The man’s eyes well up with tears at the word community, so mine do, too. But a storm hits, and her husband is away, and the whole community comes out to help her with the animals, ‘cause she doesn’t have a clue, and that starts a change in her… perspective.” “Well,” he speaks slowly, “it’s a lady from New York City, marries a cowboy, settles in the country. He picks up the book, moves it back and forth in front of his eyes until his vision adjusts. The man goes pink in the face before bashfully confessing, “Now, that was… really good.” “What a great title!” I laugh, pointing to a book at his elbow: Rurally Screwed. I sigh, casting my eyes around his counter for a conversation starter. The proprietor, a seventy-odd-year old rock of a man with a handsome, weather-beaten face and watery eyes nods at me but doesn’t say a word as he begins ringing up my purchases. In a small, cluttered bookshop in rural Montana, I lug a handful of used novels to the payment counter. And all the while one question was ringing in the back of her head: "What the !#*$ have I done with my life?"Ī hilarious true-life love story, Rurally Screwed reveals what happens to a woman who gives up everything she's ever known and wanted-job security, money, her professional network, access to decent Thai food-to live off the grid with her one true love (and dogs and horses and chickens), and asks, is it worth it? The answer comes amid war, Bible clubs, and moonshine. Almost overnight, she was canning and sewing, making jerky, chopping firewood, and raising chickens. In fact, Jake radiated such optimism and old-school gentlemanliness that Jessie impulsively ditched Manhattan for an authentic existence, and an authentic man. And Jessie suddenly found herself blindsided by something with which she was painfully unfamiliar: a genuinely lovable disposition. He voted Republican and read Truck Trader. There, she met a twenty-five-year-old bull rider named Jake. Then one day, she was assigned a story about an annual rodeo in the badlands of Eastern Montana. Circling the drain both personally and professionally, Jessie definitely wouldn't have described herself as "happy" more like caustically content. An editor for a splashy women's magazine, she splurged on Miu Miu, partied hard, lived for Kundalini yoga, and dated a man-boy whose complexion was creamier than her own. Jessie Knadler was a New York City girl, through and through.
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