Josh Lanyon's Blog, page 50

Advent Calendar Day 25 - MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Today's stunning offering comes from the multi-talented Catherine Dair (you may know her as the creator of those adorable Pip and Skip Pride bunnies).

I hope that wherever you are today is exactly where you want to be -- and that you spend most of the day with people you love and who love you. I hope your heart is full of peace and contentment and the certainty that there is more right with the world than wrong.

Advent Calendar Day 23

So. Close.


Can you smell that tinsel in the air? Ah, the taste of mistletoe!


Today for your moment of Christmas Zen I'm sharing a favorite Christmas song with you. This comes from the So This is Christmas playlist.


It's the Christmas song--and the version--that reminds me most of Adrien English. Who knows why? Even I'm not exactly sure.












And for those who would like the whole playlist:


Please Come Home for Christmas - the Eagles
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Sarah McLachlan and the Barenaked Ladies
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland
Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright
The Coldest Night of the Year - She and Him
I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm - Dean Martin
What are You Doing New Year's Eve - Ella Fitzgerald
My Dear Acquaintance - Peggy Lee
Auld Lang Syne - Celtic Woman

Advent Calendar Day 22

Day 22. The final hour approaches!

Well, that sounds a little grim, and in keeping with the shadowy side of Christmas, I'm sharing another vintage cartoon.

Not in an effort to bring anyone down, but to remind you -- and myself -- to stick to the light, to treasure those moments of brightness and warmth and love. To be an agent of brightness and warmth and love not just through the remainder of the holiday season, but in the coming year. And all the years that follow.







God Bless us, every one.

advent calendar giveaway update

I want to make sure everyone who won a giveaway has a chance to collect their winnings. :-)

Here's what we've got so far:


HOLIDAY GIVEAWAY LIST


THE CURSE OF THE BLUE SCARAB in print
Debby of the Pisco Sour
Neil Atkinson of the several drinks (love that White Lady!)
Verena with her flavored teas
Nancy Andrews
Merrick with the gingery champagne cocktail



MURDER IN THE CLOSET
Jordan Lombard




TEN RANDOMLY SELECTED EBOOKS FROM MY BACKLIST


Natasha
booksandmore
Rin
Richelle
Hahn
Lee
Susan
Felice
Steve
Mr. Pinketon


FOUR SIGNED COPIES OF WHAT'S LEFT OF KISSES

Rachel Owens
Karan
Clary
Ruby2


TWENTY AUDIO CODES
goge
Terri
Grandma Tricia
rosy5000
CassieP
Paige Blair
Cynthia Lail
Zoey
Viv Goodreads
Melyna Drache
Paola T
El gato sobre el tejado
Matti Grove
Linda Eisel
Cheryll Athorp
Kelly James
thelastaerie
Spot
Cait Donnelly
Trio seven7

AND BECAUSE WE HAD SO MANY PEOPLE (AND A COUPLE OF EXTRA CODES)

SLB
CA Glesener
Leigh Lorentz
BennytheBC



LOVE POEMS BY PABLO NERUDA
Leigh Ann Wallace


SIGNED COPY OF IN FROM THE COLD

Judy Stone


Complete Set of the Adrien English audio books -- donated by the very generous Kim from Goodreads.

Kathleen Schell

AND I'M THROWING IN A COPY OF THE COLLECTION TOO

LYNCHMOB5


Please contact me with your information (including your mailing address if the item is a signed book) either through my website contact page or my Facebook page.

Thank you all for entering! Happy Holidays!

Advent Calendar Day 21

Happy Winter Solstice to you and yours.


Today is the shortest day of the year. Make every minute count. :-)












A lovely picture for you by Cobalt Moon Design (licensed by Shutterstock)




And a poem by Sara Teasdale called "A Winter Night".

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.                         

Advent Calendar Day 20

Today we're giving away a complete set of the Adrien English audio books -- narrated by Christopher Patton -- to one lucky viewer. Er, listener.
Share a thought on the Adrien English series in the comment section below to be eligible for the random selection process.
And in the meantime, here's a sneak peek at the new Adrien English novella, So This is Christmas .
If all goes according to plan, this will be out New Year's Day weekend.



 
“What the hell just happened?” I asked the universe.
“You’re talking to yourself again,” the universe replied, pushing open my office door.
Okay, it was Jake, but he was kind of my universe.
For a guy who’d had less sleep than me, he looked unfairly refreshed and vital on a damp and drizzly Monday morning. He wore boots, jeans, a tailored white shirt and a brown tweed blazer, which brought out the gold glints in his hazel eyes. His blond hair was silvering at the temples and just a fraction longer than he used to wear. He was still hard and fit, but he’d lost that gaunt, haggard look he’d had six months ago when we’d met up again after two years apart.
In fact, he looked healthy and relaxed. Like he’d really spent the last few days on vacation instead of the family holiday from hell.
“Hey,” I said, by way of greeting. I won’t say I actually fell into his arms, but I was pretty happy to see him.
“Hey yourself,” Jake replied and kissed me, the warm pressure of his mouth firm against my own.
Hard to say—and it was a theory I planned on testing a lot over the next forty years—but I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of kissing Jake.
Even these quick perfunctory kisses—well, it had started out quick and perfunctory, but the taste of him: that weirdly erotic blend of coffee and breath mint; the smell of him: an even weirder erotic blend of suitcase and Le Male aftershave; and the warm weight of his hand on my shoulder, drawing me in close, closer…
Reluctantly, we parted lips.
“Jesus, I missed you.” He smiled into my eyes.
“Same here.”
“I got used to spending all day every day with you.”
I said regretfully, “If only it paid better.”
There was definitely a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I might have some good news on that front. Are you ready for lunch?”
I laughed. “Lunch? It’s ten thirtyin the morning.”
“Is it?” Jake glanced at the clock on my desk. His dark brows rose in surprise. “It feels a lot later.”
“It’s been a long morning,” I agreed.
“Everything okay?” He took a closer look at me. “Is Natalie okay?”
“I think so. I hope so. Actually, why don’t we get a coffee or something? I need to get out of here for a little while.”
True, I’d only been in there about five minutes.
His brows rose. He said, “Sure. You want to walk or you want to take a drive?”
I grabbed my black overcoat. “Let’s walk.”
When we stepped outside the bookstore, the rain had softened to a light, shimmering mist. More like holiday décor than actual wet. Christmas is the only holiday I can think of where it continues to feel like holiday-in-progress even the day after. Maybe because people were still bustling around with heavy shopping bags, and the Eagles were plea-bargaining from storefront speakers.
If not for Christmas, by New Year’s night…
Window displays were filled with fake snow and glittering lights and toy trains and anthropomorphic stuffed animals drinking coffee and showing off engagement rings. Who knew how much penguins relished that holiday bling?
Everyone who wasn’t trying to park or find their car was in a festive mood. And it was contagious. As in, I needed to remember to take my vitamin C when we got back.
“Funny how cities have their own smell,” Jake remarked. “Londonjust didn’t smell like Pasadena.” He casually dropped his arm around my shoulders and I smiled at him.
It’s not like I needed the physical proof of PDAs, and frankly Jake’s willingness to put his arm around me or hold my hand in public meant as much to me as the actual act. But I can’t deny that warm weight on my shoulders felt good. Right.
“Thanks again for going with me,” I said.
“Not like it was a big sacrifice. I like being with you. I never figured on seeing London, so that was actually kind of nice.”
And kind of exhausting. Or maybe that was more my take than Jake’s. I’d been the one to push for coming home early.
“If we were to travel somewhere for a real vacation or…something, where would you want to go?”
The arm around my shoulders jumped as he shrugged. “Never thought about it. Kate always wanted to go to Italy.”
I glanced at him. His smile was a little wry, his expression distant. He almost never talked about Kate or their marriage, and I understood that this was out of loyalty to her. That loyalty was just one of the many things I liked about him.
 I said, “Irelandmaybe? With a last name like Riordan.”
“Maybe. Anywhere you’re going works for me.”
I looked down, smiling, and his arm tightened in a quick squeeze.
 

Christmas Coda 46

Christmas Coda 46
A LIMITED ENGAGEMENT: Adam and Ross
 
 
“Tell the story about how you two got together again,” someone called from down the long, linen-covered table.
 Who?
Marta? Angelique? I couldn’t tell who. There were always so many people at this annual Christmas Eve luncheon. Over the years they had all started to look--and sound--alike.
 “It was twenty years ago,” Ross began, and our guests settled down to be once more amused and entertained by the master. Only Ross could make blackmail and attempted murder sound like the meet-cute opening of a rom-com.
They all sipped their wine and listened and laughed in the right places. Everybody loved the story. After all, the course of true love and all that.
No one had gone to jail. No one had gotten hurt.
Well, maybe Anne Cassidy. Hard to know how seriously she’d taken it. Still waters. Anyway, she was a decade under ground now.
Strange to think…
Ross had reached the climax of the story and was quoting me. “‘You could kill me,’ Adam said, ‘And it wouldn’t hurt as much as watching you marry someone you don’t love.’”
Awww, everyone said, as they always did.
 
 
“I wish you wouldn’t tell that story,” I said that night.
Ross, wearing his red silk dressing gown and slippers, was reading the New Yorker by the fireplace. He glanced up, and smiled.
“It’s a great story.”
“I hate it.”
He laughed. At sixty he was still handsome, still debonair, still charming…still the love of my life. And he always would be.
“Come here, you.” He laid aside the magazine, held out an arm, and I joined him beside the hearth, leaning against his chair--at forty-plus I was a bit old for curling up on his lap. I rested my head on his thigh. His fingers gently played with my hair.
He murmured, “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”  
I closed my eyes. “Hamlet. Act 2. Scene 2.”
“Very good.” There was a smile in his voice. His fingers, slim and dry and cool, sent little chills of pleasure over my scalp.
“We haven’t done so badly, have we? We’ve lasted longer than any other couple we know. We’re certainly happier than any other couple we know.”
I moved my head in assent. “Showfolk.”
He chuckled. “We’reshowfolk.”
The fire snapped and crackled. Ross was silent, and I wondered if he was nodding off. When I turned my head, he was staring into the fireplace. The flames threw shadows across his face.
“Do you ever regret--” I started softly.
But he smiled again and shook his head. “No. I don’t. None of it.” His eyes shone in the firelight, studying me. “Do you?”
“I got everything I wanted.”
“So did I.”
I pulled a face. He said, “I didn’t know what I wanted until you.”
I turned my head so he couldn’t see the tears.
The grandfather clock began to chime midnight. Soft, sonorous bell tones.
One.
Two.
“Make your Christmas wish,” Ross said. He sounded indulgent, as he so often did with me.
Over the past year he’d had two strokes. Very mild. You’d have to know him  well to ever tell.
I closed my eyes and wished. Twenty more years…
 
   
 
 

Advent Calendar Day18

Have you finished your holiday shopping? It's the 18th!


This morning's offering comes once again from the enormously talented and crazy-generous Catherine Dair.



We revisit Mark and Stephen from the I Spy series (the quote is from I Spy Something Christmas ).





Today's giveaway is a signed copy of In From the Cold, the print collection of I Spy stories. I'll choose one random commenter from belooooow. Just share a heart-warming (or other part warming) memory or story with us! 

Advent Calendar - Day 17

Today's offering is a poem by one of my very favorite poets, Pablo Neruda. The poem is called "If You Forget Me," and it's scorchingly beautiful.

Our giveaway is a paperback copy of Love Poems by Pablo Neruda Donald D. Walsh . I'll choose one random commenter from the section below.














If You Forget Me
Pablo Neruda
I want you to knowone thing. 
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 
Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. 
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. 
If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. 
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine. 

Christmas Coda 45

Christmas Coda 45
MURDER BETWEEN THE PAGES: Felix and Leonard
 
The clocks were chiming when I landed on Felix’s doorstep.
I could hear them through the tall, white front door of the Colonial farmhouse. All fifty three of them. Ding-donging away. Chiming out the hour in ten long notes.
Maybe that’s what was taking him so long to come to the door. Maybe he couldn’t hear me over the clocks. Or maybe it was the rain rattling on the windows and roof--and the ragged leaves of the little palm tree plant I cradled in my arms--that deafened him to my knock.
I knocked again and rang the doorbell for good measure. Where would he be on Christmas morning? Hopefully nobody had wrung his scrawny neck while I’d been away.
I was just starting to get nervous when the door suddenly flew open.
“Well?” Felix demanded. His thin face changed. Black eyes narrowing, lip curling. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Hell, yes, it’s me. Who were you expecting?”
“Not you.”
“I told you I’d be back.”
“Ha!”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
His throat jumped as he swallowed. He said haughtily, unpleasantly, “Don’t you have somewhere more important to be?”
“No.”
His lashes swept down, then flicked up. He gave me a funny, crooked smile. “No?”
“You know I don’t.”
“I thought they loved you in Hollywood.”
“They do. But it’s not home, is it?”
“It could be. If you wanted it to be.”
“I guess so.”
He frowned. “You’re shivering, Leonard.”
“I’m freezing to death.”
“You’re not used to our weather anymore.”
“I could be. If you wanted me to be.”  
Felix studied my face. “Hm. Well, maybe you had better come in then.”
I came inside, handing over the little palm tree and the bags of oranges and almonds. “Anyway, Merry Christmas.” I took a deep appreciative sniff. “Something smells great.”
“It happens that I’m making ham and eggs for breakfast.”
“My favorite,” I said.
“Is it?” He started to turn toward the kitchen, and I caught his arm, pulling him toward me.
A tinge of color pinked his cheeks. “Leonard, you’ll crush my palm tree.”
I laughed and kissed him. He closed his eyes and kissed me back, and the oranges and almonds rained down around our feet.

 
 
I don’t think he believed I'd be back.
Nah. He had to know. Maybe he thought when I did come back, it would be pack my suitcase and grab my hat.
I don’t deny it crossed my mind as that train had clickity-clacked its way over deserts and cornfields, through small towns and mountain ranges, over the rivers and through the woods…
I liked California. I liked the palm trees and the orange trees and the Technicolor blue of those always-sunny skies. I liked the hustle and bustle of movie studios and doing business beside a swimming pool. I liked the money to be made in California.
I liked the fact that nothing shocked people in Hollywood. And that everybody but Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons minded their own business.
But what Hollywood and Californiadidn’t have was Felix Day.
The one thing I couldn’t live without.