Penny Estelle's Blog, page 5

Holly and the Hopeful Hearts - An anthology of wonderful Christmas stories!

Christmas Is In the Air



Holly and Hopeful Hearts

Genre: Regency romance, historical romance, holiday romance
Heat rating: G-PG13
ABOUT HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS                                                                                      When the Duchess of Haverford sends out invitations to a Yuletide house party and a New Year’s Eve ball at her country estate, Hollystone Hall, those who respond know that Her Grace intends to raise money for her favorite cause and promote whatever marriages she can. Eight assorted heroes and heroines set out with their pocketbooks firmly clutched and hearts in protective custody. Or are they?


A Suitable Husband, by Jude KnightAs the Duchess of Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Surely she can find a suitable husband amongst the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party. Above stairs or possibly below.
Valuing Vanessa, by Susana EllisFacing a dim future as a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.
A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry EwingYoung widow Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Can she learn to forgive Lord Nicholas Lacey and set aside their differences to let love into her heart?
Artemis, by Jessica CaleActress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?
The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude KnightJames must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.
Christmas Kisses, by Nicole ZoltackLouisa Wycliff, Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.
An Open Heart, by Caroline WarfieldEsther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?
Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose BennettHeadstrong bluestocking, Miss Kate Woodville, never thought her Christmas would be spent racing across England with a viscount hell-bent on vengeance. She certainly never expected to find love...




BACK COVER BLURBS  (Be sure to see the fabulous excerpts for each story at the bottom of this post!)
A Suitable Husband , by Jude KnightAs the Duchess of Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Perhaps among the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party, she will find a suitable husband?
Marcel Fournier has only one ambition: to save enough from his fees serving in as chef in the houses of the ton to become the proprietor of his own fine restaurant. An affair with the duchess’s dependent would be dangerous. Anything else is impossible. Isn’t it?
Valuing Vanessa, by Susana EllisFacing a dim future as a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.
The last thing widower George Durand thinks he wants is another wife, but his difficult daughter is proving difficult to handle. In any case, the admirable Miss Sedgely is far too young for him.A love match is not even a remote consideration for these two. Or is it?
A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry EwingYoung widow Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Lord Nicholas Lacey is captivated by a lovely young woman he encounters at a masquerade. Considering the company she keeps, she might be interested in becoming his mistress. From the darkened paths of Vauxhall Gardens to a countryside estate called Hollystone Hall, Nicholas and Grace must set aside their differences in order to let love into their hearts.
Artemis, by Jessica CaleActress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?
The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude KnightJames must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.
Sophia keeps secret her tendre for James, Lord Elfingham. After all, the whole of Society knows he is pursuing the younger Belvoir sister, not the older one left on the shelf after two failed betrothals.
Christmas Kisses, by Nicole ZoltackLouisa Wycliff, Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.
When Lady Exeter insists on Anna befriending a marquis’s son, a man Anna thinks is far too crude, Anna learns all about the trials her mother went through to find love herself. Only time will tell if Anna can find true love this Christmas season.
An Open Heart, by Caroline WarfieldEsther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?
Adam Halevy prospered under the tutelage of his distant cousin, powerful banker Nathaniel Baumann. He's ready to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman's role, and will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann's outspoken, independent daughter the one woman who haunts his nights?
Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose BennettMiss Kate Woodville, teacher and bluestocking, enjoys her independence, thank you very much. But when a very determined viscount insists she accompany him on a mad dash through the snow to Gretna Green to stop his younger sister, Violet, eloping with Kate’s own brother, she has little choice but to go. She’ll risk the ruin of her own pristine reputation if it means she can save Freddie from Lord Stanton’s wrath.
As they race along the road north and then back to Hollystone Hall in Buckinghamshire for a New Year’s Eve charity ball, hearts and wills are certain to collide. But will anyone—Freddie and Violet, or Kate and Lord Stanton—find the path to everlasting love?
BUY LINKS for HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS
Amazon US:  http://ow.ly/INwa3049Ey3 Amazon UK: http://ow.ly/ZMuH3049ELMAmazon Australia: http://ow.ly/TczG3049EQ2
Amazon Canada: http://ow.ly/IERm3049EYMSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/664559Kobo: http://ow.ly/Vx1n304jGzjBarnes & Noble: http://ow.ly/LqCI304jGuSiBooks: http://ow.ly/JcSI304jGWE
PAGE COUNT: 578 pages on Kindle
ABOUT THE BELLES
The Bluestocking Belles, the “BellesInBlue”, are seven very different writers united by a love of history and a history of writing about love. From sweet to steamy, from light-hearted fun to dark tortured tales full of angst, from London ballrooms to country cottages to the sultan’s seraglio, one or more of us will have a tale to suit your tastes and mood. Come visit us at http://bluestockingbelles.netand kick up your bluestockinged heels!
BLUESTOCKING BELLES ON THE WEB: Look for us online...
Website and home of the Teatime Tattler: http://bluestockingbelles.net Facebook: www.Facebook.com/BellesInBlueTwitter: www.Twitter.com/BellesInBluePinterest: www.Pinterest.com/BellesInBlueAmazon Author page: www.amazon.com/author/BellesInBlue
The Bluestocking Belles proudly support the Malala Fund charity. You can find out more on our website: http://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/the-bellesinblue-support-the-malala-fund/ About Amy Rose BennettAmy Rose Bennett has always wanted to be a writer for as long as she can remember. An avid reader with a particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.
Website and Blog: http://AmyRoseBennett.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/AmyRoseBennett.AuthorTwitter: https://twitter.com/AmyRoseBennettPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/AmyRoseBennett/About Jessica CaleJessica Cale is the award-winning author of the historical romance series, The Southwark Saga. Originally from Minnesota, she lived in Wales for several years where she earned a BA in History and an MFA in Creative Writing while climbing castles and photographing mines for history magazines. She kidnapped (“married”) her very own British prince (close enough) and is enjoying her happily ever after with him in North Carolina. Visit her history blog at www.dirtysexyhistory.com.
Website: http://www.authorjessicacale.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjessicacaleTwitter: https://twitter.com/JessicaCalePinterest: https://au.pinterest.com/rainbowcarnage/About Susana EllisSusana has always had stories in her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her imagination began to soar.
A former teacher, Susana lives in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and Florida in the winter. She is a member of the Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee Valley Romance Inc.
Website: http://www.SusanaEllis.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/Susana.Ellis.5Twitter: https://twitter.com/SusanaAuthorPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/SusanaAuthor/About Sherry EwingSherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time.
Website and Blog: http://www.SherryEwing.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/SherryEwingauthorTwitter: https://www.twitter.com/Sherry_EwingPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/SherryLEwingAbout Jude KnightJude Knight writes stories to transport you to another time, another place, where you can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, and delight in a happy ending.
A late starter, she now has the wind in her sails and a head full of strong determined heroines, heroes with the sense to appreciate them, and villains you'll love to loathe.
Website and Blog: http://www.judeknightauthor.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/judeknightbooksTwitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooksPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/jknight1033/About Caroline WarfieldCaroline Warfield grew up in a perapatetic army family and had a varied career (largely centered on libraries and technology) before retiring to the urban wilds of Eastern Pennsylvania. She is ever a traveler and adventurer, enamored of owls, books, history, and beautiful gardens (but not the act of gardening). She is married to a prince among men.
Website and Blog: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7Twitter: https://twitter.com/CaroWarfieldPinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/warfieldcaro/About Nicole ZoltackNicole Zoltack loves to write romances. When she's not writing about gentlemen and their ladies, knights, or superheroes, she spends time with her growing family. She enjoys riding horses (pretending they're unicorns, of course!) and visiting the PA Renaissance Faire. She'll also read anything she can get her hands on.
Website and Blog: http://NicoleZoltack.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorNicoleZoltackTwitter: https://twitter.com/NicoleZoltackPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/NicoleZoltack/


Excerpts

A Suitable Husband, by Jude Knight (549 words)
Mademoiselle Grenford looked up as he approached, tipping her head a little to one side as she waited for him to speak.
“May I have the honor of this dance, fair shepherdess?” he asked.
She furrowed her brows for the briefest of seconds. “I do not dance, sir, but I will find you a partner—”
“Not dance? When your costume is made to swirl on the dance floor, and the music begs—nay, demand—for you to pay homage?” A slip there. He had pronounced homage in the French way.Her eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely—oh joy—placed her gloved hand in his and allowed herself to be conducted through the doors to join the waltz.
They began slowly, his hands resting tentatively just above her waist, and hers placed lightly on his shoulders. He honoured the respectable distance due to a maiden, but as they began to circle one another in the dance, his legs shifted past hers and could not avoid repeated touching.
Turn, turn, and turn again. The candles of the chandeliers seemed to whirl above them, the other dancers disappeared, and he and Mademoiselle Grenford were alone in the ballroom. She swayed and dipped and twirled with him, light as a feather but far more substantial, a delight to his hands, his arms, and his legs.
Her eyes fixed on his, her face flushed, she murmured, “Monsieur Fournier, what are you doing here?”
It was a dose of cold water, jerking him back to reality. Would she rebuke him? Tell the duchess?
“One dance,” he managed, almost begged. “I promised not to importune you, mademoiselle, but I thought… In costume, no one would know if I stole one dance.”
Somehow, his feet kept moving, they kept dancing, round and round and round, their legs shifting past each other’s again and again, their eyes still locked.
She smiled, a benison beyond his deserving. “This dance is not a theft, monsieur, when I give it willingly.”
“Give?”
He was in heaven. He was no longer dancing; he was floating several inches about the ballroom floor. She knows me even in my disguise. She dances with me willingly.
His heart was too full for speech, and she said nothing more as they continued around the floor, oblivious to everything except the music and one another.
Marcel stepped back when the music ended, dropping his hands from her waist to her hands, unable to resist touching her for a moment more. “Thank you, mademoiselle. Thank you more than I can say. I will leave now, but you have given me food for many happy dreams.”
“No.” Mademoiselle Grenford folded her fingers around his and tugged him to follow her. By chance, they had stopped at the most poorly lit end of the ballroom, close to the corner where a door let on to a servant’s passage, and it was to this she marched determinedly, with Marcel bobbing after in her wake.
No. Not that door. She was opening a door onto the terrace, and in moments, they were outside.
“I do not want it to end,” she said. “Will you not consent to sit and talk with me for a little?”Consent? Did she not know he would consent to the guillotine for her sake?

"Are you certain it is not an imposition, Miss Sedgely? Because I shouldn't mind showing the ladies around myself, in Mrs. Seavers's absence."
Vanessa's chin rose as she directed a firm gaze at the institution's housekeeper. "I assure you there is no imposition whatsoever, Mrs. Barnes. I shall be pleased to guide the ladies on their tour this morning, as Matron directed."
Mrs. Barnes flushed. Obviously she considered the task her own prerogative, but Vanessa had not taken the trouble to get the hospital matron out of town just to be foiled by the housekeeper.
"But what about your class, Miss Sedgely? The children do so look forward to them! Why, they will be exceedingly disappointed to miss them today." She leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming. "I hear that little Willie had prepared a special passage to read for you. He is quite partial to you, you know."
Vanessa refused to allow herself to be diverted, in spite of the tiny twinge of guilt she felt deep inside. "My maid has agreed to take my classes for today. She has assisted me previously, you know, and thus is well-known to the children."
She gave a curt nod to the housekeeper, who took it as the dismissal it was meant to be, and walked out of the room.
The Board of Governors were conducting a meeting in a quarter hour's time, and Vanessa had taken great pains to find a reason to be lingering in the foyer as the gentlemen arrived. It was Mr. George Durand she wished to encounter, of course. During the week since the masquerade at Vauxhall, she had unearthed a great deal of information about the attractive gentleman. George William Durand was the grandson of a viscount, his late father being the younger son, who had made law his profession. Durand's cousin William had become the 4th Viscount Faringdon five years ago following his father's death, and he had four healthy sons to follow him, which meant the title was unlikely to fall to George. George had followed his father into the law profession, although interestingly, he had briefly studied landscape gardening with one of Capability Brown's former associates. That ended after his marriage, however, when young George set himself to becoming a successful solicitor like his father. His wife, Geneviève d'Aumale, was a French émigrée, the daughter of a comtewho had lost his head on the Place de la Concorde at the hands of revolutionaries. She, her sister Juliette, and their mother the comtesse had lost their lives in a carriage accident which had arisen from an attack of highwaymen.
So dreadful. Life was so ephemeral. In a matter of minutes, three ladies' lives had been snuffed out in such a horrific manner, leaving their husbands to bear the loss as best they could. And their adolescent daughters, of course. Both Durand and Lord Nicholas had daughters, approximately the same age. And perhaps not surprisingly, both had been residing with relatives since the tragedy. Men were notoriously helpless when it came to their maturing daughters. But in retrospect, Vanessa thought it rather pitiable that the girls had effectively lost both parents in that one disastrous moment.
One thing was certain, however. A well-off gentleman with a near-grown daughter was clearly in need of a wife. And Vanessa thought she might suit this one very well indeed.


A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry Ewing (537 words)
Arms of steel wrapped around her waist to prevent her downward pitch. Her rescuer’s cape whirled around their bodies as though the cloak itself would conceal them from the night and those around them. Fathomless dark eyes were all but hidden in the black mask that concealed his features, yet, a flicker from the walkway lanterns hinted at their color. His eyes were brown, much like his hair, she surmised, if the curls that formed around the edges of his hat and mask were any indication.
Grace gasped as he quickly maneuvered her off the pathway to save them from being run over by the eagerness of the crowd. She shivered, but not from the cold for she was far from chilled. No. She quivered from the warmth that raced up and down her spine at being this close to a man, let alone held intimately for the first time in many years.
“Are you hurt, my lady?”
His deep voice went straight to her heart. His low tone plummeted down to reach into the very depths of her soul to awaken a part of her that had been left dormant as though she had been waiting for him her entire life. Waiting… yes she had been waiting for someone to come along who would give her this sudden feeling of completeness, even though he was a total stranger.
The realization of what she was doing hit her as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over the top of her head. He was asking her something, but her brain could not wrap itself around what he had inquired.
“Pardon me?” she asked in a breathy whisper of astonishment, especially when she realized she had been caressing the lapel of his jacket beneath his cloak.
His arm tightened around her. She watched in mild fascination as one side of his mouth turned up in a cocky grin. He knew exactly how her body was reacting to their close proximity.
“I asked if you were hurt, although I might also beg for an introduction.”
“I h-hardly think this en-encounter is a-appropriate,” Grace stammered. Was that actually her voice sounding so unsure of herself?
He leaned down, and, for an instant, she thought he was about to kiss her.
“How utterly charming that I have you all tongued-tied.” His words whispered gently in her ear were almost her undoing.
Before she could comment, Moriah’s voice was heard above the noise of the crowd, and she quickly untangled herself from the man who did nothing to hide his disappointment.
“There you are,” Moriah declared as she stared up at the stranger. Grace could only imagine what was going on inside her friend’s mind, given their recent conversation. “I am sorry I lost you. Are you all right?”
Grace nodded. “Yes… of course. Thank you, sir, for your assistance this evening,” she murmured shyly to the gentleman whose lips turned up into a charming grin.
He raised his fingers to tip his hat towards her. “It was my pleasure to rescue a fair damsel in distress.”
Her eyes followed him through the crowd until he disappeared. Her heart hammered in her chest. What in the world had just happened?

Artemis, by Jessica Cale (875 words)
“There are two ways to look at everything.” Charlotte paused for dramatic effect, curling blue fingers over the side of the bridge. “All beginnings are endings in disguise. Place of arrival or means of escape; will I find my end at the bottom, or fall clear through the other side?”
The wind swallowed her famous voice and carried it away, taking the last thing she had of any value. It was the ice in the air that had caused her voice to shake, she reasoned. She was far too cold to feel the fear lurking in her heart, insulated as it was by dread and resignation. It was too dark to see anything but a great growling blackness over the side, but the smell assured her she had reached the right place.
“It’s only a river,” she reassured herself, though the observation brought her little comfort. Ravenous beast or churning waves, it would swallow her just the same. “Would it be better to drown or be devoured?”
She turned to face her audience, but they paid her no mind. Not ten paces away, they shuffled their wings, dark feathers gleaming in the moonlight like polished knives as they pecked at a murky spot beyond. The play had been over perhaps an hour, and now she couldn’t even command the attention of crows.
Her laugh brought a welcome puff of warmth to her lips as she turned toward the river once again. The night was worse than cold, it was merciless, and it carried with it a dampness that seeped into her every pore, chilling her to her bones and invading her weary heart. Perhaps she would freeze before she could drown.
The bridge was as famous as she was, a dubious honor. The fastest way between London and the poorest boroughs to the south, the city’s whores frequently threw themselves off of it as they returned home from long days servicing the wealthier streets in rented gowns and sagging feathers. It got them all, in the end. Perhaps it was not the easiest way to go, but it was there. Living the way they did, all that silver had to look tempting from time to time.
What was an actress but a whore? Her father, a playwright, loved his quill to distraction but had nothing but disdain for the painted players who brought his words to life. The last time she had spoken to him, he’d asked her that very question and Charlotte, in her wisdom, had asked him why he had married one.
“Prescient as ever, Father,” she addressed his memory, straddling the railing of the bridge, the only barrier between her sort and their inevitable end. She didn’t want to die, but what choice did she have? Cast out by her lover and sacked by her theater, she had no family, no income, no future. All she had was an expanding belly and a week to vacate her ex-lover’s rooms.
“A week until Christmas,” she muttered. “Prick.”
She didn’t kid herself she’d be able to get back onstage after the baby came. After ten good years of drawing crowds, she was already being replaced by younger, fresher women, actresses from the country who couldn’t enunciate if she took their jaws into her own hands and moved their lips herself, but didn’t London love a new face? She’d passed for twenty-two for years now, but it was only a matter of time until someone remembered she’d been nineteen ten years ago. Christ.
Before long, she’d be little more than a buttock broker’s bunter. If her child survived, it would be destined for the workhouse.
That was not something she could abide.
“Wesley Thomas Cheltenham Sneed,” she seethed, searching her overdeveloped imagination for a curse befitting the man who had abandoned her, noble by birth if not character.
She let out a long sigh. There was no point to it.
She had met his betrothed. He deserved precisely what he was getting.
The sound of wheels popping over the stones startled her and she gripped the edge, struggling to keep her balance. Oddly enough, she didn’t much care for the idea of falling in.
She clung to her perch as the coach passed, hoping the darkness would shield her from prying eyes. What would it matter if they saw her, really? She was just another Drury Lane Vestal succumbing to the inevitable, after all.
Her jaw clenched in protest at her morose line of thought. She didn’t really believe that, did she?
The wheels stopped.
“Miss Halfpenny?”
Charlotte turned as she heard her name.
The coach was old and cumbersome but meticulously maintained, set high above the street on wheels the size of card tables. Unadorned but for a coat of lacquer, it was dark as the team of blacks that idled before it. The door stood open and a man leaned out, his youthful appearance illuminated by the glass-encased lantern swinging from a hook on the side.
He regarded her with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and terror. “Might I be of assistance?”


The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude Knight (456 words)
“We did not decorate in here on Christmas Eve, since we had so much else to do, so I am putting up Christmas decorations. See? The evergreen is a symbol of life in this most holy season. And the holly, have you heard the song about the holly?”
Sophia sang for him, in a light alto, all the verses his father had taught them when he was a tiny child. This European holly was not precisely the same as the holly he had grown up with, but it was similar. For the pleasure of hearing her voice, he kept his counsel.
She went on to explain the other Christmas customs, not just the foliage and ribbons and other materials used in the decorations, but the pudding that had been served at Christmas dinner, the Yule logs burning in various fireplaces around the house, and the boxes that the duchess had delivered the previous day to poor families around the district.
“Cedrica and I, and several of the other ladies, were her deputies,” Sophia explained. “It was wonderful to see the happy little faces of the children, James.”
James had stayed back from the hunt organized for the men in the hopes of spending time with Sophia, and had found out about the charity expedition too late to offer his services. “I am sorry that I missed it,” he said sincerely.
He noted one glaring omission in her descriptions. “Just a decoration,” she had told him, mendaciously, when he asked about the kissing boughs.
And now pretending to be ignorant of these English Christmas customs was about to pay off. One day, when she was safely his wife, he might admit to Sophia that he and the whole gala had hung on his father’s tales of an English Christmas, that his mother and her maids had decorated high and low, and his father had led the troops out to find a fitting Yule log to carry home in triumph on Christmas Eve. A harder job in his dry mountains than in this green land.
But this was not the time for that story. Not when Sophia was relaxed and about to pass under a kissing bough that retained its full complement of mistletoe berries.
James suppressed a grin. “Look,” he said, at the opportune time, pointing up. “My kaka—my Papa—told me about these.”
She stopped, as he had intended, and with a single stride, he had reached her, wrapped her in his arms, and captured the lips that had been haunting his dreams this past three months.
And she kissed him back. For a moment... for one long glorious moment, while time stood still and the world ceased to exist, Sophia Belvoir kissed him back.

Christmas Kisses, by Nicole Zoltack (302 words)
Jasper did his best to not scowl. “I think that those who would lie to sell papers should be hanged.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back on the rock.
He held out his hand to help her down. “I do not care for the likes of The Teatime Tattlerespecially. It grates me that—”
“Have you read Aunt Augusta’s column? She gives ladies and gentlemen hope and advice about love and more. I, myself, find it a kind read. Surely even you can find no fault with it.”
He scoffed. “Every week, Aunt Augusta repeats herself. ‘Love will find a way.’ ‘Love is worth the wait.’ She oversimplifies love.”
“So you think love is complicated?”Belatedly, he realized their hands were still clasped, and he released his hold on her. “Matters of the heart are complicated, trying…very difficult.”
“It sounds like there might be a story there,” she said with a teasing smile.
He couldn’t tell her, wouldn’t, but for a brief moment, he did consider it. Why bother? It was trying to move on as it was, and he was having difficulty doing so. Talking about it would not help, and of all people, why should he tell her?
For once, though, conversation with her did not feel forced or awkward.
A sudden gust of wind blew a few papers from Lady Anna’s hand. Laughing, they chased each one down, and when they captured them all, Jasper held out a hand to secure them for her. They stood far too close together—their chaperone seemed to be missing—and he stared down at her. He couldn’t understand why she hid herself away from gatherings, like he did. If she went to all the balls and gatherings, she would be betrothed herself. She was a fine, beautiful lady…

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield (510 words)
“Your father is sending gold to Wellington.” Adam replied, running a hand across the back of his neck. “The government is temporarily unable to fund their war in Spain.”
She rose on the balls of her feet. “Papa can arrange this?” Pride and excitement pushed other emotions away.
“With the help of his contacts in France, yes. We’re taking it across the Pyrenees.”
Esther knew better than to ask how they would arrange it. Cousins across Europe would be involved. One thought overrode all others. “It will be dangerous.”
He looked for a moment as if he wouldn't answer. His face when he did touched her heart. “Probably, but the viscount and I will watch out for each other. You aren’t to worry about me, Esther.”
At the use of her name, Esther smiled. She ought to correct him for presuming, but in truth, it pleased her. For a moment, they looked at each other in perfect harmony.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“I will.”
The moment grew awkward, and Esther thought she should say something. “You’re going to safeguard Papa’s interests?” she asked.
He nodded. “And the viscount will safeguard England’s.”
“They don’t trust you because you’re French.”
“They don’t trust me because I’m Jewish,” he replied bitterly.
“Viscount Rochlin looked friendly enough.”
“Looks can deceive, Miss Baumann. You shouldn’t trust them either. Your father should not be encouraging your association with these aristocrats.”
“Why ever not? The duchess is kindness itself, and a number of my schoolmates will be there. It is my first ball and—”
“—I don’t understand how your father could send you to that school. Your parents are entirely too secular in their outlook. The Talmud suggests—”
“I wouldn't know what your precious books suggest. I’m excluded from that kind of learning.” There. She had given voice to her greatest resentment. Let him make what he would out of that.
“Your Mother—”
“Leave my mother out of this. My mother taught me what I need to know about Shabbat and the holy days. And who are you to criticize?”
Adam colored, red blotches staining his cheeks. “Of course I have no right. I had hoped before I left—”
Esther felt light-headed for a moment. Had he spoken to Papa? Breath rushed back into her lungs, but she raised her chin. “What is it you hoped, Mr. Halevy?”
Adam’s eyes softened, and Ether found herself leaning slightly toward him. A moment later, he stiffened and took a step back.
“My wife will respect our traditions and keep a traditional home,” he announced.
“I wish you luck finding such a paragon, Mr. Halevy,” Esther responded, pulling herself up as tall as she could. “My home will respect tradition and the people we meet.” When he simply glared at her outburst, she went on, “And my daughters will know as much about our faith as you do!”
 “Good luck to you in that endeavor, Miss Baumann,” he said with a jerky nod. He tapped his hat on his head with more force than needed.


Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett (532 words)
Kate nearly laughed out loud when she chanced a glance at Lord Stanton’s face. His Lordship was not pleased at the turn of events, judging by the clearly visible scowl furrowing his brow just above his mask and the muscle working in his jaw. She imagined the short black spikes of his cropped a la Caesarhairstyle were actually bristling like the spines of a disgruntled hedgehog. She hoped Freddie monopolized Miss Violet Lockhart for at least another dance or two. It would serve the pompous Lord Stanton right.To her astonishment, he suddenly turned his attention to her and bowed. “Miss Woodville,” he grated out between clenched teeth, “Would you also care to dance?”Kate raised an eyebrow. She ought to refuse him—he was obviously only asking her so he could keep an eye on his sister and Freddie—but a wicked part of her thought it might irk him more if she accepted. “How could I resist such a charming invitation? Of course. I would love to, Lord Stanton.”She took his arm—as hard as forged iron with tension—and accompanied him out onto the floor where a large number of other couples had gathered. Kate looked about but could not see hide nor hair of her brother and Violet. Neither could she see anyone taking up the requisite positions for dancing a quadrille, a cotillion, a reel, or another type of country dance. Oh no. Kate’s heart clenched with horror as pairs of men and women drew very close to each other in holds as intimate as a lover’s embrace. The next dance couldn’t possibly be a slow-turning waltz, could it? She’d learned the steps under the tutelage of Mrs. Brooke’s Academy’s ancient dance master but she’d never danced it with someone as imposing as Lord Stanton. And certainly not in a public place.Oh, dear Lord, it was a waltz. Before Kate had time to even think about voicing a protest, Lord Stanton had slipped his large hands beneath her elbows. He drew her so close, she could smell the spicy notes of his expensive cologne, the starch of his pristine white shirt, even the slightly musky scent of the man himself. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing which had grown fast and shallow. Had Lord Stanton noticed she was trembling?Indeed he had because his warm breath brushed against her ear as he murmured, “There’s no need to be nervous, Miss Woodville. I won’t bite.”Kate grasped Lord Stanton’s broad, superfine clad shoulders beneath the black satin of his cape as the music swelled. “That’s not what I am afraid of.” Heavens, even her voice shook. She swallowed before continuing. “I’m not a very... experienced dancer. I know the steps but have never had to put them into practice on an occasion like this.” With a man like you.When she looked up into Lord Stanton’s masked face, she was surprised to find he was smiling at her. The expression in his eyes had softened. “Relax if you can and follow my lead,” he said in a low voice. “Are you ready?” Kate inhaled a deep, steadying breath and nodded. “Ready.”

Crystal Creek Christmas by Laura Haley-McNeil

Christmas Is In the Air







Celebrate Christmas with the WhitlochsWhen a blinding snowstorm shuts down the Crystal Creek Ranch’s cattle operation, the Whitlochs have one mission – save the cattle. ER doc Jake Whitloch joins in the rescue, but the form he finds in a snowdrift is no cow. It’s a woman, a woman who consumes his thoughts despite that two carat diamond sitting on her ring finger.Noelle Beaupré thanks the rugged doctor for rescuing her from freezing to death and the Whitlochs for taking her into their home, but now it’s time for her to leave the ranch. She longs to stay with the man who’s determined to protect her, but she doesn’t dare. Her deadly secret is in hot pursuit. Any delay and she’ll endanger the family who opened their home to her. Noelle leaving Crystal Creek Ranch? Jake can’t let her go, but how can he convince her he’ll do anything to keep her safe?This book includes your favorite Crystal Creek characters from Book One of the Crystal Creek Series and several new characters, including Max Whitloch’s children from his previous marriages who come to the ranch for Victoria and Garrett’s wedding. All Max’s children will have their own books as they pursue their quests for love.While Crystal Creek Christmas could be read as a standalone story, readers will enjoy it more if they have read Guarding Her Heart, Book One of the Crystal Creek Series.



Chapter One
Dr. Jake Whitloch white knuckled the steering wheel of the old ranch truck and squinted through the windshield. The truck’s bumper crunched through hubcap high snow covering the service road. At ten o’clock in the morning, the heavy snowfall had shrouded Crystal Creek Ranch making the day as dark as night. He flipped on the headlights.It was crazy to be out in this blizzard. Hunting for stranded cattle made the risk a priority.The Whitloch’s hired hands corralled together their duallys and SUVs and headed out to the back pastures, doing what they did best--risking their lives for the good of the ranch and for the owner they admired—Rose Whitloch, Jake’s step-mother. Jake couldn’t let the ranch hands do it alone. He volunteered to check the south pastures. He was out in the blizzard for a reason he pushed out of his mind. In this weather, he focused on the truck and on the road. No time to think about why he left Philadelphia.The windshield wipers kicked back and forth like the Rockettes performing their Christmas finale. The wipers flipped the snowflakes right, then left. Faster, faster, but not fast enough. The snow piled on the windshield, piled on the hood, kept falling, falling, falling.Thlpt.That sound again. Tire tread gripping for snow, sliding over ice. Panic shot up Jake’s throat. Lodged like a spear gun at the base of his brain. Tires scraped across the gravel-snow road. Jake downshifted. Pumped the clutch. Tapped the brakes. The mounds of snow covering the creek crept closer, closer.The treads lodged into a road rut, jerked to a stop. The brakes wheezed. The truck groaned.Jake glanced out the side window. Not face on. He didn’t want to see how close he was to the creek bank until his brain understood that he had a few feet of buffer before falling over the edge.He shifted his eyes sideways so hard he felt the ache in the back of his head. He ignored it. He studied the ground. The truck had stopped a few feet from the creek’s edge. Closer than last time. But a few feet was a few feet.His lungs eased like a deflating tire. He’d been right. That was the thought he allowed into his head. Behind that thought pulsed the real relief— he was safe.He eased out the clutch. The truck crept forward. He squinted through the snow that whipped at the glass like the Enterprise traveling through space at warp speed.As far as he could see, thick snow blanketed the ranch’s rolling hills and ragged bluffs.The storm had started Monday. Four days ago. There was no sign of it stopping. The snowbanks along the driveway and the paths to the barn, the outbuildings, and the bunkhouse grew higher until they were almost as tall as his stepmother’s two and one half-story ranch house.The snow was beautiful. More beautiful than the snow covered Philadelphia concrete and asphalt he trudged through every day to work in the inner city hospital’s emergency room. He watched the pristine white sift over the trees. It was as soothing as soaking in a tub of scented oil.Fluffy. White. Snow.Beautiful. With the beauty, came treachery. Namely for the cattle. They would be foraging through the snowdrifts in search of food.Food that would be difficult to find during this storm.Jake and the hired hands navigated various parts of the ranch to make sure the cattle stranded by the snowstorm had found the bales of hay dropped by the helicopters.He saw plenty of snow but no cattle. He only prayed that no cow had been trapped in the snowdrifts and was starving to death or worse freezing to death.His sister and half-sisters told him he was insane to go out in this weather. It would’ve been more insane to sit in the house and brood over the decision he’d made last weekend. He had to get away, get away from the mental banter that questioned the wisdom of his decision.Yes, he was glad that his half-sister, Victoria, had escaped the clutches of a serial killer, that she and Garrett Nelson Reynolds were getting married, that Garrett had changed his mind about pursuing his family’s vendetta to reclaim Crystal Creek Ranch.He was glad Christmas was in three days.But with Victoria’s and Garrett’s upcoming Christmas Eve nuptials, the house was in turmoil.Add to that the mysterious disappearance of Maxwell Aloysius Whitloch, Sr., Rose’s ex-husband, Jake’s father and the father of his siblings and half siblings. The entire Whitloch clan had converged on the ranch to help Victoria celebrate her wedding and to await word from their oldest brother Max Junior regarding their father.No word came.That was when Jake had snatched up the battered cowboy hat he wore whenever he visited the ranch, borrowed the foreman’s keys to the ranch truck, and ventured into the snowstorm.Jake guided the truck over the bumpy road. Snowflakes batted the windshield. The wipers shoved the flakes aside but a new blanket covered the windshield almost as quickly as the wipers whisked them away.It was between swipes of the blades that he saw the dark form in the snowdrift. That swelling he sometimes felt in his throat when he worked in the emergency room flooded him. The rush always accompanied unwanted emotions, emotions that bordered on fear, anxiety, that not-a-good-feeling feeling.The form didn’t move, didn’t react to the sound of the engine charging through the snow.He edged closer. The size of the form should have grown larger. Instead, it seemed to shrink. It was small, too small to be a cow. It had to be a calf. But in the middle of winter? He may be a city slicker, but even he knew calving season was in the spring.“How’re you doing out there, Doc?” Ralph’s, the foreman, voice crackled over the walkie-talkie.Jake pressed the talk button. “I haven’t seen any cattle, but there’s something up ahead. I’m going to check it.” Jake aimed the headlights over the mound and set the emergency brakes. “I’ll radio you once I find out what this is.”“Leave it, Doc,” Ralph said. “No reason to risk your life for a cow. It’s snowing concrete blocks. When this storm lets up, me or one of the hands will check it out.”“Don’t worry, Ralph. It’s not a cow. It’s too small to be a cow. I’ll get back to you.” Jake turned off the walkie-talkie. Arguing with Ralph was wasting precious time if this mound was an actual living, breathing creature. Human or animal, Jake was in the business of saving lives.He pulled up his coat collar and shoved down his cowboy hat until the band caught his ears. He climbed out of the cab and hunched his shoulders. Snow beat at his face and slapped his chest. He tucked his chin and barreled into an army of snowflakes.In the few minutes since he’d first spied the mound, the snow had nearly covered the dark shape.He reached a gloved hand toward the form and dusted away the snow. A streak of strawberry blond hair glinted beneath the flakes. A snare drum heartbeat battered his rib cage. What was he seeing? A fox? No. Lying in the snow was hair, not fur.He bowed over the form and with both hands brushed heaps of snow away from the figure.Dark lashes appeared as two velvet crescents in a face as white as the snow. “Dear God.” He breathed.The form was a person, a small person, a child. What was this child doing wandering through a snowstorm?Adrenaline shot through his veins. The familiar metallic taste of the emergency room lifesaving mode burst into his mouth. Someone in trouble. Save the person in trouble. The muscles around his throat clenched. He’d worked in an emergency room long enough to know the many reasons children ran away. From home? From someplace else?He scooped his arms beneath the tiny body, braced his back and lifted the child from the snow mound. The lightness stunned him. The poor thing weighed less than a bag of oats. How could a human weigh so little? The child’s wool jacket was slippery with snow, and the unconscious form slid through his arms. He shifted the limp body and held it close.His hand pressed a pillowy soft shape. He jerked upright. The stirring within heated him like a hot numbness that made him want to dive into the snow to cool off.In his arms was no child. In his arms, he held a woman.
 

Amazon  Crystal Creek Christmas Book 2 of the Crystal Creek Serieshttp://www.amazon.com/Crystal-Creek-Christmas-Book-ebook/dp/B00Q5V2FYW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1450408634&sr=1-1&keywords=crystal+creek+christmas
KoboCrystal Creek Christmas Book 2 of the Crystal Creek Serieshttps://store.kobobooks.com/en-ca/ebook/crystal-creek-christmas
Barnes and Nobel Crystal Creek Christmas Book 2 of the Crystal Creek Series http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crystal-creek-christmas-laura-haley-mcneil/1121493147?ean=2940151317207 
IBooksCrystal Creek Christmas Book 2 of the Crystal Creek Series https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/crystal-creek-christmas/id982599818?mt=11https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/heartstrings/id988418118?mt=11







Laura Haley-McNeil is an award-winning author of romantic suspense and women’s fiction in novel length and in short stories. Her work has been featured in several women’s magazines. She has studied piano and ballet and has been a board member for two community orchestras. She and her husband reside in Colorado. When she isn’t writing, she jogs, bicycles and crochets.

COVER REVEAL! The City of Ho Hum

Pick Your Favorite!

Coming December 1 - Just in time for Christmas, for the little ones in your life

The Marquess and the Midwife by Alina K. Field

Christmas Is In The Air




 
Finding the woman he lost turned out to be easy. Winning her is another matter.


Once upon a time, the younger brother of a marquess fell in love with his sister's companion. He was sent off to war, and she was just sent off, and they both landed in very different worlds. 
Now Virgil Radcliffe has returned from his self-imposed exile on the Continent to take up his late brother's title and discover the whereabouts of the only woman he's ever loved. 
Abandoned by her lover and dismissed by her employer, Ameline Dawes has found a respectable identity as a Waterloo widow, a new life as a midwife, and a safe, secure home for her twin girls. Called to London at Christmas to attend her benefactress's lying-in, she finds herself confronted by an unexpected house guest--a man determined to woo her anew and win her again. 
But, is loving the new Marquess of Wallingford a mistake Ameline cannot afford to repeat?    Teaser.....Ye gods, but her ladyship needed more maids, and a couple more footmen with both arms and both legs, at least for this type of fetching and carrying. Ameline chided herself for being insensitive and balanced the steaming bucket. She set down the lamp momentarily to gather her skirts, along with the lamp handle.A pair of men’s boots moved into view and the lamp bobbled. Fine boots they were. She sighed, gritting her teeth. Lord Hackwell’s visits had unnerved his lady, and Ameline had counseled him to leave. Very well, she’d thrown him out, once almost literally. He would wonder what she was doing below stairs. He might send for the accoucheur he was mumbling about, and his lady would not like it.“I’ve just popped down to the kitchen for a word with Alton, my lord,” she said. “All is going well, except he’s a bit short on staff.” “We have noticed that.” The skin on her back rippled and she shivered. This wasn’t Hackwell—it was him. Panic flared in her and her hands and ankles began to tingle. He carried no light. She let her own lantern dip lower and stepped to one side. What was he doing on the servants’ staircase in the middle of the night? If he saw her, he wouldremember her, but he would not wantto, unless he would think to befriendher again. Heat flamed in her. She took in a breath. “Let me pass, Lord Hackwell,” she said. “Let me carry that bucket for you.”“No.” She forced in another breath, willing herself to speak calmly. “That is, no thank you. I shall send a servant for you when it is time.”Footsteps scurried on the stairs. “Mrs. Dawes?” Jenny called, breathless. Her heart raced again. She’d tarried too long in the kitchen. “I’ll be right—” Heat touched her hand as the bucket came out. The lantern, too, lifted higher, and she looked up into the face of Lord Virgil Radcliffe, now the latest Lord Wallenford. “Mrs. Dawes?” His eyes widened and then narrowed, and his lips curved down. Anger spiked in her. “LordWallenford.” He moved down to the step below her, putting them at eye level, and crowded her against the hand rail. “Give me the bucket, sir. I can manage quite well without your help.” Quite, quite well. “Can you, indeed?” he drawled, sounding just like his brother the day he’d sacked her.Blast him. Blast the Wallenfords. Blast the Hackwells. “Alton has a bottle set out. Best go and fetch it.” His lips quirked. She gritted her teeth. “Give me the blasted bucket, Virgil.”   Buy LinksAmazon:  http://amzn.to/2dZIMAlAmazonKobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-marquess-and-the-midwifeKoboiBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-marquess-and-the-midwife/id1167622013?ls=1&mt=11iBooksNook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1125068696?ean=2940156905331 Nook

Author Bio and links:Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but her true passion is the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with her husband, her spunky, blonde, rescued terrier, and the blue-eyed cat who conned his way in for dinner one day and decided the food was too good to leave.
She is the author of the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring, a 2015 RONE Award finalist, Bella’s Band, and a 2016 National Reader’s Choice Award finalist, Liliana’s Letter, as well as her latest release, The Marquess and the Midwife. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances, but loves to hear from readers!
Visit her at:http://alinakfield.com/ https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield https://twitter.com/AlinaKFieldhttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Fieldhttps://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/

Everybody Reads YA Sunday - Hike Up Devil's Mountain

 Hike Up Devil's Mountain
What do you get when one ten-year old boy breaks into the basement of an old abandoned house, that is to be demolished the next day, and finds a mysterious glowing stick? Now add the school bully and his ten-year old brother who also find their way to that basement.  The bully wants that stick!  A fight ensues and that bully is now a toad. 
What you get is a whirlwind adventure of two boys and a toad that have to hike up Devil’s Mountain to find the only person who can help them.
The dangers they meet along the way will keep you turning those pages!  There is a surprise ending you just don’t see coming!


Teaser…..
Andy shut his eyes waiting for the first blow.  Nothing happened.  He squinted open his left eye and saw Jason’s head cocked to one side, trying to see behind Andy’s back.  “What have you got there, Andy Pandy?”            Uh oh, the glowing stick.  Andy wasn’t about to give that up.  “Nothing,” he told him, trying to back away but there was no place to go.            “Oh I think there is something,” Jason sneered.            “It’s mine!” Andy shouted.  “You will have to do your worst if you think you are taking this from me!”“No problem,” Jason said, lunging forward.  Andy tried to fake him out, pretending to run one way and then the other.  That didn’t work.  That never worked!   Jason grabbed Andy’s arm that held the stick and tried to grab it.  Something was going to break, and Andy wasn’t sure if it would be the stick or his arm.  They both fell and were rolling on the floor.  Andy knew he was losing this battle.  No matter how hard he held on, he could feel his new-found treasure start to slip out of his grasp.            “Jason, stop it!”  Danny shouted.  “You’re acting like a big dumb toad!”            “Yeah…you’re … acting… like…a…toad!” Andy gasped between each word.             The stick exploded into a flash of light and then the fight was over.  Andy jumped up, trying to fill his lungs with air.  What happened?  Danny came running over to where Andy stood.  “Where’s Jason?”  Andy couldn’t answer because he couldn’t catch his breath.  Danny yelled, “Jason, where are you?  Quit messing around!”            His chest still heaving, Andy stammered, “I don’t know.  I . . . don’t know what just happened.”              They both looked to the floor.  Under one of the boxes was what looked like a pair of pants.  “Jason!” Danny hurried to lift the box.  No Jason — just his pants.  Lying close by were his nice Nike shoes, socks and a short distance away was his shirt.  “What did you do?” he yelled at Andy.            “Nothing!  I didn’t do anything!  I . . . don’t know!”  Andy had no answers.              Danny tried again.  “Jason,” he screamed his name.  “Where are you?”
http://www.amazon.com/Hike-up-Devils-Mountain-ebook/dp/B0058DE9YC

Up on the Housetop by Dax Varley

Christmas is in the Air






When Sophie climbs up on the housetop to rescue her cat, she finds a sleigh, eight reindeer, and a cute teen elf who claims to be Santa's designated driver. That's where the magic begins.


Here's a bit of a teaser....
Meow.“Shut it, Ziggy, you dumb cat.” I rolled over in bed and tugged the pillow over my head.Meow.“Grrr…” I sprang up, half groggy, half annoyed. Then I snapped to reality. Ziggy was outside. His meows came from above.Like me, my cat enjoys climbing up on the roof of our house. I do some of my best thinking up there. Unlike me, Ziggy can’t seem to find his way down. I rescued him twice last week.I glanced at the bedside clock. Ugh. Of course Ziggy would pick 2:00 a.m. Christmas morning to disrupt my visions of sugarplums. And worse, in about four hours my bratty little brother Sean would storm in here and drag me downstairs because, heaven forbid, I don’t witness his Santafest.Meow.“All right, all right. Hang onto your whiskers, I’m coming.”I slipped on some wool socks, raised the window, and with the coolness of Cat Woman, I hitched onto the ivy trellis and scaled up. Brrr… You could store leftovers out here. My flannel jammy bottoms and long sleeve tee barely cut the chill. Oh well. I could endure it all of the two minutes it’d take for a kitty rescue.I carefully avoided the string of Christmas lights as I heaved myself up and over and… What the holly? Parked smackdab in the center of our roof was an enormous sleigh and eight for-real reindeer! The shock caused me to stumble back, nearly tumbling off the roof and going splat on our family of plastic snowmen.Was this some kind of joke? Had Dad hired Reindeer R Us to pull off some big thing for Sean?I ventured a few steps closer. That’s when I heard, “Achoo!”I froze. Overwhelmingly and literally. I swear, it had to be thirty degrees out.“Achoo!”Please tell me Dad hadn’t talked some poor schmuck into playing Santa. Was some out-of-work actor waiting to Kris Kringle his way down our chimney?I tiptoed to the side of the sleigh, careful not to spook the reindeer and get trampled like the famous grandma in the song. There, sitting on the sleigh’s edge, legs dangling, was a guy in a green sweatshirt and jeans. He kept his head down, his attention on whatever game he had going on his phone. He quickly buried his nose in the crook of his arm and, “Achoo!”“Who are you?” I demanded with the authority of every butt-kicking cop I’d seen on TV.His head shot up, then his expression cratered. “Dang it. No one’s supposed to see me.”“Why? Are you a burglar? Because I know Mom hid the newest iPhone for me for Christmas, and I’ll kick you off this roof before I hand thatover.”“No,” he said, hopping to his feet. “The opposite of that. I’m one of Santa’s elves.”


Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Up-Housetop-Dax-Varley-ebook/dp/B01M8Q4W01Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1171756147B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/up-on-the-housetop-dax-varley/1125066093

Sleigh Bells and Mistletoe by Lena Goldfinch

Christmas Is In The Air


What's a wife to do when her Christmas plans fall apart?

Join Becky and Isaac from The Unexpected Bride in a romantic short story complete with sleigh bells, mistletoe, and sweet holiday surprises.
It's Christmas Eve, and smoke isn't just rising from the chimney—it's pouring from the stove due to yet another batch of burnt biscuits. Becky wants everything to be perfect for her family, but a ruined meal spells disaster for all her high hopes. Will the night end in despair...or with a happy Christmas dream?

"With unexpectedly fresh characters and twists, the imagination is kept on its toes, even while feeling entirely comfortable with the familiarity of the mail-order bride storyline... a great curl-up-on-a-cold-night read, so go grab a copy for yourself!" USA TODAY HEA (on THE UNEXPECTED BRIDE)

Excerpt (exclusive excerpt just for you! [image error]

Christmas is in the Air - The Ornament by P. A Estelle

Christmas is in the Air!





Twelve years ago Jim Rustle packed up and left his home in Idaho and hasn’t looked back.  He gets quite an awakening when Lisa Parker, whom he hadn’t seen in all those years, breaks into a business meeting and uses some colorful adjectives to tell him just what she thinks of him.Sparks fly between the two when he decides to follow Lisa home and sees what has happened in his absence.  Is the anger stemming from the present, or from the past?
It’s Christmas time.  Can an ornament from years past help heal betrayals that have festered for years?


The elevator pinged and the door opened to the sixteenth floor of the Manchester building in Las Vegas, Nevada.  If she wasn’t hell bent on choking the life out of him, she would have noticed the massive wall of glass that showcased the famous Las Vegas Strip.  All heads did a double take as she marched down the hall.  
An open black, mid-calf duster swung from side to side giving viewers a peek at long shapely legs in black Levis and black boots that seemed to shimmer with every step.
A black cowboy hat sat low on her head, shadowing her face.  Light brown straight hair with white blonde streaks throughout swayed almost to her waist.
The sign, Wagner, INC, was in large block letters above a double door that was opened. The receptionist at the desk, Dani according to the name plate, was on the phone, taking a message.  Her hair was black and cut in a perfect short bob. Dani looked up to see the woman standing in front of her.  She sat back in her chair, staring at the visitor, and finished the call with “I’ll have Jim call you as soon as he is done with his meeting, John.”  The receptionist’s eyes never left the face of the woman standing in front of her.
Dani took her time hanging up the phone and finishing writing the message.  “May I help you?”
“Jim Rustle,” was all the woman said.
The corner of Dani’s mouth rose.  “I’m afraid he is in a meeting and will be busy most of the afternoon.  I can take your name and ask him to call.”
The woman was looking behind Dani at the closed door that said James Rustle on it.  “No need.” She walked past Dani and headed to the door.
“Wait!  You can’t go in there!”  The composed Dani was anything but.
The woman threw the door open. The office had a large desk made of rich cherry wood. Opposite it stood two small padded chairs of deep brown leather.  On the other side of the room stood a small conference table with blue prints spread out all over it.
The woman, once again, saw none of it.  Her eyes were trained on the man sitting behind the desk.  For a split second, the words caught in her throat.  She hadn’t seen Jim Rustle for twelve years.  His dark brown hair was clipped short.  His smoky gray eyes were as hypnotic as she remembered.  He wore a pair of navy suit trousers, a navy vest, and a white long sleeved shirt, with the top two buttons undone.  The suit jacket was draped over his chair.  The man was more handsome than when he walked out of her life, if that was possible.
“Jim, I’m sorry but this…this woman just went right by me when I told her you were busy and couldn’t be disturbed.”  Dani was clearly distraught.
Before he had a chance to answer, the woman walked to the desk and leaned her hands on it.  “You selfish, arrogant, self-absorbed, SOB.  Are you so important you can’t find time, yet again, to spend Christmas with the one person in this world that thinks the sun rises and sets in you, no matter how many times you have chosen to put everything and everybody else above her?  Not to mention the woman who raised you and made it possible for you to go to college so you could sit in this office and be the overblown ass that you have become?”
Fire was shooting out of her hazel eyes and her chest was heaving with anger.  The two men that were sitting in the meeting and Dani, standing at the door, were watching with their mouths hanging open.  They had never seen someone talk to their boss like that and walk away without limping.
Something flickered in his eyes – anger, guilt, or maybe appreciation in what he was seeing.  “Men,” he said, never taking his eyes off the woman, “we’ll finish this meeting later.  Dani –“
“Don’t bother. I know how important your time is.”  Sarcasm dripped with every word. She turned to leave.
“Lisa,” he said stopping her.  “I see you still aren’t married.”
Lisa closed her eyes as if praying for restraint.  Her words didn’t have the disdain in them when she said, tiredly, “Annie doesn’t have much time, Jim.  Give her a break.”


Hey Everybody!  I write for all ages, from the early reader to adults.  My books range from pictures books for the little ones, to fantasy and time-travel adventures for ages 9 to 13. Under P. A. Estelle, I write adult stories including a family drama and contemporary, paranormal and historical westerns romances.
I was a school secretary for 21 years. My husband and I moved to our retirement home in Kingman, AZ, on very rural 54 acres, living on solar and wind only. 
www.pennystales.com   http://www.amazon.com/Penny-Estelle/e/B006S62XBY
I'd love to give a digital copy of The Ornament to a commenter.  Be sure to leave your email address!  Thanks for stopping by!

Romancing Christmas Anthology by SEVEN best selling authors

Christmas is in the Air








From sweet to spicy, friends to lovers, from cowboys to babies and puppies, this holiday anthology from 7 of today’s hottest romance authors has something for everyone. Toss in some unconventional romances and fairy godmothers—and, of course, some hunky military heroes—and you’ve got a Christmas collection that will warm the heart on even the coldest night.



Mason’s Wish by Dale Mayer – Mason loves his life with Tesla, but living together isn’t enough. He wants more. He wants it all. He wants forever.


Christmas Stray by Rachelle Ayala - A couple grieving for their son is snowed in with a stray puppy and a little boy. Is there room in their hearts for a Christmas miracle?


A Low Country Christmas Miracle by Sandy Loyd - Miracles have a way of happening at Christmastime. Like the miracle of finding true love and the miracle of family coming together. But the most wonderful miracle of all is the miracle of forgiveness.


Scrooge & the Secret Santa by Marcia James - Thanks to a kind-hearted physical therapist, a police dog trainer learns open his life to love and the spirit of Christmas.


Strangers in the Night by KT Roberts - On one magical night, two people meet, they fall in love, separate and are convinced their destiny to be together is in the hands of fate.


Christmas Grace by Leslie Lynch - No one wants to celebrate Christmas this year. Then disaster strikes, not once but twice. Three generations; three untenable situations. Three women who come together for each other, and remember what’s most important about Christmas.


A Christmas Bowser by Kayce Lassiter - Harper’s fairy godmother rides a Harley, her new puppy is determined to destroy her dress shop, and Kolton is set on selling the building out from under her.  Could Christmas get any worse?  Absolutely.
This unique set features endearing stories from USA Today and National Bestselling authors. Available for a limited time only!
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M222I8Z Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/romancing-christmas-volume-ii-sandy-loyd/1124804898?ean=2940153541709 iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/romancing-christmas-volume/id1163346391?ls=1&mt=11Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/romancing-christmas-volume-ii

Everybody Reads YA Sunday - Bumped Back In Time, Book 4 of the Wickware Sagas

Sammy Brown, winner of the first junior sailing regatta for kids, ages twelve  to fourteen, is walking on air Tuesday, after being absent the previous day, due to the race. Miss Wickware, her history teacher, asks Sammy to stay after class because she needs to draw a subject out of a box and give an oral report on the drawn subject.
“UHG” History and Sammy are not friends, but her good mood won’t be dampened until a fall and a bump on the head sends her back to 1814. It’s her expertise in sailing that allows Francis Scott Key to rescue an imprisoned friend from a British ship that leads to a historic battle and a famous poem!

A full moon lit up the bedroom.  Sammy lay on the feather mattress in the dark, staring at the ceiling.  The window was wide open, a breeze stirring the curtains, though it did nothing to take away the mugginess of the night air.  The nightgown Sarah had given Sammy was drenched with sweat and it stuck to her like a second skin. She got up and walked to the balcony.  Dr. Beanes had been right about his wife.  Sarah had sat Sammy down and got her a bowl of left over wild turkey and boiled sweet potatoes, which she inhaled.The older woman tisked her tongue and her head shook in sympathy, distressed at the poor girl’s story.  “Your mother must be worried beyond belief,” Sarah said.“Oh, I’m sure she’s freaking out all over the place,” Sammy snorted.  “And like she’ll ever buy this story!”“I don’t understand.  You write stories to sell to your freakish mother?”Sammy had to chuckle at that one. “No.  She’s just going to kill me.”Outraged, the woman came to her feet.  “She will do no such thing.  William will make sure that you are safe!”Staring into the night, Sammy smiled at the memory.  She had assured Sarah it was only a saying, but the woman did not seem convinced.The sound of horses, riding up to the Beanes’ home, brought Sammy out of her reverie.  At least ten men, all in red coats, jumped off their horses and headed toward the house.                                     A serving girl tapped on Sammy’s door before opening it.  “Please ma’am, Mistress Beanes would like you to come to her room, quickly.”  She turned to lead the way without waiting for a reply, Sammy, hurrying to catch up.The scene that greeted Sammy when the bedroom opened had the hairs on the back of her neck, not only standing straight out at attention, but screaming “run…hide…wake up!”  Goose bumps broke out on her sweaty body.Dr. Beanes was sitting on a chair putting on his shoes while Sarah was wringing her hands and pale as the snow-white nightgown she was wearing.Before Sammy could utter a word a BANG BANG BANG came from the door downstairs and that’s when all hell broke loose! 
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Bumped-Back-Wickware-Sagas-ebook/dp/B00FGDS9MM
http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/our-authors/55-our-authors/authors-e/146-author-19
 




I write for all ages, from the early reader to adults.  My books range from pictures books for the little ones, to fantasy, time-travel adventures for ages 9 to 13. I also write adult stories, including a family drama and contemporary, paranormal and historical westerns romances, under P. A. Estelle.
I was a school secretary for 21 years.  My husband and I moved to our retirement home in Kingman, AZ, on very rural 54 acres, living on solar and wind only.  More about my books can be found in the following links:
www.pennystales.comwww.pennyestelle.blogspot.comhttp://www.amazon.com/Penny-Estelle/e/B006S62XBYhttps://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=146&Itemid=82www.facebook.com/pennystaleswww.pinterest.com/pennyestellehttp://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5820078.Penny_Estelle- Goodreadshttp://www.twitter.com/pennystales