Christmas Chez Shey’s. By Shehanne Moore.
Cold enough for you? I’ve been reading through all the warm coastal Christmas posts and want to say I also live on the coast five minutes walk from the one pictured above, near Dundee. Not this Dundee-
That’s in New South Wales, this one in Scotland.
where right now temperatures are well in the minus and hamsters will get their asses booted if they don’t butt out and get on with finishing my latest book which is actually set on the Cornish coast not long before Christmas.
I recently did a post about my the heroine of this book, who would sell her soul for a Christmas garland, and about how, when it comes to Christmas decorations…..
It’s not just the memories we hold onto, it’s the life we live, the life we’ve made while understanding that that life evolves constantly, which makes what we have right now in our hands, all the more precious. I’m not going to be waking up ten times a night to see if Santa’s been, or woken by my girls running in to ask me if Santa’s been. Now me and the Mr, get up, get the tea on and open the parcels. Christmas in Scotland can be weather dependant, so we always hope our family are going to be able to get from one end of the city to the other. A few years back a tree fell right outside our door blocking one of the two roads into where we lived then. Of course folks were soon out tying bits of tinsel on it and Santa Stop here signs. We also hope there’s not going to be any accidents like the year the oven door fell off first thing on Christmas morning and broke on the tiled floor…..
It would be lovely to stroll down to Broughty Ferry Beach and castle–pictured several images above– five minutes away but the family are all coming for a traditional dinner, turkey and duck.
I don’t know what you’re all cooking but here’s the menu.
Thank you for decorating the dining room table fellahs…
making the cakes to hand round with the mulled cider to the arriving guests.
and for offering to make the meal…….
Maybe not eennee theeng but you sure said plenty thing.
Now after the meal you will be sure to light the log fire, won’t you? having stocked up all the log baskets first? We don’t want the guests to be cold in our Scottish climate. Or to have to go outside in the frost and rake about in the shed for more wood.
Mind you, I suppose you have fur coats? Then I need you to get the games started, Pass the Parcel and Pin the Star on the Tree, which the grandbaby ses he is well gonna win, Doorman and these other games you still need to plan, for when the evening guests arrive, cos you know evening time is ‘partay’ time.
Indeed it is. Now you’re getting this. I’m thinking maybe Rapid Response and Limericks but we need a few prize winning games, so get the thinking hats on.
Forget that presents stuff, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without our family and friends around us, good food, good cheer AND the games to really get the party started. For me these are the things that make Christmas Day, the things I want to stand here again and see. The big things.
Now…a bit about this coastal romance group. They are authors and readers who love reading romance by the water, whether it be the ocean, a lake, a tropical island or any other body of water where heroes and heroines fall in love and live happily ever after.
Well actually now I think about it, there’s a swathe of Lady Fury set on a coast, not to mention backstory set on various islands, Malice and Sin from The Viking and the Courtesan get shipwrecked on an island, the Black Wolf from His Judas Bride lives in a cave on a shore, AND did I mention that Brittany from The Writer and The Rake is no stranger to Dundee?
AS for Christmas? Well, I believe Loving Lady Lazuli has a lot to do with Christmas.
Anyway, you can enter the rafflecopter by clicking on the link but in addition to the Gift card and the 30 ebooks, second prize, there’s also a daily chance to win an ebook. All you have to do is visit the authors on the list and leave a comment on their Christmas blog. Prizes will be drawn on Christmas Eve.
The post before mine is Rich Amooi. And tomorrow’s is Fiona McArthur
Here is the overall link http://bit.ly/2A4bbkK
So what are you waiting for? Me to ask…is there anybody out there who can give these dudes the names of a few Christmas games my guests can play?
24th December: Prize Draw
Shey, aw come on fellahs, cos I take out things like my ancient fairy that’s only got one arm, not looking at anyone here…….
and the plastic Santa my mum got in Hongkong just after the war …and all is good with the world.
Christmas is often a looking back. But it’s not all about nostalgia. For me it was everything that went into the making of that day, no matter where people were in their lives, what they had, didn’t. And I think it’s almost a ritual where we hold onto something small in order to hold onto something bigger.
Shey. Yeah but what she is really holding onto is so much bigger. It’s the order of the life she’s made for herself, the house she’s poured everything she has, including herself, into, since losing her husband and child one dark and stormy night. On page one she’s just lost that house and everything in it. What do you do when you have nothing, not even the Christmas garlands, the clothes on your back? Do you give up? Succumb to the fact you’re so cursed, everything you touch turns to ashes– because it does? So, being a corpse in many ways why should it matter?
Or, because these things are all you have left and you’re not quite the corpse you think, do you make a stand, knowing what you are throwing on the table doesn’t matter. isn’t worth a worn farthing? Whoever touches you will die anyway. A problem shared is a problem halved after all, is this woman’s motto.
Shey. Indeed there will be a hamster reference.
Shey. Last book, a two headed hamster. This one a mealy mouthed hamster. Of course the whole thing is fanciful.
Shey. When you finish it. 85 thou words is good dudes but you need to stop fiddling with the Christmas decs
and finish it. Then you need to decide what publishing route to take on this one. But if it’s the one I think you’re considering, it should be Spring. You can do the cleaning first. Dear little dudes, I do hope this has got you into the spirit of Christmas. Thank you for letting me on my own blog.
“Then… if you didn’t win…”
“No. I suppose that’s what I meant when I said I wasn’t a gentleman.”
“I’m sorry, Mr…Mr Wryson, you will think me vague but the truth is I really don’t understand what you being, or not being a gentleman, has to do—”
“I’m acting on behalf of my employer.”
So it was true? She’d lost Doom Bar Hall. Still, she’d made this decision before this man walked in here. How he looked, how old he was, who he was, had made no difference then. Why should it now? She’d die sooner than let this place go.
“He thought there would be difficulties you see.”
“Apart from my brother lying drunk on the floor there, I can’t imagine how.”
“Well he did. And that was why he asked me to spy out the lie of the land. After all, this is quite a house to lose–”
“Do you think I don’t know that? That is why my offer is the same because I don’t intend to lose it–”
“Especially when there’s past associations.”
“Past associations.” She resisted the urge to finger her throat, which prickled as if a moth’s wing was stuck in it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean my employer once lived—not in the house itself—but on the estate, and is known to you.”
She swallowed the astonishment sitting suddenly like ice in her mouth. There was only one man she could think of who had done that but of that one man, she did not want to think. Not when the blood drained from her face, the floor loomed so perilously close she struggled to stand in her black slippers and Orwell staggered to his feet.
“Dstny…old gal, I triled to tell you. But you…you…”
“Old? How many times have I told you not to call me that? Twenty five is hardly old. What it is, roughly, on average, is how many times you call me that in a day.”
“Anyway, you’re nlot seris…”
“Says the man who has just cost us this place.”
“Unless the name Divers O’Roarke is unfamiliar to you, Miss Rhodes?” Gil Wryson’s voice was oiled velvet.
How did she say the name as if it was nothing to her, the name of the man who had cursed them, cursed her loudest of all?
Because she must.
“No. I believe I have vague memories of him.”
“Good, because he is waiting outside. I will be sure to pass the details of your offer to him if you still desire it.”
Before she could think whether she did or not, whether the word desire was putting it rather strongly, or she should change her mind, a footfall sounded in the candlelit doorway behind her.
“Good evening, Destiny,” clanged the sounding bell of hell and that damnably soft, Irish voice, she recognised from that same place. “I see you haven’t changed one bit.”
‘Fraid not. That honor goes to Mitchell Killgower.
But Mitchell and me are kind of related. I’m a descendant.
One thousand years.
Christ no. That would mean doing Brittany the heroine.
Put together. Brittany’s your worst nightmare. But hey that’s not why. She’s also my great I have never counted how many times grandmother.
Cos she gets it right. This thing we have to do, or be doomed forever, unless we can find some poor unsuspecting stranger to ensnare.
I don’t spend it there. Nup. I spend it wherever. I have spent it chasing nymphs through the glade of Mount Olympus, doing battle with the Mongol hordes, nothing to the shoppers on Seventh Avenue. And please, please can we just not mention the Victorians?
You might say with this condition I have, I don’t get a lot of choice.
Sure it is little fellah. Ain’t nothing to be scared of.
Matter of fact I brought yah this.
Morte’s Hell-fire cookies.
It’s what all the best Time Mutants eat at Christmas.
Have a good one, little fellahs.
Well, ain’t that a pity. Still more I can’t say.
Oh okay. it’s real simple actually.
Loving Lady Lazuli – A Book Review https://annfields.com/2016/12/04/loving-lady-lazuli-a-book-review/ via @ann_fields
Twelve Nights: A Blue Moon Lake Novella
bySharon Struth ISBN: 978-1-60183-637-3 Publish Date: 11/10/2015 Format: ePub
“Struth has a gift for layering stories within stories while keeping them all connected.”—Library Journal “Struth is an author to watch!”—Laura Drake, author of RITA-award winner The Sweet Spot “Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.”—Eye on Romance.
Every Christmas is a reminder of their love. This one could be a second chance…
True love waits forever… For Erik Lindholm, it’s been a long climb to the top of his company. Now, as president he has the power to bring his vision to life and speed his company in bold new directions. If that means a complete staff overhaul, so be it. If that means firing the woman who left his heart in tatters fifteen years earlier, it’s a business
decision, not personal… Beryl Foster is highly competent and respected by everyone at the office. But rumors of a big shake-up are rampant and—surprisingly, scarily—Beryl’s job as CFO is on the line. Fifteen years ago she made a decision to put her career before everything else. It was also the last time she and Erik shared a life together. Every Christmas is a reminder. This one could be a second chance…
About the Author:
Sharon Struth is an award-winning author who believes it’s never too late for a second chance in love or life. When she’s not writing, she and her husband happily sip their way through the scenic towns of the Connecticut Wine Trail. Sharon writes from the small town of Bethel, Connecticut, the friendliest place she’s ever lived.
SHARE THE MOON, book one in the Blue Moon Lake Romances, is a finalist for a RONE Award and a Chatelaine Award for Romantic Fiction! Look for series book two, Harvest Moon (12/22/15), and Twelve Nights, A Blue Moon Lake Christmas Novella
Beryl perched on the tips of her sling-back pumps and tried to catch an early glimpse
of whoever had followed Saul inside. Nothing stood out but familiar faces. She returned to her normal stance as a knot twisted tight in her stomach.
“In selecting my replacement, I asked myself one question. Who could take the top-notch crew I have here now and guide Global to great heights in the future? Although we possess huge talent within our fine organization, I wanted a fresh take on the business and decided to search outside of our four walls.”
Disappointment rushed through Beryl. Time to update her résumé, just in case.
“So, without further ado, I’d like you to welcome the new president of Global Business Solutions—believe it or not a former employee of our firm—Erik Lindholm.”
Beryl’s body numbed. Loud applause faded in the background as his name pounded inside her skull. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
Erik stepped up to the platform and shook Saul’s hand. Beryl blinked, thinking this might be a bad dream, a hallucination, or one too many trips to the bar.
Darcy touched Beryl’s arm, ruling out the first two. “A former employee?”
Beryl was too stunned to speak or even nod. Erik’s dirty-blond hair was still parted on the side and worn short, with thick wisps sweeping his high forehead. He smiled, making the dimpled cleft in his chin deepen and softening the rugged angles of his sculpted face. Old emotions bubbled to the surface. Love. Happiness. Anger.
Erik shook hands with employees seated near the podium, his smile still as confident as it had been years ago. Last she’d heard, Erik worked in Chicago and teetered at the top of the corporate ladder with the Holder Group, a competitor of Global’s who could never quite beat her firm’s status as number one in the industry. The same firm Erik had gone to after they split up nearly fourteen years ago.
“Did you ever hear of this guy before?” Darcy whispered in Beryl’s ear.
Beryl nodded, her gaze stuck on the man she’d almost married.