Sunday, December 23, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests day 12: Rebekah Roberts


My final 12 Days of Christmas guests is the amazing Rebekah Roberts. Author of Petals, a 5 Prince Publishing release, she truly knows the meaning and spirit of Christmas.

Roses in December
By Rebekah Roberts
They say breaking up is hard to do, but being broken up with is even worse… You begin to think that maybe there will never be beautiful days again.  That maybe your best times were behind you.
 I trudged up the hill, pushing a stroller weighing an easy sixty pounds with both boys in it and I was starting to have that hopeless feeling, thick and harsh in my chest.  
It was Christmas time again, though I wasn’t looking forward to it.  It was a “green Christmas,” which in Oklahoma just means brown.  It was too warm for snow but too cold for grass to stay alive. Everything was dead and dark and it wasn’t helping my mood, or the weight of the stroller. 
He had broken up with me back in July, but it was just then hitting me, what with work and writing and anything else that I could cram into my life: anything to keep me from thinking. 
I looked up into the clear blue sky and asked “why?”   Why did I have to be alone for Christmas, why did I have to go through this hurt over and over?   And that first question came into my mind and heart; would there ever be beautiful things again? 
Rounding the corner, I saw an older couple putting up their Christmas decorations.  They waved at my boys and said how cute they were.  I said, thank you, never sure how to respond, since I am their nanny and how cute they may or may not be wasn’t any of my doing. 
We walked on finding more houses with decorations; some of the houses still had roses growing out front.  Big and beautiful blossoms flowed in the wind.  The petals looked odd in the winter; little speckles of color in all the brown, but they looked even stranger next to the decorations.
Normally, it was too cold to have roses in December.  But this was a special winter, and I suppose a special Christmas, that there would still be blossoms not just alive, but thriving.
I wanted to be happy at seeing them, to be pleased with this gift in the winter, the first of its kind that I had ever seen.   But something in my heart cringed at the sight of my favorite flower, a sight that not so long ago would have delighted me to the tips of my soul.  What once was a joyful gift, now felt like a placating band-aid on my heart, as if God were a guilty husband bringing roses to cover up the hurt in my life. 
We kept walking and the farther we walked the more bushes I saw.  There were new buds on some, and giant full flowers on others.  In all different colors, reds and pinks; whites and oranges, they swayed my way, as if waving to say hello.  I simply grinded my teeth and kept walking. 
The wind picked up and as always my boys began to laugh.  “Cold!” they said, through their giggles.
 “It’s the wind,” I told them.  It was nothing new for them to laugh at the wind.  They thought it was funny the way it blew in their faces and through their hair, making it dance around their heads like the petals on the roses. 
Their laughter touched something inside of me.  They smiled, their blue eyes twinkling.   They didn’t know the harshness of the world yet, didn’t know that the wind could be a scary thing sometimes. They still thought it was something to laughing at.  And their laughter was like a promise of innocence, of something new and sweet and beautiful still being alive in the world.  
A thought came into my head, looking at their perfect smiles, hearing the music of baby laughter: what if there are still beautiful things?  What if there will always be beautiful things, even on the darkest of days?  Like the laughter of children in the wind.
Perhaps the roses, the laughter, the joy of a tiny moment, isn’t God’s way of placating, maybe it is His way of giving a little beauty even on an ugly day.  What if the roses where like that laughter: a promise.  A promise from God, that there would be beautiful things again and always.
Laughing, I reached down and caressed the soft skin of the boy’s cheeks. I kissed the top of their heads and I thanked the Lord for my roses. 


Rebekah Roberts’ obsession with fairytales, romance, and Jesus came at an early age. She knew as a young teen that she wanted to write books for girls that were both fun to read and good for them.
While working as a nanny and volunteering in her church’s youth group, Rebekah continues her mission to write wholesome romances and uses fiction as a platform for The Unfolding Rose Ministries; where she helps to promote true beauty and self confidence in girls.
Rebekah was homeschooled through high school.  She continued her education at Moore Norman Technology, where she studied creative writing. She uses her education to instill a love of the craft in the next generation through teaching writing classes.
Growing up in small town Oklahoma, she loves the old south and history, which finds its way into her writing and everyday conversation with dreams of plantation houses, WWII dances, and Victorian trivia. She has a passion for taking an old story and making it new.
When she is not writing or working with youth, she loves to watch sci-fi movies with family or enjoy a pot of tea with good friends.
Petals is her first novel. www.RebekahRoberts.net


 


Saturday, December 22, 2012

12 days of Christmas Guests day 11: Ann Swann


Please join me and the beautiful Ann Swann for a Christmas memory on my 12 days of Christmas Guests!  Ann is the author of the book All for Love, released by 5 Prince Publishing.  


Christmas Picks
By
Ann Swann

         When I was young, my sister and I would begin to watch for the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards Christmas catalogs to arrive in the mail -- yes, I am that old, and yes, most folks referred to it as Monkey Wards, but we didn't.  To us, those catalogs meant serious business.  For my sister and me, and even our mom, getting those catalogs in the mail gave us an excuse to plop down on the sofa in the den (preferably with a fire in the fireplace and a cup of cocoa on the coffee table), and "pick."
         That's right.  Mom, the page-turner, would be in the middle with the catalog on her lap as we girls, sitting on either side, would stab our forefingers at a particular item on each page.  Of course it was a race to see which one of us could “pick” the best item first.  
         Usually, the afternoon would dissolve into giggles and dares—especially in the underwear section—and after we were finished, we would get out the ballpoint pens and circle the things we really wanted.  It was great fun.  And needless to say, it sparked many conversations around the dinner table, to which my stepfather, Bull, would often say: "You girls are just silly."  
         Hmmm, so we are.  But what simple, silly, fun we had, “picking” our Christmas list each year.

Ann lives in West Texas with her handsome hubby and three rescue pets.  All For Love is Ann’s first romance novel.  She is the author of the Young Adult books: The Phantom Series.  Book One is The Phantom Pilot, Book Two is The Phantom Student, and she is hard at work on Book Three, The Phantom of Crybaby Bridge.  Ann has also published short fiction in the anthologies Timeless (paranormal love stories) and Campfire Tales (spooky stories for the young at heart).




               

Friday, December 21, 2012

12 days of Christmas Guests day 10: Melynda Price

Today my Christmas guest is the very talented 5 Prince Publishing author Melynda Price.


With just a few days left until Christmas, I vow every year that I will not be one of those last minute shoppers. As the days dwindle and my list continues to grow, my goal seems to be far reaching as ever.
I miss the days of my childhood when life was simpler. Christmas was steeped in tradition, and my biggest worry as a child was who had the most presents under the tree. :)
As I've grown and had children of my own, I realize the importance in carrying on those traditions held so near and dear to my heart—going to the tree farm to pick the perfect white pine, unpacking the ornaments and playing "remember when" while drinking egg nog as we watch our children decorate the tree.
With each passing year, I come to realize more and more, that the greatest gifts cannot be measured, bought, ordered, or wrapped. Many years ago, before we were even born, we were already given the greatest gift in the form of a Savior.

Merry Christmas, everyone! May your holidays be richly blessed!
Melynda Price

A guardian angel… A forbidden love… Eternal consequences…
Olivia Norton was born with a gift—a gift heaven has sworn to protect, and hell is bound to destroy. Her perfect world is turned upside-down when two handsome strangers, Max and Liam, step into her life. Olivia soon discovers that her ‘Mr. Perfect’ is actually a perfect nightmare.

The rules of engagement have changed and Liam, Olivia’s guardian angel, is forced to cross dimensional borders or risk losing the woman he’s sworn to protect. Suddenly, thrust into a world unlike anything he’s ever known, Liam isn’t prepared to come face to face with the young woman whose life he holds in his hands.

But nothing is as it seems, and secrets abound that will ultimately force him to choose between two impossibilities. Max will stop at nothing to finish what he’s started, and Olivia is soon plunged into a battle between good and evil. Her very life hangs in the balance as two forces fight to win her heart.


Coming February 28th
Freewill comes at a cost…
Three years after losing the love of her life, Olivia Norton refuses to continue living in the shadows of what will never be. But how can she marry another, when her guardian angel still holds her heart?

Bound by Universal Law, Liam is forced to choose between his honor and his heart. Returning for Olivia once nearly cost him his salvation, but twice may finally prove to be his undoing. Some sacrifices are worth the risk, while others could bring consequences lasting an immortal lifetime.

The game has changed—new players bring new challenges, and the evil that nearly took Olivia’s life three years ago has returned with a vengeance. A legion has been sent to finish what Max failed to do, and the Dark Court will not rest until the last sighted female has been killed.


Thursday, December 20, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests day 9: Carmen DeSousa


If you've read me, you know that I believe in Happily Ever After. My guest today is Carmen DeSousa and she is living her happily ever after! Please join us as she tells us about her most memorable Christmas!  Don't forget to leave a comment for your chance to win at the end of my 12 Days of Christmas guests!  You might win one of Carmen's books! :)


A new man, a new life, and a gun for Christmas. Why not?

Like many kids, I come from a dysfunctional family. Unfortunately, my family is a tad bit more dysfunctional than other families. But since this is a Christmas story, I’ll save the tales of horror for Halloween. J

I did have a ray of light in my life, though. I had wonderful grandparents and an Uncle and Aunt who were wonderful role models. Still, many years sitting at my cousins’ Christmases, made me long for the family I never had.

So the weekend before Thanksgiving it wasn’t unusual for me to start feeling depressed. I was twenty-two, I’d been living on my own and dating the wrong men since I was seventeen, and my prospects weren’t looking good that I’d ever find my happily ever after. I’d prayed to God more nights than I could remember for Him to rescue me from the road I was travelling.

And then, a funny thing happened. My roommate wanted me to go out partying on Saturday night. I’d refused repeatedly. I had a final on Monday, and if I didn’t pull my grade up, I’d get kicked out of college. Needless to say, I crumbled under peer pressure and her comment that I might meet “Mr. Right.” Humph! At a bar? I don’t think so.

Well, we weren’t in the club two minutes when my friend ditched me—a normal occurrence. But as I’m standing in the doorway of the lounge, deciding whether to take my car and leave her, a man walks up. A man I’d met a couple of times since he was a friend of one of the losers I’d dated. In fact, I’d tried to hook him up with my friend.

The man says to me, “Hey, where’s your friend?” He’d taken her number a few weeks ago but never called her. LOL! I was secretly glad.

Ticked off at my friend, I planted my hands on my hips, allowed my mouth to fall in a subtle pout, and said as I pointed at my roommate, “Over there. What’s wrong with me?”

“Um, nothing,” he stuttered. “Wanna dance?”

On December 1st, thirteen days later, this extremely interesting man, who was in the police academy to be a police officer, took me shopping to buy our first Christmas tree together. That night we went to a quaint Italian restaurant, and he asked me to marry him. Yes, you read correctly…thirteen days after our first “official” meeting.

The week before Christmas, this man started his new career as police officer, and for Christmas, he presented me with a Taurus .38 Special as a gift. Yes, I thought it was very romantic. And yes, he did get me other things, but that’s the gift I remember. He also bought me a diamond, but I made him take it back since we would need furniture for our new apartment he leased for us.

We moved into the new apartment on December 30th and on December 31st we eloped. We still kept the wedding plans for March 25th and remarried in front of our friends and family, though.

This year on New Year’s Eve, we celebrate twenty-three years of marriage. Yes, I believe in fairytales and Christmas wishes, because I’m living one.

Merry Christmas, friends. Always remember to BELIEVE!

Carmen DeSousa

Carmen characterizes her stories as modern-day fairytales, as they overflow with romance, mystery, suspense, and of course, tragedy. After all, what would a fairytale be without a tragic event setting the stage? All of her novels are sensual, but not erotic, gripping but not graphic and will make you cry, gasp, laugh, love, and hope.

Her first two novels, She Belongs to Me and Land of the Noonday Sun, have reached bestseller status right alongside Nicholas Sparks, J.D. Robb, and other great authors. Her third novel, Entangled Dreams, just published September 2012.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests day 8: Christine Steendam


Welcome to day 8 of my 12 days of Christmas Guests! Today my guest is Denis Steendam, 5 Prince Publishing author of Heart Like an Ocean releasing early 2013.  Remember to leave a message below for your chance to win an eBook copy of Christine's book when it releases.


Christmas with Family V


The Holidays come with many memories, ghosts of Christmas past and present and inklings of Christmas future. They can come with hard times, stress, busyness, but always joy.
I am fortunate enough to have four large extended family gatherings during the holidays. This makes for a very busy holiday season but also one filled with many memories. The most memorable Christmas event occurs at one family gathering in particular.
We’ll call them family V.
Family V not only celebrates Christmas according to tradition with drinks, food, gifts, and laughter to spare, but we also celebrate with our annual ping pong tournament. In fact, it wouldn't be Christmas without it.
It usually starts out pretty tame, no one really pays attention to the preliminary rounds that start early in the afternoon, but pretty soon as the wine starts the competition gets fierce; then the real entertainment begins. There are always cousins, and occasionally a few uncles and aunts, standing beside the table screaming, screeching and hopping up and down like monkeys trying to distract their chosen loser. These spectators only get louder and crazier as the finals grow closer. Players get more desperate and the ones that have been fueling their game with wine slowly drop out. One cousin, in particular, can always be counted on for some kind of distracting costume when he plays what is sure to be his last game of the night (mainly because he's laughing more than he's playing).
The night is ended with the family trophy being awarded to the winner by our grandmother and along with it comes the bragging rights for a whole year. This is a very coveted award among the members of family V.
There is something about sitting upstairs and hearing the jeers and cheers that makes you laugh and imagine something akin to Lord of the Flies must be occurring, then run downstairs to see who is winning. I highly doubt antics like these would ever be found in any normal family gathering. And yet, this is what makes my memories from Christmas with family V so precious. Because for just a moment, everyone can forget about work, responsibility and any every day or holiday stress, and remember what it is like to be a kid again. And I think everyone needs that.
Christmas to me is about family and friends. My dearest memories are never about the gifts I received or the food that I ate, instead they are about the laughs, the smiles, the hugs and jokes that come together during this festive season. And, of course, the annual ping pong tournament.
Christine has been writing stories since she could put pen to paper and form words. Now, many years later, her debut novel is scheduled to be released and her second book is in the works.

Christine has spent the better half of her life owning and working with horses, and these four legged companions often find their way into her stories. After all, no work of women’s fiction would be complete without a horse or two (in Christine’s opinion at least).

She currently makes her home in the center of the world—no, really. Look at an atlas. 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

12 days of Christmas Guests day 7: MJ Kane

Please help me in welcoming one of 5 Prince Publishing's bestselling authors, MJ Kane, author of the  Butterfly Memoirs, as she shares her favorite holiday memory.  Don't forget to leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of her eBook and some Shelf Swag from Bernadette Marie.



 My Favorite Holiday Memory

My favorite holiday memory occurred January 2011, a few days after the kids returned to school after Christmas vacation. 
Three days into the new semester, Georgia experienced a rare snow storm that shut everything down. If you’ve ever been to Georgia, you know the winters here are crazy. It can be 30 degrees at night and 65 degrees during the day.  Snow can come as flurries that disappear the moment they touch ground, or as severe as an ice storm, coating trees with ice so heavy power lines fall and streets are covered with ‘black’ ice and make driving impossible.  Sometimes we get actual snow that covers several inches of the ground, is nice and fluffy on day one, but as soon as it starts to melt and the temperatures drop, ice covers it. Because Georgia isn’t set up to handle major snow fall, everyone gets an unexpected vacation.
For three days, we were snowed in together, all seven of us and our dog. We had enough food to last a few days and the lights stayed on.  The first two days were spent listening to music, playing Spades, Monopoly, and dancing. Out of sugary sweets, my cousin made sugar cookies from scratch (even though it was missing an ingredient) and they were the best!
By day three, we needed more food. The grocery store was less than a mile away, but the drive was impossible. First of all, our house sat on a hill and the driveway was covered with a sheet of ice at least two inches thick. Backing our Expedition down the hill to a cul-de-sac that covered in ice (if we had ice skates it would have been the perfect ice rink!), was impossible.   My son’s braved the cold, grabbed shovels and chipped away at the ice for a few hours. When we felt we would have enough traction, we piled in the car and slid down the hill. Talk about an adventure! The subdivision had several hills; each one had us holding our breath, praying we’d make it to our destination without sliding into someone else.   We not only made it there, we shopped, and got home, just not up the driveway!
The highlight to that venture was carrying the groceries from the ‘ice rink’ (cul-de-sac), up the slippery slope (driveway) and up the ice covered stairs. My oldest son stomped his way through the ice-hardened snow (snow that was glazed over by a sheet of ice), leaving footholds for us to step in as we made our way to the house. My youngest son carried a bag with plastic bottles of juice. In his efforts to step in the holes, he slipped and the bag he carried busted, sending a bottle of juice sliding down the hill. He tried to catch it, lost his balance, fell on his stomach, and followed the path of the juice. The rest of us laughed our butts off before making our way down to him and the bottles.
Since then, my kids have gotten older; one nearly has his foot out the door and headed to collage. Even the youngest have matured. I am now an author with deadlines, and my hubby, the music producer, stays busy. Finding time for all of us to step away from work, writing, recording, and all forms of electronic devices and get back to the simple things  that make you appreciate your family are hard to do. But this year, I am going to make myself take time for family.
Music, a deck of cards, and sugar cookies. The little things that made the best holiday for me.


M.J. Kane stumbled into writing. An avid reader, this stay at home mom never lost the overactive imagination of an only child. As an adult she made up stories, though never shared them, to keep herself entertained. It wasn’t until surviving a traumatic medical incident in 2006 that she found a reason to let the characters inhabiting her imagination free.  Upon the suggestion of her husband, she commandeered his laptop and allowed the characters to take life. It was that, or look over her shoulder for men caring a purple strait jacket. And the rest, as they say, is history.
No longer a television addict, if M.J. isn’t reading a book by one of her favorite authors, she’s battling with her creative muse to balance writing and being a wife and mother. She resides in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia with her high school sweetheart, four wonderful children, and two pit bulls. MJ can often be found hanging out at the local library where she is director of a local writer’s group, or online connecting with readers and other authors. Other activities she enjoys include: creating custom floral arrangements, assisting her children in their creative pursuits of music and art, and supporting her husband’s music production business, 3D Sounds.
You can find MJ on social networking sites, sharing writing tips, talking about music, life, and family. She’s always excited to meet new people. Connect with her via the websites below. 

Author Contact Info:
MJ Kane:


The Butterfly Memoirs Series:




Monday, December 17, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests day 6: Sara Barnard

5 Prince Publishing author, of historicals and children's books, Sara Barnard joins us today as we countdown to Christmas.


Christmas morning, 1991. Non and Dant's trailer house on a trucking yard in the oilfields of west Texas. Light from the early dawn tinted the eastern sky a soft golden hue as Mom, Dad, and I -- bundled up in the new clothes and jackets we'd opened earlier to the music of Bobby Helms -- pulled into my grandparent's carport. The rosebushes that lined the carport, twining up the trellis and over the top of the makeshift garage were sleeping for the winter, but I knew in my nine-year-old mind that they would be back, blooming bright and beautiful before school was over for the year. After all, every May my grandma, Non, let my cousin and I choose a rose to cut and take to our teachers. The pump jacks squeaked and moaned in the field across the street and a lone longhorn-- one of the wild ones that would never let me pet it -- mooed an echoing moo while we carried in armloads of presents.

"By God, it sure took you long enough to get out here," my grandpa, Dant, would say to Dad. Dad's reply was, without fail, "Well I didn't want to come too early and wake you up, you need all the beauty sleep you can get!" Dant, dressed in socks, a white tee-shirt and blue jeans complete with Skoal ring, would just duck his head and smile before giving Dad a hug and saying, "Well you know I was up at 4 am today." Dad joshed back, "Well I was up at 3:30!" Always 30 minutes earlier than Dant! It was all just for show though. Everybody knew I was always the first one up on Christmas morning!

Non, busy in the kitchen, was all smiles as she asked Mom to check the fat, fluffy biscuits in the oven while she tended to the sausage patties frying in her old cast iron skillet. Breakfast in the country. Now I have never liked sausage, but there was something about Non's Christmas sausage and biscuits that was simply irresistible to me.

After breakfast, my cousin China and her mom, my Aunt Jay arrived, bearing their armloads of gifts. While China and I sorted out presents, the adults sat around talking and nibbling at what was left of our annual Christmas breakfast.

After the insurmountable task of present sorting was completed, China and I were on pins and needles waiting for the go head to dig in and rip some paper! Dant would sit nonchalantly in his easy chair, the feet up, one hand on the remote. "In two minutes, we'll start opening presents." We would squeal and "get ready." Two minutes later, he'd flick stations on the old tv set ... "Uh oh," he'd say, "That last minute wasn't any good, it was rotten. Gotta wait one more minute." Again, we'd squeal and pick which present we were going to open first, then change our minds and pick another. When our attention has been changed from opening to picking presents to open, Dant would bellow, "Go!" Out of all of us there, I think we all enjoyed our silly traditions, but no one more than Non and Dant.

Once the presents were opened, the trash was picked up, thank you's were thanked, and everyone was exhausted, we would load up our goodies and head home to cook (and nap), because we were due back out at Non and Dant's around 1 or 2 to eat a gigantic potluck lunch/dinner featuring Mom's delectable broccoli rice casserole, Dant's ham, Aunt Jay and China's green bean casserole and baked macaroni, and scores of other yummies.

Then, with it being Christmas in west Texas, China and I donned our light jackets and went out on the yard to play! After all, the temperature was usually about 59 degrees!


Sara's book A Heart on Hold is available through 5 Prince Publishing. Her book A Heart Broken will launch in 2013 as well as her children's book Chunky Sugars.


Saturday, December 15, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests: Day 4, YOU...leave a comfort for CT

Today's post was supposed to Rebekah Roberts's, and her post will be rescheduled. In fact, truth be had, I just didn't get her post up because I have 5 sons and they have ALL been sick.  Last night alone I saw every 30 minutes of the night.  The joys of being a mother...but I mean that sincerely. 

I have decided, very late in the day, now that I have a moment to sit at my computer--Rebekah deserves a full day. And so I give this post to YOU!

Yesterday, we all sat back and watched a horrific tragedy unfold. Many of us with children panicked and only wanted to run to our local schools and hold our children.

First, my thoughts and prayers go to the families and the community devastated by the shootings in Connecticut. I have seen my child slip from me and doctors work to revive him. I know what it feels like to know someone you love so much might be taken away from you. I am blessed, he is nearly eight years old and here for me to love on any time I want to. So the feelings those parents are going through...I never want to feel...ever.

So, as YOUR post I ask you to please come together as a community. Leave a comment below of prayer and condolence.  Leave wise and thoughtful words. Do not condemn, just praise. Let your joyful voice be heard to comfort this community and the nation feeling such loss.

Please note, that we all have our political opinions, we will leave those out. (and I will take them out if they are left.) This is only for us to use as a moment to connect.  Pray for each child and adult lost. Know them. Let their faces imprint on your heart. I walked among the memorabilia from Columbine...I remember their names. I connected with a 9/11 victim's family that I didn't know before...but I remember the name of a family man who was lost. People I was connected to died in the Aurora shooting...I will never forget. Just as this tragedy...I will not forget. I want peace to follow them into heaven, so I shall pray for them by name and I will remember.


Friday, December 14, 2012

12 days of Christmas Guests: Day 3 Doug Simpson

I'm pleased to have 5 Prince Publishing author Doug Simpson with me today sharing his holiday story with us.  Remember to leave  a comment below for your chance to win an eBook  version of Doug's book Soul Awakening as well as some Shelf Swag from Bernadette Marie!


Reinventing Christmas
This is a Christmas story because our family cerebrates Christmas, but the deeper message being conveyed here has nothing to do with Christmas and applies to all of you who enjoy family get-togethers of any kind.

What is the most exasperating part of important family get-togethers, other than the necessity of inviting relatives you would rather not invite? Fortunately, very very fortunately, we do not have that latter problem.

My wife and I love to host big family dinners such as Thanksgiving and Christmas, but as the number of generations increased it seemed we could never find an appropriate time or day when we could get everyone together. That was when my delightfully-inventive wife decided to reinvent Christmas.

I know many of you, even in small families, have close relatives all over the country, or world for that matter. That certainly makes it more difficult to gather them all together around one table, but once again, that is not our problem. All of our children and grandchildren live within easy driving distance of our home. Our problem for many years was conflicting dinners. It was difficult enough getting everyone together when our children began acquiring spouses, but an exponential nightmare when the grandchildren acquired significant others. That is when ever-inventive wife took charge.
She carefully analyzed the situation, which she is very good at I must add, and concluded that around ten o’clock in the morning there were a minimum of conflicts with other competing gatherings. That is when Christmas Breakfast was born.

Early Christmas morning the younger grandchildren are busy investigating their new gifts and the older grandchildren have no desire to vacate their warm beds. Some families have Christmas dinners at noon, others at mid-afternoon, and others still around five or six in the evening. Nobody competes for our ten-in-the-morning time slot. Whoopee!

Okay, so what does a Simpson-clan Christmas breakfast resemble? Try and picture New York City rush hour without vehicles and you have a pretty close idea. We live in a townhouse, a long narrow town house. Fortunately the only thing that divides the dining room and living room is a sofa, which gets moved over along one wall. Our dining-room table, with insert, seats six comfortably. We needed some make-shift tables so we sawed a four by eight sheet of plywood, long ways, added folding legs, and threw some Christmas table cloths on them. The three tables, end to end, give us a twenty-two foot, mess-hall Christmas table that can seat twenty-two hungry celebrants. The most we have served to-date is eighteen.

How do we feed eighteen hungry people with an entirely home-cooked Christmas breakfast? It took us a year or two to get the process efficiently fine-tuned, but we got there. Our youngest son is in charge of the four-burner stove top and cooks eggs, pancakes and French toast to order. My wife precooks bacon, sausage and home fries ahead and warms them up in the oven. She also prepares fresh-fruit trays ahead and has them waiting in the refrigerator. Someone mans the toaster. Coffee is perked. I transport drinks on demand. No one trusts my cooking!

The youngest grandchildren are served first. Get them on a chair and collisions are minimized. After that, individual orders are accepted for eggs, pancakes, and French toast. With four burners on-the-go, it does not take that long to get everyone seated and eating together. As they take their plates to the table from the kitchen, they give me their drink requests and I deliver. Minimizes traffic jams.

When no one can put-away another bite, we dismantle the two temporary tables, return them and some of the rented folding chairs to the garage, and get ready for the opening of Christmas presents, which has evolved as we grew in numbers to primarily by the grandchildren. For them, this is their second Christmas, and when they move on to another location later for Christmas dinner they will likely enjoy a third Christmas.
Everyone eagerly awaits the conclusion of the children’s Christmas because it is followed by what we coined as the dirty-bingo gift unwrapping. My wife got the idea from a ladies party she attended years earlier, and fine-tuned it to suit our multi-age celebration. My wife and I buy twenty to twenty-five dollar-store gifts for all ages and both sexes, and wrap them up. Numbers are placed in a container and one of the grandchildren circulates through the congregation so everyone gets a number.
The wrapped gifts are spread out on the dining-room table, and starting with number one and progressing to eighteen or however many are present, each person selects a wrapped gift. Gifts are only opened after everyone has theirs in hand. Many individuals have no use for their gifts, and families can work as units. We then have a second round of number selections. The extra gifts on the table are also unwrapped. Starting with number one, each person has the opportunity to exchange their gift for one possessed by another, or an extra one remaining on the table. This round continues up to number eighteen or the last number. This individual has won the lottery. No one is left to come along and scoop his or her choice. The most desired gifts often are exchanged five or six times, and gifts can be traded by agreement.

With the conclusion of round two, some holders of the lower numbers are stuck with unwanted items so they have the opportunity to exchange their unwanted item for an unclaimed one on the table, so in the end after exchanges and trades within and outside families, most everyone is reasonably satisfied. The extra gifts remaining on the table can be picked up by anyone who would like them. Lots of fun and laughter over twenty-five items worth not much more than fifty dollars in total.

By this time the hour is approaching for the individuals who have a scheduled noon-hour Christmas dinner to attend, to be packing up and on their way. Others may linger and enjoy the company of their relatives for many more hours, helping with the clean-up process. The dishwasher gets run twice on these occasions. If there is anyone who has no Christmas dinner to attend later, my wife covers that base by cooking a small turkey.
Eventually, the house is quiet and back to normal after a wonderful family get-together. She has coined a priceless expression for these special occasions when we can get the entire family together under one roof.

“We are creating memories!”
© Doug Simpson 2012.

Doug Simpson is a retired high school teacher who has turned his talents to writing. His first novel, a spiritual mystery titled Soul Awakening, was published in the United States in October of 2011, by Booklocker. It was reissued in October of 2012 by 5 Prince Publishing as Soul Awakening, Book I of the Dacque Chronicles. For further details visit them at http://5princebooks.com/. It is available in print and eBook format through most bookstores around the world. Soul Rescue, Book II of the Dacque Chronicles was published in November of 2012. His magazine and website articles have been published in 2010 to 2012 in Australia, Canada, France, India, South Africa, the United Kingdom, and the United States. His articles can be accessed through his website at http://dousimp.mnsi.net.







Thursday, December 13, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests: Day 2, a little something from Bernadette Marie

One of my favorite parts of Christmas is the tree. I could have one in each room, and in time, perhaps I will.  In the past two years we have started putting up two trees.  One is the traditional one filled with all the the artwork brought home by my kiddos over the years, and some from when I was little too.  And the other tree is filled with silver ornaments that my mother gives the kids each year with their name on them.  Well you might imagine, my eldest son is 14, and I have five sons. So we get five new silver ornaments a year.  My little "silver" tree is nearly full, but it is fabulous!!!

However, my favorite will always be the one filled with the construction paper heirlooms and misc hand-print crafts. The tradition of these ornaments have even inspired my writing as well.  In my book CART BEFORE THE HORSE, Gabe and Holly's parents send boxes of their childhood ornaments to them for their first Christmas together.  One of the ornaments described was an angel made from a coffee filter. My 2nd eldest son made one of these in preschool and it has always been one of my favorites. I take an extra moment with it each year as I hang it on the tree. It brings back so many nice memories and now I think of Holly and Gabe when I hang it on the tree as well.

Tree inspiration courtesy of Sarah Schey
Yesterday my cousin posted a picture of her tree. It is decorated with blue bags from Tiffany's! It's brilliant! I told her I'd be writing that into LOVE SONGS! So I asked her, why a blue Tiffany's tree? She said she loved the bags. Every time she has her jewelry cleaned or fixed she takes it there and they return it in a blue bag. If the picture of her tree made me that happy I can only imagine how happy it makes her each year.

The Christmas tree. Something so simple, yet so personal. How do you decorate your tree?

Merry Christmas!
Bernadette Marie



Remember to leave your comments below for a chance to win some great prizes! Anyone can win an eBook from Bernadette Marie and a special winner (US only) will win some Christmas Stash! Yep, win books right off of Bernadette's shelf!

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

12 Days of Christmas Guests~ Day 1 Denise Moncrief


Welcome to my 12 Days of Christmas Guests! Each day I visit with another author who will share a special holiday memory with us. Leave your holiday comments below and you could win an eBook copy of the author's book (worldwide eligibility). And a lucky winner will receive a package from ME with some books off my shelf. (U.S. guests only, thank you.)

Today's guest is 5 Prince Publishing's Denise Moncrief. Denise's book Crisis of Identity releases in early 2013.  Please Welcome Denise Moncrief.


Christmas Without Fruitcake

When I still lived in my Daddy’s house, I would wake up on Christmas morn to the smell of his cornbread dressing baking in the oven. Not that pasty white bread stuffing some people like, but honest to goodness cornbread dressing. He had to bake a pone of cornbread and boil a whole hen. That takes time, so he would rise very early on Christmas Day to get it ready to put in the oven so it could bake while we had our gift exchange.

The mixed aroma of chicken and green onions and sage always tickled my nose as I jumped from bed and raced down the hallway to see what was under the tree. Then, when I married, that smell was the first thing that hit my senses when I entered his house on Christmas. The aroma of dressing baking had been the backdrop of my Christmas experience for forty-nine years…until I lost him.

When Daddy passed away in October three years ago, we didn’t even attempt to make dressing for our Christmas get together. That was a hard Christmas. No one was in the mood to be jolly. Joy was difficult to come by. We had lost my father-in-law two years before, and the two empty seats at the table weighed heavy on our hearts.

Daddy always prepared us a feast for Christmas. Turkey. Sometimes ham. Dressing with chicken pieces. Potatoes au gratin or sweet potato casserole. Pistolettes. Fruit salad. Apple cider. Sometimes eggnog. Boxed chocolates, preferably a Whitman’s Sampler. There had to be at least one other vegetable dish, because Daddy believed setting an abundant table was an indication of prosperity. He had survived the Great Depression and never wanted to appear poor again. Momma was relegated to helper in the kitchen, of course, because her specialty was the pumpkin and pecan pies she prepared a few days in advance. That left her free to be his assistant for the day.

We try to replicate his hospitality, but our attempts fall short. My cornbread dressing doesn’t taste like his. My mother’s even less so. (She has an over fondness for sage that makes the dressing appear sort of…green.)

But as much as cornbread dressing has always defined Christmas for me, the season just hasn’t been complete without our annual fruitcake baking day. After I married and moved out of his house, Daddy and I would get together about a month before Christmas and bake two fruitcakes—one for his house and one for mine. I know some people detest fruitcake, but I kind of find it…edible. Not awful. Not delicious. Just…edible.

I still don’t know why we needed that much fruitcake since we always shared the day together and there were at the most only nine of us at the table. That left a lot of leftover fruitcake. By New Year’s Day, I was usually ready to throw the stale crumbling remains of my cake out. Sometimes that was as much as half the cake! So why do I miss the blasted things so much? I baked the cakes with him because it brought a bit of joy to the season to share the experience. It was our tradition. I miss that. I miss him.

Christmas hasn’t been the same without fruitcake.

I brought the subject up with my daughter the other day. She wasn’t the least inclined to bake a fruitcake. Not at all. Turned up her pretty nose at the idea. I wanted a Christmas tradition to share with her. She reminded me that last year we baked cookies for two days one weekend before Christmas. I nodded. I think we’ll start a tradition of our own. This next weekend, we’ll share our second annual bake-cookies-til-you-drop weekend. That will bring joy to my heart. Not that I need that many cookies. I just need a new tradition.

And this Christmas? We all agreed to do something nontraditional. Dishes not usually associated with Christmas. Like…Shrimp gumbo or Crawfish fettuccine  Yeah, I’m looking forward to Christmas this year for the first time in three years. I think I can handle Christmas without fruitcake as long as I can keep my memories of sharing the season’s traditions with Daddy.


Denise wrote her first story when she was in high school—seventeen hand-written pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she read. She earned a degree in accounting, giving her some nice skills to earn a little money, but her passion has always been writing. She has written numerous short stories and more than a few full-length novels. Her favorite pastimes when she’s not writing are spending time with her family, traveling, reading, and scrapbooking. She lives in Louisiana with her husband, two children, and one very chubby dog.




Denise's upcoming Release Crisis of Identity-early 2013


Tess Copeland is an operator. Her motto? Necessity is the mother of a good a con. When Hurricane Irving slams into the Texas Gulf coast, Tess seizes the opportunity to escape her past by hijacking a dead woman’s life, but Shelby Coleman’s was the wrong identity to steal. And the cop that trails her? He’s a U.S. Marshall with the Fugitive Task Force for the northern district of Illinois. Tess left Chicago because the criminal justice system gave her no choice. Now she’s on the run from ghosts of misdeeds past—both hers and Shelby’s.

Enter Trevor Smith, a pseudo-cowboy from Houston, Texas, with good looks, a quick tongue, and testosterone poisoning. Will Tess succumb to his questionable charms and become his damsel in distress? She doesn’t have to faint at his feet—she’s capable of handling just about anything. But will she choose to let Trevor be the man? When Tess kidnaps her niece, her life changes. She must make some hard decisions. Does she trust the lawman that promises her redemption, or does she trust the cowboy that promises her nothing but himself?




Enter to win! Leave your comments below, your special memories of the holidays! We will pick 2 winners for today. One will receive Denise's eBook when it launches and the other (U.S. only-shipping costs and all...you understand) will receive a care package of  books from Bernadette Marie. 


Friday, December 7, 2012

I want to write a book Part 6: I GOT A CONTRACT OFFER

So you found your muse, puked out your story, edited once, had others edit, chose your publishing path, got rejected, and now you have a contract offer. Good for you. Let's take just a few moments to look it over.

I am not an expert on contracts. This point is clear in the mistake I made with the first contract I signed! So I'm not going to have a whole lot of info for you here. But, my biggest piece of advice is sleep on it.

You're going to get a call or an email that says we want to publish your book and you are going to be bouncing off the walls.  You're going to want to call every person you've ever known and tell them. You're going to post it to Facebook and Tweet all about it. But before you sign that document let it sit for a day or more.

Tell the contracting party that you'd like to show it to your lawyer to look at. Okay, you might not have one, but you're going to have it looked at.  You're going to go over each and every paragraph. Read it aloud because then you'll hear it. Then if you do have a lawyer ship it off to them to look at. Show it to your spouse, best friend, and even better...another contracted author.

Most contracts are going to be standard. You're going to let us publish your book. You have to have this,that, and the other thing to us by this time. We get say in the title and cover. Here is when we think it will come out in print and in digital. Here is what you will make... you get it. Basic.

However, look for these things. How long is this publishing house going to keep your book? I warn against Lifetime Rights. Do you know what that means? You're never, ever, getting rights to this book back. Also watch for Right of First Refusal. What you want is the option to publish books in multiple places if you want. Do you really want to put all your eggs in one basket? Maybe you do. I'd like to think my authors would want only me to publish them, but that isn't usually the case. Those of us who are in this for the long run have books coming out our ears! Even Nora Roberts had to create J.D. Robb so she could put out more books than they'd planned for her to.

Do some research on royalty amounts. This is going to be all over the boards! However, digital royalties are usually higher. Also, find out what they think they'll charge for your books. Realistically, a new author right out of the gate isn't usually worth my hard earned $9.99 for an eBook.  This can hurt you in the long run.

Above all, check the reputation of the publishing house! I can't stress this enough!

Predators and Editors is a great site as well as Absolute Write. Make sure these guys are legit! AND keep in mind, no matter how flattering it is, a publisher shouldn't come to you and ask for your manuscript. A publisher should be much too busy, if they are any good or reputable at all, to be soliciting you for your manuscript.

Email some of the other authors listed on that publishers website. (Note...you don't always want to be the first author for a house either. Think about that.)  If the house is a good one, you're going to get praise back. Likewise, if the publisher seems to have forgotten to pay out royalties for two months, and has a million excuses, and their books aren't where they are promised they were going to be... you don't want them.

You're books are your children. You named them, created them, nurtured them, and now you're asking someone to take care of them. Make sure the right person is taking care of them. As you probably can tell, this part of my series is personal to me. I did sign the wrong contract with the wrong house. I'm not getting paid and my books are selling because I have become a bestseller with other books. So someone else is reaping my benefits while I sit here and curse myself. Don't be that person. Do your homework. They'll wait a few days for you to go over the contract if they are reputable. If they come looking for you they're too anxious and that just isn't a good sign.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Release Day! CENTER STAGE by Bernadette Marie

Today is launch day for book 4 in the Keller Family series, CENTER STAGE! Already on the bestsellers list, this book follows the eldest Keller sibling, Arianna and her relationship with the ever handsome John Forrester.

  iTunes Bestseller








John Forrester is a simple man whose never needed more than his work, his truck, and a small apartment with his flat screen TV. After a bad breakup with his ex-wife John swore he’d never get married again and has done his best to keep to himself. But one woman always creeps into his mind—Arianna Keller.

Arianna Keller had an amazing career, center stage on Broadway. However, her run in New York is over and circumstances have forced her back home to Nashville, Tennessee.

The relationship John and Arianna have forged over the years as friends has always had a romantic spark, which has been ignored. Now they are working together to restore an old theater and their desire for each other can no longer be denied.

It’s only a matter of time before sparks ignite into a passionate fire. But Arianna is keeping a secret which threatens to destroy more than her relationship with John—it threatens the lives of the entire Keller family.



Haven't read the other Keller Family books? Don't wait!
Book 1 THE EXECUTIVE'S DECISION is Free!


Book 1
 iTunes Bestseller
Amazon Bestseller
Diesel e-Books Bestseller
Awards of Excellence Finalist 2012
RomCon Readers' Crown Finalist 2012
Amazon FREE
iTunes FREE
Barnes and Noble ($3.99)
Smashwords FREE
Buy in Print $11.95
 

Book 2
Amazon Bestseller
iTunes Bestseller
$3.99
Amazon
iTunes
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords
Buy in Print $11.95


Book 3
 iTunes Bestseller
Amazon Bestseller
$3.99
Amazon
iTunes
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords
Buy in Print $11.95


Enjoy a little sampling of CENTER STAGE!


Chapter One


Arianna pushed down on the suitcase and forced the zipper to close. The rest of her apartment was packed and ready for movers, but she’d need all her clothes before her belongings arrived in Tennessee.
She looked around her small, New York apartment. It had been a good home to her for the past decade. She’d accomplished everything she’d wanted. When she’d moved there, it was to try her hand on the stages of Manhattan. She’d played in some dives and had worked her way up to leads on Broadway. She had a few commercials to her credit and had graced a few TV shows as an extra, but her love was still on stage. But now it was time to go home, back where her family was. Something would come together for her there. It always did.
Arianna looked at her watch. She had barely enough time to get to the airport. If there were any accidents backing up traffic, she’d miss her flight.
Her brother-in-law, Zach, had called and said her sister Regan had gone into labor with the couple’s second baby. She figured she’d arrive just in time to get to hold the bundle of joy. Then in a few more weeks, her brother, Curtis, and his fiancĂ©e, Simone, would have their first child. She knew moving back to Tennessee was right, and getting to spoil new nieces and nephews was reason enough to be closer to home.

The flight had been miserable. Leaving New York in a January snowstorm always meant delays and aggravation. It was almost eight o’clock at night by the time the flight landed two hours late. Carlos would be livid if he’d been waiting at the airport the entire time.
She made it to baggage claim, retrieved her two pieces of luggage, and then scanned the area for her brother. There was no sign of him, or any member of her family, anywhere.
“I thought I’d missed you,” the familiar voice behind her said.
She spun quickly to find John Forrester, Zach’s most trusted building foreman, standing there.
“Missed me? Were you looking for me?”
“I have been sent to pick you up. Carlos and Madeline ended up with Tyler for the night.”
Arianna narrowed her stare on him when he’d commented about her nephew. “I thought Mom was watching him while the baby was born.”
“Well, it seems as though your family is going to grow quite a bit tonight. Regan is still in labor, and Curtis just took Simone in. She’s having her baby today, too.”
Arianna gasped. “Simone isn’t due for two more weeks.”
“Babies come when babies want to, and Emily thought she’d better be there for Simone.” He picked up her suitcases, one in each hand. “C’mon, my truck isn’t too far.”
Who would have thought she’d get to be there for the birth of both babies in one night. God had blessed the Keller family—that was for sure. Carlos and Madeline’s kids were teenagers, and in the next few years, they would be off on adventures of their own. Eduardo, their eldest, was already working for Zach after school. Christian, their second son, was an all-star athlete—baseball, she thought. And Clara, well, Clara was a girl after her own heart. She was an accomplished musician on the acoustic guitar. And, boy, could that girl sing.
Regan and Zach’s son, Tyler, was as anxious as any sixteen-month-old child could be for a new sibling. But Arianna figured he’d need the most spoiling from her to make everything just right.
As for her, she’d never wanted children. It just hadn’t been in her plans. Her career had always been more important. She came and went as she wanted, carried on in any fashion she saw fit, and, of course, traveled the world.
But now Nashville, Tennessee called her back home. Perhaps she could share her talent with the world in some other way.
John led her to his truck in the adjoining parking lot. She was comfortable with John, she thought, as she walked behind him. They had been each other’s dates to both of Carlos’s weddings last year, and they had hit it off, as friends of course. They might have hit it off more, but he was very conscious of their age difference, even though she wasn’t worried about the thirteen years between them. His ex-wife had burned him badly ten years ago, and it was clear he didn’t trust any woman.
Not that she’d been looking for a man, but she often thought if John hadn’t been so worried about everything, they might have had something. As it was, they could keep each other’s company comfortably. Coming home with all her brothers and her sister being married, that might just be what she needed—someone to keep her company.
John’s truck was probably one of the most beat up pickup trucks she’d ever had the displeasure of riding in, and she’d been born and raised in Tennessee—she knew bad pickup trucks. But that was John’s character. If it still worked, there was no need to replace it.
He backed out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. Also common with John, he didn’t have much to say unless you started the conversation.
“So, how is the construction business?” she asked.
“Zach keeps me busy. That’s for sure.”
“I’ll bet. Do you think he’ll take some time off after the baby is born?”
John laughed. “Sure he will. He will work from his office at home.”
Arianna followed suit and laughed too. That sounded like her brother-in-law.
She watched as John merged lanes. His tanned skin showed the many years that he’d worked in the elements. The deep lines around his eyes never made him look old, she thought, only distinguished. Arianna liked her men distinguished. Age on a man had never bothered her. Oh, if her parents knew about some of the men she’d dated in New York, they certainly might have had an opinion on the matter.
She must be feeling the pang of needing someone to connect with, she decided, because the thought of running her fingers through John’s salt and pepper shaded hair was almost irresistible. But she denied herself the pleasure. He probably wouldn’t take too kindly to the lunatic sister-in-law of his boss making a move on him.

The long flight and drive out to the hospital must have worn her out more than she’d thought. She woke to John’s hand on her arm.
“We’re here. If you hurry, you might not miss the show.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“Not my place to be. But I’ll drop your bags off for you. I assume you’re staying at your place?”
She nodded. One of the perks of keeping your house when you moved away, especially if you knew you’d be back. “Yes. Of course.”
“That was a sound business decision to keep the house and rent it out. Benson, Benson, and Hart keep good care of it.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything different. I know I have a renter in the basement, too. Hope they don’t make too much noise. I’m a day sleeper.”
John smiled. “Oh, he’s a good guy. He won’t bother you.”
Arianna nodded and looked up at the hospital where her brother worked as an emergency room doctor. “Guess I’d better go meet the newest members of this crazy family.” She slid across the seat and placed a kiss on John’s unshaven cheek. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll take you out for pizza and a beer.”
“Never could turn down a woman who offered up pizza and beer.”
She opened the door and climbed out. He was just her kind of man.
The waiting room was full of Kellers, including Carlos and Madeline, who held a sleeping Tyler.
Carlos stood and greeted her with a hug when she walked into the room. “I thought you were babysitting him so he didn’t have to hang out here.”
“C’mon, what’s better than meeting your baby brother or sister in the middle of the night and knowing this is the kid you get to beat on for the rest of your life?”
Arianna laughed as Clara rushed over and hugged her. “Auntie, I have a new song for you. I wrote it myself.”
“And I bet it’s the best song ever.”
Arianna pulled her niece to her side. This was just what she’d needed—her family.

John opened the door to Arianna’s house. He supposed he’d have to relinquish his key now that she was home. He shut the door and carried her bags to the bedroom at the top of the stairs. He didn’t open the door. He knew it was empty, but still, it was her bedroom.
The house was dark and quiet; he’d miss that too. There hadn’t been a renter upstairs for months; he’d had the house to himself. Oh, he kept to himself downstairs in the little apartment in the basement, but he’d enjoyed using the front door access and the kitchen from time to time. There was a grill on the back porch, which offered the perfect view of the sunset. He was sure Arianna wouldn’t mind him cooking a steak or two for her, just for access to the porch.
John grabbed a beer from the refrigerator as he passed through the kitchen. He figured he’d better get his plugged in downstairs. It had been a saver on electricity since the one he had in his kitchen was old, and Arianna’s kept the beer colder.
He started down the stairs to his little apartment. The door locked from her side, which kept the renters out of the house. He’d taken liberty with that since the house was empty, but certainly he wouldn’t disrespect that rule when she came back home.
His small apartment was just the right size. He was a simple man who didn’t need much—and who didn’t have much since his ex-wife took everything he’d ever had. Ten years after she’d left him for another man, he still wondered what he’d ever seen in her. Well, he’d never make that mistake again. Women just weren’t worth it. Most women, he corrected himself. His mind had been preoccupied with one woman in particular for months. And now he faced the dilemma of knowing she’d be living only feet from him.
The last thing he wanted was a relationship—platonic or just sexual. Relationships had never brought him anything but grief.
John sat down on his Lazy Boy recliner and turned on his big screen, flat panel TV. A man had to have his luxuries. He pulled from his imported beer and thought life was good.
But only a moment later, his mind wandered to Arianna. With her hair piled atop her head, her eyes dark from lack of sleep, and her ripped jeans, she’d still stirred him up more than he’d have liked.
Beer and pizza sounded like a great idea, but he wouldn’t take her up on the offer until he knew they’d cemented their relationship as landlord/renter and friends—only friends.