Ho! Ho! Ho! It’s Off to Jefferson We GO!!

For many, many, many years on the first weekend in December, I have traveled with girlfriends to a small town for the Christmas Candlelight Home Tour (he-he-he, no hubbies allowed).

Jefferson, Texas was once considered a seaport and larger than Dallas, a major shipping port for those who wished to sell agricultural products, especially cotton. During Jefferson’s Golden Era from 1845 until 1875, it became a cosmopolitan town due to a convergence of cultures and businesses.


The homes are primarily of Greek revival design and many of them have been renovated. Some transformed into a B&B, and most have an historical marker. The town oozes Southern charm.

The story goes the Army Corps of Engineers blew up the dam and the water level dropped. About that same time, the railroad bypassed Jefferson. The town went into decline.


The Garden Club started the Candlelight Tour. Four homes are decorated for Christmas, using native plants and/or homemade decorations, lots of candles, and ribbons. The owners and their friends talk about the history of their homes, bringing life from long ago alive. For we visitors, there are carriage rides, plenty of shopping, Christmas carols, and really great food. And of course, time to spend with girlfriends and soak in everything Christmas.


To top off one evening, we drive to a neighborhood park to see The Enchanted Forest. The locals sponsor about 75 Christmas trees and decorate them. Some are whimsical, some themed, and others are homey. We take lots and lots of pictures.

Back at our B&B, we change into our comfy pajamas, pull out the peanut M&Ms, and exchange Christmas gifts. We talk until the wee hours.


I can’t imagine not going on this trip. It truly kicks off my holidays!


Vicki Batman  ~ sassy writer of sexy and funny fiction

A Christmas Tradition with Rachelle Paige Campbell

My family has a lot of Christmas traditions. Some extend back to my mother’s childhood and others began with the arrival of my children, but the most notable was the tradition started during my elementary school days.

For several years in a row, our house was filled with family. My grandparents, my great uncle Cas, my aunt, my uncle, and my three cousins joined my brother, my parents, and I for Christmas. For a joyous week, the house was filled with laughter and people. It was a time of barely controlled chaos. I cherish the memories of those years together.

In our family, we open presents on Christmas morning and have a fair system of taking turns to ensure everyone shares in the excitement of each gift. Organizing that many people, however, takes time. To be sure no one snuck down to the tree and opened a gift early, the kids were stationed on the stairs.

When I was a kid, my dad and my uncle took turns monitoring that none of us budged an inch. My mom, grandma, and aunt took their sweet time brewing coffee and baking cinnamon rolls. My brother, my cousins, and I were tortured, near enough to see the tree but constantly denied access. We tried to bargain and bribe our way downstairs, but until the women were ready, we weren’t allowed to move.

My kids now wait on the stairs. When my parents join us for Christmas, they are stationed together and I take extra care preparing breakfast and coffee. My sons complain far less than my brother, cousins, and I did. They still try to bribe my husband into sneaking a peek at the tree and the gifts, just like we did. I hope my kids continue the tradition and I’ll be more than happy to join my grandkids on the stairs one day.

Rachelle Paige Campbell

rachellepaigecampbell.com

twitter.com/rpaigebooks

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Christmas Tree

If I had my way, I would have decorated our Christmas tree the week after Thanksgiving. My mother made the most beautiful snow flocked trees I’ve ever seen. Before starting on the tree, she would cut aluminum foil into squares for each light bulb. My older sister and I would sit at the kitchen table and wrap every bulb on the strands of lights with the foil. My dad trimmed the tree’s truck and even took a couple of the drooping bottom branches to wire in a big hole somewhere else. Mom would string the lights all through the tree, back in the gaping holes out to the tips. She was a pro at concealing all the wires in the needles.

The next step was to saturate the whole tree with water. Then she had to quickly blow the white flocking material onto the tree before the water dripped off. She worked like a woman possessed to achieve a full even coverage.

After the tree was flocked, my sister and I proceeded to hunt and remove every one of the bulb’s foil caps. We would search and search, count and recount the caps, but would always miss one. My dad would struggle getting the tree inside without breaking any bulbs or knocking the white flocking off.

Finally the tree was inside and ready for the angel top. Mom strung the blue and green tinsel rope on while my sister and I hung the red ornaments. The tinsel was a match to our living room’s décor.  Finally, the tree was ready for the presents.

One year we had an unusual cold spell and my mom had to wear her thick winter coat as she worked on the tree. It was only a few minutes after we got the tree inside when we heard a drip, then several more. When mom had soaked the tree the water had frozen shortly after. She rushed downstairs to retrieve a drop cloth. For the next hour we listened to the tree raining on the plastic cloth. To this day I’m not sure why the flocking hadn’t fallen off the needles with the water. There were plenty of reasons why it should, but I guess there was some compound in the flocking to make it stay adhered to the tree.

Now that everything was done, we would plug in the lights. We would all search along the strands trying to find the one bulb still covered with foil. You had to have patience as each light flashed on and off at its own pace. Eventually someone would spot the trace of colored light peeking out from under the foil cap. Now my parents could rest easy knowing the foil wouldn’t short out the bulb and start a fire.

As the lights flashed independent of each other, they created splotches of white, yellow, red, green, and blue on the pale blue living room walls throwing the tree’s needles into dark silhouettes. The colors would be here and there and in combinations all over the walls and ceiling as the lights illuminated and went off. The patterns never repeated with the ever changing lights. I would spend hours laying on the floor near the tree or just under the edge of the bottom branches watching the changing patterns. To this day I have rarely found anything as relaxing. I was thankful that my parents let us keep the tree up until around New Year’s. Now I know how much my dad worried about the tree getting too dry, but we all enjoyed the snowy tree.

Happy Holidays
Donna Kunkel

Italian Holiday Honey Balls from Diana Rubino

When my grandparents came from Naples and landed at Ellis Island in the early 1900s they brought many recipes with them, but only in their heads. No one brought cookbooks or recipes along with their possessions. A favorite Christmas treat is Struffoli, better known as Honey Balls. One Christmas when I was a kid, I watched my grandmother make them and scribbled down the ingredients as she sifted and mixed and baked and drizzled. Here's an accurate recipe in English!

Ingredients
Dough:
•2 cups flour, plus extra for dusting
•1 large lemon, zested (about 2 teaspoons)
•1/2 large orange, zested (about 2 teaspoons)
•3 tablespoons sugar
•1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
•1/4 teaspoon baking powder
•1/2 stick (2 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces, at room temperature
•3 large eggs
•1 tablespoon white wine, such as pinot grigio
•1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
•Canola oil, for frying
•1 cup honey
•1/2 cup sugar
•1 tablespoon lemon juice
•1 1/2 cups hazelnuts, toasted (see Cook's Note)
•Vegetable oil cooking spray
•Sugar sprinkles, for decoration
•Powdered sugar for dusting, optional

Directions

For dough: In the bowl of a food processor, pulse together 2 cups of flour, lemon zest, orange zest, sugar, salt, and baking powder. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Add the eggs, wine, and vanilla. Pulse until the mixture forms into a ball. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Cut the dough into 4 equal pieces. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each piece of dough until 1/4-inch thick. Cut each piece into 1/2-inch wide strips. Cut each strip of pastry into 1/2-inch pieces. Roll each piece of dough into a small ball the size of a hazelnut. Lightly dredge the dough balls in flour, shaking off any excess. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, pour enough oil to fill the pan about a third of the way. Heat over medium heat until a deep-frying thermometer inserted in the oil reaches 375 degrees F. (If you don't have a thermometer a cube of bread will brown in about 3 minutes.). In batches, fry the dough until lightly golden, about 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain. (The rested and quartered dough can also be rolled on a floured work surface into 1/2-inch thick logs and cut into equal-sized 1/2-inch pieces. The dough pieces can then be rolled into small balls and fried as above).
In a large saucepan, combine the honey, sugar, and lemon juice over medium heat. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally, until the sugar is dissolved, about 3 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat. Add the fried dough and hazelnuts and stir until coated in the honey mixture. Allow the mixture to cool in the pan for 2 minutes.
Spray the outside of a small, straight-sided water glass with vegetable oil cooking spray and place in the center of a round platter. Using a spoon or damp hands, arrange struffoli and hazelnuts around the glass to form a wreath shape. Drizzle remaining honey mixture over the struffoli. Allow to set for 2 hours (can be made 1 day in advance). Decorate with sprinkles and dust with powdered sugar.

Remove the glass from the center of the platter and serve.


Note: To toast the hazelnuts, arrange in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake in a preheated 350 degrees F oven 8 to 10 minutes. Cool before using.


Total Time: 4 hr 12 min
Prep: 1 hr 30 min
Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Diana Rubino

"The best we can do is tell a likely story." - Plato

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When Reindeer Magic happened by Abby Gordon

When I turned twenty-nine, life was nothing what I had thought it would be. I was a single mother with three sons, living with my parents. I was working full-time, taking a heavier than recommended load of classes to finish my degree, and exhausted. But you can’t ignore the season when you have children though so I tried.

Mom loves Christmas though and pulls everyone in whether you really want to or not. And she gives everyone lists.

One of the items on my list, with a specific date to do it was pick up the poinsettias and other floral needs. The older two were playing with friends and my youngest son, whose birthday is Christmas Day, needed Mommy time. He ooh’ed and aah’ed at all the street decorations. I could tell he was smiling and waving because of the reactions from pedestrians. A bright-eyed, smiling toddler is hard to resist, especially at Christmas time. Halfway there, I found myself smiling and waving as well.

The florist called out when we entered. Everything was ready and I diligently went through everything, comparing it to Mom’s list. The florist smiled at my son, asking if he was excited for Santa’s visit. My son nodded eagerly, saying we were going to be baking cookies that afternoon. The florist asked if he was putting out anything for the reindeer as Santa loved it when people remembered them.  My son shook his head. The florist chided me, hadn’t I told my son about the magic reindeer food?

OH, the look my son gave me! The florist said he had some extra, would my son like some? Big brown eyes lit up, then he asked about his older brothers giving some also. The man said he just so happened to have three extra bags of magic reindeer food. He went to the back as two assistants took everything to the car. Returning with three sandwich size baggies of oatmeal mixed with glitter, the man told my son that everyone in the family should throw some out in the yard to make sure Santa was extra happy. My son held the bags close, promising that he’d make sure everyone did.

Christmas Eve night arrived. My brothers were home. There was snow on the ground. My sons were so excited that I didn’t think they’d ever go to sleep. The cookies and milk were put on a special table by the fireplace and my youngest insisted we all troop onto the screen porch and throw the magic reindeer food. My brothers rolled their eyes but tossed. My parents and I did ours then my sons did the rest. My youngest practically dumped the rest of his bag on the top step. Convinced Santa would come and be very happy they’d remembered his deer, all three sons went to bed and fell asleep quickly.

They were also up before dawn. I’d been inspired the year before though and next to their pillows was a small Lego box for them to play with. My oldest could tell time though and announced when it was six. We trooped down the stairs where they first pounced on their uncles.  I went to the kitchen to start the coffee. Half grumbling about the hour, adults insisted on caffeine before anything else.

But my youngest was wild to see if the reindeer had liked the magic food. Putting my mug down, I picked him up and went onto the screened porch. His squeals brought everyone else to join us. The oatmeal was gone, leaving only the glitter twinkling in the porch light. Hoof prints bigger than any deer I’d seen in the area were in the snow. What delighted my youngest the most – on the second step were two prints, larger than even my brothers’ hands, and the oatmeal my son had dumped was gone.

Suspecting my father or brothers might have done something, I glanced at their faces but they were as stunned as the boys were.

My sons still remember the magic reindeer food.

I remember how Reindeer Magic gave me hope in something more.

Abby Gordon
http://abbygordonauthor.blogspot.com/

Christmas Card Country...

I have the good fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you view winter weather) to live where Christmas most often looks the way it’s depicted on Christmas cards. There is snow, of course, sometimes heaps of it, sometimes just enough to turn the world a lovely white. The trees are frosted. Colored lights glow under snow-draped bushes, giving nighttime an ethereal quality. Around almost every corner are decorations, from the traditional Santa to the latest holiday cartoon character. The Rotary runs a wonderful light and music show in the park. Our town is host to horse-drawn sleigh rides on selected evenings, and there’s a holiday parade to welcome Santa.

In short, it’s definitely Christmas card country. And I sort of take it for granted that Christmas looks this way for everyone. Except I know very well it doesn’t. Great swaths of our country don’t have or even expect a white Christmas.

I lived in West Texas for a couple of years and Christmas looked very different there. Instead of evergreen boughs, yards were decorated with silver, green, and gold spray-painted tumbleweeds tied up in bunches. At night, instead of electric lights, luminaries lined driveways and sidewalks, giving the darkness a flickering, fantasy glow. The Christmas parade rode down perfectly clear streets, and Santa didn’t need an overcoat. I certainly didn’t need mittens, muffler and boots to watch it.

I don’t remember being too disconcerted by my couple of Christmases without snow, without all the traditional—at least according to the card company—trappings of the season. I still got presents. We still had a tree.

Back up here in Christmas card country it’s easy to forget the season looks very different for a good share of the world. When we’re deep in a blizzard, it’s hard to imagine some of those people in the other part of the world are actually longing for a Christmas like ours. We’d happily ship some of our snow and cold anywhere that would take it. Hey, we’ll share! If only we could.

But we can’t, and we really don’t need to. Christmas is what we make it, wherever we are and with whatever we have. Christmas is the people we share it with, not the weather or the card-company trappings. It’s your Christmas to enjoy, and I hope you all do so. Best wishes for the season!

Helen C. Johannes

http://helencjohannes.blogspot.com/

One pair of socks by Kristal Dawn Harris

As the holidays come once again, I can’t help but reminisce over childhood memories. My mother had nine brothers and sisters, so my family was quite large. The entire family used to gather on Christmas at my grandmother and grandfather’s home in Eastern Kentucky. My grandparents lived in a very old house heated with potbelly, coal stoves. By the time Christmas arrived, the real tree they cut down in the mountains had wilted and turned brown, but the pile of presents surrounding it was unbelievable. There were never enough beds, so the children, including myself, slept on the floor. No one had a cell phone or computer. There was only one television in the house, but no cable. For entertainment we played in the snow, went ice skating on the frozen creek or listened to stories told by my aunts and uncles.

On Christmas eve, we would all gather around the drooping tree while my Grandma handed out presents. My grandparents were very poor, but they always made sure they bought something for each grandchild. The grandchildren received one pair of socks wrapped with love. There were no bows, fancy ribbons or sparkling nametags, but wrapping paper was so deep in the room we literally waded through it. I remember my grandparents crying when it was their turn to open presents because they always had more than anyone. Their children gifted them what they couldn’t afford for themselves. I would hold my one pair of socks in my hand, watching them, not knowing how precious that memory would become.

On Christmas day cookies, fudge and cakes lined the kitchen table, several hams were baked along with mashed potatoes, green beans, cornbread and sweet potatoes. With the potbelly stoves full of burning coal and my aunts in the kitchen cooking, we usually had to open the doors in the house because of the heat. While my aunts cooked, my uncles would load buckets full of coal and set them on the front porch, so when we all left my grandma wouldn’t have to carry in coal from the cold.

Times have certainly changed over the years. Most of my aunts and uncles have passed away and my grandparents are gone. The old house was torn down several years ago and only green grass remains where the house once stood. As I gaze on my perfect, artificial Christmas tree surrounded with expensive gifts, I’m thankful, but that thankfulness also comes with a little sadness. As a child, I laughed at that one pair of socks my grandparents gifted me, but as an adult I cherish those memories.

One pair of socks turned out to be the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received.

 Kristal Dawn Harris

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18576974.Kristal_Dawn_Harris

Holidays with H.B. Berlow

"I don't take a lot of time to explain to non-Jewish family and friends the braided egg bread is called Challah. Everyone knows it as the bread I make for Thanksgiving. Enough said. Until recently, I was only doing a two-strand braid. Then, I found a YouTube video on making a 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 strand braid. I figured three would be enough. I've been making this bread at the holidays for close to 20 years. I just recently purchased a Kitchenaid stand mixer. This way I can save wear and tear on my arthritic hands (which I REALLY need for writing) and continue to make the 'braided egg bread' for a long time to come."

H.B. Berlow     

https://tikiman1962.wordpress.com/

Happy Holidays from Anna Hague

My husband and I had a Christmas wedding. Not because I wanted a Christmas wedding, but rather he’d accepted a student co-op position in another state, and we didn’t want to be separated at sixteen-week intervals.

Being that we were still college students, our wedding budget was very limited. We had both the ceremony and reception in the church.

Did I mention we were still college students? Well, we borrowed a very nice punch fountain from a friend who had been a caterer, and purchased punch at cost. The whole set up looked beautiful setting next to our cake.

We were downstairs taking photos, and when it was time for my side of the family photo, I couldn’t find one of my older brothers anywhere. I grabbed my mom and asked where Gary was?

I could tell she was antsy and nervous. She told me she had to send Gary out for more punch. The fountain was nearly dry.

How did that happen? There were many gallons of punch.

What I later found out was my husband’s college roommates poured two bottles of 190 proof Everclear into the punch fountain…a fountain that not only kids were drinking from, but the minister himself. The punch ran out in twenty minutes.

My brother finally arrived with more punch, but by the time my husband and I got upstairs to do the photo with the toasting glasses, the punch was gone again.

Our wedding photo has us holding two empty toasting glasses.

I never told my mom what happened to the punch.

Anna Hague
https://www.annahague.com/

Holiday Stories are Fun to Write by Barbara Edwards

‘Journey of the Magi’ was my first attempt  at a Holiday story and I found a really enjoyable

area of writing. My usual genre is paranormal romance and has a dark edge. After awhile it can be heavy. The lighter love story with cute children and a nice hero gave me a lift I hadn’t know I needed. It was fun to plot the fulfillment of a dream. 

Journey of the Magi by Barbara Edwards 

Blurb: Widow Noel Martin never breaks promises, and she promised her kids they'd have Christmas at her childhood home in Connecticut. But driving across country takes money. Noel is broke when a snowstorm blows them into a tiny Minnesota cafe owned by a man who can change her mind. She accepts his offer of a job. Despite her attraction to him, she makes it clear she is only temporary help.

Dan Longstreet isn't adopting any more strays, but he needs a waitress. Dan works so hard to make his cafe a success, he doesn't have time for love. Though Noel's slender blonde beauty stuns him and her two adorable children tug at his heart, he denies how they threaten to change his life.

When tragedy strikes, their new-found love is the first victim. Noel can't stay and Dan can't leave. Will their journey be the gift that reunites them?

Buy Link: http://a.co/90BqPrf

So in this time of the year I noticed many of my fellow authors put out a sweet story. 

My next short for The Wild Rose Press was ‘Late for the Wedding, part of a larger anthology. It was fascinating how a dozen authors took the same idea and wrote such variety. I loved every one of them.

The next was ‘Dixie’s Gift’ a story inspired by the loyalty and love of my beloved pet. This was another story to lift me from a dark place. My furry friend hd cancer and crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. I was so sad I took that emotion and wrote a story about how my pet would have reacted. It warmed a cold place in me and I hope if you read it, you’ll find the same joy at the end.

Dixie’s Gift by Barbara Edwards

Buy Link: https://amzn.com/B017OJGVIY

Ellen Carter deeply grieves for her husband Dan, but at least she still has Dixie, her beloved Malinois. However, soon Dixie leaves her too. But the faithful dog cannot rest easy in heaven while her mistress is unhappy. Dixie pleads with the Archangel Michael to let her send help, and intercedes for Ellen in the only way she can. But will Ellen get the message, and more importantly, will she accept Dixie's gift?

Sexy newcomer Michael Burke can barely take enough time from his successful restaurant for a decent night's sleep, let alone romance. Still, he is intrigued by the beautiful widow and can't resist entering her shop. Sparks fly, and when Ellen has an accident in a snowstorm, he comes to her rescue. Trapped by a blizzard and aided by Dixie's Gift, Ellen and Michael find more than shelter--they find love.

Buy Link: https://amzn.com/B017OJGVIY

Late for the Wedding: 

Blurb:Heather Green will do anything to make her twin’s wedding perfect. Despite an impending nor’easter, she sets out with the wedding dress, cake, favors and cake topper in her car. As the snow piles up, her car is wrecked and she barely misses injury in a major accident.

Nicholas Burnes would rather be ensconced with his latest cuddle than drive a tow truck, but his brother needs his help. He reluctantly agrees to help Heather find a way to the wedding locale, but when the storm closes the roads, he ends up offering her shelter in his penthouse.

Warm and rested at last, Nick and Heather explore their powerful attraction to each other, only to part when he delivers her, on time, to her sister’s wedding. But weddings breed weddings…

Late for the Wedding (Twelve Brides of Christmas Book 2) 

by Barbara Edwards 

Link: http://a.co/d/fCTf2Nh

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Barbara Edwards Author of Journey of the Magi, Ancient Blood, and Dixie's Gift

Happy Holidays from Gail Kittleson

Years ago, we feasted on all things sweet during Christmas. Here’s me (the youngest) in a REALLY old photograph from the fifties.

Now, being gluten, lactose, and refined sugar-free, my palate has changed (not my family’s. That’s why I’m including a recipe that provides a little treat for folks like me when everybody else is enjoying luscious decorated Christmas cookies and the like during this time.

These aren’t anything out of the ordinary, but it’s nice to have them around when you’re salivating for just something.

I love to bake with our granddaughter, and we create all the usual goodies together. But when it comes time to indulge, she’s my “taster,” and I resort to my standby, biscotti. You can make this recipe as crisp as you like, add dried cranberries for a little Christmas cheer, and unsweetened raw coconut for more texture. 

These are great for dipping in a cup of hot tea while everyone else sips whipped cream- marshmallow-hot chocolate!

Gluten-free Biscotti

2 large eggs

1/4 c real maple syrup

1 t vanilla

1 1/2 t almond flavoring

1 T orange zest

MIX ABOVE TOGETHER

Mix together the dry ingredients below.

3 1/2 c. almond flour

1 t soda

2 t cinnamon

1/2 c slivered almonds

1/8 t salt 

ADD TO FIRST MIXTURE

Stir and add 1/3 c. coconut oil. 

Shape into logs and place on parchment paper-lined

baking sheet. Bake at 340 degrees for 20-25. minutes.

Remove from oven, cool. Cut into 1/2 inch slices, and

then return them to baking sheet. Bake for 20-30 mins

at 300 degrees, depending on how crisp you like them. 

Gail Kittleson
http://www.gailkittleson.com/
www.facebook.com/GailKittlesonAuthor

http://amazon.com/author/gailkittleson

www.twitter.com/GailGkittleson @GailGkittleson

Christmas on the beach

The Christmas holidays take place mid-summer in the southern hemisphere, so for me it will always be associated with seaside holidays. As a child, we lived inland and the holidays really began when after six hours drive, we caught that first tantalizing glimpse of the ocean above the sand dunes and my parents could finally answer “Yes” to the dreaded question, “Are we nearly there yet?”

 Durban South Africa 

My childhood memories are awash with holidays on Durban beach where the waves where gentle, and I could jump the swells and feel like a goddess of the sea before playing swing ball with my sisters on the soft golden sand, gathering shells, or diving into the pool at the caravan park to touch the blue mosaic dolphin at the bottom.

The walk to the beach took us past a group of Zulu women who sold their wares to tourists along the side of the road, everything from wood sculptures to handmade doilies and brightly colored bead necklaces and bracelets featuring traditional designs. I would have bought a necklace every day if I’d had control of the purse strings.

Darling Harbour Sydney

When we couldn’t swim, I’d bury my nose in a book. One of my fondest memories is of finding such treasures as the Nancy Drew mystery, The Clue in the Old Stage Coach, in a second-hand bookshop and waiting impatiently to return to the caravan so that I could sprawl on my bunk and read.

My mom always went to a great deal of trouble to ensure Christmas was merry despite the limitation of hosting it in a caravan. We’d have an artificial tree wrapped in tinsel and twinkling with light surrounded by presents. One year was particularly special. We didn’t have light and Mom found the sweetest Father Christmas candles, some fat and jolly, some thin like the soldiers in the Nutcracker.

The scent of sunscreen and seaweed and the gritty feel of sand lining a swimsuit are as much a part of Christmas for me as an artificial tree lined with gifts, glazed ham, roast potatoes and turkeys.

Balmoral Beach

These days I live in Sydney, Australia where the beach is near at hand, but my family is far away. The beach is too hot for me unless I have a large hat and am sitting under a beach shade. Sydney Harbour sparkles through the summer and I like to walk around the Opera House. I like to walk along Cremorne Point or the promenade at Balmoral Beach, enjoying the cool sea breeze and taking comfort from the excited cries of playful children. We have good friends who celebrate the day with us and take away some of the sting of absent family. It’s a bittersweet moment that reminds me that life is about choices, to celebrate my new life even as I miss family and friends. I am thankful for social media and the window it gives me into the lives of those far away.

Christmas_Sydney 

However you celebrate this December, enjoy the food and the company. I wish you happy holidays and happy memories.

Laura Boon is the author of The Millionaire Mountain Climber.

https://lauraboon.com/about/

A holiday inspiration from Carol Henry

You never know when inspiration for a novel will strike. Sometimes it takes a few years—like 30! Well, it didn’t take me that long to come up with the inspiration for my novel, but that’s how many years my husband, a Freemason, and I have helped at the local Freemasons’ annual ‘Breakfast with Santa’ event that is free to children twelve and under. While the Masons cook and serve breakfast, the Boy Scouts help clear tables and wash dishes, and a few of the wives pitch in to serve and make sure everyone gets a chance to sit on Santa’s lap where they can tell Santa what they want for Christmas. Santa always has a gift for everyone. It’s a wonderful, spirited morning with the jiggle of Santa’s bells, and the room full of excited youngsters waiting to get a peek at Santa in his red suit and snowy white beard.

And it’s always heart-warming when small children come up to me and give me a hug, thinking I’m Mrs. Claus because I have my Santa Apron on. Of course, I flit around the room talking to everyone (knowing many from the community), and entice the kids to make sure they go see Santa and sit on his lap, and sometimes even take their picture with Santa. I’ve seen children bring their own Christmas list for Santa to take back to the North Pole. Always an up-lifting, fun day.

In the afternoons, a couple of the wives and our husbands, accompany Santa, as we take the show on the road and visit the local Elderly Housing Center. Playing Santa’s elves, we take gifts, and everyone who wishes to join us in the community room gets to sit on Santa’s lap, many of them never having had the opportunity in their lifetime.  Everyone gets a gift.  Those who aren’t able to attend, Santa and his elves make sure they also receive a gift, which is left in front of their door. Again, it’s so heartwarming to see their reaction to Santa, the happiness in their eyes and wide smiles on their faces, and almost excited anticipation waiting their turn to actually sit on Santa’s lap regardless of their handicap—to share in song and the wonderful spirit of the season.

Of course, we all come from both events with our own hearts full of having spread good cheer to young and old alike.  A tradition that is priceless.

So, when I needed a sequel for my Lobster Cove Book—Juelle’s Legacy—and the fact that I was leaning toward a Christmas theme, I immediately thought of the local Masonic Lodge’s Breakfast with Santa, and how I could use my own home-town’s local event to immerse the small town atmosphere in Lobster Cove  with the same Christmas spirit and family love. Not to mention find a way to reunite one of my characters from my previous novel with her one-time love from high school.

I’m not very good at coming up with titles, but this one seemed like a no-brainer. Basing the novel on my community’s Breakfast with Santa, it seemed like the title—Breakfast With Santa—was the perfect fit. And so my Lobster Cove sequel was born. Of course I couldn’t resist having my heroine dress up as an elf for the occasion, especially as the hero was Santa!

Breakfast With Santa is also included in a recent Boxed Set entitled: A Holiday Pomise.

May you find your own holiday traditions that warm your heart, and share your spirit with others.

Carol Henry

Destination: Romance—Exotic Romantic Suspense Adventures

Nothing Short of a Miracle: #1 Best Seller Amazon Encore Holiday Romance

http://www.carolhenry.org

The Book Signing of Christmas Past

As I approach my second book’s release date (BLOOD MONEY, TWRP) on December 10, 2018, I can only think back to my very first book signing last year for my very first book, and make a list and check it twice for future signings:

·        If outside, the temperature should be ABOVE freezing

·        Portable heaters should be present and nearby, as in under my feet

·        Free hot-chocolate should be plentiful

·        Cute Christmas costumes should be replaced by scarves, hats, gloves…and thermal underwear!

·        And last but not least, beg for a backup plan to move the venue inside if the snowflakes threaten

Weather in East Tennessee is unpredictable, to say the least, but wouldn’t you know on that long-anticipated day, the temperature dropped so low that vendors cancelled right and left at our local Christmas street festival. Even the Humane Society thought it too inhumane to bring promised pets for petting. Not me. I was riding a high on the thoughts of autographing my book, and I never considered for one minute that no one would come. Kudos to those few die-hard friends that did, and to one very special lady who drove hours just to support me--that was definitely the highlight of my first book signing; but alas, after three hours, my fingers grew so numb, I barely could sign my name−and those I did mirrored chicken-scratch. I was only too happy to call it quits. I cannot state it enough: book signings in “fowl” weather should be inside…even Santa was cold! www.sandiu.blogspot.com
http://sandiunderwood.net