Entangled Under the Mistletoe

[image error] Don’t forget to check out what the other authors participating in the hop are giving away! There are over 50 authors participating and some amazing prizes on offer.

To celebrate this Christmas, I’m giving away copies of both my Christmas novellas:

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And I’m also including a set of handmade Christmas ornaments.

[Pics to follow later when they're finished. They're pretty, I promise!]

So how do you win all this Christmas goodness? Just leave me a comment to tell me your favourite Christmas song. Or least favourite. just leave a comment about something else. It’s all good. Deadline for entries is midnight (GMT) at the end of Dec 14th.

ETA: So long as your email is in your comment form, you don’t have to include it in the comment itself. It’ll disappear into my dashboard so I can contact you but no one else will see it.

And just to whet your appetite, here’s a little excerpt from Twelve Days:

On The First Day Of Christmas

“Stay there.”

Laurel stayed. They’d had another six inches of snow overnight, but Kevin had already shoveled part of their driveway. She stood on a dry patch, wrapped in her charcoal gray woolen overcoat, with a soft blue cashmere scarf and matching hat pulled on tightly to cover her ears. Her feet were thrust into sheepskin boots, but even so the chill of the ground was starting to seep through. She shifted from one foot to the other and sipped at her coffee, grateful for its warmth.

“How much longer?” she called to Kevin, who was attaching something to the garage door. He stepped back and she could see it was a camera. What on earth had he planned?

“Any moment now,” he yelled back. “Hold on.”

He’d woken her ten minutes earlier with a cup of her favorite Starbucks caramel latte and then told her to come outside for her Christmas gift. She’d been hoping for jewelry. Maybe perfume and a couple of books. Nothing on her list was too big to fit inside the house. She’d bought him a leather iPad cover and a sage green cashmere sweater to match his eyes. It would be really, really awkward if he’d bought her a car. Or a pony. She didn’t even like ponies, but she couldn’t think what else she would need to come outside for.

Kevin had disappeared completely. Laurel squinted to see if he was in the car, or hidden behind the large pine tree. The camera was still on the garage roof, and it seemed to be pointing in her direction. Someone began singing a carol. Even on Christmas Day, eight o’clock in the morning was a bit early for singing in Laurel’s opinion—especially the one about the partridge that went on forever.

A group of workmen strolled down the street, carrying their ladders and tools. Someone must be paying them good money to work today.

Kevin’s house was in a great neighborhood just outside the city limits. It wasn’t large, but it was plenty big enough for the two of them. Around the corner, though, the streets were lined with vast mansions owned by the super wealthy and the old Philadelphia families.

Other people had joined in with the carol singing. Laurel had no idea where Kevin had gone to get her present, but there was plenty to distract her. A woman in a scarlet coat had stopped on the sidewalk opposite Laurel and set down a big pot with a tree in it. Two large pears hung from its branches and a plush bird had been tied on top.

A partridge in a pear tree.

Behind the woman, the workmen were setting up a simple scaffold on which one of them hung a bird cage holding two turtle doves. Well, that’s what she assumed they were, though they looked more like pigeons. The singers had already reached the three French hens verse, and on cue a chicken ran across the road. Two more followed, running rings round the man who was attempting to herd them into a cage underneath the scaffold. The whole song was coming alive around her.

Everyone was singing and Laurel had begun to grin, caught up in the infectious enthusiasm of the performers. The workmen had gone to stand behind the scaffold, and at the start of the next verse, four cut out cardboard birds popped up, each holding a large telephone to its ear.

Four calling birds.

She groaned and laughed simultaneously. Then, with a dramatic pause, the whole chorus reached the climactic moment of the song.

Five gold rings.

Laurel looked around, but no one came forward with anything to represent the rings. The singers took a breath and continued through the calling birds, the French hens, the turtle doves, and the partridge in a pear tree. The rest of the song was pure carnival. Six geese had to be herded into place by seven ballerinas in costumes from Swan Lake. Eight dairymaids and nine ballroom dancers paraded down the street, joining the carefully choreographed performance. Ten men in crimson and fur robes pretending to be lords leapt and pranced their way into the dance, eleven bagpipers marched proudly up the road, and finally twelve drummers in solemn formation lined up in their allotted places. It was a Christmas flash mob, and it was fabulous.

Half the neighborhood had come out to see what was happening. Cameras clicked, children were hoisted onto their fathers’ shoulders, and everyone joined in the carol. A glorious cacophony of voices, birds, bagpipes, and drums celebrated Christmas in the old song. The impromptu choir took a deep breath and began the final verse:

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…

As each group was mentioned in the song, they bowed to Laurel. She smiled and waved in acknowledgement, laughing at the sheer ridiculous exuberance of it all. The geese squawked through their line and the singers continued. Five gold rings. The notes hung in the air and everyone watching was silent. The performers shuffled slightly to create a path through the crowd. Kevin came forward, his lips tilted into a nervous smile and his eyes glued to hers.