A Favorite Book on Fiction Writing

I own many books about writing, but one of my favorites, which I discovered early on in my journey to becoming an author, is Guide to Fiction Writing, by Phyllis A. Whitney. I enjoyed reading Ms. Whitney's novels, so when I found this book I was thrilled. I highlighted something on nearly every page. 

It's a sensible, practical guide to fiction writing. I always had plenty of ideas for books from the time I was young, but getting everything into sensible, coherent order seemed overwhelming. 

But, step-by-step as I followed Ms. Whitney's suggestions I eventually I got the hang of writing novels. I still have some unpublished manuscripts, which need tons of work, but I continue to find ideas for more novels. 

How about you? Do you have a favorite book about writing? 

Hope Springs Eternal

 Hope Springs Eternal

Alexander Pope wrote that in 1732, but he certainly got it right. We are always hoping and what better time to hope than spring when the flowers begin to blossom and the snow is gone. In the photo, you see my beautiful Lenten Rose. I love it!

We had too much snow in NJ this winter--at least, I thought so. I used to love snowstorms when I was teaching because invariably--if the snow was bad enough--I got a day off. I didn't mind shoveling snow when I was younger. Now, it's a bit more difficult with my aging bones. In December, when we had our first snow this winter, our driveway wound up with two inches of solid ice on it. I got out the ice chopping tool and was going along quite well until hubby and I directed out energies to the end of the driveway. I chopped up a bunch of ice, put the shovel underneath it, and  slipped. I sprained my wrist. I could have broken it or any other part of me, so I was lucky. But it has since made me very wary of ice and snow. 

I didn't do as much writing as usual in this pandemic year. I went through one edit of Home Somewhere. A Rush of Light still needs a cover, but other matters have become more pressing--like getting a vaccination against COVID-19. I've gotten one shot, now I need one more, but it's progress.

Fortunately, the New Jersey Romance Writers held their annual JeRoWriMo challenge in February. For the challenge, authors make an attempt to write 30,000 words in the month. I've done it before and with the cheering squad at NJRW, I did it again.  Of course, what I wrote was a very rough draft, so now I am fixing it but it was great to start something new. 

John Heywood said in 1546, "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good." As far as St. Leo's Prayer Shawl Ministry goes, the pandemic ramped up production to levels I never expected. When women who crochet are forced to curtail their social activities, they simply buy more yarn. Our small prayer shawl ministry supplied blankets to one nursing home and is now supplying another. We gave away shawls to Memorial Sloan Kettering's nearby outpatient facility. We also made preemie hats and blankets for three local hospitals. I had a great time trying out new patterns and seeing what I could do with all the scraps of yarn I have.  

I look forward to going to meetings in person again. I look forward to big family dinners. I look forward to hugs. I look forward to traveling.

How about you? 




Oh, and don't forget to check out my website at http://www.penelopemarzec.com where you can see all my books. 

Take care! 

Guest Post: TEMPERED TRUTH by Pamela S. Thibordeaux

Today my guest is award-winning author, Pamela S. Thibodeaux. She is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of the Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.” Sign up to receive Pam’s newsletter and get a FREE short story!

Pamela's latest release is Tempered Truth. Here's a quick blurb.

Fate declared them neighbors. Scandal insisted they were brothers.The fact that they looked enough alike to be twins only added fuel to the rumors flying about their parentage. For fifty-plus years Craig Harris and Scott Hensley have enjoyed a bond nothing can sever. Not the insinuations that they share the same father. Not the years of strife and grief and heartache. Not even death. Will the truth set them free or will it destroy the friendship that has lasted a lifetime?

Now for the excerpt! 

 February 28^th, 2005

Craig settled in for the seven-plus hour drive to Scott’s home in Lafayette, Louisiana. His daughter-in-law sat in the back seat so she could take care of his granddaughter should she awaken. Her continued weeping unnerved him. “Lex, please, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if he dies, Craig. I don’t think I can handle it. He’s my father. I’ve already lost one father; I’m not ready to lose Scott too. Oh, God, I can’t believe this is happening!”

“We don’t yet know how he’s doing. Trina said he’s stable. Whatever the situation, what he and Trina, need from you now is your strength and your faith. Besides, being this upset is not good for you, especially in your condition. Nor is it good for Tamera Joy.”

She sniffled. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled as she rubbed her gently rounded abdomen, then returned his gaze to the road. “No need to apologize. Let’s focus on the positive here.” Easier said than done but I hope she can get it together. Neither my heart, nor my nerves, can take much more of her crying.

Craig swallowed the bitter bile of fear in his throat. Hard to believe barely two months ago Scott sat at his kitchen table toasting the holidays, the upcoming New Year, and their joy over their second grandchild. Now he clung to life in a hospital room.

Link: http://bit.ly/TemperedTruth

 

Links:

Website address: http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com

Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/psthibnewsletter

 

FB Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/pamelasthibodeauxauthor

 

Twitter: http://twitter.com/psthib @psthib

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/pamelasthibodea/

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1jUVcdU

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pamela-s-thibodeaux

Instagram: https://instagram.com/pamelasthibodeauxauthor

Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1268453.Pamela_S_Thibodeaux

Book Sniffer Author Page: https://booksniffer.com/pamela-s-thibodeaux

 

What Are Your Favorite Apps?

RIP

 Last week my cellphone lost its mind. I know it doesn't really have a mind, but there were days when it seemed it did. Like the day I could see the Verrazano Bridge but I had no idea how to get to it since I was caught in a maze of one-way streets. My cellphone guided me directly to the bridge with its calm, robotic voice. I was ever so grateful.

But over the past year, my phone kept insisting it didn't have enough memory. I deleted many of my beloved apps, but it continued to complain. Then last week, after more than three years of faithful service, it kept spitting out error messages. I could get on Facebook, but not Google. I could not send or receive text messages. It was very distressing. 

I went to the store and bought a new cellphone--an Android, because I am frugal and a klutz. So, if I step into the bay one day and the phone falls in the water, I won't be too heartbroken.

The new cellphone is great and has lots of memory. It came with a whole ton of games I will never use. I deleted all of them. I have no idea why the phone came with so much junk, but at least I was able to get rid of it. 

The best thing is that I was able to return to all my beloved apps that I had to delete from the old phone. I have Pandora once again, which is absolutely perfect to help me dust. I hate dusting, but I can do it with my favorite music urging me on. I had all my favorite station on Pandora--music from the 50s, 60s, and 70s. I loved country from the 80s, Catholic hymns from the St. Louis Jesuits, Cat Stevens, Mozart, Beethoven, and a whole lot more.

I have Flickr, where I can look at fantastic photos. I have Pinterest, where I can find crochet patterns, recipes, and historical details for my historical characters. 

Of course, I have Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. But I also have NPR, which is absolutely the best place for news as well as our local newspaper, the Asbury Park Press. 

I also have the Kindle app on my phone, but I don't have any games. 

Maybe you do. What are your favorite apps? 

Would You Like To Be A Bird?

 Hubby and I often sit and look at the bay. It's a convenient place to get some fresh air. It's a calming atmosphere, too. My mother always said it was due to the negative ions, but I don't doubt the repetitive movement of the waves and the sounds lead to a measure of serenity as well.

One day, as we sat there watching the birds, hubby said he thought it would be great to fly as the birds do. Well, I think it might be nice to fly, but not as a bird. Birds can't read or write. The creativity of a gull is focused on food. They drop clams onto the blacktop in parking lots in order to eat the clams. I know some people like raw clams, but I don't. 

Birds don't draw, paint, or sew. Some birds don't even build nests. 

I like birds. There are many different kinds and they all have different calls, which I love to hear.  But I would rather be human. We can't fly, but we can do so much more. 

I’m A Winner!!!!!

 I LOVE this challenge. I’ve done it several times. Writers cheer for each other and encourage each other. It is the BEST. Of course, what I have is a rough draft, but eventually it will come together. I am so happy. 

Sledding

 I took the video above at Cheesequake Park. I needed a break from writing in the JeRoWriMo Challenge. Getting fresh air, seeing other humans, and hearing laughter is always fun. There wasn't any sunshine, but it wasn't too cold. 

Watching everyone sledding down that hill brought back memories. Growing up, the hill behind our house was quite steep. If the lake was frozen and it snowed, we didn't have to go anywhere to sled. We just went down the hill in the back of the house and out onto the lake. However, there was only a narrow path between the bushes for the sled. Our sled was one of the old Flexible Flyers, with steel runners. The steering mechanism wasn't great. 

So one day, when I went down the hill, I did not succeed in steering the right way, and ran into a bush. My face was badly scratched. My mom took me to the pediatrician who didn't think I broke my nose--but he didn't take any x-rays. I wasn't very fond of sledding after that, though I still loved skating on the ice. 

Nobody uses a Flexible Flyer to go sledding nowadays. It looks like a lot more fun. 

Thirty-Thousand Word Challenge

The New Jersey Romance Writers are at it again! They organized their thirty-thousand word challenge for the month of February, the month of 💖. What could be more perfect?

I've joined in on the challenge several times in the past and it's always great. The writers send their internal editors packing so their fingers can fly on the keyboard. There are cheerleaders to encourage the writers to make it to the finish line. The books I've written with the challenge have all been published. 

Find out more about it at https://www.njromancewriters.org/jerowrimo.html

Win An Anthology of My Short Stories

I haven’t given away anything in a long time. Today, one of my daughters reminded me about how delightful short stories are. It doesn’t take much time to read a short story. They are rather like a snack.

I have a small anthology of some of my short stories, which usually goes for $0.99 in the ebook version. However, I am willing to give away 5 Kindle editons of the book to some lucky winners. If you’d like to take a chance on winning this little book, go to http://penelopemarzec.weebly.com/contact-me.html. Type FALLING IN LOVE in the comment box and you’ll be entered to win. Winners will be notified on Saturday, February 6, 2021.

Now go sign up before you forget!

A Very Dry Martini

To the right is a very old snapshot of hubby and I taken in 1976. We were engaged at that point, but we had been dating for about a year. Dating in NJ had been fun.There are plenty of places along the Jersey Shore providing entertainment and drinks. By far, the hottest spot in NJ in those days was Jimmy Byrne’s Sea Girt Inn. So, one night we decided to check out the crowd at the Sea Girt Inn. We took a friend of mine along who I had known since high school. 

The place was packed--literally. People stood shoulder to shoulder. It made me nervous because if anything happened, we could never get out quickly. Nevertheless, we made our way to the bar, which was no small feat in that crowd. My soon to be hubby ordered a dry martini. The bartender was quite a character. He asked, "How dry?" Hubby told him it should be very dry. So the bartender squirted the Vermouth over his shoulder. We thought that was hilarious. 

We edged away from the bar. My friend's drink spilled down the back of the man in front of her. I was not having a good time. The press of people was too much for me. I was grateful when we left. 

In these COVID-19 days, I think of the past when everyone crowded together without any cares. I wasn't concerned about germs at the Sea Girt Inn, I was worried about a fire. How innocent we were. 

What Can You See in the Fog?

If you stand on the beach at Keansburg, NJ, on a clear day, you can see New York City. On a foggy day, the city is invisible. If you stare at this photo you can just about see the Verrazano Bridge and two buoys—one red and one green—marking the channel. Otherwise, there's a lot of gray water and sky. Somedays, you can't see anything at all. 

On days like this I am reminded that I can't see God, but I have faith that He is with us. Tomorrow the sun might come out and the tall buildings of NYC will reflect the bright rays, making the city appear as if it was made of gold. The water will be bright blue, reflecting the sky above. Everything will be clear and distinct. 

However, today it's murky--much like the future. 

Our country is going through a terrible upheaval with thousands of our citizens dying each day from COVID-19. There is political unrest with threats of more unrest to come. People have lost jobs and are suffering. 2020 was bad, but 2021 isn't looking very promising at the moment. 

But God is with us, even on foggy days. So, pray. He can hear you.

 

Excerpt from HOPING FOR JOY

Photo by Jill Wellington

Below is an excerpt from HOPING FOR JOY, Book 13 in the Love Is series, which, according to one reviewer is a,“Lovingly told romantic story of realigning life’s purpose...”

Chapter One

"I thought I’d be married and packing for my honeymoon by now." Hannah grunted as she hefted a box of textbooks into the closet. Summer vacation had finally arrived at Baywater Elementary School and she had finished her first year of teaching a class of six-year-olds. Contemplating the two empty months ahead gave her a headache. "Whenever I question Logan about setting the date, he says, ‘Not yet.’"

Rose sat with a sketchbook in her lap and her feet up on the desk while her favorite tunes blasted through her earbuds. Hannah assumed her cousin didn’t hear a word she said. Most likely, Rose was working on a new tattoo design, because she spent all her time involved in drawing—unless she was actually tattooing.

Rose took out one of the earbuds. "He wants to straighten out his sister’s life."

"He says that, but maybe it’s not the truth. Maybe...he got cold feet." Hannah’s eyes grew misty, but she refused to let her emotions get the best of her.

"His sister nearly died." Rose put her feet on the floor, closed the sketchbook, rolled up the wires to her earbuds, and stuffed them in her pocket.

Hannah sniffed. "Yes, she looked terrible in the hospital, but she went right back to her habit when she got out."

Rose shrugged. "From what I’ve read, taking drugs changes the chemistry of the brain, which makes it almost impossible to stop."

"Still, Logan ought to give me some attention—if he loves me." She pouted as she ripped the backing paper off the bulletin board and jammed it into the trash.

"You’re wallowing in self-pity. Again." Rose took the staple remover from the desk and pulled out the staples still stuck in the corkboard.

"But does Logan love me or not?"

Rose blew a huge pink bubble with her gum and popped it, loudly. "I told Mr. Grimm we’d be at the park before four o’clock."

Hannah sighed. "Everything must be off the floor and in the closet before I leave."

"Should I put the puzzles away next?" Rose asked.

"Yes, thank you." Hannah filled another box with textbooks and hoisted them into the closet. "What if I give Logan some space? Break the engagement, hand him the ring, and later, when his sister improves—"

"If you love somebody you don’t abandon them." Rose started stacking the puzzles in a plastic bin. "Whoa! This is a fantastic image of the cow jumping over the moon. Once a farmer wanted a cow tattoo, but I gave the job to Farrell." She chuckled, grabbed her sketchbook again and began to draw the cow. "Awesome udder thing going on..."

Rose drifted off into her own world, which happened all the time and Hannah didn’t mind it except when Rose forgot to do the dishes or take out the trash. More like sisters than cousins, they shared the small bungalow on Beach Drive where Rose had grown up. When she went to study art in college, she gave her mother, Hannah’s Aunt Deborah, plenty of gray hairs. Then her mother got cancer. Rose quit college and stayed at her mother’s side through the long ordeal.

Hannah originally thought staying with her cousin would be a temporary situation, but since Logan kept putting off the wedding date, she might be there forever— or until she had enough money to rent an apartment of her own. Of course, moving back into her parents’ place was a possibility, but she longed to be more independent.

Had she made a mistake in accepting Logan’s proposal? When they were students, they enjoyed a sweet and comfortable relationship, but everything changed once they went out into the real world. She landed the teaching job in Baywater, New Jersey. He rented an apartment an hour and a half west, close to his job and the Pennsylvania border where his retired father lived in a little town outside Philly. Logan’s father took care of his granddaughter since Logan’s sister had been declared an unfit mother.

It was a sad situation, but as Logan’s intended spouse, Hannah didn’t think it was wrong to plan ahead for their new life together, starting with a wedding.

Logan sent Hannah a text message two days ago. He said Nina was missing—again. So instead of Hannah and Logan enjoying a date this weekend, Logan would be out searching for his sister. Hannah’s hope of a beautiful wedding faded away.

Rose held up her drawing. "What do you think? It’s terrific, isn’t it?"

"Should tattooed cows smile?"

"When they’re happy cows they do," Rose pointed out. "If you were a dairy farmer wouldn’t you want your cow to appear delighted eating grass and making milk?"

"Why would someone advertise their business on their arm?"

"It’s cheaper than buying an ad in the newspaper." Rose went back to putting the puzzles in the bin. "Aren’t you almost done? Mr. Grimm saved the best summer job for you. It should take your mind off things."

Hannah studied her list and checked off all the tasks she had completed in the room. "I worked in the amusement park when I was in high school. Don’t you think I’m a little old for it now?"

"Age means nothing when it comes to having fun. One seventy-five-year-old senior citizen works the train ride. He laughs more than the kids."

"I should spend my vacation doing something important, like taking a class—or—or traveling." If she and Logan had gotten married, she would be lying on a beach in Aruba as they had originally planned.

"Your old car is going to breathe its last one of these days," Rose reminded her. "If you work for a couple months, you might have enough for a down payment on a newer one."

Hannah glanced at the classroom. One entire year of teaching had flown by. It had been a challenge, but one she enjoyed. She already missed the students, but she shouldn’t mope around all summer. Working at the amusement park would give her something better to do than lament her lack of a groom and a wedding.

Rose shoved the puzzles into the closet. "We’re done. Let’s hurry up before someone else gets the water balloon booth."

"That’s the best job?"

"It’s the best spot in the entire park." Rose laughed. "You’ll get drenched every night."

Hannah sighed. "I guess I better keep my hair in a ponytail."

"Cut it short like mine." Rose rumpled her blue spiked coiffure.

Hannah smiled but shook her head. Logan once admired her long, auburn hair and made her promise never to shorten it. While he adored her silky mane, he didn’t seem to miss her much.

Her dreamy plans floated off like high cirrus clouds, thin and wispy and far, far away. "Do you think I’ll wind up an old maid?"

"Our Grandaunt Rose, my namesake, never married." Rose shrugged. "Did she mope around?"

"No." Hannah managed a weak smile. "She was still riding the roller coaster when she was eighty."

"She dated plenty of men, but she never wanted to marry any of them." Rose chuckled. "She said they were too much of a bother."

Hannah sighed. Logan wasn’t a nuisance. He was absent. She closed the classroom door and signed out in the office. Rose hopped on her motorcycle, tossed a helmet to Hannah, and revved the engine. Hannah hung on as Rose drove her to the amusement park.

As the streets of Baywater whizzed by, Hannah closed her eyes. Logan ignored her. Did he love her? Did she love him? Had he forgotten his promise?

Should she dump him?

* * *

Hannah stood in the water balloon booth with Mr. Grimm as he explained what she was supposed to do.

"You gotta get the attention of the people who pass by." He held one of the prizes in his hand and shook it above his head. "Say things like ‘I bet you got good aim,’ or ‘You only need two to play,’ or ‘See what you can win. Don’t you wanna give your girlfriend something special to remember the day?’"

"That stuffed monkey is very small." Hannah thought it was ugly—even grotesque.

"If they win three games, they get the better prize, which is this incredible stuffed panda." Mr. Grimm pulled the toy down from the shelf. "Bet you never laid eyes on anything like it."

"You’re right," Hannah admitted. The panda was large. However, instead of being black and white, it was a rather garish purple and the white fur had metallic silver streaks in it.

"Don’t sit down when you’re working," Mr. Grimm warned. "Make sure you wear your uniform every night, too."

"This t-shirt?" Hannah held it up. Emblazoned on the purple cotton were the words, "Baywater Amusements, Fun Times for the Whole Family."

"I only give those out to the employees. Don’t hand it out to anyone. I don’t want somebody impersonating an employee."

"Has that happened?"

"Yes, before I bought the shirts. Some kid opened up the frog pond game one night and ran off with all the money," Mr. Grimm growled. "It ain’t gonna happen again, though."

"But—but you know everyone in the county. Don’t you?"

"Yeah, but the kid picked the day I had to go to my sister-in-law’s wedding."

"Did the police catch him?"

"No. I figure somebody told him I wouldn’t be around." Mr. Grimm frowned at her. "Weren’t you getting married? There’s a diamond ring on your finger."

"Yes, I’m engaged, only...we haven’t set a date...yet." Hannah bit her lip.

"What’s taking so long? My wife and I dated each other for two weeks, I asked her to marry me, and two months later we tied the knot."

Hannah blinked. "You planned a big wedding in two months?"

"No, we celebrated in her parents’ backyard. I came with a keg of beer. We put it in the garage in case it rained, but it didn’t. The guests brought casseroles. My wife laughs and says she had a potluck wedding, but everyone had a good time." He sat on the stool in the corner of the booth, crossed his arms, and smiled. "We skipped out after a few hours and went on our honeymoon. I got us a little cabin up at Stokes. Saw bears, went fishing, and rowed around the lake. We had a great time. Ain’t been on as nice a vacation since. Where you gonna go on your honeymoon?"

"Aruba." She sighed. She would be spending her free time this summer on Baywater’s own small crescent of sand.

"There’s your problem. How much is Aruba gonna cost? Why can’t you do something simple like I did? You’d save yourself a ton of money and you could get married right away."

"I suppose. But how did you decide after only two weeks that your wife was the right one?"

He winked. "She was a great cook. She was cute, and she was as sweet as pie. How could I go wrong?"

"That simple?"

"Yep."

Mr. Grimm showed her where to stash the cash and explained a number of other details about the job. When he finished he told her to grab something to eat, and put on the shirt before he opened the gates.

She hurried across the street to the tattoo parlor where Rose worked. Rose was showing a customer some of her designs, but she looked up when Hannah came in the door.

"Is purple a good color for me?" Hannah asked as she held up the t-shirt.

"Absolutely. It shows off the highlights in your hair," Rose said. "You’ll probably receive several more proposals tonight. Remember not to take them seriously."

"I won’t." Hannah’s hopes were already dashed. Was it wrong to end what had once seemed right? Was she unreasonable to expect Logan to give her some attention despite the difficulties he had with his sister?

Aunt Deborah firmly believed in prayer. The foundation of hope is faith, she often said.

Hannah wondered if her lack of hope meant her conviction needed an extra boost. She prayed as she walked back to the amusement park. After eating a hotdog, she hurried to the water balloon booth. People started streaming through the gates for a night of family fun. At least, she wouldn’t be alone and brooding about Logan tonight.

She did her best to attract attention to her booth and by eight o’clock she was so busy she didn’t have time to think. At one point, every water gun was occupied and people were waiting in line to play. 

She gave away twenty-six of the ugly stuffed monkeys but only three of the purple pandas to the winners.

Mr. Grimm gave her a thumbs-up when he checked on her. "Keep up the good work."

Her feet ached by the end of the night and her stomach rumbled. She regretted not buying fries with her hotdog.

At closing time, she picked up her inventory list along with the cash bag. Part of her proceeds had been collected earlier, but during the last hour she had more business than the rest of the night combined. As she pulled down the gate to close up the booth, a dark shadow startled her. When she turned around, someone grabbed her t-shirt and held a knife in front of her face.

Hannah choked back a cry as panic swept through her. She didn’t move a muscle.

"Nina," Hannah whispered. Logan’s sister was dirty, disheveled, and emaciated, but she had the same impossibly curly brown hair as her brother along with pale blue eyes. Her wild, wide-eyed gaze chilled Hannah to the core.

"Give me the bag!" Nina didn’t let go of her weapon, which gleamed in the beams of the security lights. "Otherwise, I’ll slide this right across your throat." The blade shook in her hand. Her black pupils were small pinpoints.

Hannah stared at the point of the knife. The handle appeared worn, but she didn’t want to find out how sharp the tip of it was. She handed the bag of money to her attacker.

Nina released her grip on Hannah’s shirt, but she did not release her knife, which was still pointed toward Hannah who was cornered between the end of the booth and the fence. Nina hugged the canvas bag close to her chest. In doing so, she pulled her ragged shirt down over her

shoulder, revealing a black tattoo above her breast. It was a large image of a bat wearing a crown with the name Paul inscribed inside. She coughed and wheezed. "I’ll be free."

Hannah didn’t dare move, but she asked cautiously, "Who is Paul?"

Nina spat on the ground. "I hate him." She suddenly threw the knife away, turned, and fled.

Hannah clutched the edge of the counter. She didn’t think her legs would hold her up.

She took a deep breath and screamed for help. 

Read more at https://www.amazon.com/Hoping-Joy-Love-Book-13-ebook/dp/B01N2U0XE6

Our Pandemic Christmas

 

We’re having kielbasi and kapusta for our Christmas dinner. Usually I make a big ham with all the fixings along with Cape Cod Cranberry Pie for dessert. Usually, my daughters and their spouses sit around the table and enjoy the feast. Not this year. Hubby and I are dining alone, so hubby gets one of his favorite meals, which should last for a few days. 

We delivered gifts to two of our daughters and hubby’s mom. We mailed a package to our Brooklyn daughter. She hasn’t gotten the package yet. She mailed packages to us and we received them. According to the post office’s tracking system, her gifts are languishing in Jersey City. 😢 

This has been a very strange year. I’m hoping the coronavirus will soon be controlled and we can go back to enjoying the company of our family and friends. 

Of course, Christmas isn’t about family feasts. It’s about God’s gift to us. Even through we’re going through this pandemic, God is still with us. His love remains with us and in us. His love is a gift that  will not wear out.

Merry Christmas!

Get Ready for Winter With Books—Many Only #99cents!

Every year Pelican Book Group celebrates the season with their CHRISTMAS EXTRAVAGANZA! There are scads of Christmas themed stories at rock bottom prices—either free with Kindle Unlimited or just #99cents. Last year, I read a whole bunch of them and enjoyed every single one. I’ve written two novellas for this yearly celebration, CLEAR AS ICE and THE COWBOY’S MIRACLE. But with all the authors at PBG, you can find a wide variety to chose from. 

Clare Revell, Carol James, and Stacey Weeks have all posted excerpts here at my blog of their Christmas Extravaganza stories. Last year, Lilian Duncan was a guest at this blog with her book All I Want for Christmas is Johnny Rocker Dead, and. Lisa Lickel with her Crazy Creek Christmas. I posted reviews of Susan Baganz’s Sugar Cookies and Streetlamps and Clare Revell’s Waltzing Matilda. I’ve been stocking up on the newest novellas for this year. When it’s cold and snowy, it’s nice to sit inside, snuggle up with an afghan, a book, and a hot cup of cocoa. 

The best place to keep up with the latest in Pelican Group Book’s offerings is at their Facebook page: https://m.facebook.com/PelicanBookGroup/ So, hurry up and download a bunch of these sweet novellas before another storm comes along.

Guest Post: Christmas Novellas by Clare Revell

My guest today is Clare Revell, a British author who lives in a small town in England with her husband and her three children. She enjoys writing an eclectic mix of romance, crime fiction and children's stories. When she's not writing, she can be found reading, crocheting or doing the many piles of laundry the occupants of her house manage to make.

Her books are based in the UK, with a couple of exceptions, thus, although the spelling may be American, the books contain British language and terminology. The first draft of every novel is hand written. She has been a Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist where she is one of four registrars.

Clare has written three brand new Christmas Extravaganza stories for Pelican Book Group. You'll want to download them all! 

VIRTUALLY YOURS AT CHRISTMAS

It Started With A Typo…

While working from home, accountant Carlyle Stevenson is told by his boss to contact a client ASAP by video call, and berate her for not filing her accounts for the last several months—long before social distancing began. Since the request is urgent, Carlyle fires off the email, and sits and waits for her to answer. Only thing is he’s sent the invite to the wrong person.

    Being stuck at home is nothing new for candle maker Kristen Lawson, as she usually works out of her garage or kitchen. She’s in the middle of making a new batch of candles for her online business, when she receives the email marked urgent. Even though it’s not her accountancy firms she clicks the link and begins the call.

    What begins as an honest mistake blossoms into something more, but can a socially distanced relationship ever really get off the ground?

Here's an excerpt from the book!

A second or two later, the call connected. An empty room greeted her. The red office chair stood in front of a tall bookcase. What she could see of the brown desk was cluttered with files and a steaming cup. So much for this being urgent. “Hello?”

No reply seemed forthcoming, so she turned away from the laptop and gave attention to her melting pot of wax. It smelled divine. She double checked she’d written things down correctly. There’d be no point in crafting this new scent, or putting it on the website, if she couldn’t recreate it.

“Hello. Sorry about that. The dog wanted to go out.”

She smiled at the pot of wax and answered the man’s voice coming from behind her. “I know how that goes. Give me a couple of minutes. I’m in the middle of something.”

“I don’t have time.”

Biting back a rude response about how he’d been the one not there when she’d called, Kristen held up a hand. “I need to pour this into the moulds. Can we talk at the same time? Your email did say urgent. I’m assuming you need to talk to me about my accounts?”

“That would be why I set up the meeting, but I’m afraid I’ll need your full attention. I’m Carlyle Stevenson.”

Kristen turned around. The bloke on the screen in front of her was…fit. Short, spiky dark hair, five o’clock shadow, baby blue eyes, and obviously dressing down as he was in a shirt and jumper, rather than a suit. “Kristen Lawson. I’m assuming Viceroys’ passed on my details to you. I’ve been with them up until now, but Mr. Viceroy is retiring and as he handles everything himself, the firm is closing. But then of course you know that, else you wouldn’t be calling me.”

“Ummm… No, there is nothing anywhere here from Viceroys’.” The man frowned and checked the folder in front of him. “I’m after a Kirsten Lawson. Overdue accounts for the last five months.”

Kristen shook her head. “Not me. I’m Kristen Lawson.”

The cheeks of the handsome hunk on the other side of the screen turned a delicious shade of pink, and tapping echoed from the speakers. “Can I ask your email?”

“How about you tell me which email you thought you’d sent the invite to?” Kristen hadn’t come down in the last shower. She wasn’t about to give her email out to any Tom, Dick, or Carlyle who asked. Even if he was the most exciting thing to have happened to her all week.

“It’s not protocol. I can’t give out confidential client information like that.”

“Surely you have the email in front of you or a copy of it in your sent folder, but OK, fine. Kristen Lawson at…” She broke off as he held up a finely manicured hand. Wow. That she wasn’t expecting. And he wasn’t married, either. Unless he was one of these modern males who didn’t do wedding rings. 

“Can you spell that?”

“T-h-a-t,” she shot back. Then quirking a brow, she continued. “Kristen, spelled K-r-i-s-t-e-n.”

His cheeks turned even rosier. “Then I apologise, Miss Lawson. I typed the name wrong and put K-r-i rather than K-i-r. It wasn’t you I needed to get ahold of at all. If you wish to make a complaint you can email the firm directly or call them. All the details will be on the email I sent you as I used my work account. Once again, my apologies for disturbing you. Have a good day.”

The call ended abruptly. 

Kristen didn’t know whether to laugh or let the irritation build within her. A twenty-first century wrong number. But who would have imagined two similar names at the same email server?

Buy link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Virtually-Yours-Christmas-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B08KSJX9KN/

https://www.amazon.com/Virtually-Yours-Christmas-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B08KSJX9KN/

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DARK STREETS SHINETH

You’d better watch out. You’d better not cry. Santa Claus is going to die.

DCI Boaz Matthias isn’t a Christmas person. He never has been. Not since he discovered the truth when he was seven. Christmas is a lie and a con and nothing is ever going to change his mind. Being given a temporary six week assignment isn’t helping his mood either—as it means Christmas with the family. Only good thing is the accidental meeting of someone he thinks he could grow very fond of.

On the other hand, DC Isabel York on the other hand loves Christmas. So much so that she decorates her desk with lights, tinsel, and a novelty advent calendar. When her boss is called away, his replacement is the last person she’s expecting to see—her fledgling boyfriend.

In the middle of a nasty case, Isabel is nevertheless determined to show Boaz the real meaning of Christmas. Problem is work and pleasure just doesn’t mix—at least not according to him.

Here's the excerpt for this one!

What was the matter with him? Had Isabel broken through his defences already? He’d known her less than a week, been speaking to her less than a day, and all he really knew about her was her name.

Once they were seated, steaming plates in front of them, she took a deep breath and bowed her head. Guessing she was saying grace, he reached over and took her hand. Warmth shot through him and it was all he could do not to gasp out loud. Somehow he managed to get his voice to work. “May I say grace for us?”

Her bright smile reached her eyes. “Of course.”

He prayed and then reluctantly released her hand. This so wasn’t him. He was normally in control, did everything methodically, carefully, and deliberately. Yet, his heart was pounding, his stomach spinning, and his emotions running away with themselves.

“Are you OK?”

Her voice brought him back down to Earth. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” He picked up his knife and fork.

Isabel tucked into her meal. “Tell me about your family. You said your brother and family are with your parents.”

“Older brother, Asher, and his wife, Sylvie. They have three children.  Jacob and Clara are six, and Tim is five. I’m the youngest of three…” He paused. “My sister died when she was seventeen.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven. They don’t think I remember, but I do.” He swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I’m sorry. Getting all emotional over here.” 

Her hand touched his, the same electrical charge as before racing through him. 

“Don’t apologise for being human. Even Jesus wept when his friend died.” Her fingers moved slowly. “I’m an orphan. I grew up in a series of foster homes. My adopted gran was killed a few months ago. So this is my first Christmas alone for a long time. Well, I say alone. There’s Zander and Gramps—that’s Zander’s grandfather. We both call him Gramps as it’s easier.”

Boaz managed a smile. “Her name was Marlah. She went out to a party about two weeks before Christmas with her boyfriend. He was several years older than her. Dad didn’t approve, but hoped she’d come to her senses. They were both killed in a car crash. That same year I discovered Father Christmas didn’t actually exist. I found Dad sneaking around filling the stockings. Of course he insisted he was helping out, trying to take my mind off things…” He shrugged. “So there you have it. Christmas, at least the popular version, is a lie and a con.”

“But fun,” she said. “There are the parties and dinners, games evenings with friends, carol singing, skating in the park.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Skating in the park? You’ll be quoting chestnuts roasting on an open fire next.”

She stifled a giggle. “Well, actually, we have skating, chestnuts, and a fun fair. You should check it out before you go home. It opened last weekend.” 

“Maybe we could check it out together.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and conversation. If he could capture a moment in a bottle it would be this. The way the lights on the wall behind her glowed and bounced off her hair, the lights to the side sparkled in her eyes. If he knew her a little better, if this wasn’t the first date he’d take a photo. Just to etch the memory further.

She laughed. “You can if you want.”

His cheeks scorched. “Did I say that out loud?”

She inclined her head. “You did. But that’s fine. By all means, take a photo. But I’d better be your lock screen.”

Buy links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Streets-Shineth-Prayer-Whodunit-Thriller-ebook/dp/B08KSJNC3J

https://www.amazon.com/Streets-Shineth-Prayer-Whodunit-Thriller-ebook/dp/B08KSJNC3J

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CHRISTMASTIME IN LONDON TOWN

Needing a change of pace, elementary school teacher Kelly Seda accepts the school exchange position and flies from Ottawa to London. Exchanging jobs and houses for a year, he and six-year-old daughter Wendy have a less than a day to adjust before starting work. 

Single mum Staci Kirk has carved out a life for herself and her young son Tommy. Fiercely independent and self-reliant, she’s found a good place where she can settle in but she’s all too aware that happily ever after applies only to other people—or in the romance books she writes. 

The arrival of Tommy’s new teacher, also her next door neighbour, threatens to upset her carefully balanced apple cart but Staci knows it’s only a matter of time before Kelly packs his bags and flies back to Canada. No sense in starting anything she can’t finish.

 However, life is never that simple. When the worst happens, there is only one person she can rely on to help.

Read the excerpt for this one!

Staci sat on the couch beside Kelly as Tommy and Wendy coloured happily at the table. The picnic lunch she’d prepared after the service had gone down a treat—despite the rain which had poured down in torrents since they’d left the church. She’d turned the table into a palace with a couple of blankets, made crowns out of sheets of cardboard, and the four of them had eaten inside it, with the kids pretending to be a prince and princess.

Kelly sipped his coffee. “That indoor picnic was a stroke of genius.”

She smiled. “We do that a lot in the winter. As long as Tommy eats, I don’t care where. Within reason, that is. The bedroom is a no no. It’s not easy being both parents.” She paused. “I’m a single parent.”

“I’m with you on that score. Hair, for example. I can’t braid to save my life and as for getting her part straight—forget it. Hence her really short hair.”

Staci laughed. “Whereas Tommy wants his hair cut like my dad’s. Nothing on the top and very little around the sides.”

Kelly roared with laughter. “Did you tell him that happens naturally when he gets older?”

“I tried, but he doesn’t want to wait. I placated him by promising a multi-coloured Mohican during the Christmas holidays.”

“How are you planning to do that? Just in case Wendy wants one at some point.”

“He did it for world book day back in March. He went in full Native American dress. He wanted to go as Pocahontas.”

Kelly tried to hide a grin but failed. “Isn’t Pocahontas a girl?”

“Uh-huh. Tommy’s argument was if the pantomime dame is a bloke why can’t he go as Pocahontas? But in the end I convinced him to go as Hiawatha instead. Funny enough, he preferred being the leader of a nation to a princess living in a foreign land.”

Kelly sipped his coffee. “I can totally understand that one. I think I would as well. Thanks again for bailing me out this morning with the dress.”

“It’s the least I can do. If I can get it off of her I’ll sew it tonight and let you have it back tomorrow. Will you hire a car whilst you’re here?”

He pursed his lips. “I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead. Both work and the school are within walking distance. The subway will get me most places—once I find the nearest station.”

“Half a mile up the road, but you need the mainline train to get to the nearest underground station. We’re too far out of the city for our own station. Buses work as well. Which school is Wendy going to?”

“Cannon Street Primary.”

“The same one as Tommy. It has a really good reputation and the scores are good. December is a bit of a late start for the year though.”

“Couldn’t be helped. Work transferred me here later than anticipated.”

“They’ll be gearing up for Christmas with nativities and parties and carol concerts. Bit like all the houses. The American way of decorating seems to be creeping over more and more each year. Tommy wants the tree and outside lights up now. I told him he has to wait another week or so.”

“Going back a bit.” Kelly finished his coffee and set the cup on a coaster. “What’s a pantomime?”

Staci paused. How on earth did she explain something so quintessentially British in a way he’d understand? “It’s a theatre play only put on at Christmas—with lots of songs and slapstick humour. Where the hero is played by a girl, and the dame is played by a bloke. There is usually a cow involved somewhere no matter what the story. It’s normally a fairy tale. So, Dick Whittington or Cinderella or Peter Pan. This year it’s Jack and the Beanstalk. I took Tommy last year, and he loved it. Are you here for Christmas?”

He nodded. “I’m not planning on going home until July. I’m hoping my parents will come over at some point, but Mom hates to travel. Despite having a passport, she’s never been outside Canada.”

Staci failed to contain her surprise. “Not even to step over the border at Niagara Falls? I did that one year, just so I could say I’d been to Canada.”

“Not even that.” Kelly shook his head. “The farthest she’s ever been is Toronto to visit my brother. Maybe a car would be a good idea. I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the country while I’m over here.” He glanced at the rain pounding on the windows. “Assuming it stops raining. Does it ever stop raining here?”

Buy links:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmastime-London-Town-Passport-Romance-ebook/dp/B08KSKW5RB/

https://www.amazon.com/Christmastime-London-Town-Passport-Romance-ebook/dp/B08KSKW5RB/