Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!

/ C. R. Hedgcock

Hello everyone! 🙂

It’s been a while since I did a Q&A post here (sorry about that). Many of you were intrigued by the idea of a reverse Q&A, where I ask you things I’m curious about. So after tackling a few of your questions, I’ll ask you some of my own!

 

1) Will the Predzels be in any future books?

I’m not sure yet. I haven’t planned to include them, but they may appear in a future story if they could help the main characters.

 

2) Did Sigurd get Gleym back?

Yes, definitely. 🙂 I love the fact that you remembered to ask about her!

 

3) Do we know what happened to Jigson’s parents?

Oh, I can’t wait for you to read Hunting in the Highlands! The answer is yes!

 

4) How much of the Hrein Orka in Iceland Intrigue is based on real science, and how much is fiction?

It’s mainly fiction … but who knows? Maybe there are principles of it that someone has yet to discover 😉

 

5) What is the significance of ‘Twelve Lemons’?

It’s a phrase with quite a personal meaning for Jigson and Detective Mortimer – otherwise it wouldn’t have guaranteed Jigson’s identity in Iceland Intrigue.

Is it part of a big mystery? Or is it something more innocuous? Will they spill the beans in Book 8? … Maybe!

 

6) When you wrote Hunting the Highlands did you plan out the whole book before you started writing?

Yes. I did make a careful plan so that the book would progress with logical structure and so I would know where the story was going – it had the potential to be quite confusing with characters splitting up and traipsing all over Scotland.

But the need to be flexible arose when I reached the end and realized that the climax was not right for the story … so a whole new ending had to be written!

Do you have burning questions for a future post? Send them via the contact page!

Now … here are my questions for you! 🙂

1. Who are your top 2 favourite male characters?

2. Who are your top 2 female characters?

3. Who is your favourite villain? (Miss Verton, Lewis Nickel, Bud Larone, Rolf/escaped convicts, Dainn, Herr Klaus, or someone else?)

4. Which is your favourite title in the series, and why?

5. Should one of the characters be in a relationship/courtship? Who and why? (I’m not promising anything by asking this 😉 I’m genuinely curious! 🙂 )

I look forward to finding out what you think! 🙂

4,874 thoughts on “Your Questions Part 4 and Reverse Q&A!”

  1. Ok… My proposal is that everyone yes everyone myself included yes I will work trough the pain, tears, headaches, mispelled words, bad grammar and frustration * there is some of my drama for you all. *😉 And write at least a phargraph of a possible teaory to what 12 lemons mean because it is driving me crazy!

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  3. also another reason I think it’d be a good idea to get our own spot for all the stuff. Is it for things like last night when I loaned out Summer of Suspense to a new family who have never heard of them or read them before and I tiped the oldest two kids off to the website but I had to strictly warn them to stay away from the comments or it would ruin the whole series.

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  5. Seriously? Jigson thought as he stared at the people before him. Agency versus private detectives – in a lemon eating contest? These annual contests get worse each year. They can’t talk me into this again.
    He glanced at the other contestants. Tall and lean man to his left. Brown hair. Green eyes. Probably mid-forties. Private detective too – of course. Red hair, mustache to his right. The announcer had just called him Detective Mortimer, an English private detective. Jigson gave him a second glance, scrutinizing him as one who wouldn’t survive past the first lemon.
    “Jigson, of the Agency.”
    A few people laughed at his name – colleagues, of course. As if they didn’t tease him already. But’s that’s who he was – a puzzle, one he himself still hadn’t sorted out. Though maybe they hadn’t connected the dots to jigsaw yet. They didn’t need to in any matter. He preferred that no one knew.
    A plate was set before him containing a lemon cut in slices like an orange. He swallowed, already feeling the sourness in his mouth. Maybe I won’t survive past the first lemon, he thought.
    The whistle blew and he grabbed the lemon and took a bit. Tanginess shot through his mouth, but he took another bit. What was the point of this again? Charity – but also proving one better than the other. He was competitive, but not in that regard. Yes, he agreed with the first, but the second?
    He’d now finished his first lemon and took the second offered to him. It wasn’t until his third that he noticed the red haired detective was keeping about the same pace as him – the one he thought wouldn’t last past the first lemon. There’s more to him than meets the eye, I guess.
    Fourth, fifth, and sixth lemons. He had to pause. Already five of the eight contestants had left their places at the table.
    Seventh, eighth, ninth. Only he and the red haired detective remained. His eyebrows rose as he glanced at him again. Darting eyes settled on him, then moved, then settled, and continued.
    He couldn’t continue. His mouth was – no, there weren’t words to describe the awfulness of it all. Sourness wasn’t entirely bad, but eating the same fruit? He’d never eaten this many fruits straight before.
    Tenth. He forced it down. No, he wasn’t going to quit. It wasn’t in his blood. This isn’t a mission, Jigson. It’s a lemon eating contest. His shoulders relaxed as he finished his eleventh. Jigson, this isn’t a mission! What are you doing? Are you really fighting to be the best? to prove yourself? to whom? this redheaded detective.
    He set down his twelveth lemon and shoved the plate away, having not even taken one bite. A smile touched his cheeks as he turned to the detective – and saw a sliced, but whole lemon on his plate, shoved away as well.
    Jigson cocked his head, but held out his hand. “I yield to my better.”
    The detective smiled, tapping his fingers together. “On the contrary, I believe you won.”
    Jigson glanced at the judges as they asked, “Are both of you yielding? You’re tied – at eleven lemons.”
    Jigson smiled, but shook his head. “No. Why try to prove the other below myself when we need each other in order to accomplish our missions?” He grinned wider, laughing a little, but winced. “Besides, I’ve have a canker sore.”

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    • Of course, this would be “Twelfth lemon,” not “Twelve Lemons.” (And I misspelled Twelfth up there, twelveth instead of twelfth. Whoops. 😛 )

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      • Well I have a couple points I have thought of other things when I read other peoples ones but am not going to start the ball rolling on “criticizing” them all. 1. which you pointed out that is 12 lemon pices not 12 lemons. 2. there were a lot of people there I think it was more of a secretive thing. 3. technically they only did 11 winch could have been turned in to 12. 4. ….. now I cant remember what 4 was…..

        Also if any one had anything to say about mine I would love to have it ” criticized”.

      • The lemon pieces were just so it was easier to eat, so it was eleven lemons. I agree that it’s not the best theory because it wasn’t secretive. Also, I meant for the twelfth lemon to represent their friendship in that they were saying that one was not better than the other.

        Thanks, Jac, for the criticism! 🙂

    • The only problem with this is that lot’s of people were there and would maybe be able to trick the detective one day.

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      • I did think of that. That’s kind of why I had them eat only eleven lemons, but I guess someone could figure it out.

      • Good idea and point Kenleaf who knows. Actually I do know one thing if Miss Hedgcock dosent tell us what 12 lemons means in book 8 I think i will die of suspense. * dramatically falls from chair*

  8. Thats something to start form. Everyone think back to Suspense. What was DM’s first reaction when Jigson was working there? Or did he know already?

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  11. I believe they knew each other before S of S. DM said something to Phil about having an informant inside the Vernon Jewlry Headquarters. That was propbably Jigson.

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  12. “Well”….. The Detective said “If you are sure then there is only one thing left to do.” “And what might that be?” The young spy asked “Due to all the danger you will be in and that fact that Miss Verton might discover you.” The Detective paused before continuing. “If you ever have to come out from being undercover or get caught we need a way to positively identify you as you.” Jigson( for that of course was who he was) thought for a moment. Then replied ” Like a code you mean ?” The British Detective (whose name was Mortimer ) quickly replied. “Yes, exactly! ” Jigson glanced around the lightly light room his eyes falling on a basket of edibles. “What are these?” He asked. Picking up a a medium sized fruit that was greenish yellowish. “I am not sure.”the Detactive replied. “Hmm they look like lemons.” Jigson replied. “There are about 12 of them” the Detective replied. “But back to the business at hand.” He continued. “I have a code.” Jigson replied quickly . “What is it ?” Mortimer asked. ” 12 lemons. ” the spy said. “12 lemons” the Detective said with a chuckle. ” Perfect! ”

    Well let me know what you think.

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  13. Hello, I’m back from a retired vacation. (Just kidding). Can you please make some sense out of this for me? Both Mandalynn and Jac told me to come check it out again. I need an explanation to actually join the fun.

    Amie

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  14. Oh hi Amie!
    like you mean what we are doing right now? Well, this is going to sound weird, but all of us are writing some fan fiction, either about Garth coming back, or I did one about Guòmundur, and now we are all doing a scene about what 12 lemon’s might mean. Can’t wait to hear yours!

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  16. Okay, here’s my story behind twelve lemons. It’s obviously about five years or more before Jigson meets the Bakers. (Do y’all ever wonder what missions Jigson was on before the Bakers?)

    “Freeze!” Echoed through the air. Jigson turned quickly to see a small man with redish hair and a mustache. The other man’s eyes moved quickly, taking in the situation. “Agent?”
    “That depends,” Jigson dodged the question.
    “Detective Mortimer.” Detective Mortimer held out his hand. “I’ve been sent to find you.” The Detective’s sharp eyes noticed the hardening of the jaw at those words. “Seems the Agency wants to make sure you’re safe. How long have you been doing this, Agent 601?”
    “Long enough to not need a babysitter,” Jigson’s voice was tense. “Look, Mortimer, this is a touchy situation—“
    “Seems like it,” Detective Mortimer agreed. “And if I were you, I would start running with me.”
    “What?”
    “Like, now!” The detective grabbed Jigson’s arm as the started running. Behind came the sounds of feet ran after them. “In here,” Detective Mortimer pulled Jigson into a small alcove.
    “I don’t understand,” Jigson’s brow wrinkled. He appeared young, perhaps twenty, with blue eyes.
    “They found out,” Detective Mortimer shrugged. “I would watch my back. Do you hear them?” Jigson shook his head. “Then let’s go.” Together they walked through the dark streets. The Mexican architecture was spooky in the moonless night.
    “What was that sound?” Jigson asked, as something splatted on the ground next to them.
    “I’m not sure.” Mortimer hardly had gotten the words out when a few more fell. One landed on Jigson’s shoulder.
    “Halved lemons!” Jigson exclaimed. “I don’t think we’re welcome here.”
    “Do you know what the Scriptures say about that?” Detective Mortimer asked as they started into a jog. The lemons were raining down upon them thick and fast.
    “Yeah,” Jigson nodded, as another lemon struck his leg. “‘Wherever they do not receive you, when you leave that town shake off the dust from your feet as a testimony against them.”
    “Where’s it found?” Detective Mortimer continued as he whipped a lemon off his shoulder.
    “Luke 9:5. Can we pick up our pace?” Once they were out of the village, Jigson counted how many lemons had hit him. “Twelve lemons.”
    “Hmm, like the twelve apostles,” Mortimer smiled.
    “Exactly. Now, do you have orders from headquarters?”
    “I actually do. Let us go somewhere safe.”

    And then I stopped. What do y’all think?

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  17. Ok, here is mine. I really don’t like it but I’m afraid you all force my hand…

    Jigson wiped the sweat from his face and ran a grimy hand through his hair. He sighed as he looked around the market place. The Brazilian sun beat down on his head and be began to feel dizzy. Wearily, he sat down and closed his eyes. This job had not been easy.

    He well remembered the day The Agency had approached him with this mission almost a year ago. A large amount of rough diamonds had disappeared from a mine in Brazil. No one had any leads on the robbery, they had simply disappeared. The next month, they were missing twice as many. Jigson had flown down to Brazil and had taken a job in the mine as a labourer. The work had been backbreaking, but within two months, he had discovered the source of the theft. It had been an inside job.

    This information had led him to a large lemon orchard. What he discovered there was even beyond his wildest imagination. Dimond robberies of different scales had occurred all over the globe for the past five and they all lead back to this one farm. Jigson had to admit that the system was brilliant. After the diamonds had been stolen, they were sent to a hidden plant, deep in the Sahara desert, where they were polished and cut into beautiful gems. The diamonds remained at the plant for about a year. Then, they were sent to the orchard in Brazil.

    Once at the orchard, the tiny diamonds were wrapped in a specialised micro packaging and injected into young lemons in a separate part of the orchard. The young lemon was permitted to grow around the diamond until the fruit was ripe. The injected lemons were then picked and shipped along with the regular lemons to a big market close to Rio. Once there, customers who were in on the stolen diamond industry, would simply purchase a bag of diamond lemons and no one would be the wiser.

    So now, Jigson had transferred from working in the orchard to selling lemons in the market. Of course, only the regular lemons. The man in charge of the stall had innocently informed him that he was only to sell the lemons at a certain table. The others, his boss told him, were the best of the crop, reserved for “important” customers. It didn’t take Jigson long to figure out which customers were the “important” ones. Lemons were sold in netted bags of ten each. However, the injected lemons were sold in bags of eleven, and Jigson noticed that the label was slightly different. Moreover, as he had studied the labels, he could see that some of them had a small logo in the corner. A diamond shape with the letters VJH interwoven with each other.

    Jigson shook himself out of his reverie. The stall was getting busy. Slowly, he stood up and walked to his table. The sun had hidden behind the clouds, giving temporary relief. Suddenly, Jigson looked up to see a man studying him. Casually, he dropped his head and continued working. He looked up at the sky. The sun was coming out again. Reaching under the table, Jigson pulled out a wide brimmed hat and put it on. Then, still bending over the fruit table, he slid his sunglasses on his nose. Jigson looked at the man from the corner of his eye then frowned slightly. The man had a handgun hidden under his jacket. He made a mental note of the man’s features. Red hair, a prominent nose, piercing eyes, and high cheekbones. As Jigson watched, the man stuck his hand into his pocket and moved towards the fruit stall. He approached the Jigson’s table.

    “Good afternoon.” said the man in a clipped British accent.

    “What can I do for you?” asked Jigson politely.

    The man looked at Jigson for a moment before answering. “Yes, I would like twelve lemons.”

    “I’m sorry.” said Jigson. “We only sell them in bags of ten.” Or eleven, he said to himself.

    “I realise this,” continued the man, “But would there be any way I could get twelve?”

    Jigson did not answer. This was not a normal request. But if he complied to it, perhaps he could gain some information. Without a word, he opened a bag, took out two lemons, and slipped them in the bag he handed the man. The Brit thanked him and handed him the money. Then, without a backwards glance, he walked away. Jigson looked after him. Something was wrong. He studied the bills the man had given him. Two bills. He began to put them in the register when he realised that there was a thin piece of paper in between. Quickly, he slipped the bills into his pocket.

    “Can I take a break?” Jigson called to his boss.

    “Si, no problem.” replied the man.

    Jigson walked away from the stand. He made his way to a park and sat down on a bench. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the paper. Unfolding it, he could see it was a message. He read it carefully.

    “Many thanks for the kindness today. It had great effect. A greater effect next coming year. Do more.”

    Strange. He read it again. Then his eyes widened. A greater effect next coming year. A-G-E-N-C-Y. Do more. DM. A detective, he thought. He looked over the other sentences. No, there was nothing. Quickly, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. Then, he turned up the hem of his jeans and slid his finger along until he found the hidden zipper. Opening it, he reached inside the thin casing and drew out a small flat disc. An anti-hacking mechanism. Sliding the cover off the back of his phone he placed the disc on top of the battery. Then, going through the maze of passwords and identification, he logged into the secure Agency site. He typed in the words Detective M. Rapidly, he scanned over the pages of bios that came up. Ah, there he was. Detective Mortimer…has been with the agency…description…originally from Britain. Yes it had to be him. Or someone that was posing as him. Still, he had to find out.

    Sliding his AH back into the hem of his jeans, he took out a lighter and burned the note. He started walking back to the lemon stall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man walking towards him. He stopped and turned around. It was the detective. Slowly, Jigson reached into his pocket and felt his fingers close on his knife. He looked at the detective levelly, but the man appeared to not see him. He walked leisurely past, an seemed to simply continue on his way. But Jigson had heard him. As he walked he had whispered ever so slightly, “1258 north 5:00. Password is, twelve lemons.”

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  18. I didn’t put this in my scene, but my brother and I have been thinking. What if there is something more to the phrase “twelve lemons” than meets the eye? One thing we noticed, “twelve lemons” is twelve letters. That could be something.

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    • Yeah, I’ve been messing around with the numbers too, but nothing seems to turn up. Except for both words have six letters in them, and L is 12 in the numeric alphabet. Jigson’s number is 601 witch starts with six. I’m pretty sure we’re overthinking it 😆

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  20. Amazing story, Leah! I liked it, even though it was a lot more serious and, well, hot. XD. I liked how the note was coded. You probably have something on twelve lemons…Or C.R.Hedgecock didn’t mean it to be such a bit thing. Maybe it’s a simple answer…Like…

    “How many lemons should be in this lemonade?” Detective Mortimer asked, as Jigson helped him with the lemonade for the Agency meeting.
    “Twelve,” young Jigson said promptly.
    “Why twelve?”
    “Because that’s the proper number of lemons in lemonade,” Jigson’s blue eyes looked into the detective’s brown ones.
    “Who taught you that?” Detective Mortimer asked. He had found something in common with this strange boy. Both had no one in the world to care for…or no one they could find. Jigson was sharp and daring, both needed in this kind of life work.
    The boy’s lip trembled a bit and he got a far away look.
    “Ah, I see,” the detective gave Jigson’s shoulder a squeeze. “Hand me the twelve lemons.”

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  21. Here’s mine it is pretty short though, and twelve lemons might be a little more then people can juggle.

    “How many balls can you juggle?” Detective Mortimer asked Jigson who was juggling three balls, while the Detective made lemonade.
    “May I have twelve lemons please? Jigson asked, setting his balls down when the Detective handed him the bag of lemons, he pulled out twelve lemons and started tossing them in circles picking one lemon at a time until he was juggling twelve lemons. “I’ve only got up to twelve, but it softens the lemons and is good exercise” said the boy sadly, seeming lost in thought.

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  22. I just had an idea. (About twelve lemons). Since Detective Mortimer is British, he likes tea, correct? So what if this is how twelve lemons came about?

    Jigson sat across from Detective Mortimer, ready to listen to the details of this case. Detective Mortimer slowly stirred his steaming tea slowly. Without looking at Jigson, he reached for the lemons. After two lemon halves, he sipped his tea. His expression turned to thoughtful as he deliberately squeezed two more lemon halves.
    Jigson squirmed. This case had sounded serious over the phone. Why wasn’t this Brit hurrying up? Slowly, Detective Mortimer took another sip.
    “Still not sour enough,” he remarked casually.
    “How many lemons do you need?” asked the unknowing American. “Twelve?”

    And from then on, whenever Detective Mortimer and Jigson had tea alone, twelve lemons was an inside joke only they understood.

    What do you think? Does it makes sense? Do y’all like lemon in your tea?

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  24. My brother likes lemon in his tea. Twelve lemons would be extremely lemony though! And why didn’t he ask Mrs. Baker for lemon when she gave him some in S of S? Maybe he didn’t want to. But anyway, although I would take coffee over tea, (I still like coffee just not as much) i usually only drink Earl Grey or other black teas, and I’m not a fan of lemon it it:)

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    • I would take coffee any day over tea, but I do like my black tea. I only like English tea No. 2 with lemon. I’m so picky with my teas! Have you ever tried Irish tea and milk? Ah! Tea is so good! (but only black tea)

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    • I don’t know. Maybe because he’s polite, and he didn’t want to be rude. Or he was preoccupied. I usually don’t care how my tea is if I’m trying to help someone. Haha! I know, right? Twelve lemons would make your lips pucker. But that’s why it’s a joke.

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  26. Yes black tea is the only true tea. English tea no. 2, is that English Breakfast? I’m pretty picky with my tea too:) Really don’t like herbal. Best tea I ever had was a black tea with pieces of crystals sugar and dried peaches. So good!

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  27. Do YOU like herbal tea? It gives me headaches. I know! I’ve always wanted to go to England. I’m sure the tea is amazing! Yes Lady Grey is awesome!

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    • No! It’s like drinking grass. (Trust me, my siblings and I used to have grass eating competitions.). I used to like green tea, but now I find it disgusting. Hmm, Miss Hedgecock, if you’re reading this, could you let us know how you like your tea? Since you are a real Britain.
      What are some other kinds of black tea you like, Leah?

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      • Now that you made think of that I do occasionally drink peppermint tea with…….. you’ll never guess!

      • There has only been one peppermint tea that I came close to liking, and I actually made it. We grow peppermint in our garden and a few years ago we grew chocolate mint. So I took some and dried it, and then put some dried strawberries and mini chocolate chunks. It was pretty good, for someone that docent like peppermint.

  28. I have a question that randomly popped into my mind. Who after reading Hunting in the Highlands went back to the Hunting in the Highlands is on live on kindle post .And decoded the codes that were there?

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  30. I had another idea for twelve lemons. (I’m obviously a writer. Lol! All my different ideas. I hope I’m not stealing any of yours!). What if twelve lemons came from the saying “If life gives you lemons, make lemonade?” If it did, then maybe twelve stands for the twelve major missions Jigson’s been on so far, or the different trials he’s had in his life that he’s shared with Detective Mortimer.

    What do you think?

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  31. The thing with “twelve lemons” is, I think it would have to be the perfect mix of something a little humorous and something deeper. If you think back to the scene in Sigurd’s volcano, when Jigson’s identity was discovered, Mortimer didn’t believe him and Jigson said, “I’m afraid you force my hand.” then Mortimer said, “Do your worst.” and Jigson said “Twelve lemons.” The recognition was instantaneous. Mortimer knew that no other agent knew about “twelve lemons.” So that’s why I think that it may be a bit more than just a private joke. Certainly not as deep as my scene, I just did that for fun, but it had to be something that Mortimer knew could only be related to Jigson. It also had to be something that didn’t come to Mortimer’s mind right away. Remember he said, there is absolutely nothing you could say that would convince me. So it had to be something important because Mortimer never considered it. If it was something just light and funny, it would be one of the first things to come to mind, not something that would prove someones identity.

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    • I holehartedly agreee Leah. Unfortunaly, the fan fiction I’m writing at the moment is purely humor. I wanted to write something more serious, but I don’t think I could pull it off.

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  33. Ok, here’s mine. I would have made the escape room longer and more complicated, but I didn’t have the time. I don’t think of my self as a good writer, so excuse and grammar and/or spelling mistakes 😉

    “Alright men,” The Agency instructor droned, “this training exercise is pretty strait foreword. You must escape a locked room using codes, riddles, and anything else that might become handy.”

    Jigson smiled. Escape rooms were his favorite part of Agency training. He loved the challenge of using random objects to solve problems in creative ways. And besides, it gave him an outlet for his natural energy.

    “You will split into group of twos and then head to your assigned rooms.”

    Jigson shuffled his feet as he waited for his name to be called. This time he’d be working with someone instead of on his own and he was a little nervous. He looked at the neat line of Agents and noticed a man he’d never seen before. He had red hair, a mustache, and seemed to be observing every detail of the room from head to foot.

    A loud commanding voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Jigson, you’re paired with Mortimer.”

    The man he’d noticed before came foreword and shook his hand. “Hello Jigson,” The man said in a British accent, “I am Detective Mortimer. I’m pleased to make you’re acquaintance.”

    “Detective? I thought this was Agent training.”

    “I thought it might be a good idea to tough up on my skills. Since I’ve done some work for the Agency, they said I could join a few drills. Now enough chatter, let begin.”

    Mortimer lead Jigson down a hall to room number twelve. Both stepped inside and the door slammed shut tight behind them, plunging the room into darkness.

    “Where do we start?” Asked Jigson.

    He could hear his companion shuffling around in the dark. “Find a light switch.” After a faint click sound the light snapped on. “There, found it.”

    Jigson’s eyes roved the room. There was a desk in the right hand corner with a lamp, a pad of paper, and a pencil. Next to it sat a small waste bin. On the wall there where two picture frames, one of a majestic horse, and the other a lemon tree. Mortimer stood near the door, his fingers resting in the light switch.

    “Check the waste bin,” Mortimer suggested, “l’ll have a look at these paintings.”

    Jigson nodded and began rummaging through the basket. Pretty soon he came across a crumbled piece of paper with a crude sketch of a horse drawn on it.

    “I found something!” He in crumpled the paper on the desk as Mortimer came over.

    “What is it?” He asked.

    “Looks to be some sort of code.” Jigson answered. “5 15 19 13 12 14 does that mean anything to you?”

    “Nothing really to comes to mind.” Mortimer scratched his head. “Try running it through a simple number decoder.”

    Of course, like any good agent, Jigson new the numeric alphabet like the back of his hand. “E, O, S, M, L, and N. What did you find?”

    Mortimer motioned to the wall with the pictures. Both had been removed. Behind the horse portrait was a secret panel with an eleven number digital lock, and behind the tree portrait was a disconnected circuit board.

    “Well it looks to me like the numbers I found go here.” He mused as he began to type in the digits. The lock wouldn’t budge.

    “Maybe the number are in the wrong order.” Mortimer thought aloud. “When you turn the numbers into letters and then rearrange them it spells LEMONS. So maybe the code is actually 12 5 13 15 14 19.” When he punched in the newly arranged digits, the lock sprung open and the hidden panel slid away. Out fell a dozen small lemons.

    “What are we supposed to do with those?” He asked.

    “Well, when life gives you lemons…” Jigson picked up a hand full of lemons and walked over to the circuit board. There were six sets of matching negative and positive contact rods. Jigson took one of the lemons and stuck the disconnected contact rods using it. Then he did the same for the other five. “That’s strange, nothing happened.”

    “Not really, look.” Mortimer said.

    Jigson turned to look where his companion was pointing. The desk lamp was on. Black light. When it came into contact with the paper, an invisible ink message popped up, “Good work agents,” it read, “The key is under the door mat.”

    “Now why didn’t we think of that?” Mortimer asked.

    Jigson shrugged, “I didn’t expect it to be that easy.” He retrieved the key and unlocked the door.

    “Well, Jigson,” Mortimer said as they shook hands, “It’s been a pleasure working with you, we should do it again some time.”

    “I agree. I will never underestimate the usefulness of twelve lemons again.”

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  34. Jigson slipped behind a wooden crate filled with lemons about to be shipped to other countries and sank down to his knees slowly to prevent noisy movement. He covered his mouth with his t-shirt to keep the puffing of his heavy breathing from sounding out loud. His heart was beating rapidly and adrenaline rushed through him, making him ready for almost anything.

    It was dark inside the wooden barn he was in and each miniature sound echoed loudly and distinctly across the building. The roof loomed high above the eighteen-year-old teen and the door was barred by another crate.

    He nervously ran a hand through his dark hair. If only he could get out of the trap he was in. He peered around the crate, scanning the room for the man who had been pursuing him. He drew his head back around. The man must be hiding for he didn’t see anyone.

    He cupped his thumb and fingers around the back of his ear and leaned forward, listening for any noise or movement. A slight shuffling, as if someone was crawling on the concrete floor, seized his attention. The man was coming nearer.

    He looked around the crate again. He could see the man slithering slowly on his hands and knees making his way towards him.

    Jigson had to move or the man would get him. He started slipping towards the end of the crate on the opposite side the man was coming. He stood up behind a stack of crates and took a deep breath. After counting mentally to three, he strode quietly stopping at each crate to listen and watch the man.

    The man attacked the floor with force where Jigson had been behind the crate. He let out a painful cry when he slammed his fists into the concrete. He lifted his fists from the ground and massaged them, his lips moving in silent syllables as he muttered to himself. He stood up. “Jigson!”

    The word reverberated so loudly Jigson took another step closer to the door.

    The man’s chest rose as he filled his lungs with another yell. “Jigson!” he cried angrily. “Where are you?”

    Jigson advanced as quickly as he could to the door being as silent as a mouse with his footsteps and action. Just a few more paces and he would be at the door. His heart rate moved up as the anticipation built.

    The man began walking ahead.

    Jigson moved another step closer to the door. He was making progress.

    The man kicked a crate out of his way. “Jigson, I know you are still in here.”

    Jigson made another step.

    The man wore a frustrated frown. “I will find you and-”

    Jigson didn’t hear his words. He made a triumphant step to the door. Now he had to move the crate that blocked it somehow. A cold sweat rushed over his back. How would he do it quietly?

    The man was getting to close for comfort. Jigson would just have to be quick and get out. He gripped the crate’s edge with shaking hands and pushed with all his might. It moved slowly with the sound of thunder it felt to him.

    The man heard the noise and broke into a run.

    Jigson fumbled with the door handle and finally twisted it.

    The man came around the crate Jigson had pushed.

    Jigson opened the door, stepped outside, and banged the door shut behind him. The sunlight hurt his electric-blue eyes because he had been in the dark barn for a while. He didn’t pay much attention to it though because the only thing on his mind was ‘Run’.

    He heard the man toying with the door handle. He decided to run around the building and hide back there somewhere. He pressed his feet into the ground and began running.

    The sun now shown with a horrible glare not letting him see where he was going. This would be an advantage to his pursuer because he would block the sun from the man’s eyes.

    Jigson covered his eyes as he raced to get to the back. When he reached the corner he collapsed around it.

    A man with reddish-brown hair and darting brown eyes instructed, “Jigson, follow me.” His accent was real or acted out very good. It was definitely British. “If we meet again after I help you escape what should be a code kept only between you and me so that we know each other?”

    Jigson frowned as they rushed to a black Mercedes Benz. “Who are you?”

    “I’m Mortimer Jones.”

    Jigson definitely knew that name. He was a very well known detective amongst Jigson’s Agency peers. If it had been on a better circumstance he would have been quite pleased.

    “A code,” Mortimer reminded.

    “Oh, uh, yeah. A code.” Jigson thought for only a second as they climbed into the detective’s car. “Twelve lemons.” Lemons were on his mind since he had been in that room with crates full of them.

    The detective looked incredulous as he backed the car up. “Twelve lemons?”

    “Yeah,”

    Mortimer thought for a moment and a smile appeared under his mustache. “I like that. No one will find that out.”

    My twelve lemons scene. What do y’all think of this?

    Reply

  35. Yeah, well mine certainly isn’t cool or mysterious…. but here you go, since you asked Jac!

    “Jigson.”

    The young man stepped forward to the desk where his superior sat, writing on a paper closed in a clipboard. “Yes sir.”

    The man stopped writing and looked down at him. “Your first mission is about to be begun.”

    Jigson pushed down a feeling of bubbly excitement and fought to keep a cool demeanor. Finally! After many months of rigorous training, he was deemed ready for a mission! “Yes sir! What is it I must do?”

    The man shoved the clipboard in his face. “Sign this.”

    Jigson stared at the form. Something about agreeing to terms and the policy. He scratched the pen across the line at the bottom in a flourishing signature. “Here sir.”

    The man eyed it, and then tucked it inside his desk. “Move on to the Orientation building. Instructions to be given there.”

    “Yes sir.” Jigson saluted and hurried out of the office through security again, then pushed out the door and walked down the sidewalk to the big old Orientation building. When the establishment was first built, the orientation building was originally used for training, until the new gym was put up.

    He was so concentrated on the excitement of his first mission that he didn’t stop to notice the pale blue sky, green shrubbery, and springtime air that usually made his heart glad. This time, though, he had no time for that. He was about to be plunged into danger, to fight for the right, to bring about justice, to risk his life for the cause. His cause!

    On reaching the Orientation office, he hustled through security again, rushed up the stairs, put in the passcode and was soon seated in a small auditorium where other agents were sitting too. The room was hushed in expectation. Jigson looked at the Agency’s seal on the wall, then to the larger United States seal that flashed beside it. Two flags were on each side: one the International agency flag, then the United States Flag. In front of the seals was a podium with a microphone. Desks on either side were decorated with computers and notepads. Everything about the place spoke of official government business. Jigson felt a burst of pride at being a part of such an amazing thing.

    The room was in silence as a tall burly officer strode forward to the podium and addressed the audience through the public address system.

    “Gentlemen. Today you are admitted from the ranks of trainees, to agents.” There was an awed silence. It felt like there should be applause, but there wasn’t any.

    “You have proven yourselves well enough to handle a new mission. Each one of you will be assigned a different one, today.” He paused again then began to read off names.

    Jigson was told to go to another room where he would receive classified information regarding his new mission. He left, full of anticipation and excitement.

    There he was met by another agent who handed him a file and debriefed him on what was expected. “A very expensive private department store was broken into last night,” began the man. “They need experts to solve the case.”

    Jigson felt slightly disappointed that his first case was a burglary, but then considered that it might really be a very elaborate burglary. He saluted again. “Yes sir.”

    Twenty minutes later, Jigson jumped out of his car in the store parking lot and went inside the building. Part of the area had been sealed off, and Jigson was surprised to see that only one man was there.

    He went up to him, a distinguished gentleman with ginger hair and a moustache. “Excuse me, sir, but is this where we begin the investigation?”

    The man nodded and looked Jigson over critically. “Are you the agent we were told about?”

    “I believe so.”

    “I was told to watch for your arrival.” He held out his hand. “Detective Mortimer Jones.”

    “Call me Jigson.”

    He nodded cordially. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jigson. Please come with me.”

    Jigson followed the detective through rows of shelving before they arrived at the very back of the store.

    “The manager wanted to see you,” he explained, rather apologetically.

    “Okay?”

    They entered a small office where a very distraught Italian man with a large moustache was adding up figures on a calculator.

    “Ah, ah, ah! You’re here, at last! I was languishing away in despair and was just about to call the Secret Service!”

    The detective and Jigson exchanged a look. “Sir, is there a problem with counterfeit? Or has your money all been taken?” asked Jigson.

    “Mercy, me, no! If such a thing had happened, well, I surely wouldn’t still be in my right mind! Gracious no.”

    “So what’s the problem?”

    “Problem! Only that the safety of my valuable products has been compromised! My clerks and I fear for our safety!”

    “This must be very serious.”

    “Oh it is, it is!”

    Jigson considered telling the man that the Secret Service dealt with crimes regarding the treasury and protecting the President, but decided not to.

    “Well,” he said, “we are very sorry that such an unfortunate event had to happen. Will it cost you greatly?”

    “Oh dear. Oh dear. I calculated that it would cost about fifty dollars to recover the goods and repair the damages.”

    “Only fifty dollars?” Jigson was rather surprised by this. He glanced at the detective questioningly.

    “Yes. You see, the bin was cracked and it will cost ten dollars to replace that. Then another ten dollars to replace the stolen merchandise, then thirty dollars to replace the lights that got broken.”

    “Oh.” This was a very strange case.

    “Perhaps you could tell us what was stolen,” suggested the detective.

    “Well, you see, it really is very much top secret—

    “But I am the Private Investigator you asked for,” said Detective Mortimer. “And Jigson here is from a secret agency. We need to know what was stolen.”

    “Oh dear.”

    “No we do!” insisted Jigson.

    “But—but—what if you’re the culprits in disguise or maybe trying to trick me into telling you.”

    Detective Mortimer looked baffled and Jigson raised his brows. “I can guarantee you we are trying to help you.”

    “Oh fine then.” He leaned furtively forward. “I will tell you.” He took a deep breath and then, his voice full of drama and pride, whispered—

    “Lemons.”

    Jigson drew back in surprise. “Lemons?”

    “Yes sir, twelve. Tuesday, last, I lost twelve lemons in a highly suspicious robbery.”

    Burglary, Jigson almost corrected him.

    “Twelve Lemons? You lost twelve lemons?”

    “I most certainly did. And won’t you find them for me?”

    “Oh.” Jigson had to push back a laugh that clawed at his throat. “Yes, we will.”

    He stepped out of the office, and the Detective followed him. When they were out of earshot, the Detective chuckled.

    “Well, I’ll be. Twelve lemons.”

    “My first mission—ever—recovering missing lemons.”

    The Detective laughed again. “Ah, so you’re fresh out of training are you? The agency does this to their newest agents.” His voice lowered. “It’s kind of become a joke for us P.I.s. They give the young ones simple or even over-simple missions as their first.”

    Jigson was incredulous. “And I have to go undercover to find the culprit who stole twelve lemons!” Suddenly the humor of it struck him and he laughed out loud.

    The Detective winked. “Well. We better get on and find out what happened to these lemons. The poor manager is quite distressed about it.”

    Reply

  36. Man! There have been like 200 hundred comments since my last visit! I love all your 12 lemon theories.
    Heres mine;

    Jigson and Mortermior stood at the counter at the Danish shop, Jigson fumbled in his back pocket for his Danish dictionary. Then gave a frustrated groan “I forgot my translation book!” he exclaimed, though Jigson could speak many languages danish was not one of them. “Just do your best,” Mortimer said, “I forgot mine too”. Jigson turned to the confused Dane behind the counter and plastered a smile on his face, “umm I would like tolv citron’s please,” Jigson said slightly uncertain, he was asking for two pastries. The lady smiled widely and nodded pleased to hear the American speaking Danish. She turned and started packing lemons into a bag, “Uhh Jigson, those must be for someone else… Right?” Jigson scratched his head, “yes… I think” the lady turned to him with the bag, “Tak,” she said happily, “umm, thanks,” Jigson said a little confused, he opened the bag, Mortimer appeared over his shoulder and counted under his breath, “1…4…9…12… Twelve lemons! Jigson what are we going to do with Twelve lemons!” he cried. Jigson scratched his beard “I suppose I need to work on my Danish?!”

    Reply

  37. This was written in ten minutes please excuse grammar! If I was writing this for a book there would be more details and description, this was just a quick thing 🙂

    Reply

  38. The people who have written scenes should write books. They have all been great and I can’t wait to read them when they are posted.

    Reply

    • Funny you should mention that I am writing a book! Not about the Bakers though of course. Are you writing a book?

      Reply

    • Do you mean books like in fan fiction, or books as in our own? I’m working on three different book projects right now and am in planning stages for two of them and am almost done with another.

      Reply

      • Books as in our own. I’ve written one and working on two others. I have plans for about twenty books.

      • Yikes! How do you manage to balance that? I have enough trouble balancing one!
        What are they about (if you want to say)?

      • Cool! Do you intend to pursue writing as a career? I want to, but I’m also considering journalism as a possibility. The medical field is also a very strong option. I have plans for at least twelve other books, but I am as yet undecided. My first goal is to finish and publish the one I have right now.
        Parker, what genre do you write in? I tend to lean more towards historical fiction and modern-day fiction. And a small bit of fantasy/allegory. 🙂

      • I do intend on writing as a career. Of course, I will probably work a different job and have writing on the side unless I can completely do it as a career. I’m working on getting everything prepared for publishing on my first book. The second book, I have written the first draft and I’m also working on another book. I am editing my first. I going to write lots of series hopefully and other single books. My genre is mystery, fiction, western, adventure, and of course they are all Christian. I may write more genres in the future though. I’ll probably only write fiction unless the Lord chooses otherwise. If you publish tell me. I would like to read it.

      • I’ll let you know if I ever publish. I want to read your book Parker! Tell me when it’s published!

      • Wow thats neat! Yes I love to write, but right now, I’m just doing it as a side hobby. I’m kind of split up in too many areas. My hobbies are, writing, drama, filmmaking, photography, music, painting, drawing, sewing, culinary art etc. Way to many interests! I’m mostly just focusing on drama, filmmaking and writing. And drinking tea of course. But not with lemons:)

      • I’m not sure about the title yet. That has been the most challenging thing. I am thinking about it though and working through different ideas for it.

      • For I know the plans I have for you declares the LORD. I think that is one of a creative persons key verses. It sure has been an encouragement to me! Whatever we get in to, we know the Lord is in control. Isn’t that a blessing? He works all for good. Even the grammar and spelling errors:)

    • I’m writing a book right now that takes place in the french revolution. I’m planning to make it a trilogy so there will be one before (American Revolution) and one after (Napoleonic Wars) That is if I finish them!

      Reply

  39. So, no, this isn’t another twelve lemons scene. This is not the “This is the end of the world” scene either that I said it’d have to be if these people teamed up. But here it is nonetheless. I mean, the world could end if they fail – somehow.

    ——

    Six people gathered around the table, staring intently at the map that had been placed there. Three locations were marked, notes on terrain, potential hiding places, people who worked there, and the like deduced by the standing team and the man who now entered the room. Each stepped away from the table for him. He leaned over the map and marked one more place making the count four.

    “We’ll break up into teams of two and watch for any sign of the shipment. Once we find it, that team will contact the others via the radio and then retain their position until the rest arrive. Cevartes, Alastair; you are a team. Detective, you and Guomundur. Manel and I.” Jigson surveyed them. “Understand?”

    Rolf raised his hand. “Uh, am I to take the fourth location? Alone?”

    “There was one volunteer that I met today who was willing to take part.” Jigson smiled. “If it’s okay with you, I think you’ll be a great fit.”

    Rolf shrugged, his head bowed slightly. “Anyone is fine,” he muttered. “Just as long as my father doesn’t escape this area before we find him.”

    “Rolf, are you sure you want to do this?” Jigson whispered, noting Rolf’s body language.

    “Ja. I am not the only one hunting family.”

    Jigson swallowed – Corona – then nodded. “Right. Okay.”

    He strode to the door and swung it open. A man stepped into the room and surveyed its occupants. Then he froze.

    “Rolf?” He looked at Jigson then back at Rolf, mouth agape with disbelief. “Rolf Klaus?”

    The blond haired youth scrutinized the newcomer, searching for anything recognizable. Closely cropped brown hair on the sides, longer on the top. The man’s dark eyes seemed to smile as the shock wore off.

    “Hallo. Ja?” he said. “Have we met?”

    Jigson cut the awkwardness. “This is the eighth member of our team – Garth.”

    Rolf blinked, then smiled slightly, remembering the conversation they’d had before he was transferred to the prison ward. “You’re being let off the hook because you’re telling on the rest of us.” “Rolf, the criminals I’ve got to testify against were my friends – some are family. This has been the hardest decision I’ve ever made. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s easy.” No, Garth wasn’t a great fit. He was the perfect partner, one that could identify with the battle raging within him now. He reached for Garth’s hand. “Where has Jigson hid you all these years?”

    Someone cleared his throat as Garth opened his mouth to speak.

    All eyes turned to Guomundur.

    “Not to interrupt this reunion, but time is ticking. Herr Klaus and Trina Verton are certainly not wasting time catching up with their criminal friends. On with the butter!”

    Reply

  41. So since everyone has almost posted a “twelve lemons” theory on here, how about writing a young Jigson scene, here is mine Jigson is about fourteen years old, now of course I am not sure how this fits in as Jigson would probably still be in the Glen or living with his uncle but I was just playing around with some ideas….

    a lightning bolt struck across the sky illuminating the dark deserted docks for a fraction of a second, a thunder roll soon followed.The young boy crouched behind a pile of crates waiting to be loaded onto the ship, the rain poured down soaking his dark hair. His breaths came in short gasps, he looked around, the coast was clear, he moved silently towards the ship staying in the shadows.
    He reached cover at another crate, he couldn’t see his pursuers. He lifted his watch close to his mouth and pressed a button “I’ve lost them.” he whispered “good, make your way onto the ship look for a man holding twelve lemons.” the voice paused “your name is now Jigson”.

    Jigson boarded the ship and glanced around nervously, the deck was deserted. He moved forward and caught sight of a red-haired man around twenty years old. He turned towards Jigson, and he held twelve lemons ” I am meant to work with you?” He asked scrutinizing the boy
    “I believe so” Jigson returned critically surveying the man.

    A few years later.

    Jigson and Mortimer strolled along the street together.
    “Would you believe that a few years ago we wanted nothing to do with each other” Jigson smiled “yes I remember, I suppose twelve lemons will always be a significant milestone in our lives.”

    Reply

  45. Following up with what Kenleaf wrote about all of the agents working together….
    ————————————————————————
    Tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, Abby stepped out on the porch of her house and took in a deep breath of the crisp October air. It had been two weeks since the episode in Scotland and she was grateful for some peace and quiet. School work had never seemed so wonderful; she surprised herself by actually enjoying her mathematics course.
    She looked up at the sky and let out a little sigh of relief. The trees were changing colors rapidly as autumn progressed, their glorious reds and oranges reminiscent of a time when there was never anything to worry about. The sun had begun to swing low in the west, sending yellow shafts of light through the branches, bathing the scarlet leaves in brilliant golden glory.
    Abby savored the moment, knowing all too well that the feeling could not last. She and her family had been caught up in a crazy, dangerous, whirlwind adventure at least three times already that year, and something nagged the back of her mind that it wasn’t really over.
    No, she told herself. Don’t think about that right now. You’re at home, safe and comfortable; nothing’s going to happen.
    She wished she could believe it.
    The sun hesitated right above the hills, as though debating whether to go behind them or not. Abby watched the sky as the blue deepened, feeling her heart was at rest. No matter what came next, God was always there beside her. Even in the darkest moments, she was not alone. Never alone.
    A movement pulled her thoughts away from the subject and she focused her eyes on a tree. Had she imagined it, or was someone there?
    “H-hello?”
    Abby, in her fright, was not expecting an answer. Not the way it came.
    “Hello.”
    “Oh!” she jumped, startled as a figure pulled out from behind the tree and sauntered up closer. “Wh-who’s there?”
    The person paused, his features mellowed in the weakening light. A hint of a smile seemed to be in his voice. “An arrow in the darkness.”
    The words drew her back inevitably to when she was in Scotland, crouching in the dark refines of Glen Creag’s terrible prison. “Fergus!”
    He stepped closer and she recognized the confident stance, the windblown hair, and the wiry figure. It was definitely Fergus.
    “Is it—Indy? No, forgive me. Abby.”
    She didn’t laugh, so startled was she at his sudden appearance. “Y-yes. I’m Abby.” She leaned forward. “How did you get here?”
    “I was always a good tracker, remember? Plus, Detective Mortimer gave me a few hints.”
    Adventure! This was the first thought on Abby’s mind when she heard Fergus’s words. Why had he tracked them?
    “What do you want?”
    His face lost the smile and a graver expression took it’s place. “Quite simply, Abby, I need to find some friends of yours.”
    She frowned and tapped her fingers together in an unconscious imitation of Detective Mortimer. “Who?” was the next question.
    He came up closer to the porch and up the stairs until he was facing Abby. “I’m not really supposed to say.”
    She edged towards the front door, planning to open it and let him in to see everyone else. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me.”
    “Well, I really need to find the son; he’s—in the invention fair that Phil—your brother is in.”
    Abby pursed her lips trying to think. Suddenly an idea made her face straighten out and she snapped her fingers. “Do you mean Ira Prel—dzel?” she asked, stumbling over the name. She knew the real name was Prelzmann, but they went by Predzel.
    Fergus looked curiously at Abby. “Yes, I think so. Is his father a Doctor?”
    “Yes. They’re from California.”
    “Ohhh.” He looked a bit worried and Abby wondered why. “I didn’t realize they were that far away.”
    “We could probably arrange a meeting if you needed to….” she offered, not sure of herself.
    “Why do you want to see Ira?”
    “It….isn’t really common knowledge.”
    Abby tilted her head. “You mean it’s a secret.”
    “Yes.”
    “Why….” she stopped, realizing that she was probing into a private issue. But she honestly wanted to know what Fergus could possibly want from Ira Predzel.
    “Fergus,” she said. “We are familiar with situations such as this. Ira will not want to meet you unless he knows why. Can’t you tell us?”
    “Lassie, you don’t understand at all. Several of the people in leadership of Glen Creag were not shut down. Detective Mortimer’s been doing extensive investigation and he thinks that there’s an important connection to Ira Predzel’s invention he’s building for the competition. Alistair is working with Mr. Jigson and some other agents, and they needed me to come to America to find them.” He paused for breath. “Does that satisfy you?”
    “No it doesn’t, but it’ll have to do.” She turned the door handle. “Do you want to come inside?”

    Reply

  47. Yesss!!! I was thinking last night how weird it felt that I was writing about the BFA without the Bakers. Thank you! I love it!!!

    Reply

  48. Yes!!! I was just thinking last night how weird it was to be writing BFA fanfiction without the Bakers. I love this, Isabelle! Fantastic job!
    (And this could now lead into the “The world will end if they fail” epicness)
    Ah! That’s who we’re missing! We need to throw Cassidy in here somewhere – with her dogs. Okay, maybe I’ll have to write a scene with her tracking…certain villainous people. We’ll see…

    Reply

      • That would be awesome Kenleaf! I just had this crazy idea: what if we all wrote an extra Baker Family Adventures Book for fun?! It wouldn’t be part of the series of course…. anyways, that’s probably impossible so never mind. 😕

      • That’s actually a cool idea Isabelle! A completely fan written Baker book! I wouldn’t mind helping, and I’m sure others think the same way. 😉

      • Yes, Isabelle, that could be fun, maybe if Miss Hedgcock put up a fan fiction site, we could work on it. Who would be willing to help? I will and Isabelle and Jubilee will too. Who is in?!

      • Not very many people look at past comments, maybe you should comment that up towards the most recent, Sandrina? That way more people will see it 😉

      • I think writing another Baker book might be neat, but not really the best plan. First, we could never be as good as Caitlin Hedgcock, and it’s kind of stealing her idea. It would end up being sort of a cheep knock off. Second, we all have different ideas of how the plots should go. I think the first 500 comments proved that! Third, we all have very different writing styles, so the book would end up being a quilt of different ideas, styles and plots which would make for an interesting, but incomplete and slightly unsatisfying book. Writing short scenes are fun, and it would be special if Miss Hedgcock used some of our ideas, but personally, in the matter of books, I’d rather just read hers!

      • On the flip side however, I LOVE reading everyones scenes!!!!! There is so much talent in all you guys!

      • I agree it would be a crude and disjointed attempt, but still so fun! Maybe we could just compile all of our short scenes together and call that our book 😉

      • I think it’s a cool idea, but agree with Leah. I like writing the scenes though. 🙂 Not sure how much time I could commit if we did do it.

      • well, we would never have to publish it just take it in turns to write the next scene, no one has to commit a large amount of time, if we take it in turns to write a scene then whoever writes the next one can just pick up on that. We all have different writing styles but I don’t think that matters, we could maybe have very short chapters (kenleaf’s scene one chapter and so on and so forth). And of course, I agree we could NEVER write anything as good as Miss Hedgcock.

      • And Leah, we wouldn’t steal Miss Hedgcock’s idea we would write a fanfiction story. Written by us maybe but credit to Miss Hedgcock

      • I think it would be fun to take all of the scenes people have written on these comments and put them into a fan fiction baker book. It would be very interesting to read, especially all the parts about twelve lemons! It will be neat to see how close we were to the right answer when we find out what twelve lemons really means (if we ever do, but I sure hope we do!!)

    • Thats a better idea! We could call it, (I just love making up book titles:)
      Baker Family Vignettes
      Short works from big fans.

      Reply

  49. Thanks, It is a spanish name, The land of cervantes. It means light. I have always been a little annoyed that my brothers have biblical names and i DONT!

    Reply

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