SEX, LIES, AND THE WICKED TAWNY WEBER

It's been one of those mornings--have a cup?

My guest is romance author, Tawny Weber. I don't think it's a secret that I enjoy Tawny's books. I do believe I've read them all. They're a lot of fun and so is Tawny Weber.

I recently had a chance to read the second book in her Undercover Operatives, Sex Lies And Midnight. It's fun, engrossing, and dayum, it's HAWT! Did I mention sexy? Especially these men in the Black family—even the patriarch himself (who isn't in a real relationship—just sayin’). 

If you enjoy a light read that gives you a break from all the jobs you have, this is the series to read and enjoy. It makes you laugh, the characters make you drool and have to fight off covetousness, but you walk away refreshed and ready to tackle the day. J

The premise of the series is a single father, Tobias Black, con artist extraordinaire, who successfully raise three extra-ordinary children after the death of his wife. They all have unique skills but a situation develops that rips the family apart. They’ve all gone their separate ways and have been estranged from their father ever since.  Tobias has some crafty ideas for getting them back home and allow for healing. He’s playing a dangerous game because his enemies are circling and he’s the target. Or are they? Let’s just say, Mr. Black has some interesting contacts (I’d LOVE to see his story).

The second story involves Maya Black. She’s lovely and exotic—when she isn’t trying to be dull as dishwater. She’s left the wild life and computer crime behind her, along with her father.  Family ties are strong and while she has been deeply hurt by her father, when he’s in danger she’s willing to fight, and fight dirty, to keep him out of jail.

Ah, but in this story, nothing is as it appears to be, least of all Maya and her *stand-in* boyfriend. Let the undercover games begin and boy do they! This story is fast paced, characters are distinct and all seem to have a hidden agenda.


I seriously love the premise of this series. I'd love to see it continue and tell Tobias' story and romance, and tell the delectable Hunter's story. Now there's an intriguing character. You gotta write it Tawny!


BE SURE TO STOP BY NEXT WEDNESDAY WHEN TAWNY WILL BE SHARING KISSES WITH US. IT WILL BE FUN TO SEE WHAT SHE COMES UP WITH. :-)

Born into a con artist family, Maya Nicholas abandoned the grifting life to live on the straight and narrow (and somewhat dull) years ago. But when her family is threatened—and the swindlers are on the verge of becoming the swindled— Maya swings into action. All she needs is a stand-in boyfriend, and the charming, tasty-as-sin Simon Barton will do quite nicely, thanks.

But Simon has a little lie of his own. He's FBI, and Maya is his inside track to her less-savory relations. It's a mutual using, which quickly turns into a scorching mutual attraction.

In fact, their naughty little sexcapades are the only things they aren't faking! Excerpt 


BUY:  AMAZON, Barnes And Noble, e-Harlequin

~*~*~*~

Tawny Weber has been writing sassy, sexy stories for Harlequin Blaze since her first book hit the shelves in 2007.  When not obsessing over deadlines, she’s shopping for cute shoes, scrapbooking or hanging out on Facebook and Twitter.  Come by and visit her on the web at www.tawnyweber.com  

In December of 2011 Tawny launched her Undercover Ops series with SEX, LIES AND MISTLETOE.  The second book in the series, SEX, LIES & MIDNIGHT is on shelves in January 2012, quickly followed in February by SEX, LIES & VALENTINES.  Be sure to follow Tawny on her Holiday Survival Tour as she celebrates these three books with contests, giveaways and lots of fun.  You can read the first chapter of SEX, LIES & MISTLETOE on her website, all you have to do is join the Reader LoveFest!


.

MIA MARLOWE—My Cup Runs Over

My guest today is historical romance author, Mia Marlowe. She and Connie Mason (I've long admired Connie) teamed up to write The Sins Of The Highlander, set in the time of Mary, Queen of Scots. They have a series in the works. It will be interesting to see what these two storytellers come up with.


After wrestling with Mia a bit (I'm pretty tough, too, ranching in the Ozarks), I did get her to tell us a little about herself some of the things she's had to overcome. I'm delighted she's visiting Over Coffee.

Hello Sia and all your lovely blog-ettes! I’m so excited to be with you today, but I gotta confess something. When I first saw your guidelines for blog posts and your suggestion that I write about ME, I wilted a bit inside. Writing about myself is the hardest thing I do as a author. I suffer from chronic Midwest-itis. Comes from a lifetime of being trained never to be the grabby child and always to take the smallest piece.

Of course, I don’t live in the Midwest now. My DH and I have made our home in Boston since 2007. Who’d have guessed a pair of Ozarkians could settle down and enjoy life in Beantown? I’ll admit there have been some adjustments. Driving here requires nerves of steel and the reflexes of a cat. But all those things you hear about New Englanders being cold and stand-offish just aren’t true. Every time I get behind the wheel, other drivers honk and give me friendly hand signals. Of course, in Missouri we used a different finger to wave at folks.

Another thing Sia suggested was that I share my personal challenges. So here goes. Until 2008, I took my good health for granted, but that was the year I was diagnosed with cancer. No one was more surprised than me. Hearing that C-word is a surreal kick in the pants.

 

However, we caught the cancer early and my prognosis is excellent. I’m cancer-free and counting. November 2013 will mark 5 years since my diagnosis and I’m looking forward to the lovely day when I can finally use that other “C-word”—Cured! Thank you, God.

I share this because if your doctor suggests any kind of cancer screening test, you really should take it. What you don’t know can hurt you.

Other tidbits about me: I’ve been married to the same great guy for more years than either of us was single. We have two daughters. We love animals and have had two horses, I don’t know how many assorted dogs, cats, goldfish and one gerbil I thought would never die. And my DH still knows how to show a girl a good time. Because he works in the travel industry, we’ve been able to take some really fabulous trips all over Europe and the US. I’m lucky and I know it. My cup is so full it’s running over and making a mess all over the place.

I’m a great list maker. Mostly because if I don’t write it down, it’s likely not to get done. So I routinely post “bucket lists” of things I want to accomplish. (The latest incarnation is on my website www.miamarlowe.com )

People always ask where I find ideas for my books. They’re all around me—in music, art, overheard conversations at the coffee shop... I’ve often said if I was a reality show, I would canceled because my life is too boring. At least on the outside. Actually, my life is filled with tons of drama, excitement and angst, but most of it never really happens. Except inside my head. And in my books.

    

I’ll wrap this up now because I know Sia is going to tell you about my new release SINS OF THE HIGHLANDER and believe me, it’s much more interesting than I am. So finally I’ll share that recently I heard a country song that stuck with me. (This was a real surprise to me since I’m a classically trained soprano and my kids routinely accuse me of being a musical snob.)  The chorus went like this: “God’s great. Beer’s good. People are crazy.”

I agree with two of those sentiments wholeheartedly. I’ll let you guess which ones!

Make your guess, or share which ones you agree with and you’ll be entered in the drawing for SINS OF THE HIGHLANDER. Or you can ask me a question. Just remember I write fiction. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll make something up.

Thanks again, Sia!

SINS OF THE HIGHLANDER

 – IN STORES JANUARY 2012

Abduction…

Never had Elspeth Stewart imagined her wedding would be interrupted by a dark-haired stranger charging in on a black stallion, scooping her into his arms, and carrying her off across the wild Scottish highlands. Pressed against his hard chest and nestled between his strong thighs, she ought to have feared for her life. But her captor silenced all protests with a soul-searing kiss, giving Elspeth a glimpse of the pain behind his passion—a pain only she could ease.

Obsession…

“Mad Rob” MacLaren thought stealing his rival’s bride-to-be was the prefect revenge. But Rob never reckoned that this beautiful, innocent lass would awaken the part of him he thought dead and buried with his wife. Against all reason, he longed to introduce the luscious Elspeth to the pleasures of the flesh, to make her his, and only his, forever.

With two clans against them burning for battle, they must find a way to join together—body, breath and soul. Or both will be made to pay for the Sins of the Highlander? Excerpt

BUY: AMAZON, BARNES and NOBLE, CHAPTERS INDIGO (canada)

~*~*~*~

Connie Mason is a New York Times bestselling author of more than 50 novels. She was named Storyteller of the Year in 1990 and received a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews in 1994. She currently lives in Florida. Mia Marlowe is a highly acclaimed new voice in romance whose debut novel released in Spring 2011 from Kensington. She lives in Boston, MA. Together, they are working on a new Regency romance series for Sourcebooks Casablanca, the first of which will be in stores in Fall 2012. For more information, please visit http://www.conniemason.com/, http://miamarlowe.com/ and follow Mia on Twitter @Mia_Marlowe.

MONDAY MUSINGS: The Joy Of Savoring Life

Come on in and sit a spell.

Savor: property of a substance that can be identified by the senses. To take pleasure in. To enhance or enrich 

December day in Missouri

The last couple of weeks we’ve had some fabulous mild weather and a lot of sunny days. It’s been warm enough in the middle of the day to be outside in long sleeves. I turn off the heat until about an hour before sundown. Temps drop quickly as the sun sets. Friday was one of those days where it was in the upper 50’s, lots of sunshine—stiff breeze though, so a jacket was necessary.

I savor these December days because I know our winter snow usually hits us in January and February.

Today the scene was wonderful around the homestead. The birds were gossiping around the feeders, horses frolicking and kicking their heels in the pasture. Fed them some apples and got lots of soft nickers and rumbles of appreciation. Me Sassy darlin’ gave me hugs—that’s her head over my shoulder contentedly munching her apple and leaning on me. Apple kisses. J

Beautiful but ugh!

I know come January I’ll be seeing more of this:

I think this year has taught me some lessons on savoring life. The little moments that makes lasting memories. Sometimes we get so caught up in chasing the big things we forget that it’s the little things that really are important and add contentment to the soul.

This year I want to savor things. Let them soak into my soul. I want to concentrate on those things that are important—good health, family, and friends.

I would like to get rid of guilt. Instead of zeroing in on all the things I can't do or should have done; I’m looking at what I have accomplished. There will always be those things I can beat myself for not doing. But what’s the point? All you can do is the best you can do on any given day—that changes daily. Guilt tends to put me into the negative and accomplishments move me into the positive—a much better place to be both mentally and physically.

I’m also not beating myself up over my creative endeavors either with the ranch or my writing. I used to be able to sit down and write and the words just flowed—thousands at a time. In the last eighteen months there have been days I’m lucky to be able to verbally string together a sentence or two without stuttering. My body has been warring against an invasion and it’s wrapped up in that function and not extras. Writing is hit and miss. I might write two days in a row and skip three. I might write well for a half hour or an hour before the words stop. I’ve decided to stop comparing myself of today to what I was able to do two years ago. That was then, this is now. It will change again, but until it does I’m celebrating what I can do.

Welcoming the sunrise with the wind
in my hair

For me, this is the year of savoring. Of tasting life. I’m taking pleasure in the sunshine, the wind in my hair, watching the antics of my animals at play. Watching my garden grow. Seeing another sunrise.

• What are you going to savor this year?

  

Holiday Stories: THE GIFT

I want to share a beautiful story with you. Like Christmas Joy, it's a favorite. This one was written by a dear friend, Rand Phares. It's setting is in England during King John's reign and I love it because it's thought provoking and I can relate to the last monk. 


I hope you enjoy his story.

Abbot Timothy and Brother Samuel stood just inside the main doors of the monastery, swirling snow filling the dark night around them.

Samuel adjusted his hood and leaned closer to the abbot. "Are you sure you don't want me to wait for you?"

The abbot shook his head. "No, Samuel. I have one last chore before I can leave. I'll be along shortly, before the town road becomes impassable. You go on ahead before they've run out of room at the inn."

Samuel frowned and peered across the courtyard at the monastery's church, its windows lit with a wavering glow. "A pity it's come to this, after all our years of service."

The abbot laid a hand on Samuel's chest. "Though the abbeys are being dissolved and we're being evicted, you can always hold to your faith and continue that service here, in your heart." He turned to the doors, slid aside a wooden bar, and—with Samuel's help—tugged the doors open.

Samuel adjusted his robe. "You're sure you won't come with me?”

The abbot nodded. "Go."

Samuel went through the doorway, hesitated for a moment, and then continued on, his dark form melting into the storm. A moment later, drifting snow covered his footprints and it was as if he'd never been there.

The abbot shook his head. The king's decree had arrived a week ago: The Order was dissolved, its members to renounce their ways and leave the monastery no later than Christmas Eve. Tonight. The monastery, its grounds, and its treasures would revert to the people. Even now, two of the king's men were in the counting room, reviewing the monastery's records.

One by one, the monasteries of the land were being dissolved, taken over by local governments, monies and lands distributed to those in power. Monks had been expelled, left to fend for themselves, which meant hardship and death more often than not. Friendship toward fellow man seemed to have dissolved in the face of hard times and the king's decree.

As abbot, he would be the last to leave. How had the others fared? Emanuel, the infirmarian? Ethan, the sacrist? What of the troubled brothers, especially James, gifted with a lyre, but unable to form a single sentence?

Where would he himself go? He had no family, no friends outside the monastery. Would he simply starve, sharing the same fate as the others? After all this time surrounded by these walls, he did not look forward to leaving. The king's decree guaranteed a lonely, destitute, and painful end beyond the monastery.

He shut and barred the doors, then turned and looked at the church, at the rise of its steeple. Was its symbolic gesture toward heaven still meaningful in these times? Across the length of the roof sat the silent bell tower, oddly enough even taller than the steeple. He knew it spoke of a long-ago time when the monastery—sitting atop a 200-ft cliff overlooking a great road—had served as a lookout against enemy hordes sweeping in from the north.

He stared at the bell tower until his eyes stung.

So lonely . . .

So high . . .

So . . .

Painful? Perhaps not.

The tower stared down at him.

Will you follow the path the king has set down for you?

Or is there another?

He blinked, rubbed his eyes with icy fingers, and looked back at the barred doors.

The king's path lay beyond.

He stared at the doors for a long moment. Then, his mind made up, he crossed himself, turned away, and trudged off through the snow toward the church.

Snow had piled against the great door leading into the church, and the door complained as the abbot struggled to open it. He stepped into the front nave, escaping the storm, but not the bone-wearying cold.

With the door shut behind him, he made his way toward the choir at the back of the church, eyes adjusting to the thin light of candles burning in side chapels. A statue of the Saviour seemed to shift slightly in the flickering light as he neared. He crossed himself and started off toward the dark door near the east transept; the door that led to the bell tower.

He reached for the door's latch, but a coughing sound stopped him. He turned and found a robed figure sitting in the choir pews. Why had he not noticed? Wasn't everyone supposed to be gone by now? This was certainly not one of the king's tallymen, with their fine purple tunics.

"Can I help you?" the abbot asked.

The figure stood and tossed back his hood. A thin young man, dark hair, bearded, but not someone the abbot recognized.

"Are you Abbot Timothy?" the man asked.

"Yes. And you are . . . ?"

"Forgive me, abbot. I'm Sebastian. Innkeeper Thomas sent me with a sack of food for your journey." He held up a dark bag. "Some mutton, cheese, a small flask of wine."

The abbot looked at the bag. "That's quite kind of Thomas. And kind of you, of course, for bringing it here in this storm. Tell me, how did you get in? We keep the main gate locked."

"I slipped in when one of the brothers was leaving."

"I see." The abbot gestured toward the bag. "Well, thank Thomas for me." He put a hand on the latch beside him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to extinguish the chapel candles before I leave. You'd better let yourself out and return to the inn before you become stranded."

"The snow is blowing very hard. You've no fear of being stranded yourself?"

The abbot glanced at the latch in his hand, then back at Sebastion. "I won't be long. You'd best not wait."

"That door leads to the bell tower?"

"Yes.”

"Are there many candles in the tower?"

The abbot frowned. He opened his mouth to reply, but Sebastian waved a hand. "Forgive my impertinence, abbot." He looked around at the statuary and tapestries. "It's a pity the church is being stripped of its treasures. But isn't it a greater travesty that the countryside is being stripped of its faith?"

The abbot sighed. Would this young man not leave? "Yes, it's true, what you say about the country. But when I step outside these walls, the king says I'm no longer a man of God. So my days of worrying about the country's faith are over."

"That may be, but what about your vow of service to Our Lord? True faith is difficult to drive from a man's heart, even in the face of kingly decrees." Sebastian nodded at the tower door. "Are you like the countryside, abbot? Have you been stripped of your faith?"

The abbot blinked. Had he?

Sebastian laid a hand above his heart. "In spite of what the king says, you can always hold to your faith and continue that service in your heart."

The abbot stared at Sebastian. How did he . . . ?

Sebastian set the bag on a pew and looked up at the window. "It seems the snow has finally stopped. That should make your journey easier." He looked back at the abbot. "One last word of advice, though." He smiled and nodded at the tower door. "Be careful putting the candles out up in the belfry. It's sure to be slippery up there, and I hear it's a long drop to the road below."

With that, Sebastian turned and walked up the nave, pausing only to cross himself at the statue of the Saviour. A moment later the shadows of the front nave swallowed him. In the snow-encased quiet of the church, the great door was particularly loud when it closed.

The abbot's gaze returned to the statue.

A thin bearded face, arms outstretched, a crown of thorns. From this angle, the candlelight made it look as if the statue stared back at him.

#

Abbot Timothy pushed open the great church door and took in the courtyard and the far shadow of the main gate. The young man had left the church after the storm died, but a silent mantle of white lay unbroken in all directions. And the air was still; wind no longer blowing snow across any newly laid footprints.

What was the hour? Was it Christmas yet?

He lifted the bag. Mutton, cheese, wine. A Christmas gift, perhaps?

He stared out at the night, and thought of the young man's words.

All of them.

And decided those had been the real gift this night.

Then, with a last glance back across the nave at the distant bell tower door, he shouldered the bag and walked out of the church. Heading toward the gate, the abbot was secure in the feeling that wherever the young man had gone, he was following.

Rand Phares's first foray into writing was at an early age, on a neighborhood "newspaper" he published with his brother. After a successful career in software engineering, he now focuses on psychological thrillers, and is within nanoseconds of completing his first novel, The Feast. Rand lives in NC with his family.

Holiday Stories: CASSIE'S CHRISTMAS WISH

I've had so many lovely stories contributed this holiday season. I hope you've enjoyed them all. At the end of this story I will give you the links to each story again. In the hustle and bustle of getting prepared for the holidays and family, not many had time to really do much but extra reading.

This Holiday Short story is written by Anna Small. Anna writes historical romance and shares a story about two of her characters, Cassie and Jed Hazard.

If you enjoy the story, do share it on the networks.

            Cassie Hazard looked out her bedroom window and blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Surely, she was dreaming, for there could not be snowflakes on the ground. Wrapping a quilt around her shoulders, she hastily left the bedroom and rushed outdoors. She gasped in delight. Speckled on the ground like shimmering dust was the first snowfall she had ever seen since arriving in the New Mexico Territory.

            “I’ll bet you never expected to see snow in the desert, city gal.”

            She turned around and smiled at her husband. Jed looked like a snowman himself, bundled up in a heavy coat and a muffler wound around his neck. She was grateful when he stood behind her, wrapped his arms securely around her waist, and hugged the quilt to help keep her warm.

            “I didn’t know it would snow. How beautiful everything looks.” Tiny flurries of snow whipped around the horse paddock. The ground sparkled, reflecting the sunlight so she had to squint from the glare.

            “It always snowed at Christmas back home. Ty and I would have snowball fights until our pa caught us avoiding our chores.” He laughed at the memory, and she turned around in his arms to face him.

            “Boston will be beautiful this time of year. They have sleigh rides on the Common, and Uncle Abe always took me to the Parker House for dinner on Christmas Eve.”

            “Sounds like a nice time. I hope you don’t mind cornbread for this Christmas Eve.” His head lowered and he was just about to kiss her, when someone called to them from the road. Jed glanced up. “Looks like old Busybody Ames is bringing someone out here. Maybe it’s that cattle buyer I met at the House of Diamonds a few weeks back.”

            “I’ll go inside and dress,” she said, reluctantly pulling away and walking toward the door. She watched from the step for a few moments as Jed walked to the gate to let the driver in. Jed was right. The driver was Mr. Ames, the schoolteacher, and his sole passenger looked familiar. He was out of place in his black stovepipe hat and fur trimmed coat. His full white beard made her almost think of Santa Claus, except she only knew one man who wore a red silk scarf over his top coat.

            Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to call Jed, to warn him, but it was too late. He’d already reached the gate, and the wagon was pulling up. Jed was talking to the two men, and he glanced a few times back at her, as did the others. She gulped, then held her head high. She had nothing to fear from anyone, and certainly not this man. She was a married woman now, for goodness’ sake, and could make her own decisions.

            Jed swung the gate open and the wagon came through. She stood on the porch, her shoulders back and her chin stuck out, waiting.

            The wagon stopped at the house, and Ames gave her a smug smile. He touched the brim of his hat with a slender finger. “Good morning, Mrs. Hazard.”

            “Mrs. Hazard?” The old gentleman beside Ames scowled so deeply she thought his thick, bushy eyebrows would knit themselves together. He climbed off the wagon with some difficulty, and walked slowly to where she stood on the porch. “Well?” he demanded, and she felt her knees wobble, “are you not going to say hello to your own uncle, missy?”

            “Hello, Uncle Abe,” she said, cursing herself inwardly for sounding like a little girl. Suddenly, she was no longer the capable rancher-woman Jed always called her, but the naughty little girl who’d painted all over her uncle’s desk and had gotten caught. “What are you doing here?”
            He puffed out his chest, and cast a sardonic glance around the ranch. “I wanted to make sure you were still alive. Mr. Ames has been good enough to inform me of what shenanigans you’ve been about, young lady.”
            “That’s my wife, sir. I’ll expect you to be polite in my presence,” Jed said, his voice firm but pleasant. He climbed the stairs to the porch and grasped her shoulder. “Sweetheart, let’s all go inside and have some coffee. I’m sure your uncle doesn’t want to stand outside in the cold all day.”

            Grateful for Jed’s steady, practical nature, Cassie led the way into the small house, instinctively wishing she’d cleaned better the night before. But they’d had an early supper, and Jed had smiled at her in that special way that she’d foregone housekeeping in favor of their big, soft bed.

            “Is this all there is?” Uncle Abe said gruffly, surveying the small house and cramped kitchen.

            Jed pulled out their best chair and smiled pleasantly. “Won’t you sit, sir?”

            Uncle Abe hesitated a moment, then sat down carefully, as if he were afraid the chair would break. He glowered at Cassie, but she kept up her air of strength, even though she was afraid she would settle back into the role of obedient child again.

            “I came to make sure you were still alive, Cassandra,” he said, removing his hat and placing it on his knee.

            “As you can see, Uncle, I am.”

            Jed brought three mugs of coffee to the table and set one before Uncle Abe, then took the chair opposite him. “How was your journey, sir?”

            “Long. What are your prospects with my niece? She’s my only family, and I want to make certain you are not toying with her.”
            Cassie’s cheeks burned with the heat of her blush, but she bit her tongue to keep from speaking her mind. Jed’s jaw tightened, but he was polite.

            “As I said before, she’s my wife. It was all done up nice and legal. Charles Ames married us a few months ago.”

            One white eyebrow rose up into his forehead. “I have not heard a word about love, Mr. Hazard. Did you marry her for love, or was it a business proposition? Mr. Ames seems convinced of the latter.”

            “He’s both a liar and a fool,” Jed said, pushing out of his chair and rising abruptly. He stood beside Cassie and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I love this woman with all my heart. Yes, I wouldn’t have the ranch if she hadn’t married me, but that’s not why I did it.” He faced her now, and it was as if they were alone. She stared up into his sky blue eyes, so earnest and filled with all the hopes and dreams they both shared. “I’ve loved you from that first day, Cassie, when you walked down that dusty road and demanded I leave your ranch.” His eyes twinkled with amusement at the memory. “I wanted you then as much as I want you now. The o-nly reason I suggested we marry was that I couldn’t imagine a life without you. You’re my partner and my friend. My best and truest love.”

            Her eyes filled with tears, and she placed her hand on his chest, over his beating heart. “I love you, too, Jed. I always have.”

            Uncle Abe cleared his throat, then reached into his coat pocket. Cassie almost feared he was going to take out a pistol and challenge Jed to a duel, but he withdrew a fat leather pouch, which he handed to her. “In that case, you may have this.”

            She hastily brushed the tears from her cheek. “What is that?”

            He heaved a sigh. “My dear sister was not destitute when she ran away from home with your reprobate father. She had some money put away, and I wish you now to have it.”

            “If you think you can pay me to change my mind, you’re wrong,” she said fiercely. “I don’t care if it’s a million dollars. I’m staying here. My home is with my husband.” Her limbs trembled as if she were feverish, but she kept her gaze focused on him, so he would know she spoke the truth.

            “My dear child, this is not a bribe to take you out of this place, although,” and he glanced meaningfully around the room, “it could use some sprucing up. It is your inheritance. You may give it to your husband, keep it for yourself, or throw it to the wind – I don’t care what you do with it.” He rose from the table and put his hat on. “Now, if Mr. Hazard will be so kind, I require a ride back into town.”
            “What for?” Jed asked.

            Uncle Abe frowned slightly. “I am not welcome here, that is evident. Cassandra and I have rarely seen eye to eye. She is happy and well; that is all I wanted to see. I’m going back to Boston at week’s end.”

            He started for the door, but Cassie was quicker. She gripped his arm. “Wait.”

            “Yes, my dear?” His eyes swam with tears, and she had to fight to keep her own emotions in check.

            “That is why you came all the way out to New Mexico Territory? Not to persuade me to come back to Boston with you or to take the ranch from Jed or…or any of those things?”

            He shook his head. “Is it so impossible that I would want your happiness, Cassandra? I am the only family you have left.”

            “That’s not true,” she said softly. “I have Jed, and I have a brother, Tyler. I have Laughing Crow and Two Rivers, and Marianna and Miss Lavinia.”

            He covered her hand that remained on his arm. “You are the only family I have left, Cassandra. Please, forgive an old man’s foolishness. I have always wanted your happiness. If this is what it takes, then….” He sighed, and smiled through his thick beard. “I can ask for nothing more.” He kissed her forehead, then looked at Jed. “And now, sir, if you please….”

            “You’re not going anywhere,” Cassie said suddenly. “You’ll spend Christmas with us, Uncle Abe.”

            “We insist,” Jed said, standing beside her.

Uncle Abe shook his hand, then embraced Cassie warmly, the long beard tickling her cheek as it always used to on the rare occasions he did show affection. She realized now that he had been too worried about keeping her safe all those years that he’d forgotten to enjoy the time they’d had.

“Well,” he said gruffly, pulling away and straightening out his coat, “if I’m to stay here, we must have a proper Christmas dinner.”
            “We’re having beans, cornbread, and rabbit,” Cassie said.

Jed grinned. “And maybe some venison. Our friends, Laughing Crow and his family, will bring a deer, and our sheriff, Wade, makes the best apple pie you’ve ever tasted.”

“As I said,” Uncle Abe replied, “a proper Christmas dinner.” He removed his coat and hat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Get me an apron, missy. I’m going to tidy up around here so you may get ready for your friends.”

She tied her apron around his waist, her throat full of unshed, joyful tears. When she was done, he cupped her cheek in his warm hand and gave it a little pinch.

“How I’ve missed these freckles. You must come out and visit me in Boston.” He nodded at Jed. “Both of you.”

“We will.” Jed winked at Cassie as he headed for the door. “I’m going to chop some more wood and see to the livestock. I’ll come in when Laughing Crow arrives.” He paused and looked at Uncle Abe. “Merry Christmas, sir.”

“I find sir a little stuffy. Call me Uncle Abe.”

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Abe.” Jed grinned at both of them and went outside.

Cassie embraced her uncle. “Merry Christmas, dear Uncle Abe.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Cassandra.” He indicated the table. “Are you not going to open that pouch and see how much is in there?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I have everything I want right here.”

 You can find Anna:

Website

Facebook

Story links:

Christmas Joy, Beth Hill, Secrets Of Christmas, Carol Kilgore,

Husband For Miss Trent, Anne Gallagher, On The Outside Looking In, Yvonne Lewis

UPCOMING GUESTS:

WEDNESDAY(4th): Mia Marlowe And Connie Mason

FRIDAY(6th): Tawny Weber

ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN

Where ever you are and however you celebrate, May this Holiday Season bring you, laughter, joy, and many good memories! Thank you all for all the support, encouragement, and friendship.

A lovely English rose, Yvonne Lewis, shared evocative holiday piece for today's viewing. I admit, I've spent some time her site reading various pieces she has posted. She's an amazing writer.

If you like her piece she shared with us, do bestow a gift to her by sharing it.

ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN:

Outside of a shop window,

A boy, clothes all tattered and torn.

His hair a complete mess,

His shoes all dirty and worn.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

He peered into the toyshop window.

His sad eyes were transfixed.

He looked in awesome wonder.

Holding a bundle of sticks.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was just coming up for Christmas,

Would he get anything at all?

He nearly jumped out of his skin,

As he heard his mother call.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"I'm only on the outside looking in" he said.

As he noticed her anxious look.

For they were as poor as church mice,

She couldn't even afford a book.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Christmas Day dawned like any other day.

Cupboard, hardly any food.

Realization showed on his face,

That today was not going to be good.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

During the day a knock on the door,

Santa stood there looking merry.

With food for the two and toys for the boy,

For the mother a bottle of sherry.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"I was on the outside looking in" Santa said.

As astonishment showed on their faces.

With tears in their eyes, Santa said his goodbyes,

And was whisked off to faraway places.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Copyright . All rights reserved

You can find Yvonne: Welcome to My World of Poetry

On Christmas Day, there won't be a post but stories will resume next week, so be sure to look for them.