Josh Lanyon's Blog, page 36

Christmas Coda 52

   ALL’S FAIR series: Elliot and Tucker


“This is a mistake,” Tucker growled, tying his tie in short, sharp snaps. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror over the desk. No need for the scowl because he looked, as always, like he’d stepped out of the Westport Big & Tall catalog. Handsome and successful.
Elliot, sitting on the side of the hotel bed, glanced down to finish lacing up his black oxfords. “What is? Christmas dinner with your mom and step-dad?”
They were in Wyoming to spend Christmas with Tova and Ed—for the first and possibly only time—and Tucker was starting to exhibit signs of cold feet. Well, hell, December in Wyoming? Cold feet went with the territory. Literally.
“I apologize in advance. This is going to be a day of…”
“Family? Food? Festivities?”
Tucker shook his head as though words could ne’er express.
Elliot laughed. “Listen, don’t tell me you prefer tofu turkey and listening to my dad rant.”
In the interests of accuracy, Tucker ranted as much as Roland these days. It was kind of heart-warming the way Donald J. Trump had managed to unite both conservatives and liberals.
“There will be Bible readings,” Tucker prophesied. “There will be sermonizing.”
Elliot rose and brushed down his trousers. “So what? It won’t be the first time we’ve had to sit through a boring briefing.”
Tucker gave a short laugh.
“If this is on my behalf, relax,” Elliot said. “I like Jesus. It’s the Old Testament I take issue with. I don’t mind paying Jesus some attention on his birthday. And maybe Tova will turn out to be a great cook.”
“Fat chance,” Tucker grumbled.
But he was smiling when Elliot caught him by his Christmassy-red tie and tugged him in for a kiss.



It turned out they were both right.
There was indeed Bible reading. Before dinner they gathered in the gigantic living room with the gigantic Christmas tree and the gigantic picture windows gazing out over the gigantic “yard” that encompassed the gigantic house on the prairie where Tova and Ed lived. They listened politely as Ed read in a dry, dusty voice from the Gospels of Luke and John.
“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.”
So that happened.
And then came dinner. Wherever Tucker had inherited his inability to cook, it was not from Tova. In fact, she was a great cook. There was hickory-smoked turkey, walnut sweet potatoes, green beans in a creamy wild mushroom sauce, twice-baked potato casserole, and two kinds of pie: pecan and pumpkin.  


Tova had even specially purchased a bottle of Ariel non-alcoholic Cabernet Sauvignon for Elliot and Tucker to share, which Elliot found a really sweet gesture. Especially when the wine turned out to be not that bad.
After dinner there was a rather formal opening of presents while Mel Torme crooned in the background. To Elliot’s relief, the gray cashmere cardigan vest Tucker had chosen for Ed, and the pearl and diamond necklace he’d picked for Tova, were warmly received—Tucker had spent a lot of time and thought trying to select the perfect gifts. 
Say what you would about Ed and Tova, they were not stingy. There were presents for both Tucker and Elliot—in fact, it sort of looked like Tova was trying to make up for some of those missed birthday and holidays with an embarrassing landslide of gifts for Tucker: wireless earbuds, a hardwood turntable, Hermès cologne, fur-lined driving gloves… Some of the gifts were right on the mark—a Michael Kors watch, for example—and some seemed like things chosen because Tova just wanted to keep giving and giving—like the Baron Fig notebook and the Polaroid photo printer, which Elliot would inherit before the night was over.
By the time they said their final Merry Christmases, made promises to come again soon, and stumbled out into the bone-cracking cold of the Wyoming night Tucker seemed as relaxed and mellow as if there really had been alcohol in that bottle of wine. It made Elliot happy to see it—in fact, it was the best Christmas gift he could imagine. Tucker spending a genuinely happy holiday with his mom.
On the drive back to town Tucker said, “I just wish they weren’t so obviously proud of themselves for accepting us.”
Elliot, concentrating on navigating the unfamiliar rocky road ahead, smiled faintly. “It was a journey for them. Nobody in their social and professional circles has made that journey yet.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“It ought to though. Because they chose to make the journey. They made it willingly.” He glanced from the road to Tucker. “They made it for you.” 

Tucker was silent. Then he said, seemingly at random, “I’ll give this to your father. He’s a genuinely joyful person.”
Elliot threw him a surprised look. Not a word he would have picked to describe his dad, but it was true. Roland lived every moment fully and without regret. He knew how to love--and he did it with all his heart.
Andhe knew how to throw a party. Fake wine indeed.
“Did you have a good time today?” Elliot asked. “That’s what really matters.”
“I did,” Tucker said. He put his head back against the seat rest and said contentedly, “And I’ll have a better time when I get you back to our hotel room.”

Christmas Coda 51

THE BOY NEXT DOOR: Merle and Issac




I had just passed Starhurst High School and was turning onto Lone Cottage Lane when the driver of the police cruiser, which had been dawdling behind me for the past three blocks, suddenly turned on the cherry top. Blue and red lights sliced through the chilly December night. The siren whooped once, peremptorily.
“Godda—” Catching sight of the beatific smile of a giant Baby Jesus cradled in the glowing, gas-inflated rubber nativity set sitting on the snow-covered lawn of the corner house, I swallowed the rest of it. “Seriously? You’ve got nothing better to do tonight?”
I pulled to the curb, fished out my license, and was lowering the window as the uniformed officer approached my vehicle. His boots crunched officially on the icy road. He shone his flashlight in my face.
“Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”
Great. Officer Rick Grant was the latest addition to the Hayvenhurst police force and, in my humble opinion, Issac’s biggest mistake as Police Chief so far.
“I’m working, Officer Grant. I’m tailing—” I was tailing Nash Greenwald—who was now turning left on Hermitage Court. I watched Greenwald’s red taillights disappear around the corner.
Not that it really mattered. Greenwald was headed home to my client, Mrs. Greenwald. That was one report I would not be delivering until after the holidays.
“Fifty in a school zone,” Grant informed me.
“But it’s eight o’clock at night! Plus, school is out for Christmas vacation.”
Grant said, “Winter Break is the correct term. Not every citizen celebrates Christmas.”

“Uh, okay, the point is I was only going a lousy five miles over the when-children-are-not-present speed limit.”
Grant said stolidly, “License and registration, please.”
I stared up at him. “License and registration? You know who I am. I live with your boss. You were at our house last Sunday for pot roast.”
Officer Grant was unmoved. I handed over my license and registration.
A second pair of police boots crunched through the icy gravel to join Grant. Issac said in his deep and easy voice, “It’s Christmas Eve, Officer Grant. I think we can let Mr. Madison off with a warning tonight.”
“If you say so, Chief,” Grant replied in the tone of one who knows we will all live to regret this lapse of sanity.
“I’ll have a private word with Mr. Madison,” Issac said.
“Thank you, sir.”
There was barely a quiver of a laugh in Issac’s voice as he said, “I mean now, if you don't mind.”
“Oh. Yes, sir.” Grant flapped shut his ticket book and marched back to the police cruiser.
“Riding shotgun tonight?” I asked.
Issac’s grin was wide and white in the moonlight. “Observing my new recruit in action.”
“Your new recruit’s bucking for your job,” I told him as Issac bent down to fill my car window.
He kissed me. “In forty years he can have it. When are you getting home tonight?”
The kiss, quick as it was, made up for everything, from Officer Grinch to Mr. Greenwald who was starting the New Year by breaking his wife’s heart.
“I have to make one stop and then I’m on my way.”
I still had to pick up Little Whiskers, the Russian Blue kitten I was giving Issac for Christmas. Well, probably for Christmas Eve, because I couldn’t think of a way to hide this present that wouldn’t traumatize it for life.
“I’ll pick up the milk,” Issac said. “Don’t worry about that. You must be beat. It wasn't even four when you left this morning.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.”
I'd forgotten I was supposed to pick up milk. Over these wintery past months we’d developed a comfortable little habit of catching up with each other every evening over a cup of brandy-spiked cocoa. I don’t know what Philip Marlowe would have said about that, but I was going to miss the hot cocoa once the weather started to warm.
Luckily, there were delicious warm weather beverages too.

Issac delivered another kiss and backed out of the car window. He patted the side of my car. “Drive safely, Merle.”
“You too, Chief.” I glanced in my side mirror and he was looking back at me with a smile brighter than the Christmas star.

Holiday Coda 50

Christmas Coda 50
MAINLY BY MOONLIGHT: Cosmo and John
YOU IDIOTS!This is something a little bit different. It’s not a coda because the book (first in the new Bedknobs and Broomsticks series) is not actually written yet. It’s just a little foreshadowing—but then that’s appropriate given the characters and their world.

Advent Calendar Day 20

DAY 20???!!! FIVE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS? How can this be?!

But so it is. Day 20 and only five more days to go. I hope you're having as lovely a holiday season as I am. Frankly, I can't remember the last time I had such relaxed and happy holidays (I keep imagining something really dreadful is bound to happen--isn't that an awful way to think?)

This morning's offering is from one of ever most popular contributors, Steve Leonard--and I KNOW you're going to love it because it's got everything I love. :-D


A Jake Riordan Christmas Coda
“No way! Shut up!” J.X. choked out through a fit of laughter. He was doubled over in his chair and it was only Christopher reaching out to grab his arm that kept him from falling on his face. He looked at Adrien in horror. “You’re Avery Oxford?!”
Adrien had an affronted look on his face. He rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he sighed.
“Okay, let me get this straight,” Christopher said. He finished his gin and tonic and set the glass down. “They, the Finches, basically followed you for three years and cribbed scenes from your life for their book?”
“Pretty much,” Adrien said, taking a sip of his Caramel Appletini.  

“That’s not creepy at all,” Christopher said. “Hashtag, stalker.”
“Right?!”
Adrien and I were spending Christmas at Pine Shadow Ranch this year and had invited Christopher and J.X. to spend a couple of days with us. They were leaving in the morning - tomorrow was Christmas Eve - because they had plans with J.X.’s family back in San Francisco. We’d had a surprisingly pleasant visit and I found I didn’t want it to end.
Christopher and J.X. had taken us to dinner in Basking at La Chouette, and we were now back at the ranch having a couple of drinks in the living room. J.X. had built a fire and the tree Adrien and I had cut down and decorated the day we’d arrive twinkled merrily in the corner.
“No offense to your friends,” J.X. said, “but Murder, He Mimed was awful.”
“Awful doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Adrien said. “That book is a crime against literature.”
“Yes,” Christopher agreed, and he had the same offended look on his face as Adrien. “It’s… oh, what’s the word I’m looking for? A cry for help?”
“Dreck,” Adrien supplied flatly, taking another drink. “That book is dreck.”
“Dreck,” I repeated, amused. Adrien glanced at me and I smiled. “I love it when you get all riled up, baby. You start busting out your five-dollar words.”
“Busting out my five d- What? Are you drunk?”
“Nice try, baby.” I winked at him over the rim of my glass. “Not even close.”
Christopher looked at me closely, and then Adrien. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “There’s a story here, isn’t there?”
“Oh yeah, there’s a story,” I acknowledged fondly, my eyes locked on Adrien’s as I remembered last Christmas Eve with the silk scarves and that peacock feather. I wonder if he brought them along this year...
Adrien looked away first and cleared his throat. “But not one for public consumption.” His cheeks were pink with heat and... something else.
“I haven’t read the book,” I said, steering the conversation back to the original subject. Adrien shot me a scowl and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“What?” J.X. asked. Now both he and Christopher were looking back and forth between the two of us. “What aren’t you telling us?”
I winked at Adrien and he blushed. “Oh, fine. Go ahead,” he said.
I took a sip of my Laphroaig and turned to our guests. “As a matter of fact--”

“Oh stop,” Adrien interrupted. “If you’re going to tell the story then tell it right. Not all Joe-Friday-Just-The-Facts-Ma’am.”

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Capote,” I said with mock indignation. I stood and bowed to him in a grand, sweeping gesture. “By all means, please continue.”

He sputtered and his Caramel Appletini sprayed across the table. “Ass!”
I coughed to cover my chuckle and reached out to gather up the empty glasses. “Let me refill everybody’s drinks while Scheherazade here regales you with the story.”
I was in the kitchen mixing another Caramel Appletini for Adrien as he started in on the story. God, what is with him and his sweet drinks? First Black Orchids and now this?
By now I knew the recipe for Caramel Appletinis by heart:
1 ounce vanilla-flavored vodka
1 ounce sour apple schnapps
1 ounce butterscotch schnapps
1 decorative squirt liquid caramel
(optional: 1 maraschino cherry UGH)

Christ, he’d even made me lug all the ingredients to Pine Shadow and now had J.X. drinking them as well. But hell if I was going to measure everything out ounce by ounce. I’d been doing a good enough job eyeballing it so far. Heck, I hadn’t heard one complaint all week.
I smiled as I listened to Adrien tell the story and my mind wandered back to that morning in April…


“What is this?” Adrien demanded as he pounded into the kitchen, his phone in his shaking, outstretched hand.
I looked up from where I was reading the LA Times and set down my coffee. “What’s what?”
“This,” he said frostily, waving his phone in my face.
I glanced at it. “I didn’t know you were on Instagram.”
“I’m not,” he said, “although maybe I should be. Emma texted this to me.”
I took the phone from him. “Hot Dudes Reading? Isn’t Emma a little young to be following an account like this?”
“Not the point,” he said crisply. “Look closer.” 
“Easy now.” I looked at the screen again. “You know, you should get a bigger phone. This screen is so small I can ba--”
“Jake.”
“Okay, okay.” I leaned in. “Oh hey, that’s me.” The photo was dated yesterday and showed me sitting on a bench outside of Cloak and Dagger reading a book. When he didn’t say anything I looked up at him. He was still glaring, his mouth agape. I held the phone out to him. “I know this might surprise you, but I do read you know.”
He made an exasperated noise and grabbed the phone. I stood, my hands out in a placating gesture. “What are you so upset about? The fact that I’m reading or that somebody thinks I’m hot?”
“Look at what you’re reading,” he said icily, biting off each word. His nostrils were flared and he practically thrust the phone in my face.
"Oh, that," I said sheepishly. I looked down at the paper.

"’Oh, that’?” he mocked. “You're reading Murder, He Mimed?!"
“I wanted to know what all the fuss was about,” I said with a shrug.
“The fuss? What fuss?”
“They’re making a movie out of it.”
He lost all color. “They’re what?!”

“Making a movie… It was in the paper yesterday. They’ve got David Warner writing the screenplay."

"David Warner?" Adrien sputtered, his voice shooting up an octave. "That hack?!"

"Yeah, and Matt Bomer’s going to play the Avery Oxford character.”
"M...M...Matt Bomer?!" He was apoplectic.
“Yes,” I said patiently. “How do you not know this? Like I said, it was in the paper. Hell, I thought Jean and Ted would’ve mentioned it to you by now.”
“Where’s the paper?” he ground out. Ouch, he was going to pulverize his teeth if he wasn’t careful.
“It’s on the counter by the door,” I said cautiously.
He stalked across the room and snatched up the paper, tossing pages aside until he found the entertainment section and hastily flipped through it. His brows furrowed and he pursed his lips.
“I don’t see it,” he said, clearly irritated.

"April Fools, baby," I said, waggling my eyebrows as I pointed to the calendar on the wall. “Gotcha!”

He went white, then red, then white again. "You...Emma...Gah!!!"


J.X. was howling with laughter when I delivered the drinks. “Thanks,” he gasped as he accepted his and took a big swallow. “Oh my God, Jake, that was epic.”
He was half-smashed after all those Caramel Appletinis, and I had a feeling if he kept up his current pace Christopher or I was going to be carrying him to bed.
“I’m glad one of us thinks so,” Adrien sniffed, trying not to smile, but deep – deep – down I could tell he was amused.
“I need to meet this Emma,” Christopher said, arching his brow. “You know, friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”
“Emma’s great,” Adrien said and I could see the affection in his eyes.
J.X. put his drink down and slumped in his chair. He leaned his head against the back of his chair and looked at Christopher. “I think I’m drunk, honey.”
“I’m glad I was seated for that shocking revelation,” Christopher deadpanned.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not surprised, what with the way you’ve been sucking down those Caramel Appletinis tonight.” He gestured to J.X.’s nearly empty glass.  “But they’re so good,” he protested draining his glass. “They go down like candy!”
“Been there, done that,” I concurred, remembering last Christmas and how Adrien’s Black Orchids had gotten the better of me.
Christopher rose and held out his hand to J.X. He flashed him a leering look. “We should really call it a night.”
“Oh?” J.X. said, as Christopher helped him to his feet. His cheeks were flushed and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I guess that means somebody’s getting lu-”
“Say good night, Gracie,” Christopher interrupted, slapping a hand playfully over J.X.’s mouth.
He giggled and pulled Christopher’s hand away. “Sorry, Kit,” he said sheepishly. He leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as they left the living room.
I looked at Adrien. “You too, Betty Ford.”
Adrien’s eyes widened. “What?” he spluttered. “I’m fine.” He finished his drink and set his glass down, nearly missing the coffee table. “Okay, well, maybe I’m a little tipsy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That was so good last night, Kit,” I overheard J.X. saying to Christopher when I walked into the kitchen the next morning, tugging at the sleeves of my sweater to make sure the faint red marks on my wrists weren’t showing. “You were wonderful. Why don’t we do that more?”
“Really?” Christopher had an exasperated but amused look on his face. “How long have I been saying this?”
“Well, I-” J.X. stopped when he saw me and quickly rose from where he and Christopher were sitting at the kitchen table. He winced and massaged his right temple. “Jake, I want to apologize for last night. I don’t normally drink so--”
“Hey, nothing to apologize for,” I said easily as I clapped my hand on his arm. “We’re all friends here.”

“Still, though.”
I shook my head and gave his arm another squeeze. “No need to. Truly.”
I smiled and poured myself a cup of coffee, visions of peacock feathers and silk scarves dancing in my head. Adrien was full of surprises lately and as I sat down at the table the tenderness in my backside reminded me just how pleasurable some of them were. We’d talked about making our own holiday traditions and it seems like we were well on our way.
“Is that coffee I smell?” Adrien moaned as he appeared in the kitchen door. Even though he’d showered and shaved, he looked disheveled. I handed him my cup and went to pour myself another.
“Well, don’t you look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” I said, flashing him a wink.
“Ugh.” He dropped heavily into the chair I’d been sitting in.
~*~*~*~
“Gage would love this place,” I heard Christopher say to J.X. as we walked them out to their car after breakfast.
“Who’s Gage?” I asked.
“My nephew,” J.X. said.
“More like the spawn of hell,” Christopher muttered and J.X. punched his shoulder playfully.
“Ouch! Kidding,” Christopher said, wincing. “He’s an acquired taste.”
“If you ever want to come visit, let me know and I’ll send you the keys,” Adrien offered.
“Really? That would be wonderful,” J.X. enthused.
We said our goodbyes and they were off. I looked over at Adrien as Christopher and J.X. drove out of view. He was looking at the distant mountains, smiling. He looked so happy, so content. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
I recalled the Christmases we’d shared and the ones we’d missed. Over the last year I’d finally been able to admit to myself that I was a big part of that smile - why he was so happy and healthy and content. My vision blurred and I realized my eyes were wet.
He turned to me as I was wiping at my eyes and his smile softened. “Jake,” he sighed as he stepped into me and I wrapped my arms around him. “Let’s go home.”
“I thought you wanted to get away from everything this year.”
“And we did. But this was enough. Besides, I miss having everybody around for Christmas.”
“What? You?”
“Hey, I like your family,” he said, tilting his head up for a kiss. “Heck, I even like mine a little.”

Advent Calendar Day 19

As I mentioned last week we're doing the teasers creative exercise again (by the way, last week's go-round was FABULOUS) only this time it's series specific.

This time your teasers have to be from any book in the Dangerous Ground series.
The challenge of course is to find catchy lines short enough to fit into a visually arresting photo--that's the key to creating a great teaser. And no one is better at that than my dear friend Johanna Ollila, so I'm using her work again as examples (although--I find this so funny--she couldn't come up with DG teasers either!) :-D

Once again, we'll randomly select four people from the comment section below to receive their choice of magnet from one of Johanna's lovely teaser magnets!

Christmas Coda 49

MURDER TAKES THE HIGH ROAD: Carter and John
First Christmas.
Kind of a big deal. Even when things are going really well, and they had been going really well ever since Scotland--but Scotland had only been about seven weeks ago—the holidays could test a relationship. The weight of holiday expectation could be heavier than six feet of snow on a flat roof. All those glittery commercials. All those Hallmark holiday specials.
John and I spent whatever time we could together, but he was busy, I was busy, and he lived—this time of year—four to six hours away in San Diego.  
I couldn’t help worrying, maybe inevitably, that maybe what we had was the lingering aftereffects of a holiday romance. We’d both had such lousy luck with relationships.
“So…Christmas?” I’d broached the idea cautiously on the phone one night. He’d been back East for Thanksgiving, so the topic of spending holidays together hadn’t really risen until then. “Do you celebrate?”
“Well… I’m usually working,” he’d admitted.
“Ah.”
He said cautiously, “I could try and get the day off. If you want to do something?”
Do something?
Wasn’t Christmas what one did on…Christmas?

One way Trevor and I had been alike was in our love for the holidays. We both whole-heartedly embraced, well, all of it. Trevor always decked the halls—from candy cane candles in the bathrooms to the tiny fake vintage Christmas tree in the bedroom (all of which—to the last thread of tinsel--he’d taken with him—like the Grinch robbing Cindy Lou Who on Christmas Night). I did the front and back garden in white lights so the 3-piece family of LED reindeer had a proper place to live during December.  Trevor ran our credit cards up and I tried every holiday recipe that caught my eye.
Our house had always been a happy home during the holidays. It was the other eleven months things weren’t so perfect.
But the whole point of spending the holidays with John was to be with John. And be open to perhaps starting new traditions.
“I’d like to spend the day with you, yeah.”
Reassuringly, John had responded, “I like spending all the time I can with you.”
“Come here and I’ll cook,” I said.
“You don’t have to go to a lot of trouble. I mean…” He didn’t finish what he meant, so again, I wasn’t sure.
“I like to,” I said. “I like to cook and I especially like to cook for the holidays.”

“Okay, you're a holiday person. Well then, let’s do it.” His enthusiasm sounded a little forced, but he was coming for Christmas. That was all that mattered.
*** 
In the end, John couldn’t get Christmas off. He’d waited too late to ask, and everyone else in the company had already put in their requests, but he managed it so we would be together on New Year’s.
I bought a smallish tree—a live tree I could plant in the bare area of the front yard—and my mom sent over a large box of old ornaments she insisted were no longer needed; she and my dad had decided to opt for an artificial tree that year since they were spending the holiday once again with my sister in Colorado. I bought an armload of white holiday lanterns in different shapes and sizes at Lowes, grilled a Cornish game hen, and had dinner in the backyard in the glow of soft light, with the illuminated reindeer for company.
I had other options, of course, but I was in reflective mood, a quiet mood, and it was actually a great little dinner. The food was delicious, if I do say so myself. I made orzo risotto with root vegetables and mushroom and chestnut stuffing which I served with a chilled bottle of Riesling. It wasn’t that cold out, and the stars were sharp and bright. The lights from my neighbors’ windows cast a pleasant gold sheen over the roses and succulents surrounding the patio. I was happy. I was content. And best of all, I knew it. I was in the moment. How often does that happen?
Sure, it would have been perfect if John had been there, but the truth was I was happier getting to spend even a little time with John than I’d been spending every day with Trevor.
Joy. To. The. World.
For real.
When the side gate chimed shut and I saw John walking toward me through the haze of snow globe-lantern light I thought I was dreaming. “I did try to call ahead,” he said. “You didn’t pick up.”
I stopped gaping. “I think I left my phone on the counter.”
“So I took a chance there’d be leftovers.” He reached the table and bent down to kiss me. His lips were warm and he tasted like those dis-solvable Listerine breath strips, so I knew I was not dreaming.  “There’s a ton of food. What are you doing here?”
“I get an hour for dinner, which I think I can safely stretch to two.” He gazed around the garden in what looked like genuine awe. “This is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Kind of magical, in fact.”
I beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He tore his gaze from the reindeer and smiled. “Me too.”
I rose. “I’ll get you a plate. And a wine glass.”
“No wine glass. I’m on surveillance. Or will be again in two hours.” He made a face. “Hey, I want to say something.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry I forgot to ask for Christmas off. I’m not used to planning where I’m going to spend the holidays.”
“That’s okay.”
“Also, I left your present at home. I’m out of the habit of…being a boyfriend.”
I laughed. “Again, that’s okay.”
His smile was more confident. “But I’m a quick learner. And I’ve already asked for next Christmas off.”
We were planning next Christmas—and I was probably shining like the bright heart of one of those little lanterns. It was true. I did find happiness in my own backyard--even if I'd had to travel to Scotland first. 

New Release THE GHOST HAD AN EARLY CHECK-OUT

Good morning! A little bit of a delay on the Advent Calendar today as I need to announce my new (non-Christmas-related) release.

The Ghost Had an Early Check-Out is the long-promised sequel to The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks, so scratch another one off the list of Books I Promised a Long Time Ago list. ;-)

(It was  originally planned as a Halloween release, but hey. Life is what happens when you're putting the year's release schedule together.)

Perry and Nick are now living in Los Angeles. Perry is going to art school and Nick is working as a PI. They're still figuring things out. One afternoon Perry comes to the rescue of an aging horror film star by the name of Horace Daly. Horace, who owns a run down hotel in Laurel Canyon called Angel's Rest, claims that someone is trying to kill him.

Anyway, the book is available pretty much everywhere today:

Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Kobo

And thru iBooks and Smashwords on the 26th

(It will also be available in print and audio)






Also if you haven't read The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks, it's currently at .99 everywhere thanks to a Bookbub. ;-) So hey, it's a little bit of a Christmas present right there! 

Advent Calendar Day 17

This morning I want to share with you something a little different. It's not a coda or a poem or a cartoon or art, it's a sermon called "The Empty Stocking," and it's from one of my favorite Christmas movies The Bishop's Wife.

(I know there's a remake, but I'm talking about the original version made in 1947, not long after World War 2 had ended. )

It's got Loretta Young and David Niven and Cary Grant, and it's a lovely old film about learning to temper dreams and ambition with love and faith. It's about separating the wheat from the chaff and the real meaning of Christmas and a whole host of things that are important to remember all year long. It's also funny and romantic and magical. 

Anyway, at one point near the end of the movie Henry, the Episcopal priest, reads a short sermon written by Dudley the angel. Every time I hear it, I'm reminded of how easy it is to get swept up in the hustle and bustle of the season and forget the most important things!

Have a very happy Monday morning--and a wonderful rest of your week! 

The Empty Stocking
Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking. Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child's cry, a blazing star hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts.

We haven't forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, with the sound of bells, and with gifts.

But especially with gifts. You give me a book, I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and Uncle Henry can do with a new pipe.


For we forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings are filled, all that is, except one.

And we have even forgotten to hang it up. The stocking for the child born in a manger.


Its his birthday we're celebrating. Don't let us ever forget that.

Let us ask ourselves what He would wish for most. And then, let each put in his share, loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched out hand of tolerance.

All the shinning gifts that make peace on earth.

Advent Calendar Day 16

Last year we did a little creative exercise while giving away two copies of the print coda collection All I Want for Christmas, and I'm thinking it would be fun to do that again.

Here's how it works. Write the first paragraph for a potential holiday coda with your favorite Josh Lanyon couple. That's it. It can be silly, sad, serious, sexy...whatever you choose! Just have fun with it. Even if you don't go on to write a whole coda, I think you'll be surprised at how entertaining it can be to lose yourself in that made up world for a little while.

And if you DO write a whole coda--and want to share it next year--well, I know just the place! ;-)

I'll randomly choose two authors from the coda beginnings to receive a copy of All I Want for Christmas. If you're new to the Advent Calendar and my holiday codas, it's actually a very cool collection of all my codas thru 2016--along with recipes for food and drink that tie-in with the codas. It's a nice little book!


And just to help get the creative juices flowing, here are a few festive photos to that you can use as prompts. Or not!
















Happy writing!!!

Advent Calendar Day 15

Today, just a beautiful photo. I finished The Ghost Had an Early Check-Out on Friday and everything is uploaded and ready to go. I can't think of a December when I've had the luxury of not racing to hit a deadline this early in the month. It's kind of like Christmas has already arrived.

So tomorrow I'm going to begin writing a few codas, which I hope to have ready this week--I've got several ideas for some of the most requested pairings.

In the meantime, we're exactly at the midway point of December. I hope you're having a lovely holiday season, and if the Advent Calendar mornings are part of that enjoyment, my work is done. ;-)  Well, not done, but you know.

If you have a favorite holiday photo you can link to, share it in the comment section below!

And, hey, remember to breathe.