Favorite Christmas Romances

What are your favorite Christmas love stories? My top three all-time Chrismas Romance stories are as follows:

The Magic of Christmas by Carolyn Davidson, Victoria Bylin and Cheryl St. John.

My favorite story in the anthology is The Christmas Dove by Victoria Bylin:

“Maddie Cutler once snubbed bad boy Dylan McCall, but with nowhere else to turn she has come back to town–with a babe in arms. Dylan is a refomed man, and on seeing Maddie again he long to heal her hurt–and claim her once and for All!”

It was the first cowboy historical I ever read and boy am I hooked now!

It’s an Harlequin Historical, now available for Kindle http://tinyurl.com/yzybw6n

Silver Bells by Fern Michaels, JoAnn Ross, Mary Burton and Judy Duarte

My favorite story in this anthology is Christmas Past by Mary Burton:

“Photographer Nicole Piper just received a very unwelcome Christmas gift–a letter that hold clues to an elusive killer’s identity. Enlisting homicide detective David Ayden’s help, she embarks on a road trip that will take them both into the heart of danger and desire…”

Dark, dangerous and passionate. Love that Mary Burton!

Available in paperback, hardcover and Kindle http://tinyurl.com/yfwjqcj

Wish Upon a Djinn by Sammie Jo Moresca

“Years of wedded bliss have denigrated into mundane routines for frumpy housewife Kim and her hunky firefighter husband, Roger. With another holiday season in full swing, Kim is feeling overwhelmed, unattractive and jealous of his sexy coworker, a female firefighter who knows how to have fun. What this couple needs is some time away from the kids, and when two djinns come to visit one stormy night, they rediscover their cooling embers can be reignited into a love inferno.”

This is perfect for all the married girls out there who forget their husbands really do love them. What a great twist ending!

Available for Kindle http://tinyurl.com/yzxo2xf

Excerpt From Christina’s Fear

Christina’s Fear By Sherry Morris

Excerpt:

“When do you expect to get home tonight?”

Mrs. Charles pulled four pink curlers from her mousy hair and tossed them in a basket on the kitchen table, along with the hair clips that had formed tendrils near each ear.

“I’m not coming home tonight, but my husband should be here by nine.”

Behind Mrs. Charles, Delaine caught Christina’s attention. She stuck her nose up, rolled her eyes and grinned. Mrs. Charles removed a pot and some plates from the pantry.

“Now listen, sugar plums, after y’all get my little love bugs to sleep, go on out and have yourselves a swim.”

The girls played with the twin toddler boys in the musty stone walled basement. Christina put on a show with expensively detailed Goldilocks puppets in an elaborate theater with red velvet curtains. She got caught up in the skit, not just entertaining the children, but actually having fun. Later she helped Delaine feed them and get them changed into their jammies. After they drifted off to sleep, the baby-sitters went outside.

“All right Delaine, spill.”

“Spill what?”

“What was that look you gave me in the kitchen all about?”

“Oh, just that I know that Mr. and Miz Charles are getting a divorce. He has a girlfriend with pretty teeth and Farrah Fawcett-Majors hair. Miz Charles wants to sue his sorry buttocks for every penny he has and ever will have.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard my mom talking to the mailman.”

Christina lay on her back in the freshly mowed fescue surrounding the historic house. She happily inhaled the scent of cut grass. Her attention fixated across the river at the sunset. Slowly moving her eyes up through the clouds, she saw the sky colored ripe peach, evolving into hot pink, light aquamarine, and then deep clear crayon blue as she looked straight up.

Delaine immediately headed to the pool.

 ”Come on Chrissy! The water is so warm! Jump in!”

The teenager rolled over and put her hands under her chin. She laughed at the goofy kid in the water, watching the handstands and bubble blowing.

 ”I don’t know how to swim. You have fun and I’ll watch you.”

Christina opened her Tiger Beat magazine, flipped past the Leif Garrett dream date contest, Noxzema ad, and Bay City Rollers news. She creased the magazine open at the Andy Gibb photo spread and dramatically sighed. His peach vest and pants looked softer than the sunset.

“Come on Chrissy! You’re missing out on all the fun!”

Christina removed her shoes and socks. She gingerly stuck her toes in and delightedly kicked her legs in the heavily chlorinated water. Delaine swam over.

“Jump in!”

“No, I’ll watch you, I can’t swim.”

 Delaine grabbed her hand. “Yeah, right, Chrissy.” She yanked her into the water.

Disoriented, Christina found herself standing on the bottom of the pool. Desperately climbing to live, she somehow managed to propel herself up to the surface and grab onto Delaine’s head. Delaine immediately pushed her off. Down, down, down Christina sank.

Purchase Christina’s Fear eBook

 

Eleanor Roosevelt Scene from Hundred Dollar Bill

Hundred Dollar Bill

By Sherry Morris

Excerpt:

Earlier that night, across town, Mrs. Anna Eleanor Roosevelt’s footsteps resonated army-like as she stormed the west wing. A black Scottish Terrier rounded a corner and scrambled toward her. “No, Fala, no!” Dodging his excited leap, she caught the fluffy sash of her emerald evening gown on the edge of a marble pedestal displaying the bust of Abraham Lincoln. She twisted and caught old Abe, but the taffeta tore. Eleanor replaced the sculpture, picked up the little dog then marched to an office.

She shoved the door open. Stepping inside, Mrs. Roosevelt vigorously petted the wiry haired pooch while closing the door with her back. It hit the jamb with an audible resolve. “Vera, I am well aware of your…your little game, and I’ve had quite enough of you.”

Vera stopped typing. The long-legged brunette stood, removed her librarian glasses and snuffed her cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. She blew a plume of smoke at the first lady before running manicured fingers along her starched maroon shirtdress. A smirk twitched the corners of her strawberry lips. She crossed her arms and turned toward the wall.

The first lady crinkled her nose and bent down. Fala leapt from the crook of her arm. He scampered over to sniff the closed door to the Oval Office.

Eleanor rose, thrust her shoulders back and stomped to the rear of the desk, launching a rolling chair out of her way. She squeezed between her husband’s newest secretary and a portrait of George Washington.

Mrs. Vera Blandings took a step back, grinning.

Mrs. Roosevelt demanded, “Just what will it take to make you disappear?”

“A new job.”

“Done.”

“A role in the next Alfred Hitchcock movie.”

Eleanor laughed.

Vera glared. “I’m quite serious.” She cocked her head, retrieved her chair and tucked it under the desk. Pulling out the bottom drawer, Vera removed her reptilian pocketbook and gently shut the drawer.

Eleanor silently seethed in the stale smoky air while composing a response. I will not allow this woman to slip me into unsavory territory. “Fine then. So be it. Pack your snakeskin. No more games in the interim or—.”

The magnetic purse clasp clicked when Vera opened it. After removing a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches, the president’s secretary sashayed out of the office.

The first lady glanced at her diamond watch and groaned. She pulled the chair out and plopped herself down. It hissed as the cushioned seat compressed. She opened Vera’s top desk drawer and rummaged through stubby pencils, rubber bands, a loose deck of playing cards,  a crumpled issue of True Romance magazine that was caught in the back, a piece of yellow police chalk and several pistachios. Eleanor briefly picked up the waxy chalk. What in the devil is she doing with this? The stuff they outline corpses with… She shrugged her shoulders and dropped it back inside with a clunk.

Digging out a paper clip, the first lady wove the coiled wire through the soft frays of her ripped sash. It popped right off. She noticed a little chalk had transferred from her fingers to her gown. What else can happen?

Yanking the middle drawer open, she found a stapler inside. After three squeezes and some creative tucking of the taffeta, she was good to go. When Eleanor replaced the stapler, a metallic glint in the back caught her attention. She opened the drawer all the way and pulled out a pearl handled pistol. What the… ?

Available in Trade Paperback and eBook at Cerridwen Press

Available in Trade Paperback and Large Print Paperback at Amazon

Mold in Front Loading Washing Machines

My local news channel did a “teaser” about an upcoming story on mold in front loading washing machines. My Mister is always on the hunt for mold, so he DVR’d it. Basically the problem is water that gets trapped in the rubber gasket around the door opening, coupled with using too much detergent.

I’ve had three front loading washing machines and have never had a mold problem. I always follow the manufactures’ recommendation of leaving the door open all night after using the machine.

I don’t buy the laundry detergent specifically formulated for the High Efficiency machines, because you get the same number of loads for the same price as the regular formula. I just use less of the regular detergent, thus getting approximately double the loads of detergent out of every bottle, saving money.

I purchased my first front loading washing machine in 1999, and it worked perfectly and odorlessly for the three years we lived in that home. My next one lasted eight years, until it started leaking underneath (not from the door) and it’s companion dryer squealed like fingernails on a chalkboard. I have just replaced them (I went back to work and it took every cent of my first month’s salary). The new units are lovely, and the rubber gasket is more rigid.

Don’t forgo the huge savings, both in using less water and less detergent if you want a front loading washing machine. Just leave the door open to let it dry out after every day’s washing.  And use less detergent! Another huge plus:  there is no agitator bar, so your clothes last longer and the fleece doesn’t pill.

Here’s a blog about the situation: http://blogs.consumerreports.org/home/2008/08/mold-on-washers.html

Hope to see you around Mt. Laundry!

Train Excerpt From Hundred Dollar Bill

Hundred Dollar Bill

By Sherry Morris

Excerpt:

The announcer boomed in a deep voice, “Now boarding on track number nineteen, the Havana Special. Direct coach and sleeper service to Miami, Florida. Connecting there to swift and safe air service to Havana, Cuba. Track number nineteen now boarding for the Havana Special. Passengers needing assistance, women and children please board now.”

Chloe leaned around the broad-shouldered nun in front of her, counting three more customers. Hurry up. That’s the train I need.

A fat cop escorted a disheveled man across the station by the scruff of his collar and the back of his belt. He threw him outside. “And don’t come back!”

Chloe turned away from the Metropolitan police officer as he stomped back inside. She pulled the cowl over her mouth. What if they’re looking for me already? What if they think I murdered Bill? Chloe shuddered.

Tears welling up, Chloe dragged her two suitcases as the line moved forward. She gazed above at the intricate gold-leafed ceilings. Statues of the Roman centurions were perched high on a ledge under the dome. The ancient generals are watching over me. I’m gonna be all right. Or are they here commanding their troops? Who is out to get me? Who can I trust?

The announcer inquired, “Would the owner of a lost yap-yap dog please report to the information desk? She’s a hot dog or poodle or somethin’—” The crowd laughed as barking drowned out his voice.

“Next?” the ticket agent asked.

Chloe picked up her luggage and hurried to the counter. She bought a ticket for the Havana Special, scheduled to depart at 1:50 a.m. Looking up at the Roman numerals on the station clock, she saw it was already 1:47. Chloe grabbed her bags and glanced up at the centurions before hustling down the stairs to platform nineteen.

Hot steam blasted her legs as she passed the shiny black Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac engine and tender. The conductor yelled, “All aboard.”

Chloe ran past the dark green Railway post office and baggage cars and then five streamlined aluminum coach cars with purple and maroon striping behind the trains’ line names—Atlantic Coast Line, Pennsylvania and Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac.

The conductor smiled and took her baggage as she showed her ticket. “Welcome, miss. Your seat is on the right. Walk on through to the lounge car for a complementary cup of coffee.”

Chloe said, “Yes sir,” and then pulled herself up the three steps.

Snoring men in uniforms, crying infants and their weary mothers jammed the coach car. Chloe found her aisle seat next to a dozing sailor. She grabbed the armrests and sat down, not jarring any tender spots on her battered body.

Chloe checked her watch. It was 2:25 a.m. Darn it, the train is already thirty-five minutes late departing. She looked out the window onto the platform and saw a couple of fellows dashing toward the train. “Come on, come on, whoever you are,” she mumbled.

The men appeared to have a brief discussion with the conductor before boarding. Get on the train already. Chloe hoped she wasn’t thinking aloud again.

The whistle tooted twice. The train lurched forward, chuffing through a tunnel under Capitol Hill. The drooling sailor’s prickly head flopped onto Chloe’s shoulder. She shoved him away. His eyes flew open.

“Hey doll face, step right into my dream.” He burped as he kissed her.

Leaping to her feet Chloe screamed, “Eww!” I’ll never be able to go through with this. She ran down the aisle, through the coach cars and into the first sleeping car, where she shoved past a man walking toward her.

Mike Taurus took a deep breath as he tingled on the remnants of her touch. How could she just push me out of the way? It’s as though she doesn’t even realize who she just cast aside.

Available in Trade Paperback and eBook at Cerridwen Press

Available in Trade Paperback and Large Print Paperback at Amazon

Hundred Dollar Bill

Hundred Dollar Bill by Sherry Morris–from Cerridwen Press

In WWII Washington, thieves, spies and other wise guys are working everywhere…including in branches of the U.S. government.

Chloe Lambert is a sweet little thing whom mothers love to love and sailors love to pinch. She’s also a sharp-tongued Secret Service agent—a Secret Service agent who has been framed for murder by a band of counterfeiters.

Mike Taurus, also an agent, is tough as nails, cool as ice and devilishly handsome. He also has a past with Chloe. As the two of them make a mad dash from Washington, D.C. to Miami Beach, they’ll stop at nothing to solve this monumental caper. It’s a made-for-the-movies adventure that Alfred Hitchcock could only wish he’d dreamed up himself!

Read an Excerpt!

Available in Trade Paperback and eBook at Cerridwen Press

Available in Trade Paperback and Large Print Paperback at Amazon

Working Four Jobs

I went from being a bored housewife who realized her kids really didn’t need her much anymore, to working four jobs. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking, other than I wanted to get off the sofa, away from the pantry, and take a great big bite out of the world.

Friday I lunched with my lovely writing pal, Diane, at the Olive Garden. It was the first time I could squeeze her in since August.

Saturday evening I worked in the emergency department of a busy suburban hospital. I climbed in bed as soon as I got home.

Sunday my family and I rode Amtrak’s Acela to visit New York City’s Grand Central Station and stood in line for three hours to visit Disney’s A Christmas Carol train. We had Nathan’s hot dogs for dinner and then hopped back aboard the train. It was the wee hours of Monday morning when we returned home.

Monday evening I ran duty as the Attendant-In-Charge with an elite volunteer rescue squad. It was after 11PM when I returned home.

Tuesday I was sequestered at the polls for seventeen hours as an Election Official. Had dinner with my mister at 10:30 PM.

Wednesday I worked a twelve-hour shift at the hospital.  Dinner alone was a bowl of ice cream before bedtime.

Today, Thursday, I signed a contract with Class Act Books to publish my kooky mystery, Inappropriate. Wrote the back cover blurb, dedication and bio. Started this blog as my means of promo.

I do have a lovely professionally designed website, but it’s up for renewal. I have a dozen books published with small presses and none took off. I spent more money in promotion than I received in royalties, so I stopped that nonsense. This will be it.

I am absolutely loving all of my new vocations. Instead of just making up stories, I’m a living breathing heroine cast in my own life, humbled to have the priviledge of helping people through some of the worst hours of their lives, and occasionally sharing their joy. My kids seem fine with jostling the cars and dropping me off or picking me up. I’m still doing basically everything for them at home I always did, so to my chagrin, they really don’t miss me. My mister is the one with the biggest adjustment. I will endeavor to coordinate our work schedules so that we have more time alone together. I miss him too.

Houseguest

Houseguest is the first story I ever wrote as an adult.

3rd Place Mid-Atlantic Writers Conference Creative Nonfiction Contest

My e-pal flew over the ocean

My e-pal I wanted to meet

My e-pal flew over the ocean

Oh please send her back and hit delete!

Do you have an e-pal across the world that you’ve “known” for years? Ever wonder what it would be like if you met one day, face-to-face? From someone who’s been there, I implore of you, dont! Wendy and I had great fun over the years, bantering on a Bee Gees fan emailing loop. She was such a fun girl. When she said she was coming to visit for three weeks, my family met the REAL Wendy.

Preview and Purchase at Amazon Kindle