose this one because I first fell in love with Amy and Emily when I heard their cover of Dire Strait’s “Romeo and Juliet” off this album. Listen to all of this, and then go find the rest of their stuff.

5. “From the Choir Girl Hotel” by Tori Amos. Again. What I said about the Indigo Girls. Listen to this, then find the rest of Tori’s stuff. Her work from her earlier albums is better known, but she brings a whole lot of sound to this album, much of which chronicles her new marriage and miscarriage. “Playboy Mommy” will rip your heart out. “Northern Lad” is so beautiful and angry—and fun to sing. I saw her in concert after this album, and she was unstoppable—spinning on a stool to play piano, organ, and harpsichord.

6. “Best of” by James. Another compilation, but the Best of James has to be on this list. Every song should’ve been a hit here in the states, but only “Laid,” “Say Something,” and “Sit Down” made it across the pond.

7. “Boogie Nights” Soundtrack by various artists. Soundtracks in the late ‘90s were fire. This one, from my favorite movie, is an aural party.

8. “Hot Fuss” by The Killers. This album makes me think of setting up my classroom back in 2007. But it’s more than just a nostalgia trip. This is a joyful, conflicted, saucy romp, and I love every second of it. The Killers are low-key one of my favorite bands, period.

9. “The Idler Wheel…” by Fiona Apple. This album is a journey in which she faces down anxiety, restlessness, and ennui before finding a happy ending. If you can find a copy with “Largo” on it, get that. The whole album is just her on the piano with a percussionist. It’s beautiful and raw.

10. “Red” by Taylor Swift. I love “1989,” I do, but “Red” is so Peak Taylor—believing in true love, never being the one in the wrong. It’s fantastic. Especially “All Too Well,” her thinly veiled ode to Jake Gyllenhaal.

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I mentioned before that when I heard Entangled Publishing was starting an imprint geared toward women aged 35-50, I was all in. I’d been writing about teens for a while, and it excited me to think about writing about ladies my own age.

Apparently I was not the only one!

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had the opportunity to chat with the other authors launching the August line and I’ve learned about their books–which I’m so excited to read.

If you’re in a rom-com mood (and who isn’t these days?) check out these books:

OMG. I love this cover so much. (Actually, all the August covers are A+) 

WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, PAIGE TAYLOR by Amanda Ashby

After her carefully ordered world imploded, Paige Taylor cracks up. On her tenth self-help book, it seemed like a good idea at the time to reinvent herself––move from Manhattan to the tiny beachside town of St. Clair––and take over the local bookstore.

But instead of discovering her spiritual Nirvana, she’s neck-deep in a floundering business, the locals treat her like a plague victim, and her mom’s suddenly decided to visit––with no end in sight––and keeps coming home with one surprise after the next.

Added to that pot of crazy, the one guy who sets her pulse racing has sworn off women forever. He’s got a Samsonite filled with baggage, but damn he looks good hauling it down the street. And giving her those sexy half-smiles. And tempting her to take him for a test ride.

Soon Paige discovers that reinventing herself takes more than just a change of address and a pithy quote on Instagram. She needs to face the truth about her life, and that’s something she can’t do alone.

THE JULY GUY by Natasha Moore

Art professor Anita Delgado spends eleven months of the year working. July is her month to cut loose, paint, and pick a guy to make the summer memorable. But this year she isn’t in a tropical location with an exotic man like she’d planned. She’s stuck in small-town USA dealing with a lake house she doesn’t want, inherited from a grandmother she never knew. A summer fling might be the only thing to get her through the next few weeks.

Salvage specialist Noah Colburn is running for mayor. If he doesn’t, an absolute idiot is going to ruin his beloved town. So he’s stepping up. It’s what he does—with his teenage daughters, with the family business, and now with Lakeside. But when the newest resident of the town asks him to renovate her grandmother’s house—and have a four-week fling —he’s tempted. Tempted to step out of the mold and take just one thing for himself. But the gossip mill in the town is notorious.

Anita’s learning it’s hard to have a fling when the town follows your every move, and it’s even harder when the July guy makes it clear one month is never going to be enough… 

ADVENTURES IN ONLINE DATING by Julie Patricka

For Alexa, the answer to everything comes down to numbers. Three sons. One divorce. One great life…except her boys are getting older and they really need a man in their lives. Enter the number twenty, as in after twenty minutes with someone she knows whether or not she wants them in her life. So, she hatches a plan to meet any man who even remotely strikes her interest—for a twenty-minute date at her favorite coffee shop. It’s the perfect plan to find her perfect match in the most efficient way possible.

Too bad coffee shop owner Marshall isn’t keen on the idea. He doesn’t want his shop to be her speed dating zone—especially since she’s made it clear he’s too young to be a contender. But Alexa finds herself drawn to Marshall in ways she can’t quantify. There’s no easy answer, and once the kids become involved, her well-ordered world threatens to fall apart—twenty minutes at a time.

And, of course, there’s my book, KNOCKED-UP CINDERELLA, which I’d also like you to read. 😉

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