It didn't take more than a half a mile for residential to turn into commercial, and she pulled into the well-lit lot of an upscale grocery store, betting Mr. Bubbles did not make an appearance in the aisles. She grabbed her wallet and got out, brushing off the layer of chip bits that had accumulated in her lap.

The street sign on the corner said Robson, and the shop fronts said fine things can be found here. Even the shush of the automatic door sounded different, not like her grocery store at home. Inside she spotted three clerks, standing at their registers, waiting for their late night shift to end at dawn. One woman looked as tired as Janie had felt when she'd headed for that failed restorative bath. A woman like that could help her.

"Excuse me. Do you carry this?" Janie showed her the empty Luscious bottle, and the clerk gave a knowing smile, her eyes down to Janie's sweatshirt as she mouthed the word chocolate. Janie tried to brush off the pieces of candy bar and explain her state, but the woman just headed down an aisle as if she completely understood, and Janie followed, trying not to walk too closely to the women's heels in her excitement.

The clerk stopped, and Janie scanned the shelves for the pearly top of Luscious Bubbles. She spotted it and grabbed one with a rush of relief. She could make things work again. Then she noticed the bubble bath was surrounded by bath oils, fizzy bath balls, and an abundance of crystalline salts she'd never dreamed existed. They all wore the same shimmery blue label, the Abundance Bath Company. She looked at the clerk in wonder, and the woman sighed, checked her watch as if counting down her own release from work.

Janie began to fill her arms with the amazing scent of Abundance. "I'll take one of each, just in case."

Lavender and citrus and sweet musk perfumed the van. Janie peeked into the grocery bag of comfort. All she had to do was drive back to Seattle. It was already past midnight. It probably wouldn't hurt to postpone joy a little longer.

She clicked her seatbelt and glanced in the rear view mirror. Hotel. It was a nice hotel sign, and it was green. Wasn't green one of her favorite colors? Canada had a decent exchange rate, or at least it seemed that their money was nearly the same as American money. It had to be pretty close, and she did have to go to the bathroom. The hotel would provide a cup of complimentary coffee for her drive back, and a bath in Canada wouldn't take any longer than a bath in Seattle.

She put the van in reverse, pulled out, and turned toward the vacancy sign.

The bedspread was plaid not the paisley of the Seattle hotel she was also checked into, but the bathtub was just as shiny and the water pressure was an awesome thing to see. She waited for the tub to fill to the brim and stood naked in the bathroom, looking down the length of her body. Her breasts looked perkier. She didn't eat enough chocolate. It seemed to be working for her, although it could have been the two pounds she must have gained from the party-sized bag of chips. She checked to see if that bothered her, but it felt just fine.

She held the bottle of Luscious over the water and let it pour and pour. There was no reason to deny herself. She had an abundance. She watched the bubbles explode, some popping open, others dividing in froth the length of the tub. It was a sweet eddy of comfort just waiting for her. She turned off the water and lowered herself into the perfection of it, her head falling back against the still cool porcelain rim while her body relaxed into the heat. She cleared her mind of everything but the warmth and knew with just a little rest, responsibility would feel right again. She'd be able to go on, get back to the work of her life. But after a time the bath began to cool, and the only thing she wanted was more.

She sat up, drained half the tub out, and turned the hot water back on. Leaning out of the tub, she hooked a finger around the edge of the grocery sack and pulled it closer. She unwrapped the fizzy balls and dumped in the scented salts. The water frothed, and bits of rose petals floated around her knees, beautiful petals, regaining some of their loveliness as they plumped in the water. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She just needed more.

The cold water woke her, and she rubbed wet hands down the goose bumps on her arms. She'd never dozed off in the bath before. She rose out of the tub, wrapped herself with a thick towel, and felt some warmth return. How long did it take for hot water to get that cold?

She walked out of the bathroom, stepped around the heap of her sweats, and reached for her watch on the dresser. Seven a.m. Her body jerked and the towel fell to the floor. Seven in the morning, the next morning, the morning she had to be in a conference room with her power-point presentation in an hour. Hadn't she dreamed that before? Maybe she was still dreaming.

She shook her head for clarity, but the only thing clear was that she was awake, naked, and two-and-a-half hours from Seattle. How could she get there in time? If she drove... If she flew... She couldn't. She could not do it. She needed to call, to explain... she needed a phone book, but would a Canadian phone book even list a Seattle hotel where thirty-five middle-school teachers waited for a speaker who could not arrive in time? She reached for her cell phone but didn't know if information would even work in another country. She had dreamed it all before... late for something important, unable to phone, naked. If a dozen high school cheerleaders showed up to mock her, she'd know she was still asleep.

The hotel phone looked useful with all kinds of numbers printed neatly on its face. She picked it up and dialed the desk.

"How may I help you?"

Every phone should have a reassuring male voice to talk a woman off the roof. Janie felt the edge of something hysterical and tearful building and took a deep breath. "I need the phone number of the Hendrickson Hotel in Seattle." The tears began to form and took her breath away. "I just came to Vancouver last night for some bubble bath, and now I'm not in Seattle to present Strategic Reading to thirty-five middle-school teachers." There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and she used the pause to reach for a tissue and hold it over her eyes.

"I'll have that number for you in just a minute." The male voice was old enough to have a calming Dad effect and there was a sincerity to Canadian speech patterns that let her open her eyes again. "Here it is. (206)555-7542. Would you like me to connect you?"

"Yes!" Janie took another deep breath. Her yes had sounded too desperate. She needed to calm down if she was going to sound at all professional when she made her excuse. Excuse? She didn't know how to make an excuse. She never needed to because she was a damned responsible person. She heard the ringing, pictured the front desk at the Hendrickson. She'd simply explain that she'd driven through the night to another country for bubble bath and fallen asleep in the tub. Her eyes filled with tears again. She couldn't say that, but she wouldn't lie either. That would be - "Hendrickson Hotel. How may I help you?"

"I..." I what? The pause was too long. The man at the Seattle hotel didn't have Canadian sincerity. He'd think she was crazy or drunk or... She couldn't imagine more ors. "I have had a, uh, situation come up, and I need someone to post a notice on a conference room." Post a notice sounded very professional. "The eight a.m. Strategic Reader presentation is cancelled. Thank you." She hung up and watched the phone as if it might ring and someone American and disapproving would be on the other end to berate her. When it didn't, she realized she was hungry. She was hungry and maybe a little relieved, but mostly she felt there was something more she needed. What it was, she couldn't name, but she'd get dressed, check-out, and it would surely come to her on the drive back.

There was a moment of discomfort with the desk clerk when she wondered if she should be embarrassed about her near-breakdown on the phone just asking for a number, but he was a gentleman, and all felt well. She watched him in the next room as he waited for the printer to chug out the bill. Good thing they didn't charge for hot water usage. She thought of the all night Luscious bath that should have been enough. While she waited, the sounds of the city bled through the lobby walls. It had a white-noise quality like a thousand fans droning on, only punctuated by the occasional horn or shout or the deep shifting of a large bus. She turned to the windows to watch the flow of human traffic and felt herself being watched. Across the street, a high-rise held all empty windows but one. She squinted and could make out a cat. It seemed to paw the window as if on the hunt. What would a pent up cat hunt? A near dead fly? A dried-up lady bug? What adventure did that hold for the poor cat?

The clerk appeared, set the bill on the counter, and smiled in the nice way only a silver-haired man could get away with, and she handed over her credit card. He compared the name with her paperwork from the night before. "Mulligan."

"Yes." She signed the credit slip.

"That's a do-over."

She looked at her signature. M. Jane Mulligan. "You want me to sign again?"

"No. Your name."

She pointed to the raised M on her card. "I go by Janie but Mara's my first name."

The nice Canadian smiled. "You're not a golfer."

Was there a professional golfer out there with her name? An M. Jane Mulligan who got her picture on the sports page swinging with style? It was kind of exciting to think someone with her name was out there living. That M. Jane Mulligan probably didn't have to drive to another country for a bath either. She probably lived in a bathtub, when she wasn't winning trophies.

"A mulligan's a do-over. In golf if you get another shot at it, it's called a mulligan."

She tucked her card back in her wallet. A do-over. Maybe she could be that other M. Jane Mulligan, the regularly bathing one. She didn't know how to golf, but she did possess something miraculous. She had a whole day with nothing required of her. There wasn't any reason to rush back to Seattle. Maybe she'd... "Could you look up one more thing for me?"

"Certainly."

"Could you find the address for The Abundance Bath Company?"

He reached for a phone book then flirted in a way only a silver-haired man could get away with. "Mara's a lovely name..."

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The 5-Star Reviews for The Do-Over are in!

***** Booty- Shakin' good!!

By Amanda Shaffer This was a book that made me long for friends like the shipping crew ladies, a hot bath (and I don't even like taking baths!) and a pair of butterfly flip-flops. There were so many moments that lingered long after I finished this novel - and I believe THAT is a sign of a truly great story. Dunnehoff creates real, genuine characters that make you cheer at times and cringe at others while on their journey of self-discovery. She wrote with an endearing appeal, writing about life and all that it can reveal to a person, once they stop to smell the bubble bath! There were moments that had me laughing out loud - (now I know how dangerous facial tissue boxes can be!) and moments that had me wishing and willing the main character to chose the right path. Throughout the whole story, there was an underlying feeling that begs the question ' What would YOU do if you had 30 days of opportunities?' I think this is a perfect story to be shared with girlfriends over wine and chocolate - and if the spirit moved you to dance, I hope you all get up and shake your booties!

***** The sisterhood of women By Judy I can't say enough good things about this novel.The laugh-out-loud humor, the characters I came to love, the message and gentle delivery. Ms. Dunnehoff has found a voice that all women dipping a toe into the muddy waters of mid-life crisis can understand and learn from. She holds up a mirror but also enfolds us in a big, warm hug. For every woman who is questioning how she got locked into a life that isn't living up to it's billing, for every woman debating change, for anyone who wants to meet wonderful characters and enjoy a lovely read, this book is a gift. Thank you Kathy Dunnehoff! Every woman needs a mulligan.

***** The Do-Over will be on my Read-Over again list!

By Angela D The Do Over was a fun, fast-paced read that kept my interest from the very beginning. Dunnehoff has a wicked sense of humor that kept the pages turning & the book hard to put down. Her vivid descriptions made it very easy for me to visualize the great scenery & also feel the raw emotions as Mara/Janie struggles to figure out what she really wants out of life. I could so relate to her desire to want to be who she felt like on the inside & how hard it can be to fight against those who feared her changing. While the Do-Over may be labeled as "chick-lit", it was definitely not your typical romance story. The greatest surprises to this book were the twists & turns the story took along the way--definitely worth your time & one I will definitely read again and again!

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Plan On It

A Zola Award Winning Romantic Comedy Six men in six months. It's a logical plan to Professor Hattie McLean. Date 6 men in 6 months and one will be the clear choice to father her child. But biology involves the heart as well... even if she didn't plan on it!

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Chapter One: Aphids Never Need a Man.

She felt naked. There was a reason the word was synonymous with being vulnerable. She felt bare, exposed, unprotected. And it didn't matter that she'd been given a paper robe to put on, a short kimono that seemed to be made of starched facial tissues and made a crinkling sound when she'd put her feet in the stirrups. And it didn't matter that the doctor with the headlamp who was doing the spelunking in her nether regions was a woman. Hattie felt naked.

"So, you're going to feel a little pressure."

Pressure? She wondered why ovaries didn't stay squished from pelvic exams. Of course, as a biologist she'd seen them permanently flattened, shriveled under the microscope like they'd been harvested from two-hundred-year-old women.

The doctor sat back, sliding out the speculum then snapping off her gloves to wash up.

Hattie sat up, pulled the robe down as far as it would go, mid-thigh. Women under five-ten probably got to cover up their knees.

"I'm not seeing any problems, Hattie, but since you're experiencing some peri-menopausal symptoms--"

"I'm not."

The doctor didn't look convinced. "The lack of regular menstruation? Your last period was..." She looked at the chart.

"Last month." She had completely had one in November. It had been short, but she'd had one.

"Yes, but the one before that?"

Hattie hesitated. "Um, a couple of months before that." It had been the start of fall semester. She'd had to dig for a tampon in her desk minutes before a three hour lab with twenty-five college freshmen. "End of August."

"And today your hormone levels are on the low end of normal. They can fluctuate depending on the blood draw, but I'd bet they're below normal fertility levels for much of your cycle."

"What... What does that mean, you know, for me?"

"For you as a healthy person? Nothing. It's perfectly natural that the reproductive system gets rolling at puberty and slows down until it eventually stops." The doctor smiled. "You're a doctor. You know all about it."

Hattie didn't want to but smiled back at her anyway. They both knew Ph.D.'s liked to claim the title of doctor and refer to medical doctors as physicians. Just one of the pretensions Hattie knew some of her colleagues indulged in.

"For the average woman, menopause is official at 51."

"I'm only 34!" And she didn't even look 34. At least she didn't think she did. There were plenty of times she was mistaken for a student at Excelsior and not a professor. She pulled her French braid over her shoulder. She'd worn her hair the same since she was a teenager, and it still worked for her, didn't it?

The doctor tapped the chart, and she jumped. "You're only six months from 35, but, Hattie, age isn't really the issue. Fifty-two is average, plus peri-menopause can last up to ten years."

"But I'm healthy and--"

"You are. There really is no problem at all."

She heard it in the woman's voice, the shadow that no problem could cast. "Except?"

"There's no problem, except if you want to have a child."

Driving down Pill Hill with grayish glimpses of Puget Sound in the distance, she rationalized she wasn't that far from James Street, and James Street wasn't that far from Harborview Medical Center. Angela would be there, and she hadn't had coffee with her in two days. She ignored her unsettled stomach, the slight shake of her hand as she entered the hospital. Sure, she just needed coffee. She wasn't shaken by erratic periods and plunging hormone levels. Nothing had changed. She'd merely received some information, and information was power, right?

At the front desk, the woman with the headset looked like she could run a small country or a hospital, whichever task she was asked to do first, and she directed Hattie to the ER. She made her way down the busy hallways, slowing her pace deliberately. She didn't have an emergency or the more current hospital labeling of trauma, which sounded about ten times worse.

She spotted the staff-only lounge and peeked in the window of the door. Angela, her dark hair spiky, her face perfectly made up, and her suit sporting a name Hattie knew she wouldn't recognize, appeared to be hosting a brunch. She had her game face on, and what looked like a box of drug samples, and gift baskets. Hattie felt guilty, bothering her at work for some stupid...

Angela spotted her, gave a quick nod, and turned a killer smile on the room of physicians who would probably buy everything she was selling. A minute later, she strode out of the lounge with two cups of coffee in her hands, and they sat on a padded bench while Hattie tried not to think padded cell.

Angela raised one thin eyebrow. "So, what's up?"

Hattie sipped her coffee, tried to enjoy it, and strike the right tone of casualness. "Just stopped by to say hi."

Angela waited. Hattie knew the woman could wait forever. From the moment they'd met in a college dorm, Angela had been able to read her and wait her out. She really hated that about her. "I'm peri-menopausal."

"I gotta drug for that."

"You've got a drug for everything."

"They call this Pill Hill for a reason."

"This can't be medicated, Angela."

"Hell, Hat, everything can be medicated."

"I might have a hard time getting pregnant."

She appreciated that Angela took a moment to consider that, and while Angela may be Pollyanna's polar opposite, like, Hattie supposed, she was Angela's polar opposite, her friend would try in her own way to help. "Haven't we been avoiding live sperm for decades? The Pill, the patch, condoms, killer foam... I mean, do you really want your ovaries to meet sperm now?"