Angela has been a very dear friend of mine for 30 years, and she is a gifted writer. She is 96 years YOUNG and still writing heartfelt historical romances.
I highly recommend every one of her historical novels. She writes straight from the heart, and her stories are 100% genuine and authentic–because she was THERE!
About Angela
I was born on August 22, 1929 in Long Island City, NY. I grew up in Astoria, NY. I wanted to be a teacher,
but got drafted into the family business. Then at age 29 (which was very old as per Italians) got married. Then in my late 70s, I bought a computer and started writing hysterical/historical family tales my family was tired of hearing. I love music and I sing
opera arias by Giacomo Puccini. My grandson, at a very young age, asked me why I sing in the shower. I responded, "The door is locked and nobody can tell me to shut up!"
A 96 year old “new author” focuses on early Italian immigrants
In Those Days is a short essay written by Angela M. Rosati, the daughter of Italian immigrants from Basilicata (father) and Puglia (mother). Raised in Astoria, Queens, the same neighborhood as the great Tony Bennett (born Anthony Benedetto), Rosati has made it her mission to document the Great Migration (1880-1924), specifically via the experiences of her family. What’s interesting about Rosati is that she first began writing in the 70s—no, not the decade, but her age. A self-described “Nanny Granny,” she was in her late 70s, bought a computer and began writing personal stories and mini-novels “when my grandchildren were busy outside playing after school. I didn’t know I could do it.”
She did, and she hasn’t stopped. Over the past 18 years—she turns 96 this August—Rosati has turned out 11 books centered on the idea of teaching the latest generation that life for early Italians “back in the day” wasn’t all pasta and roses. As she puts it, “They need to know how offended and ill-treated we were. Yet we didn’t sit on the curb and cry. We prevailed because we knew who we were, we knew our strength.”
That strength was something called Italian culture: “Cuisine! Music! Art! Movies! Food! Operas! Who writes them better? When a soprano enters a singing contest, she sings, ‘O Mio Babbino Caro’ by Giacomo Puccini. A guaranteed win!”
Ms. Rosati came to my attention a month ago after she emailed to compliment me on a recent blog. It was very fortuitous, as I had been having discussions with colleagues over the appalling (and depressing) lack of representation of Italians in American history. Peruse any current social studies book in our nation’s schools and you will see none of our heroes and heroines—our role models—ever mentioned.
Instead, you will see what I call the “Three C’s”: Columbus, Capone and Cascades of Unwashed Immigrants. Even the story of Sacco & Vanzetti, whose 1927 execution in Boston remains a template of anti-immigrant prejudice, is hardly ever mentioned anymore.
The first two C’s are now radioactive. Capone always has been, but Columbus has become (unfairly and unjustly) a lightning rod of scorn by angry activists. And the Cascade of Unwashed Immigrants is more like one big, gigantic, amorphous blob—an uninspiring pile of nothing.
Rosati’s writings are invaluable in that they turn that blob into individual cells. She puts human faces on those follicles. If our nation still refuses to publicly proclaim any pride in, say, inspiring role models like A.P. Giannini or Ella Grasso, they can’t keep suggesting that Italian immigrants themselves were of no value. By documenting their suffering, by personalizing it, Rosati’s books say to academia, “Oh, yeah?”
She does it with humor: “I was the third, and only girl, of four kids. When some people heard this, they would say, ‘Oh, you must be the queen.’ Yes, I’m queen of the mop and the ironing board. My parents were careful not to spoil me and my three brothers.”
She does it with drama: “My father, Angelo Russo, rarely spoke of his wartime experiences. He fought for Italy during WWI in the Austrian campaign. But, he had nightmares. We would hear him vocalize sounds at night. And Papa did tell us once, when he was in the trenches, one of his buddies from Bari said, ‘Russo, I’m afraid to die.’ Immediately, he received a bullet in his skull. Papa said there was blood, brains and flesh everywhere. He never recounted any other similar stories after that.”
And she does it with a childlike candor, whether relating unkind comments from Irish or German neighbors or relating how teachers in the schools routinely slapped Italian boys “because they (the teachers) knew the Italian boys would never squeal on them. Parents always thought the teacher was right. The Italian boys endured the embarrassment of those slaps rather than get a beating from offended parents.”
As a witness to both the good and the bad, Rosati is in an excellent position to see how Italian Americans triumphed over their often-difficult circumstances. So it has some gravitas when she compares the reality of real Italians to images perpetuated in the media: “The way Hollywood depicts Italians is all wrong. The men are depicted as thieves, gangsters, and murderers. The women are all depicted as whores and liars. Unfortunately, most Italian Americans today, and others, believed the baloney. But the damage is done and we must correct it.”
Rosati is heroically doing so by documenting our true stories.
Pam & I have hosted each other many times; today I'm featuring her new book of short romances A HINT OF ROMANCE.
Why did Pam write A HINT OF ROMANCE?
"As a novel writer, short stories are a welcome
diversion, but also a challenge. To tell a complete story in so few words can
sometimes frustrate one who thrives on the detail and description found in a
novel. Some of these were written with a particular women’s magazine in mind. Others were for the publisher I was with earlier in my career who listed them for free through the website or for 99 cents at Amazon. ALL were
written for fun and the experience. A friend of mine said I write excellent
short stories. I hope I’ve done well enough in these to entice you to want to
read my longer works."
About the Stories in A HINT OF ROMANCE
Twin Flames: Twins, Raymond and Raelee MacFarland have
spent a couple of years and a ton of money turning the property they inherited
from their uncle into a small guest ranch, rebuilding their lives after her husband runs off with
his wife. Will they succeed and
perhaps, get a second chance at love?
Like a Rock: Macey
finds herself at a crossroads when her and Jerry’s youngest child leaves for
college. Will their love survive midlife crisis and empty nest syndrome?
The Big Catch Karla and, the love of her
life, Jeff, have uncovered some uncommon ground: The Great Outdoors. For the
life of her, she does not understand his love of fishing and how he can spend
so much time doing so. Will she come to love the sport as much as he or will
his passion for a rod and reel tangle up their relationship?
A Hero for Jessica: Anthony
Paul Seville is known as the ‘most eligible bachelor’ in New Orleans, possibly
even the entire state of Louisiana, but finds himself alone—completely and
explicitly alone. Jessica Aucoin is a writer on her way to fame and fortune but
is haunted by a man from her past. Will the “champion” lawyer and the author of
romantic suspense find love written in their future?
In His Sight: Grade school teacher Carson
Alexander has a gift—a gift that has driven a wedge between him and his family.
Worse, it’s put him at odds with God. Feeling alone and misunderstood, Carson
views God’s gift of prophecy as the worst kind of curse…that is until he meets
Lorelei Conner, landscape artist extraordinaire, and perhaps the one person who
may need Carson and his gift more than anyone ever has.
Lorelei
Connor is a mother on the run. Her abusive ex-husband has followed her all over
the country trying to steal their daughter. Distrusting of men and needing to
keep on the move, she’s surprised by her desire to remain close to Carson
Alexander. Through her fear and hesitation, she must learn to rely on God to
guide her—not an easy task when He’s prompting her to trust a man.
Can
their relationship withstand the tragedy lurking on the horizon?
Review of Love: Jason Stockwell has been
commissioned to interview Kylie Erickson and to review her books. The only
problem is, she won’t give the time of day much less an interview to someone
whose type of writing she deems not worthy of respect. Can they suspend their
judgmental attitudes and find true love?
Paper
Roses: Widowed
eleven years, Patti Howard has found herself enamored with her son’s football
coach. Will a homecoming tradition give them a chance at romance?
Journey’s End: Ellie Thibaudeau’s travelling days ended when she bore a
daughter who, in turn, left a granddaughter to be reared in the small town of
Wellington, Florida. With retirement on the horizon will her dream of seeing
the world come true with a new man or will she be resigned to staying put and
live vicariously through her Angel Girl, Callyn?
Soul
Mates Jolie LeBlanc has used
her Masters in Archeology and Minor in Anthropology to study the paranormal all
over the world and ends up on five acres of land supposedly haunted by the
famed pirate, Jean Lafitte. Will she and her soul mate will reconnect once
again or will she live another lifetime without him?
I'm currently working on the 4th book in my "Sassy Ladies Series" and have found a kindred soul in Joan, whose series is called "Forgotten Ladies." I've read, enjoyed and highly recommend every one of them (see my Amazon reviews). Her newest release celebrates Vinnie Ream, the Victorian sculptress whose statue
of Abraham Lincoln stands in the Rotunda of the U. S. Capitol.
About Joan
When she is not writing in her studio by the sea, Joan lives an 1860s farmhouse stacked to the
ceiling with books. In a life full of adventures, she has scaled mountains,
chased sheep, and been abandoned on an island for longer than she wants to
remember.
An ethnographer, educator, and award-winning
author who loves mentoring writers, Joan blends her love of history, and
romance into eye-opening historical novels about women who shouldn’t be
forgotten and into romantic thrillers under the pen
name, Zara West. She is the author of the award-winning romantic suspense
series The Skin Quartet and the top-selling Write for Success series, and of
multi-award-winning biographical historicals
including THAT DICKINSON GIRL, CENSORED ANGEL, and now PRAIRIE CINDERELLA.
I snap my head up. The woman is a stranger, but
I can tell she hasn’t come to make a purchase or praise my work. Beneath her
fashionable hat, adorned with bunches of fake cherries, she wears the
nose-pinched expression of someone smelling not the rose petal potpourri
discreetly placed around the studio, but the stench of something foul.
She moves along the wall, studying the
medallions on display. “These are yours, Miss Ream?” She glares at me. “You are
Miss Ream, I presume?”
I grab the wet rag hanging on a hook by my work
stand and wipe the clay dust from my fingers. “Vinnie Ream, at your service.
All the works here are mine. And available for purchase.”
She puts on spectacles and peruses my newest
work—the bust of a bare-breasted young woman, which I’ve christened Violet.
The woman straightens. “Heard about you. Had to
see for myself.” She gives me a long stare. “I’m Jane Swisshelm.”
A polite greeting sticks in my throat. Everyone
has heard of the razor-tongued, overly opinionated journalist who gave her all
to the wounded soldiers during the war but then had the distinction of being
fired by both Horace Greeley and the War Department for being too radical in
her news articles.
I curtsy and force out a response. “You are most
welcome to my little studio, Mrs. Swisshelm.”
“Little studio? You’re right here in the
Capitol. That’s an honor deserving of a renowned artist like Clark Mills, not
you. You look to be all of fourteen. But buxom enough, I guess. And all that
hair. No wonder the men are rapturous about you. Be forewarned: I am not so
easily persuaded by a bit of feminine fluff.”
She sails across to my bust of Lincoln and
places her hand on top of the head as if my most important work is nothing more
than a doorpost. “Heard you’re claiming the President himself posed for you?”
How dare this woman accuse me of lying? I bite
out the words, “He did.”
“Well, my good friend, Mary Todd, disagrees.
Says she’s never heard of you.”
“My arrangement was with the President and his
secretary.”
“So you say.” She clasps her hands in front of
her own less-than-generous bosom. “I’m here to tell you to drop the petition
you’re circulating. You have no right to make a marble sculpture of him.”
I should grovel. Pretend to think about her
suggestion. After all, I’m not sure what I am going to do. But I can’t. The
woman reminds me too much of Ma and her dictates. So, I throw back my shoulders
and firm my voice. “You can’t tell me how to pursue my career.”
She comes closer. “Give up the petition, or I’ll
spread the rumor that your obscene woman in the shop window is actually you. A
self-portrait, shall we say.”
“What? Are you blind? That looks nothing like
me. That is a classical pose based on numerous renowned works of art.”
“It is unsuitable for you to show such
nakedness, and an insult to all women. Men do not need their lust stirred by
bared breasts.”
“It is a most appropriate work to be created by
a woman. Why should only men be allowed to sculpt our sex? No one criticizes
them for sculpting nude males.”
Her lips pinch together. “The only reason to
create nudes of either sex is to titillate.”
“The human body is beautiful and wondrous. It
must be. After all, the Lord has modeled a good many people in the nude.”
Swisshelm sneers. “Our good Lord has no place in
this den of obscenity or in this discussion. Mark my words. If you continue the
course you have set for yourself, you will be rebuffed in society.”
“Society, as you call it, doesn’t accept me now—an
upstart girl from the wild prairie who works with her hands. But people who
value excellent artwork support me with their pocketbooks.” Poker-hot anger
overrides my commonsense. “Long after you are gone and your newspaper turned to
dust, Mrs. Swisshelm, my work—nude or dressed—will endure. Do your worst. I’m
going to get that commission.”
Why Joan wrote PRAIRIE CINDERELLA: The Story of American Sculptress Vinnie Ream
Hoxie
Vinnie Ream was both celebrated and reviled in her lifetime. She was petite,
outgoing, and female. The fact that she wanted to be a sculptress at a time when
the art world was dominated by men who believed only European-trained artists
were the best is what makes her success more incredible.
Yes, some of her success was due to chance. Because she was born in a log
cabin like him, Abraham Lincoln at the height of the Civil War gave her
permission to sketch and sculpt him during his afternoon naps. After his
assassination, at the age of seventeen, she rose to prominence for her bust of
him done from life. This led to her receiving the first sculpture commission
given by Congress to a woman. Today, her statue of Lincoln stands in the
Rotunda of the U. S. Capitol, where it is often seen during state occasions.
But it was not all chance. Vinnie Ream was an amazingly gifted woman who
despite her lack of training excelled in art. She was also personable and
smart.
Of course, such an accomplishment was questioned. How could a young girl
sculpt the body of man? (Remember this was the Victorian age.) How could a
frontier-raised American, who'd never been to Europe, be any good at sculpture?
How did she get Congress to give her a studio in the Capitol and to vote her
$10,000 plus a $5,000 bonus for Lincoln’s statue?
Naturally rumors flew. Some man did the work for her. She never met Lincoln.
She traded favors with Congressmen to get the commission. Mark Twain went so
far as to call her “the smartest politician of all.” This was to be expected at
the time. What surprised me was that these claims are still made today by
academics who wink and nod when they talk about her. That got me angry and that
is why I wrote this novel.
In PRAIRIE CINDERELLA, I have tried to portray her as a
complex woman who was driven to create but who also gave her all to take care
of the people she loved. There are two love stories in this novel, and a happy
ending. Vinnie Ream was amazing. I hope you will read Prairie Cinderella and
come to love her as much as I do.
Hi! I'm Robert Herold, author of three novels with The Wild Rose Press and five novelettes in the Seattle Coven Tales, self-published on Amazon. I love history,
horror, chocolate, jazz, theater, and ethnic foods.
Before going further, I have a very big favor to ask. My novelette, THE DEVIL'S DREGS, has been nominated for the
Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer's Choice Awards! The next step is a
popularity contest. Please do me the very great honor of voting for my story!
(They won't spam you or sell your email address. Any info they take is just to
prevent people from voting multiple times.)
You don't have to have read it (yet!) to vote. If you like
the cover, vote! If you don’t like the cover, vote! If you like chocolate or
puppies, vote! Any promo helps.
It's about halfway down in the list of nominees (in the
novellas/shorts category).
Thanks heaps!
Here’s a bit about my story:
A witch has stolen
Steven Metcalf's newborn son and intends to sacrifice the child to her dark
lord. Steven and his two friends scour Seattle to rescue the infant, but the
city has become infested with witches and their allies. Can Steven and company
save the innocent before it's too late?
"The must-read paranormal series of the year." --N. N. Light Book Heaven
My
other work includes three novels, part of the Eidola Project series, and I’m
currently working on the fourth. The series follows a group of 19
th-century
ghost hunters who become entangled in deadly supernatural investigations.
The team of ghost hunters includes Harvard psychology
professor William James (a real-life ghost hunter), his female assistant, an
African American physicist, a young woman who was a sideshow medium, and a
traumatized Civil War veteran, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses.
The books also act as a distant mirror, dealing with modern themes, such as women’s
rights, racism, and drug abuse—while conveying a cracking good tale. (Each of
these titles has won awards, too, as has the series!) This series is available
through all major online booksellers and can be read as an eBook or as a
paperback.
I also write The Seattle Coven Tales, set in the
contemporary world. They follow a graduate student (in history, of course!) at the
University of Washington and his sommelier girlfriend who are lured into a
world of witchcraft and become targeted for sacrifice. Can they escape a world
where murderous witches seem to be everywhere? This series has won awards, too,
and is only available through Amazon. (Several titles are currently on sale,
and all are free with Kindle Unlimited.)
Why do I write horror?
I come by it naturally. As a boy, I wanted nothing more than to be a
werewolf. When snow occurred, it provided me the opportunity to walk out onto
neighbors' lawns halfway and make paw prints with my fingers as far as I could
stretch. I would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids
and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on this lawn! (They were
skeptical.)
As a teen, I helped with the creation of a haunted
house, mostly as a gofer, and got to be a werewolf (oh, the joy) once the place
opened. This haunted house was sponsored by a local rock station and was not
for kids. It had many a frightful room that we repurposed in an old home before
it was to be torn down. I, as the wolfman, was in a room with Dr. Frankenstein
and the monster, and we all jumped at folks and delighted in their screams.
Then, toward the end of the evening, in a moment of werewolf abandon, I decided
to jump up onto the wall and grab the bars on a window to howl at the moon.
Much to my chagrin and pain, the iron bars were actually wooden dowels that
broke off, and I crashed down onto my werewolf tailbone. I howled in pain.
People loved it! I, however, too embarrassed to admit my pain and mistake,
limped the two miles home that night instead of begging a ride from someone
with wheels. My lesson: One must suffer for one’s art.
In the end, I realized writing about horror was
considerably safer and even more fun. I hope my work gives you the creeps, and
I mean that in the best way possible!
On this day in 1919, the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, prohibiting the “manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors for beverage purposes,” was ratified by the requisite number of states. My romance thriller BOOTLEG BROADWAY is set during this wild era. More booze flowed during Prohibition than when it was legal! When I first created the characters, I had nothing for them to do yet--I just knew I had to get my hero, the scatterbrained musical genius Billy McGlory, into one mess after another, each worse than the one before. The ending surprised even me--and I wrote it! It was an amazing era to research, especially in boozy New York City. It's Book Two of the New York Saga.
A 5-star Amazon review:
The Cat's Pajamas
Diana Rubino had me on the first page, and didn't let go until the end. Her writing evokes Depression-era New York City richly and thoroughly, from the rhythm of the language to the sounds on the street. You can practically hear the music and the clinking of glasses in the speakeasies.
Billy McGlory is a train wreck in the best possible sense. Ms. Rubino has written a brilliantly flawed character whose good intentions spin slowly but inevitably out of control. I couldn't stop tracking his descent into hell and wondering, as he does, how he'd get out of this. A beautiful character study and a fascinating story of the American Thirties in all their danger and dazzle. Bravo!
It's in print, on Kindle, and on audio with the animated New York native Nina Price.
I honestly cannot remember how I heard of Thomas's book, but not long before the holidays, the title caught my eye--was it on Amazon? Facebook? Goodreads? I thought, jolly good! With Christmas around the corner, I'll read an uplifting story starring Santa! But little did I know....well, no matter how I found it, I'm glad I did--when reading the synopsis I saw that it was based on a bank robbery that took place in the small town of Cisco, Texas in 1927, and the leader of the pack was dressed as Santa. As a history nut fascinated with true crime books, I couldn't pass this one up! It was captivating to say the least--read my Amazon review--and when I contacted Thomas to invite him as a guest here, he graciously accepted. So read on--then don't miss out on this story that might have given Bonnie & Clyde AND the James Gang a run for their money (no pun intended)....
About Thomas
Thomas closely based his debut novel on a true crime the Associated Press dubbed "The Santa Claus Bank Robbery." He first ran across the story when he lived in the small Texas county where it all took place. He currently lives in Austin, where he has been able to conduct extensive research on the events and characters at the Texas State Library and Archives Commission.
About THE LAST MAN (2024 Spur Award Winner and 2024 Will Rogers Medallion Award Winner)
When Santa Claus enters a Texas bank just before Christmas in 1927, no one expects him to pull a gun. The fake white beard hides his identity from his neighbors while he and three others take everything. But their easy heist goes sideways fast when armed lawmen and citizens assemble to claim a new reward for dead bank robbers. Taking hostages, the gang forces a path through a frenzied and bloody shootout, setting the whole Lone Star state on their trail. One bandit dies in the getaway. One is executed in the electric chair. One swings from a rope in a mob lynching. The last man finds a life he always hoped for … if only he can keep it. Closely based on a true story, THE LAST MAN is a gritty Prohibition-era Western novel filled with flawed characters and second chances.
Excerpt
The man stood in the midnight shadows for a long time and studied the empty bridge that led into Juárez. Light spilled from the customs booth closest to him on the American side of the river. Two hundred yards away, a bare incandescent bulb glowed in a booth on the Mexican side.
Slow and casual, he told himself, and approached the bridge. He turned up his collar as if to block the chill wind, but mostly to keep his face hidden from the customs officer sitting behind the glass of the stateside cubicle. He kept moving. He wasn’t required to stop on this side.
He was halfway across the Rio Grande when headlamps from a car behind him lit up the bridge. In the beams, his silhouette stretched and wavered toward the Mexican customs booth. Brakes whined faintly as the motor rig slowed to his pace, but he continued walking and kept his face forward. The car advanced into his sidelong view. Lamps like chrome cones rested on wide fenders that curved gracefully down to become running boards. A gold star was painted on the side, encircled with the words “City of El Paso Police Department.”
He sighed and his shoulders slumped. It was going to come to an end sometime anyway, the other three being dead and all.
Lee Ann and I are doing a blog exchange that includes holiday recipes (mine is struffoli, "honey balls"), and she is featuring HOMEWARD BOUND HEARTS, on sale December 16.
About Lee Ann
Lee Ann writes from the heart about everyday people caught up in often extraordinary circumstances. Although she makes her home in the small town of Neosho, Missouri in the Ozarks, she’s a native of St. Joseph, Missouri. When she’s not writing or reading, she may be teaching at church. She’s penned more than fifty full length novels, has been included in two dozen anthologies, and published many short stories and articles. Her novels and short fiction have won awards. Her publishers include World Castle Publishing, Evernight Publishing, and The Wild Rose Press. She is widowed with three children. She enjoys cooking, gardening, and sitting on the front porch in what passes for suburbs in a small town.
About HOMEWARD BOUND HEARTS
A story of Christmas, faith, love and redemption, and a bronc rider ready to play Santa!
Take one saddle bronc ridin’ cowboy, Jeb Hill, the Hillbilly
Hotshot, who suffers the worst injury of his career. Send him home to be cared
for by a widowed nurse, Shelby Thacker, who struggles to pay her bills and
support her two children. Add some friendship, then stir in a little
attraction. Complicate things with the return of Jeb’s long absent father and
throw in the Christmas season. Jeb wants an old-fashioned, heartwarming
Christmas, but Shelby’s poverty destroyed her holiday spirit long ago. Toss in
some faith, a country church, and a rodeo rider ready to play Santa Claus.
Shelby’s and Jeb’s friendship deepens, but can they fulfill each other’s hopes
and dreams?
JEBEDIAH
‘JEB’ HILL has ridden saddle broncs for years as ‘The Hillbilly Hotshot” but
when he’s pitched hard into the dirt in an arena, it’s the last ride for Jeb.
He feared he broke his back but the spinal fracture is serious enough to land
him in the hospital. He’ll walk again but recovery will require months. The
medical staff tells him he’ll walk but he won’t compete in rodeo again. Jeb has
a choice – either he can check into a rehab facility or recuperate at home with
an in-home nurse. He opts for the latter and returns home to the farm where he
was raised in Northern Missouri.
SHELBY
THACKER is a widowed home health care nurse, raising her two children despite
her financial troubles. When she’s assigned to Jeb’s case, Shelby expects an
older man and is surprised to meet a patient close to her age. She was hired to
work with him each day but spend her nights at home.
Jeb
isn’t the easiest patient and worries about staying alone at night when he can
barely move. Shelby realizes his fears and returns on the first night. He
offers to allow her and her children to move into the rambling old farmhouse
while she’s on his case.
His
expectations for a long recovery were dim but Jeb finds Shelby and her
children, Levi and Lexi, to be cheerful companions. Although he’s not been
around many children, he likes her kids. Shelby, armed with a list of the foods
he likes, cooks up meals he truly enjoys.
As
Jeb graduates from a walker to a cane, a friendship grows between them but Jeb
soon learns Shelby is stubborn. Since he has more than enough money, he offers
to help the struggling widow but Shelby refuses. She’ll earn her money and
stand on her own two feet.
Since
Jeb’s farm lies outside of town, closer to a small rural community, Shelby
drives the children to school and back each day. Once the job ends, she plans
to move back to her old house despite the disrepair. After his first doctor’s
visit, Shelby and Jeb have an impromptu picnic at a scenic spot. They talk and
kiss for the first time.
Shelby
allows Jeb, who can now get around on a limited basis, inside her house so she
can pick up a few things. While there, she finds part of the upstairs bathroom
floor has sunk, which Jeb tells her is unsafe. He notes many other critical
repairs needed before she moves back inside.
Dismayed,
Shelby agrees she’ll stay at Jeb’s until some repairs are made. At the same
time, her children get closer to Jeb. Levi plays soccer and Jeb attends the
games along with Shelby and Lexi. When the stores begin having Christmas items,
the kids dream about what they want for the holiday. Jeb learns Shelby doesn’t
do much for Christmas. She hasn’t put up a tree since her husband died three
years earlier and she can’t afford many presents. He learns her dad died around
the holiday so Shelby has her reasons to be a Scrooge.
Jeb,
however, wants a glorious Christmas. He plans for a tree, a fine dinner, many
presents, and fun for everyone.
He
and Shelby debate over how the holiday will be.
In the meantime, they also begin attending Jeb’s childhood church a few
miles away from the farm.
Jeb’s
mother died when he was twelve and his paternal grandparents raised him. His
dad left soon after his wife’s death so Jeb’s relationship with his father is
rocky. His dad, Josiah Hill, shows up wanting money. He’s been drinking but Jeb
gives him cash and sends him away.
Shelby
realizes genial, generous Jeb has a hard side, too, and isn’t sure what to
think.
Shelby’s
mom, Delia, was wary about Jeb at first and urged her daughter to avoid a
relationship with her patient. She soon likes the man, too, and is a big part
of their lives.
Halloween
passes and by then, Jeb loves Shelby and she says she loves him too. Neither
know where they will go from here and for the moment they enjoy life one day at
a time.
Just
before Thanksgiving, Shelby visits her house in town to retrieve some warm
clothes and her children’s coats. As they arrive, she realizes something looks strange
with the roof, then see part of it has caved in. Despite the danger, she rushes
inside to grab the items she needs. Jeb follows her and pulls her out just
before the rest of the roof gives away. Her house is now a wreck and unlivable.
Shelby
is upset and has a hard time with the loss. Jeb steps up to help cook for the
kids and offers his support.
They
prepare for Thanksgiving but on the weekend before, Jeb’s dad returns. This
time he’s sober, returns most of the money, and asks if he can stay. Jeb wants
to refuse then relents and allows his dad to bunk in the hired hand’s room in
the barn. If his dad drinks or causes trouble, he’ll be asked to leave.
Family
and friends gather for a traditional Thanksgiving at the farmhouse. Shelby does
some Christmas shopping and Jeb does more. He’s ready to put up a tree but his
plans are put on hold when Shelby comes down with a bad case of the flu. Delia
takes the children home so they won’t get sick and Jeb nurses Shelby.
He’s
decided to ask her to marry him around Christmas.
A
major winter storm is predicted and so Jeb reacts. First, he asks his dad if he
wants to move into the guest room where it will be warmer. They have been
rebuilding their relationship one day at a time. Jeb and his father make a trip
to town to prepare for the incoming weather. They finally pick up a Christmas
tree, plenty of groceries, last minute gifts, and a ring for Shelby.
Delia
comes to stay at the farmhouse, so she won’t miss Christmas with her daughter
and grandchildren. She and Josiah are getting along well and it seems there may
be another relationship in the making.
They
decorate the tree and prepare for Christmas. The predicted snow arrives and
drops several feet. The church Christmas Eve program is cancelled but they
hunker down, make merry, and prepare for December 25.
Jeb
intended to propose on Christmas Eve but the right moment didn’t come.
At
the same time, Shelby wonders where this relationship might be headed and
thinks about a new job. She even considers finding a place to rent. They can’t
stay with Jeb forever.
Early
on Christmas morning, Jeb asks Shelby if she will be his wife and she agrees.
They
decide on a New Year’s Day wedding and their future together begins with joy.
In
the last chapter, readers will see some of their future and the book ends with
Jeb as a blessed and happy man.
Excerpt
Her new
patient arrived in a medical transport van, and she noticed gray shot through
his black hair.
So, he is old. Then she caught sight of his face, and
her mouth dropped open. Mr. Hill wasn’t old at all, despite the salt-and-pepper
hair. His lean face tapered to a pointed chin, and he sported a slender
hawk-style nose. His eyes were the deep-blue of the ocean or the sky in summer.
He isn’t old, and he’s very handsome.
When he stood, using the walker, Shelby
realized how tall he was. Still, she remained professional. She introduced
herself, settled him into bed, and positioned his body for comfort. When he
didn’t object to the kids, she heaved a sigh of relief.
She chose the menu early from a notebook where
she’d written down everything she received about his case, from his dietary
preferences to the doctor’s orders. Shelby had a section on his medications and
his medical history, and flipping through it as she cooked, she realized she’d
missed his birthdate.
In case he had a birthday coming
soon, she wanted to know so found the date on his records.
He would turn thirty-one in December, which
made him three years older. Nothing indicated his career, and she had guessed
him to be an attorney or college professor or an advertising man. When Jeb
mentioned he’d been a saddle bronc rider, Shelby had been stunned. It wasn’t a
career she’d considered he might have. Once she knew, however, she understood
and realized it matched his injury.
When we remember the holiday seasons of the past, we often
recall the favorite foods or recipes we prepare. During my childhood, my family
hosted a multi-generational Christmas celebration which included both sets of
grandparents, a great-grandmother, often aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as
my parents and siblings. Sometimes we included a family friend or two as well.
Our table was abundant with offerings including everything from roast turkey to
ham and the occasional quail from my dad’s frequent hunting trips. Side dishes
included my great-grandmother’s sage and onion stuffing, mashed potatoes and
homemade gravy, family recipe egg noodles, yeast bread or hot rolls fresh from
the oven, and an array of vegetable dishes. Since Christmas was also my mom’s
birthday, we had a bakery birthday cake along with other cakes and pies. Pumpkin
and apple were always the two top favorites.
We also had pumpkin bread, which my mother baked in coffee
cans for some reason I don’t know. I still bake it but either in a loaf pan or
a cute turkey shaped pan I bought years ago.
We also bake cutout sugar cookies, using well-used cookie
cutters handed down over several generations. We first baked the cookies and
frosted them with bright colors as a gift for Pop, my paternal grandfather, but
it became a tradition which has endured long after his passing.
Although now the mantle of hosting Christmas for a smaller
number of guests has fallen to me, I mostly make the foods our bunch has come
to expect. It wouldn’t be Christmas without them, and I’ve added a few items
from my late husband’s side of the family.
Pumpkin, though, isn’t just for Thanksgiving. Here’s my
tried and true pumpkin bread recipe, sure to please almost anyone.
Pre-heat oven to 350 and prepare a loaf (or other) pan
Ingredients:
1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
¾ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon baking powder
¾ to one teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (adjust to taste – some
like it spicier than others)
2 large eggs
1 cup canned pumpkin
½ cup canola oil
½ cup water
½ cup raisins and ½ cup walnuts to taste
Combine dry ingredients, add beaten eggs, pumpkin, oil and
water. Blend well. Add raisins and walnuts if desired.
Bake at 350 for 1 hour and fifteen minutes or until a knife
comes out clean.
Enjoy the holiday season with my fictional characters. They
have their favorite dishes too. Try my tried-and-true pumpkin bread recipe for
a delicious addition to any feast.
Have a wonderful holiday season. Take time to slow down and
savor the moments!
