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Archive for 'Christmas'



Mallory Kane: Christmas Bodyguard (Excerpt)
Thursday, December 5th, 2019

I am so excited to be guest blogger on Delilah Devlin’s blog today. Thanks to you, Delilah, for all the time and work you exert to promote other authors’ work. It’s really fun to be here right now, during the holidays. I hope all of you are enjoying the preparations for celebrating your traditions.

Speaking of holidays, when I was a little girl, one of the most beloved traditions in our house was the way in which we were awakened on Christmas Day. It didn’t take me long to learn that my Daddy was the biggest kid of all. As long as I can remember, he always woke up first on Christmas Day. He’d put the coffee on, but when he’d start cooking breakfast, which he did every morning so my Mom could sleep a little longer, he’d suddenly have trouble. Pots and pans would rattle, cabinet doors would bang, and plates and cups would sound as though they were about to break. He was trying to wake us up so we could all run into the den together to see what Santa Claus had brought us.

Now, my brothers and I have our own families and our own holiday traditions, but sometimes I wake up early on Christmas morning and I think I can hear Daddy rattling pots and pans, hoping to wake my brothers and me, so we can enjoy finding what Santa Claus brought us—and he can enjoy watching us.

I have never lost that excitement I got from my dad, about Christmas morning. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I love everything about it, from the glitter and sparkle, to the spirituality. So naturally, I love Christmas stories, both reading and writing them, and by the way, Christmas movies too.

This year, I’m excited to have a new indie Christmas novella in 23,000 words, Christmas Bodyguard. I wrote it using my favorite Christmas theme—no room at the inn. The story is about a police detective who hates Christmas and a young pregnant widow who’s about to give birth and is determined to give Christmas to her brand new baby.

Christmas Bodyguard

Detective Trevor Atkins has good reason to hate Christmas. On Christmas Eve four years ago, his pregnant wife fell and lost their baby. Now divorced, Trevor deals with Christmas the only way he can, by ignoring it. When he is assigned to guard a widow who is the only surviving victim of a suspected serial killer, he expects just another assignment. But when Trevor arrives, he is stunned. This may be the hardest assignment he’s ever faced. The widow is kind, beautiful and very, very pregnant. And she’s putting up Christmas decorations all over the safe house.

Merry Randolph takes her joy where she can find it. She lost her new husband in a tragic helicopter crash only weeks into her pregnancy, and then she survived an attack from the notorious Widow Killer. Merry is determined to have a real Christmas for her family—herself and her unborn child—even if her stubbornly sexy police bodyguard doesn’t want any part of it.

When an ice storm hits and Merry’s contractions start, they are forced to leave the safe house and enter a tightening web of danger. Trevor must face his heartbreak and loss, and Merry must trust her life to a stranger who is only doing his job if she wants to survive to see her baby born on Christmas Eve.

Christmas Bodyguard Excerpt:

Police Detective Trevor Atkins jabbed at another button on the radio, muttering curses under his breath. It was Christmas Eve. Even the rock station was playing Christmas music. He switched it off. He was nearly at his destination anyway.

He exited the interstate two hours north of Atlanta, onto a two-lane road, headed toward the precinct’s safe house. His eyes skimmed over a couple of houses sporting Christmas decorations and lights, trying to ignore the rising rhythm of his pulse and the worm of sadness that gnawed at his heart.

Damn, he hated Christmas.

Ten minutes later, he turned onto the street where the safe house was located. It was an isolated neighborhood, perfect for safely hiding a witness away from someone who might harm her. The street looked as though the developer had gone bankrupt in the middle of the project. There were only a few other houses completed, and those appeared deserted. They still had stickers on the windows and fill dirt where the lawns should have been. The only sign of life was a Randolph and Ducharmes delivery truck that passed him going the opposite direction. He eyed it in his rearview mirror. That could hardly be a coincidence.

The witness’s family owned the upscale department stores. He reached for his cell phone and called his boss.

“Captain, what’s up? An R&D delivery truck just passed me, coming from the safe house.”

The captain sighed. “The perils of babysitting the rich and famous. Apparently, Mrs. Randolph needed a few things. Don’t worry, Trevor. Sims rode shotgun. The delivery was legit.”

“Legit? Maybe, but it was also very visible.”

“The mayor’s office called me. Think I had any choice?”

Trevor pocketed his phone and arched his neck to ease the tension. The holidays always increased his stress level, but he’d been glad to do a favor for a fellow detective by switching duty schedules with him. Stokes had a family. Christmas was important to him.

Guarding witnesses scheduled to testify was a boring task. The witnesses were usually consumed with worry about their testimony, and the most exciting event was likely to be a good ball game on TV. Guarding a spoiled heiress would up the annoyance factor slightly, but not beyond what Trevor could handle.

His charge, Merry Ducharmes Randolph, was the only surviving victim of the Widow Killer, a name given by the press to the elusive killer who had killed three widows within the past year.

But they’d only been able to charge Harry Bonner, Merry’s attacker, with attempted robbery and assault. As badly as the Atlanta Police Department wanted to solve the Widow Killer murders, they’d been unable to positively link Bonner to the other three women. He had no prior arrests, and he’d turned up no hits on either the DNA or fingerprint database.

Trevor parked his white pickup in the driveway of the nondescript house next to Detective Amanda Moss’s SUV. Turning up the collar of his jacket against the rapidly falling temperature, he started up the walk. Before he reached the porch, Detective Moss flung open the front door, causing the sleigh bells on the Christmas wreath to jangle. “Hi, Trevor,” she said, her breath turning to ice crystals as she spoke. “Nice to have you on the case. I’ve got to run if I’m going to finish wrapping the kids’ gifts.”

“Merry,” she called back over her shoulder, “this is Detective Atkins.”

Trevor nodded at Amanda, then stepped up to the front door and scowled toward the narrow strip of face visible between the door and the door facing. The single eye narrowed suspiciously. “Good morning, Mrs. Randolph. Like Detective Moss said, I’m your new day-shift detective,” he said dryly. “Replacing Roger Stokes. My name is Trevor Atkins.”

When the door finally opened wide, Trevor’s gaze ran slap into a pair of bright green eyes under a red Santa hat. Long, pale brown hair framed a heart-shaped face, and a full mouth showed a hint of white teeth above a determined chin.

The Santa hat stirred his knee-jerk aversion to anything connected with Christmas. He tried to force his expression to remain neutral as a faint pink glow lit the woman’s cheeks and a hesitant smile spread across her face. So, this was the widow. She was familiar, and not just from TV news spots about the attack she’d survived. He’d noticed those emerald-green eyes before.

He sighed. Wreath, bells, Santa hat? Great. Obviously, she loved Christmas. “You got word that I’m taking Detective Stokes’ place over Christmas eve and day ?”

“Yes.” She took a step backward, still hanging onto the door with one hand and a piece of red cloth in the other. “But Amanda will be back tonight, right?” The quaver in her voice matched the wariness in her eyes.

“That’s right. Detective Moss is still your night guard.”

A flicker of relief passed across her face. He’d seen that look before in assault victims. A fearful mistrust of men that, for some victims, never went away. He almost apologized for invading her privacy, then nearly laughed at himself. She didn’t know it yet, but there was no one on the planet safer for her to be with than he was. She was under his protection, and he would never violate her trust or risk her safety. She’d eventually figure that out and then she’d relax.

He stepped past her into the modest living room. The sight that greeted him almost knocked him to his knees. Every square inch of floor space was covered with Christmas. A sea of gold Randolph and Ducharmes bags full of ornaments flowed into dozens of red and pink poinsettias in brightly wrapped pots. To his left, a monstrous Christmas tree aglow with white twinkling lights almost blocked a large picture window. A staggering horror tightened his chest and streaked like electricity out to his fingers and toes. He felt the blood drain from his face. The smell of mulberry and cedar turned his stomach.

Images he’d banished to the dark side of his heart swirled around him—long bright corridors, sympathetic faces, the low soft lights of the hospital’s chapel. A sterile, quiet, sad room. Trevor squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never passed out in his life, but there was always a first time. Steadying himself with a hand on the back of the sofa, he sucked in a deep breath. “What the hell is all this?” he rasped when he could finally speak.

When he opened his eyes, Mrs. Randolph was standing behind a table, eyeing him the way a cornered mouse watched a cat. “I—I asked the store to send over some Christmas decorations. No one had—you know—” she gestured vaguely “—decorated the house.” Her voice rose and strengthened in the space of those few words.

“This is not a store window, Mrs. Randolph. It’s a safe house,” he said harshly.

She sniffed. “Oh please, Detective. It’s Christmas Eve.” She spread the red cloth over a table.

“So that’s what the truck was delivering.” His captain was a coward. He knew Trevor’s history. He could have warned him that it was a truck full of Christmas. Well, the stuff would just have to go back. He would not be subjected to Christmas. He’d taken this job to avoid the holiday and the tragic memories attached to it.

“Look, Mrs. Randolph, all this has got to go. We are not here for a party,” he said just as she stepped out from behind the table and he got his first good, head-to-toe look at the glowing woman in front of him.

“Oh, God—” His chest tightened and his head spun. He gripped the back of the couch more tightly and fought the surge of dizziness and gut-wrenching nausea that broadsided him.

“What?” Merry cried, her eyes widening. “What is it?”

“You’re pregnant!”

#

Confused, Merry Randolph stared at the detective’s chiseled features. His mouth was compressed so tightly the corners of his lips were white. What was his problem? She smiled.

“Of course I’m pregnant. How could you possibly not know?” Her every move had been chronicled by the media for the past seven months. “My husband’s helicopter accident, then the attack? I’ve been the favorite local news filler for the entire Atlanta area these past months.” She tasted the bitterness that darkened her voice.

Detective Atkins didn’t move a muscle. He just stood there, his face drained of color, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Detective, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He wiped a hand over his face and shot her a hard glance, then turned away and shrugged out of his jacket. With his back to her, he didn’t seem quite so intimidating. She let out a breath of relief. Why couldn’t Detective Stokes have foregone Christmas Eve and Christmas morning to stay with her? She winced at her selfish thought. Of course she didn’t mean that. He deserved to spend Christmas with his family, even if his doting, fatherly disposition had made her feel completely safe and comfortable. Detective Atkins had been here less than five minutes and there was nothing remotely fatherly about him. He had a lean and hungry look, as though he could slay dragons.

She thought about what the captain and his lieutenant, and several other police officials, had told her over and over. We’re the good guys. We’ll keep you safe.
As Detective Atkins folded his jacket and lay it on the back of the sofa, she noticed the brown leather straps of a shoulder holster crisscrossing the black T-shirt he wore. His movements were spare and efficient as he adjusted the holster and checked his weapon. He angled his head as if he’d sensed her scrutiny, and then rounded on her. “Do you realize you may have compromised this safe house by having all this delivered?”

“What?” She recoiled at his cold tone.

“That R&D delivery truck might as well have sported a banner—This Way to the Witness.” He shook his head, his voice as cold as the wind outside.
Merry’s heart pounded and she bit her lip. She should have thought of that. But in her defense, this was the store’s busiest time of year. “Randolph and Ducharmes has trucks making deliveries all over the city.”

The detective shot her a disgusted look. “Not in abandoned neighborhoods.”

She had no response for that.

“I’m here to protect you from a suspected killer, not deal with a house full of Christmas—” He bit off the end of the sentence.

Frustration and a deep sadness burned in Merry’s stomach, until, by force of will, she bullied those feelings into determination. She’d never had a real, homey Christmas. Not once. Her parents were nationally renowned philanthropists who had spent their married life traveling the world to work with their own and others’ charitable ventures. This year, as every year, they’d found as much to do during the holidays as during any other time of year. For most of their twin daughters’ lives, Merry and Christy had traveled with them, tutors in tow. Now Christy, whose full name was Christmas , was a runway model and almost never had time to come home to Atlanta, except on business.

As bad as this entire year had been, Merry was determined to end the year the way she wanted. She might be locked up in a barely furnished house under police protection during the holidays, but no matter what else happened, she planned to spend Christmas surrounded by beautiful decorations.

“Detective, I could not possibly be more aware of how serious my situation is. A man who may be a serial killer is out on bail pending his trial, and he knows I can identify him.” She lifted her chin. “I can see in your face what you think of me. But if I stay in this house, it will be decorated for Christmas. This past year has been the worst of my life.” To her utter dismay, she felt a tear spill over and drip down her cheek. “I lost my husband, I was almost murdered, and now I’m spending the holidays in an ugly house located who knows where and unable to see my family. I will have Christmas decorations!”

She swiped the tear away. Her little guy was sure playing havoc with her hormones, but she would not cry in front of Scrooge McCop. She turned her back and picked up a crystal ornament from one of the bags. “I apologize if guarding me is keeping you from Christmas with your wife and children,” she said as she stretched to hang the ornament.

He sucked in a long breath. Her shoulders tensed.

“You’re not keeping me from anything. I’m divorced. I don’t have chil—” He practically choked on the word “children.” She turned and caught a haunting sadness clouding his eyes. His sadness pierced her heart like an arrow. She’d unwittingly tapped into a private place inside him, a place she was sure no one ever saw.

With a flash of insight, she realized that Detective Atkins wasn’t just a Scrooge who hated the holidays. His gruff manner hid a tragedy—a tragedy that centered around Christmas and children. His children?

(End of Excerpt)

Thanks again, to everyone. I would love to hear about your favorite childhood holiday tradition, if you’d like to post a comment. You can do that by clicking Say Something/Something Said, below. I hope you’ll consider picking up Christmas Bodyguard if you want a quick and heartwarming read for the holidays. You can find it, or any of my other books, by clicking one of the links below.

Christmas Bodyguard is available now at your favorite ebook retailer.
https://books2read.com/ChristmasBodyguard

Mallory Kane

Shannyn Schroeder: Family Traditions (Contest)
Monday, December 3rd, 2018

It’s that time of year—regardless of what holiday, if any, you celebrate—it’s time for family traditions. I don’t have much in the way of extended family by blood, but I’ve cultivated a strong family by choice because I wanted my kids to have things I didn’t have growing up. Part of building that atmosphere was to develop traditions.

I have two major traditions that we count on this time of year. One is seeing The Nutcrackerwith my two daughters. We usually see the ballet, but every now and then, we mix it up. A couple of times we saw The Nutcrackeron horseback (the performers all ride horses and do tricks). Yes, it’s as weird as it sounds. This year, we’re going to see a hip-hop version. I’m not sure how well that’s going to go over with my youngest, who dances ballet, but she’s willing to check it out.

While seeing The Nutcracker is a tradition for my daughters, the other tradition is all mine. Every year, my best friend and I get together and bake Christmas cookies that we then give away to everyone we know. We started doing this when we were teenagers, and now, more than 30 years later, we’re still going strong. Through college, dating, first jobs, marriages, babies, divorce—you name it, we experienced it and still got together for cookie baking. It’s quite the production. We usually bake about 25 different kinds of cookie. I’m not sure how many batches total, but it’s a lot.

Over the years, our kids have all had a hand in cookie day. Unwrapping Hershey’s Kisses, rolling dough, sprinkling or decorating, and of course, sampling everything. They count on cookie day as part of their traditions, but it’s a special day for me and my best friend. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

Because of my own fractured family experiences, I’ve always been drawn to big, rambunctious families. That’s why I write what I do. I believe family gives us grounding and connection in life. Found family is as real as born family and I think my books reflect that.

I am currently re-releasing my O’Learys series about a big, Irish-American family in Chicago. Next month, the beginning of my Daring Divorcees series will launch about friends who all met in a divorce support group and are now ready for the next phase in their lives.

For a chance to win a digital copy of More Than This (O’Learys #1), leave a comment sharing your favorite tradition or your favorite cookie.

I will draw a random winner from the comments by the end of the week.

Social media links:
Web site — https://www.shannynschroeder.com
Goodreads — https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6575201.Shannyn_Schroeder
Twitter — https://twitter.com/SSchroeder_
Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/shannyn.schroeder
Book and Main Bites — https://bookandmainbites.com/Shannyn

More Than This

A sexy bartender stirs up a daily lesson plan for an adventurous teacher…

 When she discovers her ex-husband is about to be a father, Quinn Adams is on a mission. Determined to get pregnant without the commitment of a man, Quinn sets out for her own adventure. But everyone seems to think she need to focus on herself first. With a list of challenges compiled but her sister and their friend, Quinn embarks on some life-altering fun.

Her first challenge is to go on five dates within two weeks. After a few disastrous attempts, Quinn’s ready to give up—until sexy bartender Ryan O’Leary offers his assistance. Ryan is the go-to person for everyone in his large family, so it’s natural for him to want to help Quinn. However, as they get to know each other better, friendship with Quinn isn’t enough for him. Now, it’s time for him to show her how serious the Irish can be. Will the bartender quench Quinn’s thirst by mixing up more than she ever imagined?

Buy links:

Kindle https://www.amazon.com/More-Than-This-OLearys-Book-ebook/dp/B07K28MMGH/
Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/more-than-this-shannyn-schroeder/1113633559?ean=2940161775912
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/more-than-this-24
Apple https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/more-than-this/id1440685177

 

 

Katy Eeten: Christmas Time is Here
Thursday, November 29th, 2018

I want to thank Delilah for hosting me on her blog today. Now that Thanksgiving is over, talking about Christmas is officially fair game, right? 😊

Christmas is always a fun time of year for me. I live in Wisconsin, so the holidays are often accompanied by a beautiful snowfall. And I have two sons, ages ten and seven, so the excitement that goes with decorating, baking, parties, and gift exchanges is ever-present. Not that there isn’t a fair bit of chaos around the holidays as well, but I take the good with the bad!

Last year, my brother and his wife flew in from Singapore and declared that they wanted to make a family Christmas video that would serve as our holiday greeting card to extended family and loved ones that year. My brother had written an entire script, with everyone having speaking and singing roles. It ended up being quite the production and took a good chunk of time to accomplish, but it’s now in our DVD collection and is something I anticipate becoming a Christmas tradition—watching our “Family Christmas Special” on Christmas Eve and sipping hot cocoa while a fire crackles in the fireplace.

My youngest asked me what we were going to do for our Christmas video this year, and I had to laugh. I think that endeavor was a one-time thing, but it’s always fun to make memories, engage in old family traditions or create new ones.

For our family, that means spending a Saturday in December baking cookies all day with my mom, sister and nieces. Eating chocolate chip pancakes on Christmas morning before reading the story of Jesus’ birth and opening presents around the real pine Christmas tree. The kids will play with the “Activity Scene” (what they used to call the VeggieTales Nativity scene we pull out every year). And Christmas is the one day my husband puts on his baggy, bright green Grinch tee shirt—a gift from our youngest a few years ago.

What Christmas traditions do you have? Do the holidays bring you joy, or make you cringe?

Before I go, I want to share about my novella Christmas in Meadow Creek, which is a small town romance that I hope warms your heart. This sweet, uplifting story took only three weeks to write. The relationship between the main characters, Lincoln and Sarah, flowed effortlessly onto the pages. I wanted to keep the subject matter and storyline lighthearted in hopes that this story would bring a sense of love, joy, and belonging this holiday season. And since it’s a novella, it won’t take long to be drawn into the characters’ lives and watch the story unfold in this beautiful, small Wisconsin town.

Christmas in Meadow Creek

Sarah Laughlin left her big-city life and dead-end relationship behind for a fresh start as a fourth-grade teacher in the small, Wisconsin town of Meadow Creek. And it feels like home, too, despite the persistent troublemaker in her class and the lack of familiar faces. But the holidays are going to be lonely this year. Until she meets firefighter Lincoln Thompson. Suddenly, the hope of spending Christmas with someone she cares about is within reach.

Lincoln loves his home town of Meadow Creek, but ever since his long-time girlfriend left him for a better life in the city, he wonders if he’ll ever find love in this small town where everyone knows everyone. Then he meets Sarah during her class’s field trip to his firehouse, and a spark is lit. But when they discover that Sarah’s troublemaking student is none other than Lincoln’s beloved nephew, their newfound relationship is put to the test. Can they navigate through the complexities of family dynamics to find a love that will last.

Order your copy today at https://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Meadow-Anaiah-Romance-Novella-ebook/dp/B07K6XLK8B/.

About the Author

Katy Eeten is the wife of a youth pastor and mother of two school-age boys. She works full-time in the business world, but her true passion is writing. She has published Contemporary Christian Romance Blast From Her Past and has another novel, A Heart Held Captive, due out next spring. Her novella Christmas in Meadow Creek just released this month. When she’s not working or writing, she can be found taking walks, baking goodies, dining out, or spending time with her family.

Social Media:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KatyEeten/
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/KatyEeten
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/KatyEeten/
Website: https://katyeeten.wordpress.com/

Christmas Wishes… (Contest)
Tuesday, November 27th, 2018

Okay, so you’re wondering what a picture of an array of Post-its has to do with Christmas, right?

First, let’s talk about the picture. Isn’t it lovely? All those bright colors? All the variations of sizes and shapes? I get giddy just looking at them. My faves are the lined ones, because I am an inveterate “lister”. I love the shaped ones because they’re perfect for jotting pretty little notes as reminders to my minions (er, family members). See that hint of yellow beneath the array? That too is an AWESOMELY huge Post-it!!!!

And only Post-its will do! Have you ever bought the cheap rip-offs? They tear your papers, pull off paint and dry-wall, or they curl up and flutter away. No!

I can’t remember what life before Post-its was like. Certainly dreary. Certainly filled with tape to attach my notes to papers and boards. But some smart person divined that there were obsessive people out there who would love to peel a paper and stick it somewhere without having to search for the Scotch tape. And they found me.

So, back to Christmas.

My family always sits me down to ask what I want for Christmas. Guess what always goes to the top of the list? You got it!

They roll their eyes. You have tons of Post-its! they say. I shrug and widen my eyes. Your point?

I never have to buy my own because I do have a huge stash of Post-its, which doesn’t mean I don’t buy my own. The second I spied that huge yellow pad I knew I had to have it!!!!

This year, I added variety to my Christmas list. Just to make them feel like they could surprise me. Here’s what my letter to Santa looked like…

  1. Pretty Post-its!
  2. Notebooks — small ones for my purse; a Bullet journal; some Filofax inserts
  3. Cute, zany, fuzzy socks (I wear them inside year-round)
  4. A soldering kit with metal to get me started

I added the soldering kit to get them used to the idea of me adding one more tool to my already over-filled craft room. Every time my daughter walks through it, she threatens to call one of those hoarder shows. But a soldering kit would be nice. For my birthday, I’ll start laying down hints that I really, really need an enameling kiln…

So, now you know something else about me. I’d love to know what your short list of “Christmas Wants” looks like! Answer for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

Barbara White Daille: Love and work and crossing the line…
Wednesday, November 14th, 2018

When we’re reading a romance, the question in the back of our minds is usually if not always: Will this relationship work out?Because if that isn’t in doubt, where is the tension in the story?

I’ll be referring to “hero and heroine” since that fits the examples I’m using, but this tension can also come from additional protagonists, such as from a love triangle, exes, or other main characters involved in the plot.

Characters show up in a story with enough personal history and emotional baggage to carry the book. But a plot with a workaholic hero or heroine can layer in lots of extra tension.

After all, how do you get a person’s attention when he or she is completely focused on the job? Or maybe worse, when there’s a line you can’t cross because that person is your boss?

I’ve written each of these storylines—in standalone books—in my Snowflake Valley series of sweet romances.

And honestly, I didn’t write these back-to-back storylines intentionally.

The first book (Snowbound with Mr. Wrong) tells the story of exes who had broken up over his workaholic tendencies. Ironically—and obviously, from the title! LOL—they’re now snowbound together. On Christmas Eve. With a trio of unrelated kids who, depending on their age, are scared, bossy, and hormonally cranky. Recipe for disaster, for sure.

The second book (One Week to Win Her Boss) features the first heroine’s sister, who works for the owner of a private ski lodge and has fallen hard for her boss. And who, unfortunately, has to agree to a fake dating relationship with him.

Believe me, in each book, the hero and heroine have each other’s attention! 😉

So, I’m not making it up when I tell you these books were amazingly fun to write.

Below, I’ll share an excerpt from Snowbound with Mr. Wrong (which my publisher has priced for 99 cents this month!).  First here’s a peek at the back cover of the book:

Snowbound with Mr. Wrong

Worst. Day. Ever. After Lyssa Barnett’s sister tricks her into reprising her role at Snowflake Valley’s annual children’s party, she doesn’t think anything can be worse than squeezing into her too-small elf costume. Then tall, dark, and way too handsome Nick Tavlock shows up to play Santa…and an unexpected storm leaves them snowbound in the isolated lodge.

The last thing Nick wants is to spend a cozy Christmas Eve with a trio of kids and the woman who dumped him. But as much as Lyssa frustrates him, he can’t stop thinking about her. And soon, he’s fighting very un-Santa-like thoughts of kissing a certain sexy Miss Elf under the mistletoe. As Nick starts to fall for Lyssa all over again, he knows it will take nothing short of a miracle to have Lyssa in his arms on Christmas Day.

Excerpt:

Lyssa plopped the large bowl of popcorn in the middle of the coffee table and distributed the thread and needles she had found in the linen closet upstairs. At this rate, she would have to make a list of items to replace for Amber.

Mollie and Tommy went to work enthusiastically, and even Brent pitched in without a word of complaint. It was watching Nick, though, that made her heart melt. Making Christmas decorations might not have been his “thing,” but he definitely had some skill at working with kids.

He helped Tommy thread a needle, guiding the little boy’s hand until he had slipped the thread through the needle’s eye. Flushed by his success, Tommy proudly insisted upon threading everyone’s needle himself.

When Mollie groaned in frustration after trying to add a half-dozen kernels to her thread, Nick showed her how to pierce the thickest part of the popped corn to prevent it from breaking.

And when it came time to drape the strands on the tree, he asked Brent’s opinion as to the best placement. She had never heard the quiet teen talk and laugh as much as he had in this short time.

She could so easily see Nick with children of his own…and hers… But she had already decided there was no point in dreaming about a future with him. Considering his single-minded focus on work, he could never be the man for her.

She got to her feet and, forcing a smile, said, “I think it’s time for some hot chocolate.”

Four voices rose in agreement, and she escaped gratefully to the kitchen. The more she saw of Nick connecting with the kids, the harder it was for her to watch and the more she wanted to stay away. Yet she knew this trip to the kitchen was only a temporary reprieve.

She just hadn’t realized how temporary.

She had barely started heating the milk in a pan on the stove when Nick entered the kitchen. He came to lean against the counter beside her. “Need something?” she asked brightly.

“Yeah. To tell you I forgot how much fun it is being around you. It’s been a great afternoon.”

She flushed. “No thanks to me. That’s all on the kids. They’re quite a bunch.”

“And you’re quite a woman.”

“No, I’m—”

He reached up and touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t do that, Lyssa. Don’t sell yourself short.” He moved his hand to trace her chin. A shiver tickled along her jaw. “You know what else I need?”

“Hot chocolate?”

“That, too. And this.”

He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. He tasted so like the man she had fallen for months ago. His kiss was so tender, so sweet, she couldn’t help but want more.

Another thought hovered at the edges of her mind, a thought she felt sure she didn’t want to know. Not now. Not here. Not when his taste and his touch and his total concentration on her were all exactly what sheneeded.

Book Links:
Amazon:  https://bit.ly/swmw-amz
Amazon Canada:  https://bit.ly/swmw-ca
Barnes & Noble:  https://bit.ly/swmw-bn
Entangled Publishing:  https://bit.ly/swmw-pg
iBooks:  https://bit.ly/swmw-ibooks
Kobo:  https://bit.ly/swmw-kobo

About Barbara

Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom. Barbara also loves writing, reading, and chocolate. Come to think of it, she enjoys writing about those subjects, too!

Barbara wrote her first short story at the age of nine, then typed “The End” to her first novel many years later…in the eighth grade. Now she’s writing contemporary romance on a daily basis. Sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest in her writing life:  https://barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter.

And don’t forget to check out Snowbound with Mr. Wrong, sale-priced at $.99 during November!

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Min Edwards: A Christmas Baby
Monday, December 18th, 2017

My son was born on the US Navy base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Of course, then it was a bucolic place… no prison, not much controversy, lots of activities for the many Navy families stationed there. His father was the Program Director of the American Forces Radio and Television Service on the base, probably the most unmilitary posting anyone could have. The base was a little enclave of un-reality in the midst of the Cold War.

My broadcaster husband and I had been married eight years. In that time, I’d had four miscarriages and after the last one we’d decided (as had my OB-GYN) that it was time to call it quits. When we got back to the states we’d consider other paths.

A few weeks later I got sick, very sick and headed to the emergency room of our base hospital. Before giving me any medication, my good friend and nurse at the hospital told me she had to give me another pregnancy test just in case. I told her there was no way I could be pregnant, I’d just had a miscarriage only a month before. But the test was done anyway.

I sat in the waiting room, miserable, nauseas, wishing to die… you know those awful flu symptoms. After a bit my friend came back into the room and knelt in front of me. Whoa, I knew right then I had some terrible condition and my last days on earth would be spent far from my family on an island which the USA considered a hostile country. But… there was a smile on my friend’s face.

“Honey, you’re pregnant. The doctor wants you to come back to his office. He says we’re going to get you through this one. Your due date is December 24th, and he’s already ordered the camels!”

The pregnancy was not without its scares. In my seventh month, I was hospitalized for a week for exhaustion… complete bed rest. Of course, they could have just told me to stay in bed at home, but they didn’t have much to do then and lots of beds were empty, so… I was coddled for a week in the hospital. The nurses brought a fetal heart monitor into my room every evening, so I could listen to my baby’s heart before I went to sleep. They thought that would sooth me. It was kind of them, but I still didn’t sleep. I just closed my eyes and listened to his little thump, ker-thump until one of the nurses quietly came into the room and wheeled the machine away. I then went back to the stack of books on my night table, books I knew I wouldn’t have time to read later… staying up the rest of the night.

Then we had a snafu (that’s military talk meaning ‘oops, that’s not right’). My OB had already decided the baby would be coming caesarian… I was an older mother (28! Were they kidding?) and of course there were all those miscarriages. But a few weeks before the procedure on December 24th, the Anesthesiologist flew off to the mainland for Holiday R&R and left his duties to one of the operating room nurses, okay for all the regular surgeries, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing an epidural. This caused a mad frenzy to find another doctor who could substitute. No luck.

While the hospital was flying around arranging the coming of my Christmas baby, my husband’s co-workers at the TV station decided to give me a baby shower present… a special screening of Jaws. The movie had just come out in the States, but the officer-in-charge had borrowed it from one of the visiting Navy ships which had access to all the new movies. All evening I sat in a director’s chair, my back killing me, pain building in my abdomen. But I watched that movie to the end.

A couple of hours later, my husband rushed me to the hospital with severe abdominal pain which miraculously stopped as soon as I was deposited in a bed in the ER. I wasn’t in labor, but no one knew why I was in pain. (We found out the diagnosis two months later… but was another story).

By this time, my doctor had had enough. He was delivering that baby, now. After spending the entire day walking the halls of the Obstetric wing waiting for my doctor to finish his other surgeries, we were ready. It was December 11th, two in the afternoon. The procedure began quickly using general anesthesia instead of the epidural that’s usually used, that baby had to be out of there fast! This meant the ‘taking’ of him began while I was only partially anesthetized. Ouch! I was in pain. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be grateful to finally have a baby in my arms… a perfect baby with only one tiny flaw. The doctor had nicked his little belly when he was taking him from my womb.

One more glitch. We were stuck in the hospital… for more than a week. I didn’t have any milk and my son found the nipple both natural and man-made very odd and wouldn’t be coaxed to latch on to either one. And the type of formulae used in the hospital nursery wasn’t to his liking either. After more than a week, the doctor told me to take my son home and if I had any trouble, just come back. Our house was within sight of the hospital anyway.

On the way home, Jonathan (my son) began screaming, the first time I’d heard him cry. My husband suggested I try one of the dreaded bottles and to our surprise the baby latched onto the nipple and sucked the formula down like a champ. He’d just wanted to go home.

Now Jonathan is all grown up (41 years old) and has been in my heart a special Christmas Baby his whole life. He gets a ‘Happy Birthday’ on December 11th, but then we celebrate his birthday for the next two weeks until Christmas morning. I’m still waiting for those camels.

Happy Reading, ya’ll!
From a Texas transplant to the cold coast of Maine
Min Edwards

Stone Cold

The first novel in the High Tide Suspense series
https://amzn.to/1t2kbt8


Diana Jennings is running away—from her past, from her memories, from evil men who want her to suffer more. Stone Bay looks like just the place to hide, but will it be far enough? Has she found a safe place to heal? Or is she just endangering all of those around her?
Sam Gardiner is back home after an incident in Afghanistan, a place he wasn’t prepared for and should never have been. But his first day home he runs into trouble, Diana Jennings. A beautiful woman with secrets behind her vulnerable eyes. And Sam loves secrets.
Diana’s secrets making their way to idyllic Stone Bay, may be the death of them both.

*~*~*~*

About the Author

Min Edwards is the pen name of Pam Headrick, owner of A Thirsty Mind Book Design. She holds advanced degrees in Anthropology with a focus on archaeology and geography as well as geology and art. She’s published five novels in two series: Stone Bay Contemporary Romance and High Tide Romantic Suspense. And in early 2018, she has on her schedule two novels in her new co-authored archaeological series, as well as an historical women’s fiction, The Russian Phoenix, a prequel to Precious Stone, her last novel in the High Tide Suspense series.

You can visit with her or contact her on her website at www.minedwards.com. Her Amazon Author’s page lists her current titles published in digital and print format, Stone Bay, Stone Cold, Stone Heart, Stone Fall and Precious Stone.

You can also find her on social media:
Twitter @MEdwards Author
Facebook @Author Min Edwards
Facebook @TalonArcheo
Goodreads @Author Min Edwards
Pinterest @Min Edwards

A Question…
Thursday, December 14th, 2017

Today is a rare chance for me to sit at my desk. All day. Well, after I have my first morning coffee with my dd across the street as we sit together and watch all the kids, other than the 4-year-old, climb into their bus for school. Then, it’s back to my place. Maybe I’ll start my day by clearing off my desk. I’ve let things pile up for a week. I can still see the monitor, so it’s all good, but since I have time…

I’m editing today. All day. Not my favorite thing to do, but I am enjoying the author’s story. I get the privilege of reading her words first. There’s not time for new words of my own, because I’m pushing up against the deadline to be finished with her work. Hopefully, this weekend I’ll be lost in my own writing.

All my Christmas presents are bought. All but my dd’s presents and a few things for the older ladies are wrapped (because my dd did the wrapping). I still have to make a few things—bracelets, a little sewing project. I’m feeling a little antsy about getting to those now.

I didn’t want any stress surrounding this holiday, but I’m beginning to feel the pinch in my neck. And I’m going to bed later and getting up feeling not so well-rested.

So, my question to you is:
How do you cope with the stress of the holidays?

Have fun with it. I’d love some nice nuggets of genius, but I’ll enjoy some silliness, too! 🙂