I apologize, but this has been a crazy week, so rather than post a new blog, which I didn’t have time to write, I am reposting an older blog. Hopefully, some of you will be seeing it for the first time. 🙂
***Keep an eye out for an upcoming contest where one lucky winner will receive this prize, along with a $10 Amazon Gift card. Follow my blog in order to receive notifications, including details of the contest.
As everyone knows by now, in my opinion, Elvis had it all. He was insanely gorgeous and sexy. His voice was phenomenal, magical. He could dance, he could act. He was generous and down to earth. And, people who met him said he had this special charisma that was impossible to put into words, impossible to resist.
And, Elvis did things that no other entertainers will ever do. Can you imagine performers of today; Justin Bieber, Justin Timberlake, Usher, Bruno Mars, and others like them, taking two years away from their careers to serve in the armed forces? (I guess these are good examples of the currently popular male singers. Either way, you get my point. :))
Elvis was so special, that my sister, Ruth, and I had to make a ‘deal’ when we played Barbies. Instead of having actual Ken dolls (we didn’t have a lot of money, so we had to make do with just the Barbies themselves), we would have imaginary guys for our Barbie boyfriends. However, since we would both want Elvis, and neither would give in, and it would be unfair for either of us to have him for our BB’s (Barbie Boyfriends), we struck a bargain. Neither of us could pick Elvis. He was just too untouchable, off limits. 🙂 Instead, we had to settle for guys like David Cassidy, Donny Osmond, Bobby Sherman, and so forth. Somehow, we made do.
Elvis generosity is legendary. He purchased FDR’s Yacht in 1964, intending to donate it to March of Dimes, but they refused the gift, saying the upkeep was too much. He ended up donating it to St. Jude’s Children’s Research hospital. I’ve heard stories, although I’m not sure how many of them are true, about his giving nature. One story is about a man who saw Elvis and a friend in Memphis one day. Elvis was searching his pockets for a dime to make a phone call. The man gave him a dime, and Elvis asked for his address so he could send him a thank you note. A few weeks later, the man received a letter from Elvis with the news that he’d paid off his mortgage. Of course, the stories about his giving away cars is almost as well-known as Elvis himself. One of my favorites is the story about the black lady who worked as a housekeeper at a hospital in Memphis. She was walking down Union Avenue and saw a stretch limo in front of a dealership with its doors open. She stuck her head in to look inside and commented on what a beautiful car it was. Elvis was in the car, and he instructed the man with him to order her one just like it. I also heard that, In 1975, he bought an electric wheelchair for a poor woman in East Memphis, and that he picked her up and personally sat her in it. The woman’s teenage daughter told Elvis she liked his car. He gave it to her and even gave her boyfriend a job. Even if some of these stories are exaggerated or fabricated, enough has been documented about his philanthropic nature for me to be certain he had a kind and giving heart.
Who is your ultimate celebrity? Why? Is it mainly because of their talent and appeal, or does it go deeper than that?
EOLS Charity
Elvis was known for his giving heart and charitable work during his lifetime. Lisa Marie and Elvis Presley Enterprises have continued that tradition with their involvement in various charities. In 1984, The Elvis Charitable Foundation was formed. The EPCF created a scholarship fund for students majoring in the arts. The charity also contributes to one of Elvis’ favorite charities, Goodwill Homes, a Memphis facility that provides counseling and services for abused children and their families. The EPCF also assists numerous other charities, especially focusing on arts, education and children’s programs.
On Elvis’ birthday this year, I released a Vintage Romance short story set in 1957, and of course, my heroine is an Elvis fan. 🙂 As a tribute to Elvis’ generosity, and in order to assist with this worthy cause, 10% of my proceeds for End of Lonely Street will go to the EPCF.
All Toby Lawson wants is to go to college to become a teacher and to be free of her alcoholic mother and some painful memories. But when her mother nearly burns the house down, Toby must put her dreams on hold and return home to care for her. The only time she isn’t lonely and miserable is when she’s listening to her heartthrob, Elvis Presley. His music takes her away and helps her escape from everything wrong in her life.
Noah Rivers has always loved Toby, but no matter what he says, she can‘t get past the fact that her drunken mother once kissed him. He soon realizes the true problem lies in Toby’s belief she’s not good enough for him and in her fear she will be just like her mother.
What will it take to prove to her that she deserves to be happy, and that he would give anything to be the man to make her dreams come true?
A dear friend of mine and very talented author, Anna Kittrell, shares a different method for reading aloud to catch mistakes in your writing:
Read Aloud, Hear Your Errors
by Anna Kittrell
Have you ever listened to a first grader proudly read a story while dragging his finger over every single word on the page? Indeed, he should be proud—he is mastering the skill of reading aloud. And as you sit smiling (or, perhaps shifting impatiently while Spot the dog runs on and on and on…) a habit is being reinforced that will not only help the child read better, but will also help him write better.
Reading aloud forces the brain to slow down and focus on each individual word, allowing the writer to hear errors initially overlooked. When used as an editing tool, this technique drastically improves writing quality. But what if your voice simply can’t hold up through that enormous work in progress? Take heart, there is a solution—Adobe Reader’s Read Out Loud option.
Not unlike that first grade child, Read Out Loud loves to read to you all day long, leaving you free to sit back and relax, with nothing to do but drag your finger across the page—and catch mistakes. Trust me, you’ll find plenty.
To use the Adobe Read Out Loud option, follow these six easy steps:
Save your word document as a PDF in the “Save as type” drop down box. This will turn your word document into an Adobe Reader file.
Open your PDF in Adobe
Go to your Adobe toolbar, and select “View”
From the drop down box, select “Read Out Loud”
Choose an option from the list that appears to the right: Deactivate Read Out Loud, Read This Page Only, Read To End of Document, Pause, or Stop.
(Tip: Since it is not possible to make changes within the PDF, I keep my original word document open. When I encounter an error, I pause the reader, pop over to my word document, and make corrections.)
Listen as the automated voice brings your words to life—sort of.
(Tip: During the Read Out Loud process, if you click on your document, a box will appear around a section of your text. After the outlined portion is read, the reader will stop. Repeat the above steps to re-start Read Out Loud.)
That’s all there is to it.
Okay, I admit the mechanical voice sounds a lot like the gal on my GPS, but I promise she will not say, “recalculating”—unless it is in your document. Sometimes she makes mincemeat of my characters’ names, which I find wildly entertaining. And, on occasion, a regular word such as bifocals throws her for a loop (she calls them biforcals).
Still, it beats reading aloud all weekend, getting laryngitis, and being unable to call in to work. Wait a minute—that sounds like a job for Adobe Read Out Loud! Type your excuse, save as a PDF, dial up your boss, and let the computer explain why you won’t be at work on Monday. Then spend the day cleaning up that manuscript—with Adobe Read Out Loud.
Anna Kittrell is the author of Romantic Suspense stories, Skinbound and Another Man’s Treasure
Plus, Inspirational Young Adult, Redbend High Series.
January 25, Robbie Burns Day! I was thrilled when Alicia invited me to answer interview questions about my latest book “Highland Harry” on that day. This Scottish-Canadian historical romance fits in well with the celebrations of Scotland’s arguably most beloved poet.
What perfect timing! I had never heard of Robbie Burns, but I’m so happy to share his special day with you. 🙂
Tell us about Highland Harry, where did you get the idea?
The idea for a book was inspired by tales of my grandfather, several times removed, George Fowlie, who immigrated to Northumberland County, New Brunswick, Canada in the late 1700’s. Although I’ve never been able to determine that he was, I assumed, for the sake of the book, that he’d been driven out of Scotland by the infamous Highland Clearances. In the backwoods George and his wife Jane established a farm and two mills, one grist, the other lumber. George died at age fifty, leaving Jane with all this to manage as well to raise nine children, the oldest fourteen, the youngest a mere two months old.
His wife proved a remarkable woman. She never remarried. She raised the children and managed the family interests on her own until she passed in her late 80’s. The Fowlie mills flourished until after World War II, a lasting tribute to this remarkable woman. Her eldest son, James, became a clergyman and, later, the first Professor of Natural History at prestigious Queen’s University.
“Highland Harry” is what I call a “what if” book. I wondered what would have happened if both George and Jane had died, if the care of their children had been left to a pair of unusual step parents, one a former Highland highwayman fleeing the noose, the other a tavern girl. Throw in a vicious enemy out to gain control of their prosperous holdings, and the plot was set to boil. Could these unusual and unexpected parents fight off all challenges and forge an enduring family, even a dynasty, out of all this adversity? You’ll have to read “Highland Harry” to find out.
Are there any tricks or habits you use when creating a story?
Not very original but I always try to walk in my characters’ shoes (boots, barefeet). I try to see the world as they would see and experience it. Sadly, sometimes I’ve inhabited their bodies too long and my real-life supper has burned to a black sludge.
What is one word you would use to describe yourself? What is one word you think others might use to describe you?
Shy. Others probably see me as distant or reserved.
What do you want readers to come away with after they read Highland Harry?
I would like readers to come away with a sense of the power and strength to be found in loving, caring family relationships, that by uniting for the common good, a family can conquer or, at the very least, manage any adversity.
If you could change something about one of your books that’s already released, what would it be?
I can’t single out one particular book. What I’d most like to do is expand on some scenes, give the characters more of a chance to reveal themselves and, in some cases, to draw a more detailed account of setting.
What is your favorite quote?
“God forgive me if I whine, I have two feet, The world is mine.” My father’s to me when I expressed discontentment.
What is your most prized material possession and why?
My mother’s copy of L. M. Mongomery’s “The Blue Castle.” She passed when I was sixteen. She left this book to me, a favorite of both of us. To me, it symbolizes our shared love of the printed word and keeps her memory always close to me.
Thank you for being with me today, Gail. I love that quote from your father. Very touching about “The Blue Castle,” I’m sure that is a prized possession.
Now, for Gail’s latest release…
Blurb:
After losing his family in the Scottish Clearances, Harry Wallace becomes infamous for his clever revenge on the ruling English upper class, but his success can last only so long. With the shadow of a noose hanging over him, he barely escapes with his life and sails for British North America and a town he’s heard of but never seen.
In New Brunswick, Maggie Fowler needs a champion, someone willing to fight for the home and holdings she and her seven stepchildren are trying to defend against a murderous, power-hungry enemy who has already killed the children’s father. Will footloose, devil-may-care Highland Harry meet her needs?
Excerpt:
He sat savoring another wee dram. God knew he needed it. He’d just been proposed to by the stepmother of seven children with mills, a farm, and an apparently dangerous enemy threatening her and her family. The widow of a fellow Highlander, a woman—together with her children—he was duty bound to help and protect.
In the flickering firelight he walked to the door of her bedroom and peered in through the space she’d left open to allow heat from the hearth to enter. In the wide bed, her shining chestnut hair adorning the pillow, Maggie slept, long eyelashes spread out over creamy cheeks. In her arms she cradled the golden-haired cherub named Eppie. On a rug on the floor beside them, Pig woke, looked up at him with strangely knowing eyes, grunted, then lowered her head and went back to sleep. What was a man to do with such a rare and unexpected family?
He wanderedback to the hearth, put a hand on the shelf above it, and stood staring down into the flames. Wind shrieked around the corners and snow buffeted the windows, but inside the log house, protected from the storm, he let a warm, secure feeling settle over him, a warm and secure feeling he hadn’t experienced at night since he’d been a lad in his father’s croft cottage during a blizzard much like this one. The ambience was seductive but perhaps false. After all, the family had a dangerous enemy.
He banked the fire for the night, then glanced back toward the bedroom where Maggie slept. Beautiful, unassuming Maggie. What would the future hold for her and the children if he decided not to stay?
After Elvis came home from the army, he once more began making movies and stopped touring. I can’t imagine how that must have felt to fans, waiting so anxiously for his return, then being unable to see him live in concert. Although, seeing him on the big screen was definitely a treat as well. 🙂
When the concept of a special featuring Elvis first came about, Colonel Parker originally had the idea of Elvis singing Christmas carols. But director Steve Binder wanted something more. After noticing how relaxed and natural Elvis was in rehearsals, and how he and the other musicians played off one another, joked around and impulsively performed old blues and rock and roll songs, he decided to run with that theme and he and his crew did everything they could to recreate that situation and help Elvis relax. Elvis was reluctant to perform live, he was sure people would laugh at him, but Binder brought in Scotty Moore and Bill Black, the musicians Elvis started with, to put him at ease. (Unfortunately, the other member of the group, DJ Fontana, had passed away in 1965.) Although Elvis was terrified, not long after taking the stage, he managed to set it aside, or at least to appear to. According to Binder: “If you look closely at the opening seconds of the show, there’s a close-up of Elvis singing. You can see his hand on the mike – and it’s visibly shaking. Then he sang 8 or 9 strains, and he was back.”
What developed was a phenomenal, ground breaking show, a mixture of big number performances with extravagant settings, such as the sequence with gospel songs and the musical ‘skit’ featuring Guitar Man and Big Boss Man. The ending number was a spectacular performance of Elvis, looking incredibly handsome in a white suit, singing ‘If I Can Dream’ a song written especially for the show, based on Elvis’ feelings about some of the issues going on in the world, including the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. Watch here:
The most memorable and impactful segment of the show had to be the ‘in the round’ jam session. Elvis in black leather, sitting around, joking and belting out some of his finer songs with his buddies surrounding him. Although I know Elvis was nervous, it certainly doesn’t show. He looks relaxed, sexy, confident as he smiles, jokes, and projects the famous Elvis swagger and charisma. Here is a little taste:
The show aired December 3, 1968, but I’ll be honest. I don’t recall seeing it at that time. I don’t know if my parents just didn’t allow us to watch it, or didn’t think about it (I was seven years old). My first memory of seeing the special was the following year in August, 1969 when my family traveled from Oklahoma to California, making stops in various states, including to visit my half-brother in Colorado. (They piled 5 kids in a station wagon Mom earned from selling Tupperware, and we embarked on the well over a thousand miles journey…what were they thinking???) I’m guessing the special was re-broadcast, or my memory is totally skewed, but I have this recollection of being at my half-brother’s house, and the 68 Special playing on his television. I was enthralled, captivated, couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. I’d already loved Elvis for as long as I could remember (and at 8 years old, that wasn’t all that long :)), but it was my first time to actually see him perform, other than in his movies, to see his amazing stage presence and the way he interacted with an audience and held them under his spell. Fortunately for all of us lucky enough to have seen Elvis in concert (for me, 3 times), this was the beginning of Elvis’ return to live performances.
The 68 Special was a smashing success. It was viewed by 42% of the audience and was the number one show that year, receiving critical acclaim and rave reviews. Elvis was indeed back.
What about you? Have you seen the special? What did you think?
I’m happy to introduce Katie O’Sullivan and her new release…
Hi, Alicia! Thanks for hosting me on your blog today to talk about my latest contemporary romance, MY KIND OF CRAZY. It’s definitely a “beach book,” which might sound crazy in the middle of this cold, cold winter but books are an escape, right?
My pleasure…yes, if you want to escape from the cold, a beach read is a great way to do it!
Where did you get the idea for MY KIND OF CRAZY?
My novel is set on Cape Cod, which is a popular tourist destination in the summertime but also my year round home. There are tons of cute little B&Bs and inns, although my innkeeping experiences were all in Vermont, where my parents owned a ski lodge/inn in Killington. Many of the secondary characters and businesses in the book are based on real people and places, although I had no specific B&B in mind while writing.
During the time I was working on this book, we were going through the process of home renovations, and talking with contractors and builders. The stories they told about some of their jobs were eye-opening!
Do you have another occupation in addition to writing?
I earned my degree in English literature, so all my “day jobs” have had something to do with writing. Since graduation from college, I’ve worked in advertising, public relations, journalism and bank reporting. I’ve covered high school football games and edited technical manuals. My current full-time job title has been “Mom”, but with one off in college and the other two in high school, I now have more time to write and edit. I love working with other authors to edit their work and help make their ideas sparkle on the page.
Would you rather have a bad review or no review?
I used to think “no review,” but I’ve realized that even bad reviews give you feedback and insight into what resonates with readers and what falls flat. And at least I can see that people are reading and responding to my writing. I mean, a reader gave me a one-star review for MY KIND OF CRAZY because there are – gasp – sex scenes in the novel!
If you could change something about one of your books that’s already released, what would it be?
I would love to rework my second novel, PERFECT STRANGERS, and re-release it. The editing wasn’t the best, and I feel like my writing has gotten so much stronger. I got the rights back from that publisher, and it’s definitely a project on my to-do list for 2015.
Tell us your favorite…
Movie:Groundhog Day (Bill Murray at his best)
Music:Rock/Punk Pop
Place you’ve visited:Stonehenge (have you been?? You have to see it in person!)
Place you’d like to visit:Australia
TV show from adulthood:True Blood
Food:Chocolate. No wait, is coffee a food?
Sports team: Red Sox, of course!
Thanks for having me here today!
It’s my pleasure. Thank you for being here. I also love the Red Sox! They’re my second favorite American League team! 🙂 I also LOVED True Blood, but I’m afraid the final season was a huge letdown. 😦 I have not been to Stonehenge, but it sounds like I need to go. Ha! How dare you put a sex scene in a romance novel!
About MY KIND OF CRAZY:
Kendall Roarke is betting everything on making her Harwichport Bed & Breakfast into the premier wedding destination on Cape Cod, despite her recent messy divorce.
Jonathan Reynolds moved back to the Cape to take over his uncle’s business and start fresh after his own marriage ended. He’s not looking for anything complicated – until he meets Kendall, with her big plans and wild mop of curls.
Throw an unruly foster puppy and an uptight new neighbor into the mix and things get a little crazy. Now Kendall has to decide if it’s the kind of crazy that she can live with… for the rest of her life.
Excerpt from MY KIND OF CRAZY:
He reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around her arm, not letting her leave the front hall. “Kendall?”
Again with the major electrical sparks zinging through her! She was afraid to look him in the eye, afraid he’d be able to see it in her face, the devastating effect he had on her. They stood so close she felt the heat from his body radiating, warming the small space between them. His touch was fire on her bare skin. She finally raised her gaze to meet his eyes, luminous and deep. She felt like she might fall into those green pools and drown.
Breathe in, breathe out. She searched for words to answer the unasked questions in his eyes but none came to her.
“Kendall.” He whispered her name again as if it were the answer to some puzzle he was trying to solve.
Thoughts whirled through her head at lightning speed. Nothing about this made any kind of sense— especially not her attraction to a complete stranger. But there was no denying the electricity that ran through her body from his simplest touch.
“I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” Her low whisper matched his.
“What are you looking for?” He moved closer, his lips brushing her mouth, tasting of beer and salted peanuts. His warmth pulsed through her in shock waves, her traitorous body responding all too eagerly. He tasted so good, the salt sizzling on her tongue. The kiss shifted from soft and gentle to solid and deep. Arms slid around her, pulling her close, but she was too wrapped up in the kiss to protest. Why complain? He felt so good, the hard muscles of his arms and planed chest underneath that thin dress shirt, and another hardness evident, despite his proper dress pants.
Suddenly Kendall remembered that this was the same man who was fooling around with the married cougar of a librarian. She wanted to be outraged for the unwitting spouse, but all she could think was, Lucky librarian.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. Vaguely she registered the wall behind her, pressing hard against her back. His clever tongue tangled with her own, sending fresh waves of desire rippling through her.
Even as her body screamed Yes! she slid her hand between them, firmly pushing him backward and breaking the connection. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to get hurt again.” Her eyes searched his before she turned her head to look away. If she looked into those eyes for one more second she would forget all about saying no and let her body do whatever it wanted.
About the Author:
Katie O’Sullivan lives with her family and big dogs near the ocean on Cape Cod, drinking way too much coffee and inventing new excuses not to dust. Living next to the Atlantic influences everything she writes, and her YA paranormal series features the mermaids who live in Nantucket Sound, outside her windows. A recovering English major, she earned her degree at Colgate University and now writes romance and adventure for young adults and the young at heart. Her editing column, “The Write Way,” appears in CapeWomenOnline magazine.
Christmas was Elvis’ favorite time of year. He was very much a homebody, and he loved Graceland, loved his family and friends. So, gathering at Graceland for the holidays was a special time for him. He was also extremely generous, and Christmas was an opportunity to share his good fortune on a grand scale, although he was generous all year round.
Here are a few photos of his home during the holidays. Graceland still uses the same decorations that Elvis had when he was alive. I have yet to visit his home during the Christmas holiday, but I would love to.
I love Christmas as well, and when I was younger, we used to listen to Elvis Christmas music while we decorated. I carried that tradition into adulthood and my children and I would do the same. It was a sweet, magical time and I cherish the memories.
My favorite performance of my all-time favorite Christmas song, Blue Christmas:
A few years ago, I wrote a very short (only three chapters) Christmas story as part of an anthology with other authors. I’ve inserted my entire story below. Guess what it’s titled? Give up? Blue Christmas! 🙂
I hope you enjoy…Merry Christmas!
*** Warning – Rated PG-13
BLUE CHRISTMAS
by Alicia Dean
Chapter 1
Someone was in the house.
Sophie Winston halted in the doorway, her hand frozen on the knob. A swallow clicked in her dry throat.
She’d turned the lights off before leaving for work that morning. She always did. But the lights were on now, and a man’s jacket was thrown across the back of her easy chair. Why would an intruder leave his jacket lying around? Not a smart move. But dumb or not, the guy could be dangerous.
Her heartbeat pounded through her eardrums. She fumbled her phone from her purse. Before she could dial 911, a man emerged from her kitchen. She screamed and dropped the phone.
“I-I have a gun,” she blurted.
He grinned. “Yeah? So do I.”
Oh God. She was lying, but he probably wasn’t.
She lifted her chin. “I called the police. They’ll be here any second.”
He frowned as if perplexed. “That’s odd since I didn’t hear you speak to anyone and I saw you drop your phone.” He inched closer and crossed his arms over his chest. “I assume Nathaniel didn’t tell you I was coming.”
“Nathaniel?”
“Your fiancé.”
She clenched her teeth. “I know who Nathaniel is. Why would he invite you here?”
He ran a hand through short dark hair. “I’m part of his security team. He sent me here to look out for you.” He reached into his jeans pocket, and she tensed, but when he pulled his hand out, a ring with a lone key dangled from his fingers. “See? He gave me a key. He didn’t tell you about the threats?”
Although she and Nathaniel didn’t live together, they each had a key to the other’s house. The man’s story was starting to sound plausible. But she wasn’t entirely convinced. “What threats?”
As a candidate for State Senate, Nathaniel was often in the public eye, but she’d never known of anyone wanting to harm him. If he’d sent someone all the way to Oklahoma City from Los Angeles to keep an eye on her, he must be concerned.
“It’s just a precaution. These things happen all the time. Some nut bag sent him a threatening email. He thought I should keep an eye on you. Just in case.”
Now that her fear had lessened, she took a moment to study him. He wore jeans and a button down black chambray shirt. The gun resting in a holster on his hip and the steel in his grey eyes made for an odd mixture of danger and sex appeal. Chill bumps raced over her skin, and she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to suppress a shiver.
“I’m sure you won’t object to my calling to confirm your story.” She bent her knees and lowered to retrieve her phone, careful to keep her skirt from hiking up while her gaze remained locked on the intruder.
He inclined his head. “Be my guest.”
She snatched up the phone and rose, then dialed Nathaniel.
“Nathaniel,” she said breathlessly when he answered. “Did you send Mr….” She lifted her brows questioningly at the stranger.
“Cooper,” the man provided. “Chase Cooper.”
Into the phone, she said, “Did you send Mr. Cooper to guard me?”
“Oh God, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I forgot to mention it, didn’t I?” He let out a frustrated sigh. “This campaign has got me going in a thousand different directions. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I received a threatening email, so I sent one of my security guys to stay with you until I get back.”
She closed her eyes, only semi-relieved. Chase Cooper was who he claimed to be, but how the hell was she supposed to live with a complete stranger for an entire week?
“Is it really necessary? I have an alarm system.”
“I’d feel better. Do it for me, please? Give me one less thing to worry about?”
Her heart warmed at the affection in his voice. She missed him. Why couldn’t he be the one here to look out for her? Because, he had a campaign to win. One that had taken up a majority of his time for several months. If she planned to be the wife of a politician, she had to make certain sacrifices. “Sure, yeah. He can stay.”
“Thank you, darling. Love you.”
“Love you.” She hung up and slid the phone back in her purse.
Chase lifted his hands, palms up. “All settled?”
She gave a reluctant nod. “You can put your things in the spare room. It’s down the hall on the left.”
“Already done.”
She didn’t ask how he knew which the spare room was. The man exuded a keen awareness of his surroundings. He likely didn’t miss much. Then, there was the fact that all her things were in her own bedroom. Not many people would miss that piece of evidence.
Moving further into the room, she said. “I’ll go change. I’d planned to make a light dinner for myself. I’ll cook enough for us both.”
“Don’t bother about me. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Easier said than done. His very presence dominated her small living room. She couldn’t pretend he wasn’t here if she lived in a twenty room mansion.
****
Sophie cooked spaghetti and tossed a salad. At her insistence, Chase joined her, and they ate in an uncomfortable silence.
When dinner was over, she said, “I’m going to watch Home Alone. Would you like to watch with me?”
“The movie about the kid whose parents leave him alone at Christmas?”
She nodded. “I usually end up seeing it half a dozen times during the Christmas season.”
“No thanks. I’m not much of a movie watcher. Especially Christmas movies.”
“You don’t like Christmas or just movies about it?”
He pushed away from the table and rose. “I’m not a fan of the holiday.”
“Why not?”
His dark brows drew together in a frown. “Can’t a guy hate a holiday without having a reason?”
She gave him an overly sweet smile. “I suppose so.” Grinch.
Standing, she began stacking plates, but he reached out and took hold of her wrist. His touch elicited a disturbing tingle, and she tugged loose from his hold.
He met her gaze, a small grin playing over his lips, as if he sensed the effect his touch had on her. “I’ll get this. You cooked. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your sappy movie.”
She swallowed, releasing the plates to him. “Thanks.”
An hour later, she was settled in front of the television. Chase wandered around the room, checking locks, studying the alarm pad, periodically moving from one window to the other, peering outside.
She lost track of his movements as the story drew her attention. When it showed the part where Kevin talked to the old man in church, tears clogged her throat, then spilled down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?”
Chase’s deep voice came from over her shoulder where he stood behind the sofa.
She wiped at the tears, embarrassment heating her face. “I always cry at this part.”
“Why do you watch something that makes you cry?”
She twisted to look at him and shrugged. “Because I love the movie. The ending makes it worthwhile.”
“All’s well that ends well, huh? Gotta love those happily ever afters.”
His sarcastic attitude took away her enjoyment of the movie. Pointing the remote at the tv, she clicked the power off and stood.
“I think I’ll turn in now.”
“What time do you go to work in the morning? I’ll take you.”
“Actually, we’re closed until after Christmas.” Thank God. She couldn’t imagine having him show up at work with her, shadowing her every move.
“Oh? What do you do?”
“I work for a printing company. It’s a small operation, family owned. They’re all about the holidays and family time.”
“Works for me. Makes my job easier. I’ll be across the hall. Let me know if you need me.”
****
The next morning after a shower, Sophie wrapped a towel around her body and opened the bathroom door. She glanced up and down the hallway for signs her guest. Seeing none, she headed toward her room.
She’d taken no more than three or four steps when Chase opened his bedroom door. He saw her, then halted, his brows lifting. She tightened her hands around the top of the towel to keep it from slipping.
God. How humiliating. She should have brought a robe, but she was accustomed to being the only one in the house and wasn’t in the habit.
“Sorry.” His voice held no hint of sincerity. “I didn’t know you’d be…less than clothed.”
“I didn’t think you were up yet.”
He nodded. “Apology accepted.”
She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, but fear of dislodging the towel kept her from it. “I didn’t apologize.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Does that mean you’re not sorry?”
She didn’t miss the amusement in his tone. He was toying with her.
His gaze roamed over her body, leaving shivery warmth in its wake. Although she knew she should leave, escape to her bedroom, some unseen force held her rooted in place. Her eyes met his, and an almost tangible burst of electricity passed between them. The sensation was disconcertingly close to desire. Did he feel it too or was her near-nakedness contributing to her wanton thoughts?
Guilt squeezed her heart. How could she react that way to another man? She loved Nathaniel.
But Nathaniel had never looked at her like…like she was a steak he wanted to sink his teeth into. Uninvited, thoughts rose of Chase’s mouth doing other things to her. Irritation sharpened her voice. “Nathaniel hired you to protect me. Not ogle me.”
He chuckled. “Ogle? Did we travel back to 1950 when I wasn’t looking?”
“Excuse me,” she bit out. Stalking past him, she hurried to her bedroom, her skin prickling with the certainty he still stood where he was. Watching her.
She avoided him for most of the day—as much as she could, considering they shared the same too-small house. She busied herself cleaning, catching up on emails, anything to avoid conversation, or a repeat of their uncomfortable encounter that morning.
To prevent being blatantly rude, she invited him to join her for dinner that evening. She cooked chicken and rice, making a mental note to go to the grocery store tomorrow—no doubt accompanied by Chase. She didn’t have enough food in the house for two. She hadn’t planned on entertaining for a week.
He seemed not to share her discomfiture. He tucked into his dinner like he didn’t have a care in the world.
After finishing off a second helping, he leaned back in his chair. “Dinner was great. You’re a good cook.”
“Thank you.” She inwardly glowed at the praise. Nathaniel was seldom in town, and when he was, they usually went out to dinner. It was nice having a man to cook for. Especially one who appreciated it.
“Let me ask you.” He glanced around. “Seeing as you’re such a fan of Christmas, why didn’t you decorate? Put a tree up?”
“I’m waiting for Nathaniel to get home. I don’t want to celebrate until he’s with me.” She smiled. “I can’t wait. It’s one of my favorite parts of the holiday. When we were young, my mother would play Elvis Presley Christmas music while my sister and I helped decorate the tree. There was something so special, so magical about it.”
“Magical? Decorating a symbol of the commercialism of a stressful, hectic holiday is magical?”
She refused to allow his cynicism to get to her. “Surely you have childhood memories about Christmas that warm your heart.”
He pushed back from the table and stood scowling down at her. “What part of I hate Christmas did you not understand?”
She flinched. “Sorry. You brought it up.”
He scraped his hand through his hair. “True. My mistake. Look. I’m here to do a job. Nothing more. If you’re in danger, I’ll protect you, but we don’t have to get all chummy and swap stories, okay?”
“Sure.” Annoyance tightened her jaw. Screw him. She refused to allow this cynical stranger to bother her. Even a little bit.
His head jerked in a nod before he strode from the room.
What an ass. He damn sure didn’t have to worry about her initiating any conversations. She was done with attempts at civility.
She gathered the dishes, trying to focus on thoughts of Nathaniel’s return to sooth her. But the hateful Chase Cooper kept intruding. At least with Nathaniel’s arrival, she’d see the last of him.
Just as she was finishing the dishes, her cell rang.
She smiled when she saw her older sister’s number on the caller ID. “Hey, Kate. How are things in Detroit?”
“Not great.” Her sister’s usual gaiety was absent.
“Has something happened? Are you all right?”
Kate’s sigh came over the line. “I wish I could tell you in person, but I think you need to know now, and I won’t be home for another week.”
“Tell me what?”
“Go to your computer. I’m sending you a link.”
Sophie booted up her laptop and signed onto her email, then clicked on the link Kate sent. It took her to a newspaper article that included a photo of Nathaniel.
Nathaniel kissing another woman.
Chapter 2
The headline read, Senator Nathaniel Bingham Rings in the Holiday with a Ho-Ho-Ho. Where is his Fiancée and is this the Gift she Expected?
Sophie’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, but when she looked at the screen again, the damning photo was still there. Tears strangled her voice. “Oh my God. He’s cheating.”
“I’m sorry, sis.”
“There has to be some explanation. He loves me.”
“What other explanation?”
She wanted to hang up, to cut off her sister’s voice of reason.
But Kate’s reality became her own as she stared at the photo of her fiancé playing tonsil hockey with a tall, curvy blonde. There was only one explanation.
“That son of a bitch.”
“What are you going to do?”
Sophie laughed, but it caught on a sob. “Dump his ass.”
“Good for you. That slime ball. Stay strong. Don’t change your mind before he gets home.”
“I’m not waiting until he gets home. I’m calling him right now.”
“Seriously? Atta girl. Call me if you need to talk. See you soon.”
Sophie jabbed the buttons on her cell so hard, the tip of her finger hurt. As soon as Nathaniel answered, she said, “I saw the photo.”
For several moments, there was only silence. Then, “I don’t have to ask which one.”
An icy chill surrounded her heart. For a second, she hoped he’d offer a plausible explanation, even though there was none. His response made it all too real. “Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”
“I knew there was a chance you would. I hoped you wouldn’t. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“Didn’t mean for me to see it, or didn’t mean to be a cheating bastard?”
He released a sigh. “Both. I met Trudy and…and it just happened. I fell for her. If it makes any difference, I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t.” She was annoyed that pain tightened her voice.
He sounded weary and resigned when he spoke again. “I was hoping I could wait and do this when I got back, but that’s obviously not an option now.”
“Do what?” She let out a humorless laugh. “Wait. You’re ending things with me? No way. You don’t get to do that. I was calling you to tell you it’s over. I’m the one ending things with you.”
“Does it even matter who does it?”
It shouldn’t, but it did. She’d been dumped three times in her twenty-five years. Never had she been the one to call things off. She’d examine later what the hell was wrong with her that she couldn’t hold a man’s interest more than a few months. But this time, she would do the dumping.
“It matters, asshole. We’re through.” The words were at the same time liberating and unbearable. “Just out of curiosity, why did you bother to send Chase Cooper to protect me if you care so little for me?”
“I care a great deal for you. No matter what, I don’t want you hurt by some crazed person with a vendetta against me.”
Her mouth twisted with bitterness. “What happens to me from here on out is none of your concern. I’ll send your bodyguard back to you.” She punched the end button, proud that she waited until she disconnected the call to cry.
She tossed her cell phone aside and stared in rapt, masochistic fascination at the computer screen. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from her fiancé—make that ex-fiancé—and the gorgeous bimbo in his arms. But then, she shouldn’t be all that surprised. There was no way she could compete with someone like Trudy. Unremarkable women such as herself—average-looking, auburn hair, blue eyes set a bit too far apart and a frame that often carried a few extra pounds—would always come in second to stunning blondes who looked like they’d stepped off the cover of Vogue.
“You’re crying again. Another movie?”
She jumped, whirling to see Chase standing behind her. Had he heard her phone call with Nathaniel? There was nothing in his expression, or his words, to indicate he had.
She turned her back to him and shook her head. “Please just go. I want to be alone.”
“Must be a doozy. Let me guess. It’s a Wonderful Life?”
With rage bubbling just beneath the surface and no one else to expend it on, she vaulted from her chair and advanced on him. “I’m not watching a movie. You were right, okay? Christmas sucks. The movies, the stupid trees, the music, it all sucks. And, by the way, you’re fired.”
His eyes widened, and he lifted his hands in surrender. “Chill out, okay? You didn’t hire me, so you can’t fire me. I stay on until Nathaniel tells me the job is over.”
She stood directly in front of him, hands on hips. Her chest rose and fell with the intensity of her anger, although why she was angry at him, she had no idea. “Well, Nathaniel’s a two-timing piece of shit, and I’m no longer in danger since I’m no longer his fiancée, so trust me, your job is over.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry. How did you find out?”
Her eyes flew to his. “You’re not surprised. You knew?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I worked on his security detail before he sent me here. I knew.”
“And you didn’t bother to tell me? To save me the humiliation?”
He smiled with sympathy. How dare he smile at her with sympathy.
“Would it have been less humiliating if a total stranger had told you your fiancé was cheating?”
No, it wouldn’t have been, but that was beside the point. “I expect you to be gone as soon as you can make arrangements. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a bottle of wine that needs my attention.” She went to brush past him, and he took hold of her arm, stopping her.
“Drowning your sorrows?”
She looked down at his hand, then back up at him, shaking off his touch. “No, celebrating. After all, it’s the holiday season, right?”
****
The wine bottle wasn’t quite full, so it disappeared quickly. The only other alcohol in the house was half a bottle of vodka.
Note to self, buy more liquor.
Not bothering with a glass—or a jacket—Sophie took the vodka out on the patio and plopped into a chair. Snow drifted down, and she lifted her face, letting the cold drops melt on her skin. She loved snow. When she and Kate were little, they’d build snowmen and her mom would make snow ice cream. She looked at the bottle in her hand. Could one make vodka- flavored snow ice cream? Surely there was some kind of recipe involving vodka and snow. Vodka came from Russia, right? It snowed in Russia all the time.
She giggled and tipped the bottle to her lips, taking a long pull. The liquor burned, and she coughed, then shuddered.
The patio door slid open. She didn’t bother to turn around. She knew who it was.
“What the hell are you doing out here? It’s freezing. You’re not even wearing a coat.”
“I’m coating my insides,” she slurred. “With this.” She lifted the bottle over her head.
Chase came around to stand in front of her. “You switched to vodka. Is that a good idea?”
She stood, intending to explain why it was a perfect idea, but the quick movement made her head spin. She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her forehead until the dizziness passed.
“Sticking with wine would be a better idea if I hadn’t run out.” She was pleased to note her words were slow, deliberate. Barely slurred at all. “That unfortunate circumstance made switching to vodka an excellent idea.”
“You’re already drunk. And you’re shivering. Here.” He took off his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders, then pulled the edges together under her chin. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Your jacket makes me feel warmer than the vodka did. Wearing it is kind of like when you touch me. I get this hot, tingly feeling.” She shoved her hair out of her face and looked up at him. “Weird, huh?”
He didn’t respond. Half his face was illuminated by the glow through the patio door, the other half in shadows. The rhythm of his breathing changed. She could hear the shift in the quiet of the drifting snow.
“Yeah, weird,” he finally said, his voice a raspy whisper. “Come on. Come inside.”
She let him lead her into the house where she dropped onto the sofa and took another swig of vodka. This one made her shudder, but it didn’t cause her to cough like the last time.
Chase took the bottle from her hand. “You’ve had enough. Maybe you should go to bed. Sleep it off.”
She peered up at him through a blur of tears. “Can you sleep off a broken heart?”
He smiled and reached down to cup her face in his palm. “Time will take care of the pain.”
She resisted the urge to close her eyes and stroke his hand with her cheek like a satisfied cat. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Pushing unsteadily to her feet, she slid his jacket off and let him lead her to her bedroom. As soon as she reached the doorway, her stomach clenched and nausea hiccupped in her throat. “Oh God,” she whispered.
Chase took hold of her shoulders and turned her toward the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet in time. He squatted next to her and pulled her hair back from her face while she heaved her guts out. In between bouts of vomiting, her cheeks burned with humiliation. She wanted to tell him to go away, but each time she opened her mouth to speak, she got sick again.
When the episodes finally passed, she dropped onto her butt, looking down at the floor so she didn’t have to face him. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him stand. Good. He was going away. Leaving her alone to wallow in her mortification.
She heard water running from the faucet. In moments, he returned and placed a cool, wet wash cloth on her forehead. He took her arm and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I need to brush my teeth. You’ll have to step out.”
He laughed. “I just watched you puke for half an hour, but you don’t want me in here while you brush your teeth?”
It didn’t make sense, even to her. But for some reason, the action seemed a little too…familiar. “Please.”
“Okay. Sure.”
He stepped outside the door. When she was done, she came out of the bathroom and let him guide her to her room. She took off her shoes, but remained fully clothed and climbed into bed.
Chase pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Goodnight. Get some rest.”
“Thanks, Chase. I’m glad you’re here.”
He chuckled and brushed the hair back from her face. “Drinking makes you a lot nicer.”
She might have said something in return, but she couldn’t be sure because, in moments, she was asleep.
****
Oh God, just let me die. Sophie winked her eyes open and quickly closed them. The room spun, so she opened them again, groaning in misery.
Was she still drunk? Her stomach roiled, and shards of pain pierced her skull. She’d had hangovers before, but this was the mother of all hangovers.
The door eased back. Chase stepped inside, holding a glass.
The memories of last night came rushing back, and her cheeks heated. He must be disgusted. Annoyed, appalled, and ready to get the hell away from her. Yet here he was.
He sauntered over and eased down on the edge of her bed. “Here, this should make you feel better.”
Warily, she eyed the reddish orange milky concoction he thrust toward her.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a makeshift hangover cure. You didn’t have everything I needed, so I had to improvise.”
“What’s in it?”
“A lot of stuff that’s good for you. Just drink it.”
She took the glass and brought it to her lips. The first sip made her gag. “Ugh. I can’t drink that. It tastes like fruity vitaminy milk.”
“Something like that. Quit being a baby and drink it. Trust me. It’ll help.”
Because she would have drunk pure gasoline if she thought it would help, she obeyed.
She emptied the glass and, surprisingly, felt marginally better almost immediately.
“Where did you learn to make that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Picked it up somewhere. I also heard that taking a shower and alternating between cold and hot water helps.” A wicked grin curved his mouth. “I’ll volunteer to man the faucets.”
She managed a smile. “I think I can handle that one my own, but thanks for the offer.”
“Any time. I’ve made you breakfast. It’s a good idea to get something solid in your stomach. You feel up to going to the kitchen, or you want me to serve you breakfast in bed?”
She frowned in confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”
He grinned. “I figure after what you’ve been through, you need someone to be nice to you. Even if it comes from an ogling, Christmas hating Grinch.”
His words coaxed another smile from her. “Look, I’ll make sure Nathaniel gives you your full pay, but I really don’t need a bodyguard—babysitter—any longer. I just want to be alone.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be. Not just yet. Is there someone I can call for you? I get why you don’t want me hanging around. A stranger isn’t much comfort at a time like this.”
She thought of his tenderness, the way he’d taken care of her last night. Crazy as it sounded, being with him didn’t feel like being with a stranger. But it was time for him to go. Before she did something stupid, like mistook his caring for real feelings, and made even more of a fool of herself.
“I can call my friend, Rayna. She’ll keep me company.”
He stood and took the glass from her. “Good. I’ll pack. Eat your breakfast, then call her. I’ll wait until she gets here to leave.”
She ignored the pang in her heart at the thought of never seeing him again. Totally irrational. In spite of his not feeling like a stranger, that’s exactly what he was. “You’ve got a good heart, Grinch.”
“You think so? I’ve been told it’s two sizes too small.”
Beneath the nonchalant smile and flip words, she detected pain. He’d been hurt too.
When he opened the door to leave, the aroma of bacon wafted in, making her stomach grumble. She hadn’t noticed before. Probably because she was too focused on her hangover…and Chase. But now she was starving. She quickly showered, then dressed in sweat pants and a tee shirt.
In the kitchen, she found scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the stove. She smiled. Who’d have thought Chase had a domestic side. She ate as much of the breakfast as she could force down, then dialed Rayna. Chase obviously wouldn’t be satisfied that his duties were over until she had company.
“Hey,” she said when Rayna answered. “If you’re not doing anything, can you come over? I could use a friend.”
“I’m sorry, sweets. I’m in Tulsa. I can come over tomorrow when I’m back in town. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. Too much to go into over the phone.”
“Okay, see you soon. Merry Christmas.”
Bah freakin’ humbug.
“Merry Christmas to you.”
Chapter 3
Chase insisted on staying until Rayna arrived. Sophie felt bad about imposing, but in spite of her telling Nathaniel she’d send his bodyguard back, he hadn’t called to officially release Chase from his duties. At least he would be paid for his time.
Later that evening, Sophie pulled back the patio curtains so she could enjoy the snow that had been falling steadily all day. A few inches had already accumulated, and the weather reports indicated a few more were expected by morning. The perfect setting for a perfect Christmas…or would have been if her jackass ex hadn’t totally ruined it for her.
She missed Kate. Missed her mother. She’d never known her father. He died when she was an infant. Her mom had moved to Florida so they only saw her every couple of years. Kate wouldn’t be home until the day after Christmas. Like this holiday didn’t already suck enough.
Sophie felt rather than heard Chase walk up behind her. That special tingly warmth she’d come to associate with him trickled over her skin.
“Sorry your friend can’t make it until tomorrow.”
She looked at his reflection in the frosted glass. “I’m sorry too.”
He settled his hands on her shoulders, and she tensed against the yearning that slithered through her.
“Is it so terrible that I’ll be here one more night?”
His husky voice vibrated through her system. She was tempted to lean into his touch. Only a few short inches separated her from his warm, strong body.
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “Maybe it should be. But for some reason, it’s not.”
His breath caught. She wasn’t sure if he’d applied pressure to turn her around, or if she’d done so on her own, but suddenly she was looking up into eyes that were now a stormy grey.
He tilted his head forward, and she raised her face to accept his kiss. His mouth was gentle as he coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside. She moaned and linked her hands behind his neck.
He moved his hands down to her hips, tugged her tightly against his body, pressing forward until she was against the cool glass of the patio door. Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down the sensitive flesh of her neck. A shiver of delight skittered over her flesh.
“Wow,” she murmured. “How did this happen?”
“I’m not sure,” he growled against her skin. “Maybe I’m the rebound guy.”
She cupped his face in her hands and lifted until he was looking at her. “Are you okay with that?”
He quirked a grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Some emotion came and went in his eyes so quickly she couldn’t identify it. Then his lips were back on hers and she no longer cared…no longer thought about anything except the delicious sensation of his mouth moving over hers, then down to her throat, her breasts…his hands shoving her tee shirt up, his fingers scorching heat along the skin of her lower back.
He pulled her with him, and they stumbled through the living room, not releasing contact, but still managing to shed their clothes.
In her bedroom, he pushed her gently onto the mattress. A brief flash of Nathaniel’s face popped into her mind, but Chase’s touch soon erased it. All coherent thought fled until there was only this moment, only the two of them locked together as snow fell against the darkened windows in a world gone silent, other than the sounds of harsh breathing and moans of pleasure as she gave herself completely to a man she’d only met a few days ago, but seemed to have known a lifetime.
****
Sophie thought she’d wake up filled with regret, but when she opened her eyes to find Chase’s handsome face on the pillow next to hers, relaxed in sleep, the only thing she felt was contentment.
Easing out of bed, she threw a robe on and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. While it brewed, she picked up their scattered clothing, a grin curving her lips as she recalled the haste in which they’d shed them. When she picked up Chase’s pants, his wallet fell out, the contents spilling to the floor.
A yellowed square of paper caught her attention. She unfolded it to reveal a newspaper article. The headline read, Christmas Eve Murder-Suicide Leaves Ten-Year-Old Boy Parentless. Sickness coiled in her stomach. The article didn’t mention the boy’s name, but that wasn’t hard to figure out. The parents’ last name was Cooper. The father shot his wife before taking his own life next to the Christmas tree. The boy had found them on Christmas morning.
“Oh, God,” she choked out.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She jumped at the sound of Chase’s voice, dropping the newspaper clipping. He stood scowling at her, wearing black sweatpants he must have grabbed from his room. His bare chest heaved with angry breaths.
“I—I’m sorry. It fell out of your wallet.” She was horrified, sickened, broken-hearted just from reading the article. She couldn’t imagine how Chase must have felt. He’d lived it.
“You had no right.” His voice was deadly quiet. He glared at her, his steely gaze filled with venom.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“
A snarl twisted his lips. “Now you know. Poor, tragic Chase Cooper. I guess that little romp was a way to erase both our holiday blues for a few minutes. Thanks for that.” He bent and snatched his clothing from the floor. “I’ll stay out of your way until your friend gets here.”
“Chase. I—“
“Save it. The Grinch and Mary Poppins make a bad match anyway.”
The ache that filled her heart now was different from when she learned Nathaniel cheated. It was deeper. And didn’t feel like it would go away any time soon.
How had she come to care so much for someone she barely knew? Maybe it was because, in spite of his gruff, tough guy exterior, he’d shown her a gentleness that Nathaniel seemed incapable of. Was it possible she hadn’t truly loved Nathaniel?
A thought occurred that she quickly shoved away. A small snort escaped. No way in hell had she fallen in love with Chase. It wasn’t possible. And it damn sure wasn’t smart.
No words were exchanged between them for the next few hours as they waited for Rayna. When she arrived, Chase politely introduced himself, then left without saying goodbye. The sound of the door closing echoed through Sophie’s aching heart. That was it. No more Chase. She’d never see him again. Why did the thought hurt so much?
“Who was that?” Rayna asked. “What’s going on?”
Sophie filled her in over coffee and poured out her misery.
“God.” Rayna shook her head. “You’ve had a rough week.”
Sophie let out a shaky laugh. “You might say that. Listen, you don’t have to stay with me. Chase didn’t want me to be alone, but I’m fine. I’m sure you have holiday plans.”
“Nothing until Christmas day. I’ll hang here until then. We haven’t had a slumber party in years.”
Sophie nodded, secretly grateful for her friend’s company. The only thing that could make the days leading up to Christmas more miserable would be if she spent them alone.
Over the next few days, they ordered in pizza and Chinese food, watched movies, and talked about old times. Rayna thought decorating would lift Sophie’s spirits, and she offered to help, but Sophie declined. Her heart just wasn’t in it.
By Christmas Eve morning, Sophie was going stir crazy. “How about we get out of the house?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Shopping. Driving around looking at Christmas decorations. Anything. I’ve been cooped up inside for days.”
Rayna’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Cooped up with Cooper doesn’t sound all that bad.”
Sophie groaned. “How about if we don’t talk about him? About either him?”
“Deal. Let’s go shop away your blues.”
The idea was a horrible one. Rather than cheering her up, the symbols of what had once been her favorite holiday only made her sink deeper into sadness.
On the car ride home, Sophie said, “Sorry I’m so pathetic. I promise I’m not going to turn into some maudlin creature pining for my lost love.”
Rayna glanced at her and lifted her brows. “Which love would you be pining for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen the way your face changes when you talk about Chase. I’ve never seen that look when you talked about Nathaniel, not even when you were with Nathaniel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly even know him.” But it certainly didn’t feel that way. It felt as though she’d lost something vital to the very air she breathed. She inhaled deeply and released a heavy sigh. She’d better get used to it. Chase was gone. For good. She forced a smile for her friend. “I promise I’ll be good as new for the new year. I just need to get through what’s suddenly become a depressing holiday.”
“The asshole who stole Christmas.”
Sophie laughed, a rusty sound that hurt her heart.
They pulled into Sophie’s driveway at six o’clock on Christmas Eve. The houses in the neighborhood were lit with colorful lights, save one. Hers stood dark and dismal. A fitting companion for her state of mind.
“Want me to come in?” Rayna offered.
“No, thanks. Your family is waiting for you.”
“You could come stay with me and join us for Christmas dinner.”
“I don’t think so. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”
“I haven’t been alone in weeks. I think maybe I need to be.” She grimaced. “If only to exorcise the demons.”
Rayna leaned over the console and hugged her tightly. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I know. Thanks.”
When Sophie stepped onto the porch, the sound of music reached her ears. Her gaze swept the adjoining yards. Nothing. Was it coming from inside her house? How could that be?
She turned her key in the lock and pushed the door open. She halted, sucking in a breath.
A brightly decorated tree stood in front of the patio door. Red ribbons and gold bells were strung across her living room, and a Poinsettia sat on each of her end tables. “Blue Christmas” by Elvis played on the stereo. Chase rose from where he sat on the sofa.
A knot lodged in her throat when he walked slowly toward her, stopping just inches away. His expression held a hint of hope and uncertainty.
“Too much?” he asked. “It’s the poinsettias, right? I knew that was too much.”
She shook her head. “Oh my God. What have you done?”
His eyes searched hers, the intensity in his gaze stealing her breath. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry for being such an ass. Nathaniel took Christmas away from you. I’m giving it back.”
She swallowed and shook her head again, unable to believe this was real. That he was here. “But…you hate Christmas.”
“I always did.” His voice was low, husky. “But that was before I met you. After I left, I went to a hotel. I didn’t have the energy or desire to book a flight back to L.A. There was no way I would work for Nathaniel again. Speaking of which. He called. The guy who sent the email was his mistresses’ ex. They have him in custody.”
“That’s a relief,” she said, although a small part of her wished the ex had at least had the opportunity to punch Nathaniel’s cheating face in.
Chase took her hand, circling his thumb on the skin along her inner wrist. Heat moved through her veins.
“I tried to stay away, but everywhere I looked, the world seemed to be spewing Christmas. It occurred to me that now it made me think of you. And that just felt…right.”
“You did all this. For me?” She shook her head and looked around. “And you did it really fast.”
He grinned. “I was a man on a mission. I didn’t know your favorite Elvis Christmas song, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with “Blue Christmas,” right?”
“Never.” She was barely able to breathe out the word. Her head swam. Chase…the decorations…his words, all felt like a dream…a crazy, wonderful, impossible dream.
“Say you’ll give us a chance and my Christmases will never be blue again.”
She choked out a tearful laugh. “That might be one of the cheesiest lines of all time.”
“Yeah, but did it work?”
“Oh, it worked, Mr. Grinch. It worked just fine.”
His cupped her face between his palms. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, then lowered his head to claim her mouth in a kiss that melted her bones and wiped away the last remnants of her holiday gloom.
I’m happy to introduce Velda Brotherton’s latest release from The Wild Rose Press and the fascinating facts she uncovered in her research…
Researching for this book, the second in The Victorian series, has been fun and somewhat surprising. I learned that a small sleepy town in Kansas was once the home of a large group of English/Scottish settlers who refused to embrace the western life, but rather brought their English life with them. From farm animals to lace for the tables, these people were determined not to leave their heritage behind.
I was raised in Kansas, but never knew the history of Victoria, Kansas until I visited my brother one summer. It so intrigued me that I knew I had to write not one, but three novels set there.
October, 1872 George Grant traveled by the Kansas Pacific railroad to Hays City. He was 50, with a vigorous six-foot frame, and carried himself with the grace and dignity of a king. He came to buy a large tract of land and form a colony of Englishmen. England was overcrowded. Worthy men could not make a living and young men had little future. He would name the colony for the queen, the Victoria Colony.
Wild Bill Hickok was marshal of nearby Hays City and enforced the Colt law. He shot up a bunch of soldiers from the Seventh Cavalry and was run out of town. Buffalo Bill Cody killed buffalo and peddled the meat from door to door in Hays City. Calamity Jane came from the east and could swear, shoot and hold her liquor with the best of them. She was genial and immoral and well liked, starting trouble wherever she went. Shootings were so regular it was like one long fourth of July. Hays City was one wild place.
Trains ran irregularly and rarely at night for fear of Indian Attack. Beyond Hays City the prairies stretched smoothly as far as they could see. In the far distance the blue sky kissed their purple edges. Antelope and buffalo grazed on the short green grass. Tall crimson grasses waved along the creek banks and sunflowers grew along the RR tracks. .
Permanent residences in the new settlement were all to be of stone, the frame buildings being turned over to the hired help. There would be free schools, a church, a library and special train rates. He would keep a herd of high-blooded stock, cattle, horses and sheep, a supply of pure seeds, steam cultivators such as were in use in England. None of these things were available to homesteaders.
On April Fool’s day 30 English and Scottish began their journey to America and the prairies of Kansas aboard a steamship leaving Scotland to begin a trip that would take a year by ship, rail, boat, and often horse-drawn stages. Many came with the assurance that allowances varying from 50 to 200 dollars a month would be sent to them regularly. They were called remittance men and were, for the most part, unmarried and in their early twenties.
On May 17, 1873 Mr. Grant and his first colony arrived at Victoria. In the group were 38 men, women and children and several head of Black and Red Aberdeen Angus Bulls, some sheep, and supplies needed upon their arrival. The Bulls were later placed on his own ranch and used to cross breed the long horn cattle from the area. Victoria became the birth place of Aberdeen Breed in America. The settlement grew and flourished for ten years. A nearby German settlement finally took over as the English moved out. No stone castle remain. Today the site is the home of St. Fidelis Church.
Blurb: Rowena’s Hellion- The Victorians —
Loving a man damaged by war is a challenge, but Rowena was captivated from the first time she laid eyes on the man her sister was supposed to marry. Something about his haunted eyes captured her nurturing heart. Building a life together proves difficult as she struggles to bring peace to Blair Prescott.
He rode the Kansas prairie in the moonlight, wild to escape the visions of the dead who followed him from the battlefields. The woman Rowena haunted him as well, but he dared not follow his desires. He would only hurt her.
Velda Brotherton writes of romance in the old west with an authenticity that makes her many historical characters ring true. A knowledge of the rich history of our country comes through in both her fiction and nonfiction books, as well as in her writing workshops and speaking engagements. She just as easily steps out of the past into contemporary settings to create novels about women with the ability to conquer life’s difficult challenges. Tough heroines, strong and gentle heroes, villains to die for, all live in the pages of her novels and books. Her writing lives up to her brand: Sexy, Dark, and Gritty.
She lives with her husband and writes from their home in the Ozarks of Arkansas. Her career spans nearly thirty years with close to that many books to her credit.
Thanks for asking me to visit today, Alicia. I’m offering a $25.00 gift certificate to Kat’s Kustom Karry Alls and/or Aprons With Attitude to one person who leaves a comment AND an email address to contact them. 🙂
Thank you for being here, and for giving away such a fabulous prize!
Do you have another occupation, other than writer?
I am a retired nurse, currently a raging empty nester as a result of my youngest grandchild going off to all day kindergarten last month. It has not given me any more time to write but I now have a lot more time to sew and I like that a lot.
What do you love that most people don’t like and wouldn’t understand why you do?
I am also a retired victim advocate, a profession which causes many people to develop a wicked gleam in their eye [the tell me all the gory details sort of reaction] or turn away in horror. I loved that job; it made me a better person, a better woman.
What’s your favorite book of all time and why?
Too many to count but “Shanna” and “Ashes in the Wind” by Kathleen Woodiwiss, “Carolina Moon” and “Carnal Innocence” by Nora Roberts make me laugh out loud.
What’s your favorite childhood book?
Mila 18 by Leon Uris. I started reading things well beyond my grade level at a young age—something that caused great consternation among my parents and uncles after I started asking questions about anti-Semitism and genocide.
What is your favorite quote?
Any Ouiza Boudreau dialogue line in Steel Magnolias. Rather, any Ouiza Boudreau line out of the mouth of Shirley MacLaine. I loved that movie. Adored it.
Your favorite…
Movies: Steel Magnolias and The Stoning of Soraya M.
Music: anything by the Bee Gees, George Gershwin and the Four Seasons.
Place you’ve visited: Saranac Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of northern New York State.
Place you’d like to visit:I’d love to take a Viking River Cruise through eastern Europe
TV show from childhood: 77 Sunset Strip
TV show from adulthood: Right now it’s Longmire and Justified
Food: anything except raw fish.
Sports team: Now that Moe Rivera and Derek Jeter have retired I have no favorite team.
Caper Madness…
This attraction: Complete madness or—sheer magic?
P.I. Nick Forrester comes to Cape Brendan ostensibly to assist with Caper Madness, a month long celebration of everything Halloween. In reality he is tracking a woman on the run. Within days he is confronted by Annunciata Doyle, a vivid reminder of a pain-filled past.
After retreating to Cape Brendan in defeat and humiliation, Nunie Doyle’s only hope was to make the best of forced retirement. There, in this quaint tourist town on the shores of Lake Ontario, she earned the love and respect of new friends and neighbors—and put her talent for helping women to good use.
With the mutual goal of making Caper Madness the best ever, Nick and Nunie fight tooth and nail on the personal level, each discovering a new side to the other, sides that make them consider making drastic changes for the rest of their lives.
Excerpt:
Hank let out a holler just before a huge toothy grin spanned the borders of his gaunt cheeks. “Top o’ the marnin’ to ye, Missus!” he cackled to someone exiting the front door of the stone cottage next door.
Taking the concrete steps to the sidewalk in two lithe moves, a woman in a slinky dress the color of ripe tomatoes glanced their way and responded in a distinct Irish brogue. “And the ass end of the day to ye, Mistur Pierpont.”
Intrigued by rich tone of her voice, Nick craned his neck and found one of the witches from yesterday’s parade—minus the droopy velvet hat—passing within steps of Hank’s porch. A bulging garment bag hung over one arm; she looked headed in the direction of the pier at the end of Vincentian Lane. Damned if right then a wind didn’t jump up off the lake and mold the filmy length of scarlet against each curve of her body. Long black hair—and there seemed to be a good ten pounds of it—flowed over her shoulders, caressing her body like a lover as she marched toward Dingle Pier. As his heart bumped into a trip hammer beat, Nick reminded himself to breathe.
“Ferget yer broom, Missus?” Hank called out to her retreating back.
“In the repair shop,” she replied over one shoulder, winging that glorious onyx hair away from lips painted to match her dress. “Gettin’ fitted with a couple of those fancy turbo boosters, it is.”
Hank chuckled, then went back to his coffee. “Turbo boosters. That Nunie Doyle; sure is a pistol.”
An invisible fist reached down to grab Nick’s gut in a vise. As recognition flared, long buried rage took a slow crawling path up his spine.
Five years had evoked more than a few changes in Annunciata Doyle. Much thinner, he noted, but as far as he was concerned she’d always been a bit on the hippy side. Back then her weight was something she’d thrown around with ease—or when the mood suited. When it came to cops, it suited her often. The hair was another matter. Who knew when she freed the ruthlessly tight bun she’d always sported, her hair would fall past her waist in a curtain of black velvet curls?
In the costume of a Witchy Poo—and wasn’t that appropriate considering what she’d done to several of his fellow officers—her current manner of dress was looser, certainly more feminine than the severe straight-jacket type suits she wore back when reporters hung on her every word and judges clamored for her to speak as an expert during the sentencing portion of criminal trials. Counselors and advocates proclaimed her the patron saint of victims and survivors.
Which, in his opinion, was complete bullshit.
“You hear me, boy?”
“What? Sorry, Uncle Hank. I got—distracted.”
“Easy to do with that one. Be careful though.”
She took the first step leading into the gazebo. As she moved the thigh high split on the dress opened to expose a slender silk covered leg. “Why is that?”
“Folks around here call her the Black Mamba. Dangerous for any man who shows much of an interest.”
No big secret there, Nick mused sourly.
The Crone his brother officers had called the Director of Crime Victim Services back then. A woman who proved herself fully capable of destroying a man’s career with one carefully placed phone call to the police brass—or worse—the local media. Or, as she accomplished with one blow, dropping a name during during a notorious child sex abuse trial.
The ensuing scandal ended badly for all concerned, including the loss of several careers and, in the case of Nick’s best friend, suicide.
To purchase Caper Magic or any other book by Veronica Lynch or Kat Henry Doran, go to: www.thewildrosepress.com, click on author search
BIO:
Writing under the names Kat Henry Doran and Veronica Lynch, author Kathy Cottrell uses her experience as a nurse, victim advocate and insurance investigator for background in her award winning novels and novellas. Her stories are set in her favorite places to visit: the Catskill and Adirondack Mountains as well as the Saint Lawrence River in the historic Thousand Islands region of Upstate and Northern New York State.
When not writing, or chasing grandchildren, Kathy spends her time designing and making tote bags and aprons to custom order.
As everyone knows by now, in my opinion, Elvis had it all.
He was insanely gorgeous and sexy. His voice was phenomenal, magical. He could dance, he could act. He was generous and down to earth. And, people who met him said he had this special charisma that was impossible to put into words, impossible to resist.
And, Elvis did things that no other entertainers will ever do. Can you imagine performers of today; Justin Bieber, Justin Timberlake, Usher, Bruno Mars, and others like them, taking two years away from their careers to serve in the armed forces? (I guess these are good examples of the currently popular male singers. Either way, you get my point. :))
Elvis was so special, that my sister, Ruth, and I had to make a ‘deal’ when we played barbies. Instead of having actual Ken dolls (we didn’t have a lot of money, so we had to make do with just the Barbies themselves), we would have imaginary guys for our Barbie boyfriends. However, since we would both want Elvis, and neither would give in, and it would be unfair for either of us to have him for our BB’s (Barbie Boyfriends), we struck a bargain. Neither of us could pick Elvis. He was just too untouchable, off limits. 🙂 Instead, we had to settle for guys like David Cassidy, Donny Osmond, Bobby Sherman, and so forth. Somehow, we made do.
Elvis generosity is legendary. He purchased FDR’s Yacht in 1964, intending to donate it to March of Dimes, but they refused the gift, saying the upkeep was too much. He ended up donating it to St. Jude’s Children’s Research hospital. I’ve heard stories, although I’m not sure how many of them are true, about his giving nature. One story is about a man who saw Elvis and a friend in Memphis one day. Elvis was searching his pockets for a dime to make a phone call. The man gave him a dime, andElvis asked for his address so he could send him a thank you note. A few weeks later, the man received a letter from Elvis with the news that he’d paid off his mortgage. Of course, the stories about his giving away cars is almost as well-known as Elvis himself. One of my favorites is the story about the black lady who worked as a housekeeper at a hospital in Memphis. She was walking down Union Avenue and saw a stretch limo in front of a dealership with its doors open. She stuck her head in to look inside and commented on what a beautiful car it was. Elvis was in the car, and he instructed the man with him to order her one just like it. I also heard that, In 1975, he bought an electric wheelchair for a poor woman in East Memphis, and that he picked her up and personally sat her in it. The woman’s teenage daughter told Elvis she liked his car. He gave it to her and even gave her boyfriend a job. Even if some of these stories are exaggerated or fabricated, enough has been documented about his philanthropic nature for me to be certain he had a kind and giving heart.
Who is your ultimate celebrity? Why? Is it mainly because of their talent and appeal, or does it go deeper than that?
Elvis has been quoted many, many times over the years. In some of the quotes, his vulnerability and insecurity come through. In some, his wisdom, and in others, his love for his fans. Those who were close to Elvis emphasized how much he loved and appreciated his fans. In spite of his unparalleled success, he never forgot how it came to be.
Author Alicia Dean 