My favorite part of the Christmas season has always been listening to the festive music and singing along, whether it be in my car, in church, or just in the house while I do chores.
There are two kinds of Christmas songs: the religious ones like Silent Night, O Holy Night, Little Town of Bethlehem, Joy to the World, and many others, and the secular ones like White Christmas, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, Jingle Bells, and too many more to list.
This is one of my favorite songs.
But the tradition of singing Christmas carols is actually another one borrowed from paganism and incorporated into our modern Christmas traditions.
The idea of singing songs at this time of year goes back to pre-Christian era fertility rites where in those celebrations, villagers went through fields and orchards singing and shouting in an effort to rid the land of evil spirits that could prevent a good crop come spring. While the church tried to put a stop to all pagan celebrations, in the end they found it easier to simply switch the idea of celebrating the Winter Solstice to celebrating the birth of the promised Messiah.
The oldest known Christmas carol originated in France in the 4th century. Jesus Refulsit Omnium (Jesus, Light of All the Nations). Another from the same era came from Spain Corde natus ex Parentis (Of the Father’s Love Begotten). The Friendly Beasts a carol still sung today was written in France in the 12th century. The French continued to create Christmas music with Entre le bœuf et l’âne gris (Between the Ox and the Grey Donkey) from the 13th century. Another carol, this one from the 14th century, In dulci jublio (In sweet rejoicing)/ Good Christian Men, Rejoice) was rooted in Germany and is also still sung in churches. And did you know the original words to Adeste Fideles, (O Come, All Ye Faithful) were written in the 13th century? But the most popular version is from the mid-eighteenth century. Although they had carols, singing Christmas songs in churches wasn’t a thing until the 13th century when St. Francis thought it might be a good idea.
So, how did the practice of caroling gain popularity? Well, add a little booze, and anything even going door to door on a dark winter night has its appeal. The practice of Christmas caroling started another tradition, wassailing, when people went door to door singing and drinking to the health of their neighbors.
Wassail, pronounced WOSS-ul, is another name for hot mulled cider, a beverage that can trace its origins to the Old Norse word, ves heil which meant be healthy! During the middle ages the act of “wassailing” irequired serfs and peasants to visit their feudal lords and receive food and drink in exchange for a blessing.
That activity inspired various songs such as Here We Come A-Wassailing and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. So, from going to get a hot drink and figgy pudding, we have people going door to door to sing and entertain. If you’ve ever been caroling, you’ll know how much fun it can be.
And there you have it, another Christmas tradition born in the distant past. Drop by tomorrow for a look at another Christmas tradition.
Hello again. Today’s Christmas tradition owes its origin primarily to the Celts and Druids, although a number of other cultures had a hand in it, too.
Mistletoe was an important part of several pagan cultures. To some, the white berries symbolized male fertility because they thought the seeds resembled male ejaculate–gross right? The Ancient Greeks referred to mistletoe as “oak sperm” since oak trees, also sacred to Celts and Druids, were often home to the parasitic, poisonous plants.
According to Pliny, a Roman author, mistletoe played a significant role in Druidic beliefs, specifically as a key component in a ritual known as oak and mistletoe. The Druid priest climbed an oak tree and removed the sacred mistletoe growing there. Afterwards they used the mistletoe to create a drug whose purpose was two-fold. First, it cured infertility and then mitigateed the effects of its poison. According to evidence recovered from bodies found in bogs, the Celts did ingest mistletoe, possibly as some sort of medicine or as part of a ritualistic human sacrifice, surprisingly a practice banned by the Romans and replaced with the sacrificing of white bulls– good for people, not so good for the cattle. Acvording to the Aeneid, Aeneas consumed mistletoe berries to get to the underworld so that he could visit his father’s ghost and see the future.
Stepping across the North Sea, Norse Mythology also laid claim to mistletoe, pointing out that Loki, the trickster got the blind god Hodur to murder his own twin Balderby shooting him with an arrow made from mistle toe wood, the only wood that could kill him. In some versions of the story, mistletoe became a symbol of peace and friendship to atone with its part in the murder.
That aspect must’ve been what the Romans gleaned from their pagan neighbors because to them, mistletoe became a symbol of peace, love, and understanding. They hung it over their doorways as a way to protect the household.
So how does any of this make it part of our Christmas traditions? During the Middle Ages, long after Chritianity had taken root in Europe, mistletoe continued to be associated with fertility and vitality, as well as a means of protecting themselves from witches and demons. The easiest way to get this protection was to kiss under it. By the 18th century, kissing under the mistletoe was popular among the servants in England, possibly because they though themselves more vulnerable to demons.
The servants in Victorian England are credited with continuing the tradition of kissing under the mitletoe, even adding to it, claiming people were expected to kiss under it and find true love.The rule didctated that any man could kiss any woman standing underneath mistletoe, and if that woman refused the kiss, she would be earn herself some bad luck. One variation of the tradition stated that each time someone kissed, they had to remove one of the white berries from the sprig of mistletoe. Once all the berries were gone, so was the mistletoe’s magic.
Did you know that mistletoe is the floral emblem of Oklahoma? Every year, in Tenbury Wells, a town in Herefordshire, holds an annual mistletoe festival and chooses a Mistletoe Queen. Today, kissing under the mistletoe is ingrained in our Christmas tradtions and found in many of our Christmas songs. Enjoy a different take on one of those songs. Come back tomorrow to learn about another of our Christmas traditions.
Welcome to another edition of Tuesday Tales. Today’s word prompt is PERSUASIVE. I’m beginning a new book, one which will be released in the spring. The title is Royal Flush. Meet my newest characters, Pearl and Kyle. They have a lot of adventure ahead of them. Enjoy!
“Can I get you anything else?” If this guy was from around here, where had he been hiding?
“How about a piece of lemon meringue pie and more coffee?” he asked, his gaze filled with interest as he eyed me from head to toe. Normally scrutiny like that bothered me, but his didn’t. Could it be because I found him fascinating, too?
I nodded and moved to refill his cup, then cut him a generous slice of pie. Maggie would probably dock my pay for it, but I didn’t care. The longer I could keep handsome here, the better I liked it.
“Here you go.” I placed the pie in front of him, hoping to strike up a conversation now that most of the breakfast crowd were gone. “You must be new in town. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
He chuckled. “I could say the same about you. I was raised here but left about ten years ago to spread my wings. I figured it was time to come home and visit what’s left of the family. And, since you look vaguely familiar, I will apologize for ignoring you all those years ago.”
I laughed. “If that’s your best pickup line, it needs work.”
“Maybe I’m just out of practice,” he answered, giving me a ‘please take pity on me’ smile and dropping his eyes to my name tag. “So, what have you been up to all these years, Pearl?”
“This and that,” I answered the way I usually did when someone asked.
“So cryptic. You can do better than that. Let me start. “I’m Kyle Stapleton. I was born and raised in Forest Falls and left a few years ago to seek fame and fortune in the big city.”
I cocked my head. “Did you find it?”
“Find what?”
“Fame and fortune, silly, fame and fortune.” I leaned against the inside counter and crossed my arms over my chest.
“To some extent. So what’s your story?”
I chuckled nervously. “I’m Pearl Wisemen. I left the big city in search of quiet and peace,” I said, knowing that might be part of the truth by not all of it.
“And did you find it?” His voice had a persuasive quality to it as if he hoped to get me to reveal my secrets. If only he could.
“To some extent,” I mumbled echoing his words.
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales
Many of the Christmas traditions we adhere to each year are actually based on pagan celebrations, notably those belonging to the Romans, Celtics, Norse, and Druids. Let’s start with the Christmas tree itself.
Early Europeans, many of whom were nature worshippers of one form or another, began decorating their houses with evergreen branches long before the arrival of the Messiah as a way to add color and brightness to their homes during the longest days of the winter season. No doubt it improved the aroma, too. For the Romans, that time occured between December 17 and December 23 as a way to honour the God Saturn, not the mightiest of the gods, but a deity of great importance.
Post Christianity, Christmas trees became a symbol of the holy birth as well as the Trinity, but those trees didn’t look a lot like ours. Why? Because they hung upside down from the ceiling. This practice originated in the middle ages when Saint Boniface, a Benedictine monk, first used the tree as a ‘show and tell’ object in his lessons to pagan Germanic tribes.The idea was popular right into the nineteenth century, especially among the working poor who hung trees from their rafters for both religious and secular reasons. Houses were small, lacking floor space. Upside down Christmas trees are actually seeing a comback, and when you consider houses with pets and small children, that makes sense, but I think I’ll stick to mine.
The people who resided in what is now southern Poland were especially proud of their podłazniczek tradition. They used fruit, nuts, candies wrapped in colorful material, straw, ribbons, and painted pine cones to decorate spruce trees dangling from the celing in the middle of the room. Eventually, more home and handmade decorations were added. In many homes, that tradition continues today.
Our modern version of a Christmas tree had another beginning, one also found in Germany. Religious plays were popular during the medieval era. Among them was one depicting Adam and Eve’s fall from grace and expulsion from the Garden of Eden. One of its props was an evergreen called a paradise tree, decorated with apples–the forbidden fruit–and wafers, symbolizing Christ as communion wafers The people would set these paradise trees inside their homes on December 24th. Eventually apples were replaced by balls and wafers gave way to cookies, ribbon, and pinecones.
Those who didn’t have trees might have a Christmas pyramid instead. These items weren’t actually shapped like pyramids They were a type of carousel which turned because of the heat generated by candles. You may even have seen one and not known what it was. Some of the Christmas pyramids were relatively plain, and depicted religious images, while others were more elaborate and focused on everyday life. Christmas pyramids remain popular today. But, for the most part, the paradise tree and Christmas pyramid merged into what we call a Christmas tree today.
The tree evolved once more in the sixteenth cetury when Martin Luther placed candles in the branches to symbolize the stars in heaven. What a fire hazard that must’ve been! Today, most trees are decorated with electric lights, some of them all white like candles would’ve been, others multicored. My tree can be programmed for either, but then, for a number of reasons, I have an artificial tree.another evolution.
This picture of me and my mother–I was four–was taken in front of my grandmother’s tree. My grandfather would go out and find the perfect tree, usually a spruce, and then he would spray paint it all white. To me this indoor snowcovered tree was an incredibel sight to see. How bright the colored bulbs seemed, surrounded by angel hair to protect the tree from catching fire. The balls were all made of glass and super delicate. I still have a few hanging from the branches of my own tree.
Today, while green appears to be the most popular color for both real and artifical pines. anything is possible. You can find then in all shapes and colors. Remember Mrs. Trump’s red trees? I’ve seen pink, and purple, too. They aren’t all real, although if you like your tree up for the entire Christmas season, then an artificial one may well be the safest. These lovely decorations brighten our homes at the dreariest time of year. Given the pandemic and all of the other horrors we’ve faced the last two years, it could well explain why decorating earlier than ever was the theme this year.
So, is your tree up yet? How do you decorate it? Do you give it a theme, select a colour scheme? Or like me, is your tree full of memories of the significant events in your life. And if your traditions don’t involve a Christmas tree, what is your most signifigant item/ event that gets you though the darkest days of winter?
I have several holiday themed romances for you to enjoy.
Welcome to December and other Tuesday Tales. It’s cold here nad we have a dusting of snow with I’m sure lots more to come. Presents are wrapped and I’m getting closer to being ready for the holidays each day. This week, our word prompt is FABRIC. I’m continuing with Forever in my Heart but this will be the last snippet from the story since I’m hoping to have it released before Christmas.
Once Mike and Liz Faraday left the room, Callie finished her wine and nibbled absently on the remaining hors d’oeuvres, trying to make sense of this mess. And it was a mess. She stared at the envelope, not sure she could open it to look inside. She would have to, sooner or later, but maybe she could wait a few minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or in the words of Buzz Lightyear, “to infinity and beyond.” Just because Cassie had left it for her didn’t mean she had to read it. She’d ignored dozens of her letters in the past.
God, Cassie. How I wish you were here so that I would never have to face this dilemma.
It wasn’t that the prospect of mothering her twin nieces and living here with Mike was unappealing. Just the opposite. Those babies had wormed their way inside her heart the second she’d laid eyes on them. And Mike? Her intense attraction to him complicated matters. How could she live under the same roof as him, knowing she wanted him the way she did? A sensation as alien to her as this resort was. She wasn’t frigid, and she’d enjoyed sex with Brett, but this feeling, this blind need to be with him—a perfect stranger—made no sense. It destroyed the fabric of her life, of her dreams and aspirations for the future, and yet it felt as if it were destined to be. Could it simply be the result of residual feelings from her time with Luke, and if that was the case, would being with Mike be any different that being with Brett? She’d loved Luke with everything in her and now, faced with his twin …
Too agitated to sit still, she walked around the family room, examining the mementos displayed there, waiting for the housekeeper to return. She couldn’t blame Mike for leaving her like this. As a veterinarian, his patients would always come first.
On the floor to ceiling bookcase, among the books, she found a few of Luke’s trophies for various sporting achievements, several pictures of the twin boys at a variety of ages, as well as one of Iris and Rose in what had to be christening gowns. On another shelf stood Cassie and Luke’s wedding picture. They’d looked so happy. How were they to know they would barely have four years together?
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales
Welcome to December! Here in the north, we’re waiting for fall to give way to winter. It seems this has been the shortest year that I can ever recall but a productive one. We are a little closer to a new normal, but many things have changed and many more will never be the same.
This month’s question is: In your writing, what stresses you the most? What delights you?
What stresses me the most is coming up with something new that will be unique and different and yet still be marketable. There are thousands upon thousands of books out there, in more genres and subgenres than I can name. Some are more popular than others, but in the end, they all have a fan base. The key is to discover your niche of readers and writing a book they’ll want to read. What delights me is when I’ve succeeded, when someone reads one of my books and tells me how much they’ve enjoyed it and how they’re looking forward to reading more of my work.
As a pantser, I don’t outline my books, so often when the story starts, I’m not sure where it will go, other than the fact that good will triumph, and there will be a happy ending. That method of writing can be stressful, especially when I hit a wall or a roadblock. Then I need to go back and see where I went off the rails to bring the storyline back into focus. For example, in my suspense novels, the hero will eventually catch the villain, save the day, and find love. In The Harvester Series, it takes four books to take down the organizations and stop the one responsible for the deaths and end other threats, but in each book, one villain is stopped, people rescued, and one couple falls in love. In my romance novels, whatever conflict is keeping the hero and heroine apart is resolved and they find their happily ever after, in my chick-lit, the heroine will work her way through the situation, encountering a few humorous situations along the way to her haapily for now, in my historical novels, the crisis will be resolved and life will move on with love at the heart of it, while in my paranormal novels, good will triumph over evil. So while writing this way can be stressful, completing the book, bringing the charcters through countless situations that I couldn’t predict or imagine when I started writing the story is extremely satisfying.
I’ve tried to write with a outline and failed dismally, which was enormously stressful. The best way for me to do it is my way. How about you? What stresses you in your writing?
Wishing you all a happy holiday season, regardless of which of the many end of year holidays you celebrate.
Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales. Wow! November’s over and done and we’re moving on to December. We got our first snowfall last Friday. It was only a couple of inches, but it’s sticking around. Are you ready for Christmas? My tree is up and the house is decorated, but I’m far from ready.
This week’ word prompt is ANNOYING. I’m continuing with my holiday romance, Forever in my Heart.
After Cal left, Mike stood, not sure how to continue what was a sensitive subject. He wanted to convince her to stay here, get to know him and the girls, give them a chance to be the family Luke and Cassie had wanted them to be, but how hard could he push? “More wine?” he asked, picking up the bottle. “Molly won’t be serving dinner for another couple of hours. That’s why Liz Faraday brought out the appetizers.”
“Sure.” She held out her glass. “Alcohol makes everything brighter, right? I don’t have much of an appetite right now anyway, but the Merlot is good.”
Mike frowned. Small talk? Polite strangers discussing the quality of the wine? This wasn’t what he wanted, but maybe it was what she needed, and he had to back off. The last thing he wanted was to be annoying, but damn it, they really didn’t have all that much time.
Callie sat once more, placing the manila envelope on the table and extending her wine glass. “Besides, once I open that,” she indicated the envelope, “I doubt I’ll be in the mood for food or company.”
He nodded and refilled her glass, wishing Cal had waited to give her that. Hadn’t she been through enough today?
Liz Faraday returned carrying a portable phone. “Excuse me for interrupting, Mike, but Clint’s on the line. It looks as though Snowdrop is in active labor, and he’s worried about her.” She extended the phone to him.
His responsibility to the animal kicked in, and he was all business. “I’m sorry. I need to take this. Snowdrop was Cassie’s mare. She isn’t due for another three weeks, but she’s carrying twins. We’ve been monitoring her closely, but things change quickly in a case like this.” He grabbed the phone. “Yeah, Clint … You’re sure? … I’m on my way.” He ended the call, handed the phone to the housekeeper, before turning to Callie once more. “I’m afraid you’ll be on your own for dinner. Liz can show you around the family quarters and then take you up to your room. Len should’ve brought up your suitcase by now.” He turned to his housekeeper. “Liz, can you make sure Callie gets dinner? Tell Molly I’ll get something to eat up at the bunkhouse? It’s going to be a long night.”
He hated leaving her like this. Cassie was gone, but he would be damned if anyone or anything else died.
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales
Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate. May you gather safely this year.
People often ask me where I get my ideas for stories. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. There are stories all around me–something I hear, something I see, even someone I meet. When I agree to write a new book, I usually stort by choosing a title. In my Cocktails for You series, I use the name of an alcoholic drink. Why? Well, this series is a product of the Covid 19 Pandemic in that I started writing it shortly after the first lockdown in March of 2020. Then, because we had more and and more time at home, I continued with the series. These books were all very different from my usual style, lighter, and designed to make the reader laugh just a little at the everyday events surrounding us.
The series started with Tequila Sunrise. I wrote this book after my last vacation to the south in January of 2020. We spent a couple of weeks with family in Los Cabos, and I used my memories of the places we’d been, the things we’d seen and done to flesh out the story. The romance is fictional. Trying to figure out a trope for it, I went with second chances and boss-employee romance. Essentially, how could a chance encounter after many years go when the two involved never really got over meeting each other in the first place?
Sun, sand, and mind-blowing kisses!
Kelly Winters, an up and coming recreational facilities designer for Dreamscapes, is thrilled to be part of a Think Tank Conway Enterprises is putting together—so thrilled in fact that she agrees, despite the fact she hates flying. Liam Conway, the heir apparent to Conway Enterprises, can’t believe his luck when he spots his Kellyanne in the airport and discovers she’ll be his seatmate on the flight to Mexico City. He was sure they’d connected that day ten years ago, and not just because she’d literally left him in stitches. He searched for her for weeks afterwards, but it was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Kelly is stunned to see Liam after all these years. Discovering that not only is he participating in the same Think Tank she is, but he’s also her boss leads to more than she bargained for. Can a ten-year-old attraction blossom again, or will their positions keep them apart?
The next book was Champagne Cocktail, a Christmas story that brought back memories of the year I struggled to getmy six-year-old daughter a Cabbage Patch Doll. For the trope, I chose second chance at love and enemies to lovers, with a little mean girls and secrets tossed in for excitement.
Do you believe in Christmas magic?
When life gave Ronnie Daniels lemons, instead of lemonade, the single mother learned to make Lemon Drops.
This Christmas, times are tougher than ever, and Ronnie’s number one priority is making the holiday as normal as possible for her five-year-old daughter. All Dottie wants from Santa is a Famous American Ballerina doll. The problem is not only are they expensive, but they’re impossible to find.
After another failed attempt to secure one of the dolls, in her frustration, Ronnie sends a scathing letter to the company, Thomas Toys. As the doll’s manufacturer, one advertising a product they don’t have on hand and can’t deliver before Christmas, it’s their fault that her daughter’s dreams won’t come true.
When the company’s new CEO comes into the bar to apologize for the mishap and try to make amends, Ronnie refuses to listen to him, not just because of Dottie, but they have a complicated history. Determined to fix this, Wyatt won’t back down, and before long the doll isn’t the only thing Dottie and Ronnie want for Christmas.
After Christmas comes New Year’s and Buck’s Fizz. Everyone’s heard of a Mimosa, but a Buck’s Fiss is its grwon-up rich cousin. Once more I relied on my second chance at love trope, but tossed in an overbearing parent intent on an arranged marriage, a bully, and an adorable child.
You can run, but you can’t hide!
In order to escape an arranged marriage to a rude, insufferable man, Jewel Wellington leaves home and The Met to hide with a honky tonk band on a Southern promotional tour. As Jess Wells, she and the other Silvertones step into The Squawking Tomcat, a bar on the outskirts of Alice, Texas, expecting to have a three-week gig. The problem is, the bar’s owner, Lance Corcoran, isn’t expecting an all-girl band.Frustrated at this sudden reverse of fortune, Jess makes a deal with the bar’s owner—pick any song by any artist, and let her prove she and the Silvertones can do it. What she doesn’t expect is to realize that the bar’s crusty cowboy owner is none other the surfer she spent one steamy night on the beach with eight years ago, one she left without saying goodbye.Will Lance recognize her? And if he does, will it cost them the gig?
I followed up on that book with The Tipsy Pig. Who knew you could make a cocktail with bacon it it? This story, set during the pandemic has a different trope. Sometimes your life comes crashing down all around you, and those who lost jobs and friends to the pandemic cerainly felt that way. I also saw how some powerful men devalued women and treated them like dirt, only interested in how they could use them. Social media was full of stories about stars, athletes, millionnaires, singers, and politicians who’d traded on their fortunes and power to use and abuse women–wives included. I decided to put my heroine in a position when a poor choice in a husband cost her everything. Now, she’s starting from scratch.
A former socialite, a recluse, and a tipsy pig—the perfect recipe for disaster or romance?Dreading publicity over her recent divorce, her ex-husband’s arrest, and her upcoming 40th birthday, Sahara Larson, the former CEO of Larson Enterprises, escapes from Toronto to hide away at a friend’s rustic cabin near Algonquin Park. The future looks bleak, but among her neighbors is Hiram Colson, a reclusive bestselling author who rescues discarded pets. Will he be able to rescue her, too? Can a potbellied pig with a penchant for homemade dandelion wine unite two lonely people?
Next, I came up with Make Mine a Manhattan. When I started the book, I couldn’t quite see where I wanted it to go. I had writer’s block. I knew it had to be funny. My mother was going through a rough patch–she’s 94 and delusiuonal, so sometimes what comes out of her mouth is judgmental and unkind. And, to be honest, I can be a klutz. So, the story took shape. An author not staisfied with her work, looking for inspiration. For the trope, I chose strangers to lovers.
What’s an author to do when, thanks to writer’s block, she’s hopelessly stuck?
With only eight weeks left to finish her newest novel, bestselling author Sydney Sanders, aka Robin Langford, is stumped. On impulse, the thirty-three-year old introvert decides to take her agent’s advice and shift gears, but instead of going on a short vacation, she decides on hands-on research. Immersing herself in her story and assuming her heroine’s identity, she heads to Manhattan to live out the plot. What could possibly go wrong? As Savanna Long, she boards the train, expecting a quiet ride and time to refresh her muse for the chore ahead. But a lot can happen during the thirty-eight hour trip, especially with her imagination and the drop-dead gorgeous passenger in the next car.
My newest book in this series is Emewrald Glow, currently only available in papaerback but soon to be released as a part of Cute But Crazy 4, Qiurky Careers. When we took a trip out west this summer to celebrate our Fiftieth wedding anniversary, we met some incredible people. They were the inspiration for the story and they, along with hubby and I appear in the story with a completely fictional hero and heroine. Once more I went with the Starngers to Lovers trope and hopefully tosse in enough laughs as I describe the beauty of the Canadian Rockies and all of the wonderous sights we enjoyed.
She’s given up on finding the right man. After a painful divorce, he’s sworn off women. But you don’t always get what you want, especially when a typo can spell disaster.
Following a breakup that’s soured her opinion of men, photographer Lee Andrews is hoping this assignment for an online e-zine will help her set her life on the right path. If she can stay focused on her job and ignore the opposite sex, so much the better. Alexander Fedorov is a burned out journalist, tired of covering one disaster after another. His recent divorce has left him bitter and determined to stay as far away from the female sex as possible. This new assignment offers a change of pace. As long as he can avoid meddlesome females, he’ll be fine. When they meet, sparks fly and personalities clash, especially when the full impact of a small typo and making assumptions makes itself known loud and clear. Both are determined to be adult about the situation, keep their distance, and complete the job. But that may be easier said than done, especially when the attraction they feel for each other is magnetic.
As always, all of my books in this series are exclusive to Amazon. You can find buy links to them and to my other books on my website. https://mhsusannematthews.ca/
Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog where a small group of authors share their works in process with you. I’m continuing with Forever in My Heart, my holiday romance.
When she turned back to him, her lower lip was trapped by her upper teeth, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“I need to think about this. You’re not asking me to just drop in for a week or two each year. You’re asking me to give up my life, my job, my apartment … Coparenting sounds great now, but what happens down the line? What if you fall in love and want to get married? Do you really think your wife will want your sister-in-law living with you?”
“That isn’t going to happen. I can guarantee I won’t be bringing another woman into this household—at least not as my wife.”
“How can you be so sure? The future is a mystery. Look at Cassie and Luke. This isn’t what they wanted.”
“You’re right.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t predict the future and neither can you. I’m planning to hire another associate at the clinic, so that I can spend more time here. Those little girls are my flesh and blood. I might not be their biological father, but he and I shared identical DNA. That makes them as much mine as they were his. I have no intention of leaving them. If you agree to meet the terms of the will, then moving to Timberton is the only way to do it. We’ll raise them together as if they were our children, give them a normal life in a two-parent family, and never deprive them of the love their parents would’ve given them. It’s what Cassie and Luke wanted.” Luke wanted something else, but now wasn’t the time to broach that topic. “In the event one or both of us falls in love, then we’ll revisit the issue.” He turned to Cal. “Does that work?”
The old man nodded. “Yes. Callista, Monday is Thanksgiving. The bodies will probably be released the next day, so I’ll give you until Friday to give me an answer. If you feel that Cassie asked too much of you, no one will think any less of you, and we’ll see what kind of arrangement we can hammer out to keep you involved in the girls’ upbringing. Make no mistake, they will have to stay here at the ranch together, but I’m sure we can see about visitations.” He stood and pulled a manila envelope out of his briefcase. “Callie, this envelope contains all of the information for the bank account I set up for you with the funds you inherited from Tilda, and there’s a letter in there from Cassie. She gave it to me at the time they made the will.”
That’s it. Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales
This morning, I would like to introduce you to something different. Meet Anne Hamilton Fowler.
The best way to tell you about herself and her book is to let her tell you herself. Here’s a humourous snippet from her early years.
I have been known most of my life for the ability to improvise and think on my feet. The following story, occurring when I was a high school senior, will give you some insight into “where” I obtained this ability.
It was a sunny Saturday morning and I was expecting the local boyfriend of the week for lunch at 12:30. He will be referred to as Boyfriend #1. Disaster almost occurred when out-of- town Boyfriend #2, a first year University of Western Ontario student, threw an unexpected wrench into the works and arrived in town to surprise me. At 11:45, overnight bag in hand, he appeared at our front door.
My father answered the door, greeting him warmly … he loved this guy who was a fellow golfer. Assuming that this was the expected lunch date, (my father never could keep them all straight) Dad told him to put his gear upstairs in the guest room where he usually stayed when in town.
Mother, my social secretary, immediately grasped the situation. She knew of course that I was expecting BF #1 not BF #2 and handled the awkward problem like a pro. She explained to BF #2 that “we have plans for the afternoon and are leaving shortly but why don’t you and Stew go to the club, have lunch, play eighteen holes and we’ll see you back here for dinner?” Clueless Stewart, who had put his foot in it to begin with, had no choice but to agree.
Meanwhile, I was upstairs locked in the bathroom hyperventilating as I waited for BF #1 to make an appearance at any minute and create a confrontation. And you know there is nothing I hate more or will try to avoid, when possible, than a confrontation. You see, BF #1 and BF #2 were unaware of each other’s existence.
Ever calm, watching the clock and improvising as she went, Mother asked BF #2 if he’d like her to make what she knew was his favorite dessert for dinner. Then disaster almost happened. Glancing out the living room window she saw BF #1 walking down the street, approaching the house.
“Time to go, Stew,” said Audrey as she unceremoniously hustled Dad and BF #2 out the side door into the garage. Mere seconds later, she opened the front door and greeted the new arrival, BF #1, the guest who was actually invited! Dad and BF #2 drove off to an afternoon on the links at York Downs while Anne, BF #1, and Audrey enjoyed a delicious lunch, which included one with HIS favorite dessert. Mother was big on making dessert for the boys.
So, if any of you ever questioned where I learned to think on my feet, as you can see, I had tutoring from an expert.
You can read all about Anne and her adventures in her memoir, I’ve Worn Many Hats.
You can learn more about Anne and her incredible life’s story by checking out her webpage: https://anne.honduranhope.net
Living the Dream 