International Literacy Day

International Literacy Day

It's #TeaserTuesday and it's International Literacy Day.  I touched on this issue a few years back in Homecoming Day.  It seemed like an appropriate teaser for today!  The stat in the teaser isn't fiction and it truly breaks my heart.  I'm someone who grew up in books...I can't imagine a world without them!

Homecoming Day

I know you said you didn’t know much about reading problems, that you were an art teacher.  You know basket weaving not teaching reading, wasn’t that it?"  

She smiled and nodded.  “Come in.”  

He’d loved that phrase.  And as he stepped into Laura’s hallway, he was struck by how non-Spartan her home seemed.

It was the opposite of his apartment.  It was warm and inviting.  There was a coat tree standing next to the door.  A long, skinny table next to it.  It had a small bowl with keys in it, and a small ivy-ish looking plant.

Maybe a plant would make his sisters feel better about his house?

“Seth?”

Sorry.”  He stopped worrying about his unadorned apartment and concentrated on JT.  “Anyway, I Googled it.  Did you know that about a fifth of high school seniors can be considered functionally illiterate?  They suggested these.  They’re easy readers for older readers.  I thought they might help JT.”

Teaser Tuesday: Bosom Buddies

I was talking about where I got my start earlier, and Bosom Buddies was right there at the get-go. One of my earliest books, it has an #EasterEgg courtesy of my work with lactating moms.  This opening scene was different (even for me LOL) but I left it because I loved it.  And it turned out that so did the acquiring editor.  Lesson?  Don't second-guess yourself!

Oh, and originally it was titled, Baby, It's You, but I went back to my original title.  Why?  Read the opening scene and you might have a clue!  LOL

Bosom Buddies

Allie McGraw knocked on the door.

“What?” a voice barked as the door swung open.

Allie almost jumped as her upstairs neighbor’s face appeared. 
Her focus shifted from the face to the rest of the neighbor, standing like an ancient warrior ready to do battle.

Allie momentarily lost all words. He was breathtaking. 

She could hear the wailing that had caused her to come upstairs, but she couldn’t see the wailer. “Uh . . . well, I’m Alexandra McGraw, from downstairs,” she finally managed.

“I know who you are, I just want to know what you want.” He glanced over his shoulder. “As you can tell, it’s not the best time.”

“That’s why I came up. I mean, I heard . . .”

“The screaming? The crying? The uncontrollable sobbing?” he asked. 

Under other circumstances, she might have been insulted by his sarcastic tone, but the dark circles under his brownish eyes and his haggard appearance wouldn’t allow it, so Allie nodded and said, “Yes.” 

Ian Ryan, her normally prim and proper upstairs neighbor, was looking decidedly disheveled. His brown-with-a-touch-of-auburn hair, usually so neatly combed, zigged and zagged every which way. His nicely tailored suit had been replaced with a pair of gray sweatpants that had seen better days and a stain-splattered T-shirt. Somehow he looked all the more attractive because of it. 
Focus, Allie, she warned herself and asked him, “I wondered if there was a problem and if I could help?” 

He just glared at her. “I’m used to doing things on my own. I’m sure with enough time I’ll find the proper . . .”

The muted wailing escalated and became a shriek. Ian bounded from the door toward the noise, and Allie followed right on his heels.

On the couch, trapped by two pillows, was the source of the noise. 

Dressed in pink, so her gender was obvious, was a baby—a very unhappy baby. Ian picked her up, much like someone would pick up a football that had been left on the field, and held her awkwardly to his shoulder.

It did little to halt her protests.

Allie watched, torn for a moment by indecision. But the pitiful wail made up her mind for her. “Here, let me have a try,” she said, gently taking the infant from Ian before he could protest.

“Now, what’s all this noise?” she whispered as she plopped the baby on her shoulder and patted her back. Allie’s fingers snaked through the romper’s legs and checked the diaper. Dry. “When’s the last time she ate?”

Ian flopped onto the couch and shook his head. Gone was the warrior looking for a battle, and in his place was a warrior ready to admit defeat. “That’s the problem. She won’t. I’ve tried every kind of nipple there is on her bottles. The pharmacy delivered them. I’ve called her pediatrician, who just told me give it time, she’d eat when she was hungry.” A muscle in his cheek jumped. “Well, she is hungry, but she won’t drink from any of the bottles here.”

“Where’s her mom?” Allie asked.

“In the hospital. A drunk driver. I . . . well, the baby’s my responsibility until Anne can take over again.”

Rarely at a loss for words, but finding herself suffering from it a second time in the course of one conversation, Allie hesitated a moment before she figured out what to say. “I’m sorry. I hope she’ll be okay.” 

She wanted to say more but made a habit of not prying, so she left it at that. The baby’s screams had quieted to a mewling whine punctuated by tiny hiccups. Allie returned to the business at hand. “What did Anne feed her?”

“She breastfed, no bottles or solids yet. That’s why I’m having all these problems. She hates the bottle.”

“Smart girl,” Allie whispered to the baby. To Ian she said, “She knows what’s good.”

“Her knowing what’s good isn’t going to help me. Her realizing she’s going to have to settle for second best is.” 

What might have sounded like exasperation or annoyance moments ago was really only worry, Allie realized. She smiled. “Well, I have an idea. Why don’t you grab the formula and come down to my place for a minute?”

The baby kept up her protests as they walked down to Allie’s apartment. 

Allie had seen the look of relief that had passed over Ian’s face when he’d grabbed the formula. She had a feeling she’d seen more of Ian Ryan’s true nature in just one morning than most people did after knowing him for years.

In the three months since she’d moved in, he’d only had a passing nod for her after their brief introduction. Oh, he stomped on the floor if her music got too loud, but he didn’t make a federal case of it. Not the most friendly soul she’d ever met but not mean and nasty either. But Allie had a feeling he would have befriended the devil right then to find a way to quiet the baby.

“What’s her name?” she asked as they approached her apartment. There was a lull in the baby’s squalling that allowed further conversation.

“Ryane with an E at the end. Anne always said she was going to name the baby after me, but when it turned out to be a girl, she didn’t think Ian was such a good idea.” Allie turned around and caught the ghost of a smile on Ian’s face as he remembered a happier time. “Ryane was her compromise. It combines Anne’s first name and my last name.”

It was the longest string of words Allie had ever heard Ian put together. “Well, Ryane with an E, we’re going to get you fixed up real quick,” she promised the baby as she opened her door. 

Allie felt a twinge of embarrassment as she looked around the apartment. After being in Ian’s pristine quarters, she was sure hers didn’t impress him. Loud colors, piles of this and that, and her books all over. She had plans, but she’d been too busy to implement them. New jobs didn’t allow much free time, and free time was what she needed to finish settling into her new home. Right now her life was organized chaos and so was her apartment. 
She glanced at Ian’s face. She’d been right. He wasn’t impressed at all. Well, she’d be darned if she were going to explain. She was doing him the favor and didn’t owe him an explanation or an apology for the mess.

“I know it’s here somewhere,” she mused, looking at the pile of stuff on the dining room table. “I brought a new one home to check . . .” 

She tried to hand Ian the baby, but he shook his head. “You keep holding her. She hasn’t been that settled since, well, it’s been a while.” He eyed the table and looked at Allie. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll try to find it?” 

“An SNS.” She sometimes forgot that other people didn’t share her expertise. Ian’s look of confusion served as a reminder. “It’s a supplemental nursing system put out by Medela. A sort of bottle with tubing instead of a nipple. Moms hook the tubes next to their nipples and the baby gets the supplement while they nurse . . .” 

She stopped as Ian’s face turned a brilliant shade of red.

“I know I’m desperate, but I don’t think I’m quite that desperate,” he stuttered.

Realizing he’d misunderstood, Allie burst into laughter, which startled the baby and set her to fussing again, though more halfheartedly than before. 

“I’m sorry,” she crooned as she patted the baby’s back. Her smile remained. The mental picture of the prim and proper Ian Ryan, SNS taped by his nipples and nursing a baby, was more than ludicrous, it was hilarious. 

“I think we can find an alternative to that,” she choked out and began to search again.

Want to read more about Ian and Allie's romance?  Find it at Amazon.

Teaser Tuesday: "...because you smiled."

This week's teaser is actually an #EasterEgg.  I'll confess, I did visit with a mechanic on a flight once, and he did say the words, "...because you smiled." It stuck with me. I thought it was such a powerful message!

Her Second-Chance Family 

I guess when I say karma, I’m saying that we all put a lot of things out into the world. I just try to put out more good than not. For instance, I was flying to a conference last fall. Maggie May came and stayed with Clinton and Bea…”

“This was before Willow?” he asked.

Audrey nodded. “Yes. She didn’t come to us until February, but you know, I can’t remember what it was like before she was ours.”
He was afraid she’d stop her story, so he said, “And you were flying to a conference?”

“Yes. I had the window seat. And this man came and took the aisle seat.” She smiled at the memory.

Sawyer would never admit it, but he didn’t like the thought of her smiling at another man. He didn’t say anything, but he felt out of sorts picturing it. Which was absurd. He hardly knew Audrey and certainly had no claims on her.

She didn’t seem to notice his annoyance, and kept talking. “I looked up from my book and smiled. I said hello. And then he said hello, and then… Well, we talked the rest of the flight. He was an airline mechanic. He mentioned his wife within the first few minutes. I thought it was lovely that he wanted to make sure I knew he wasn’t hitting on me, that he was married. We talked about his kids and my kids. I mentioned my kids want a dog, and he said he had cats…”

“And?” Sawyer pressed.

“At the end of the flight, as we taxied to our gate, he told me thank you. I had no clue what he was thanking me for. But then he said he flew every week for work, and he hadn’t talked to someone on a flight for years. I asked why me, and he said, ‘Because you smiled at me.’ I’ve remembered that ever since, and I am more aware that the smallest thing can mean the most.”

Teaser Tuesday, Carry Her Heart

It's another Teaser Tuesday!  

Today's teaser is from my most recent release, Carry Her Heart:

"Remember, you impact the lives of others around you. So make good decisions."

I think it's a small statement that says a lot!

If you haven't picked up your copy yet, the book's available online, the eBook is available for Kindle and it's also out as an audiobook at your favorite online store!  And sometime in the next week or so, you should be able to find it at  your local Walmart!!

Holly

Teaser Tuesday, Carry Her Heart

#TeaserTuesday

I'll confess, I've always been fascinated by how people describe themselves.  There are so many options.  Your family title, your job, a belief, a hobby...  And what's even more interesting is how those definitions change and alter with time and new experiences.

One of the things I worked at as I wrote Carry Her Heart was watching Piper's description of herself change as time goes on.  She says:

But maybe people are like monarchs in more ways than that. 

Maybe we all repeatedly curl up in a chyrsalis and emerge as something else entirely.

I was a child; for that brief hour, I was a mother . . . then a nursing student, then a nurse, then a writer, then a . . . 

Maybe we live our lives constantly becoming and rebecoming.

Maybe we’re always in the process of metamorphosing into something new.

How do you describe yourself?

Holly

Release Day! Carry Her Heart

It's Release Day for Carry Her Heart!!  Yes, I'm a bit excited!!  (I know, you're shocked because I'm normally so sedate! LOL)

So what's it about??

“Maybe we live our lives constantly becoming and rebecoming. Maybe we’re always in the process of metamorphosing into something new."

In her journal, writer Piper George notes the change of seasons. Each entry marks the passage of time since she became a teen mother and put her baby up for adoption. Her words flow together, painting a picture of loss, hope, and enduring love. But one autumn, a new presence appears in its pages and in her life: her neighbor, Edward “Ned” Chesterfield.

As winter thaws to spring, Piper and Ned develop a friendship that could be something more if only Piper will let it. But the loss of her daughter has shaped her life. And having given so much of herself away, she’s not sure if she can give Ned all that he deserves. But with him at her side, Piper just might learn that a heart’s love is never truly lost!.

Reviews:

"An Unforgettable Story Of Unconditional Love"~Fresh Fiction

"Carry Her Heart is an emotional, slow burn, friends to lovers romance." ~Harlequin Junkie 

It's also #TeaserTuesday so here's an excerpt...

Carry Her Heart
Holly Jacobs 
copyright 2015 

Excerpt

I sat on my front porch and took a sip from a bone china teacup with tiny forget-me-nots painted on the side.

It was a civilized, proper cup.

I looked down at my laptop, which was balanced on the holey jeans that covered my outstretched legs. My legs were propped on the porch railing.

There was nothing particularly proper looking about me.

I didn’t need a mirror to know that my carrot-red hair had gone Medusa again and was breaking free of its twisty. As for my jeans, I swear my knees must be knobbier than the average woman’s, or maybe because I worked at home and wore them daily, they just gave up more rapidly. Either way, my three favorite pair of jeans all had holes in the knees . . . again.

I’d have to go shopping.

I hate going shopping.

I could buy most of what I needed online and avoid the stores, but jeans were an item of clothing that must be tried on.

I stared at my blank screen and took another sip of my tea.

I liked working on the porch.

I watched all the cars that stopped in front of the school across the street. Passenger doors opened and children were disgorged from them at regular intervals. Tall, skinny kids, short, roundish ones. Loud ones who started shrieking friends’ names before their feet hit the pavement. Quiet ones, who could seem alone even in the midst of the morning chaos.

Boys. Girls. Nerds. Jocks. Happy. Sullen.

They were all my inspiration.

They were also my audience.

In a sea of young adult books that dealt with paranormal elements, from wizards to vampires, I currently wrote reality-based books for preteens. I’d written books for much younger children in the past, but as my audience aged, so did my writing.

Maybe it was time to move my books from elementary and middle schools to high schools?

I tried to concentrate on the scene in front of me. I only had a few more weeks before the Erie, Pennsylvania weather got too cold to work outside. I always hated moving inside for work. This porch was where I found Julie and Auggie, Terry the Terrible, and Beautiful Belle.

This porch was also where I tried to imagine Amanda.

There.

A girl with auburn-brown braids that thumped up and down on her back as she walked to a group of girls and joined in the talk. She was new. I know I’d have remembered her. She was talking to a group of bigger kids. Probably eighth graders, the oldest class at this school. She was animated as she spoke. She’d work as a character. I . . .

I was distracted from the scene playing out across the street by a moving van that pulled into the driveway next door. The Morrisons had moved out three weeks ago. The For Sale sign on the front yard had a Sold sticker plastered across it for a few weeks longer than that. But after the Morrisons moved out, no one else had moved in.

The door of the van opened and a man got out.

I only needed that first quick glance to know he was cute.

I tried to study him circumspectly. And I immediately thought of him as a fictional character. If I were writing him in a book, I’d make him a . . . coach. He had that every-man  sort of look to him. He was good-looking, but not intimidatingly so. Still, he was good-looking enough that there was a spark of attraction.

I’ll confess, I don’t go out a lot and don’t meet a ton of eligible, single men. I meet even fewer who give me that zing of awareness. The sort of feeling that reminded me I was a woman in her prime.

I took another glance at the man I was zinging over. His hair was . . . neat. Not too short but not long by any stretch of the imagination. And it was brown. Not dark brown bordering on black and definitely not punctuated with blond highlights. No, this man’s hair was a straight-up, use-a-Crayola-brown-crayon-if-you-were-coloring-him sort of brown.

He was tan. Not in a lies-out-in-the-sun sort of way, but rather he had a skin tone that came from ancestors who came from sunnier climes than mine. I made people who were pale look swarthy.

Judging from the van, he was not overly tall, nor was he overly short. Average.

I tried to ignore my zing and concentrate on my book. This man would make a perfect coach. Put a baseball cap on him and give him a whistle and a glove . . .

At some point I’d started typing.

“Couch,” Felicity called. “Your name’s funny.”

“Coach,” Coach Divan responded, correcting her pronunciation.

“Couch Divan. I bet people pick on you. My grandma calls her couch a divan. So you’re really Couch Couch.”

“Coach,” he repeated.

“I like Couch better. Couch Divan. Yep. Couch Couch. Yeah, I like it—”

 “Hi.”

That one syllable pulled me from my story and I realized the man who had reminded me I was a woman and was my potential new neighbor as well as an inspiration for a new character was standing at my porch railing.

“Sorry. I got caught up in . . .” I wasn’t going to tell him what I’d been caught up in. It’s better not to scare new acquaintances with my profession. Some worry they’d become fodder for my fiction.

Frankly, some did.

I started again. “Hi. Are you my new neighbor?”

He nodded. “Edward Chesterfield. Ned, to my friends.”

I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. Really, it was more of a giggle than a full-out laugh.

I’d written an article years ago about the evolution of the modern sofa for a historical magazine, which was the only reason I know that a variety of couches are known asChesterfields.

Given what I’d been writing, it was funny. Well, maybe not in a standup routine sort of comedy way, but to a woman who spent a lot of her time entertaining herself, it was hysterical.

My new neighbor, Ned, looked at me like I was nuts.

“Sorry. Really. It’s just that . . .” Man, I was making a muck of this. I’m pretty sure that telling a man you were amused that there was a type of couch that bore his family name wasn’t going to convince him of your sanity...

Teaser Tuesday, Meet Piper's Garden

I've started using my #ViewsOfMyGarden posts on social media again.  Watching the way it changes as the season goes along gives me glee.  From the first popping of my asparagus, to the fresh tomatoes, to the final burst of squash before the winter hits.  It's always changing.


The garden in next week's (Just 1 week to go!!) CARRY HER HEART becomes almost a character in its own right, so today's teaser is introducing you to Piper's garden:

From the front, my brick house with its big porch and small white dormer jutting out from the roof is as neat and orderly as I can possibly keep it. There are immaculately trimmed hedges along the porch. And on the porch, white wicker furniture, a welcome mat, and an antique milk box that my paperboy leaves the paper in.

But my backyard is not neat in the least. 

It’s overgrown and more than a bit wild looking. In a sea of well-kept lawns, my backyard was the neighborhood anomaly. I’d like to say I felt bad about that, but in truth, my yard is fenced in, so unless my neighbors are standing on something, I don’t think it bothers them. At least no one’s mentioned it to me if it does.
When I first moved in five years ago, there was a six-foot, solid wooden fence around the yard, but very little grass and no trees or bushes. That first spring, I went to a local nursery and went a bit crazy. I spent a week planting everything from serviceberry trees to raspberries bushes. Then I added a couple apple trees and a chestnut tree.

That fall, I put in hundreds of bulbs and added more in the spring, then threw three containers of wildflower seeds into any bare bits of earth that were left. Still, I added. Mints, chicory, milkweed, Queen Anne’s lace . . . 

Sometimes one plant choked out a neighbor, and occasionally something totally unexpected popped up. But five years later, my yard is perfectly imperfect. 

It’s a chaotic jumble of greenery.

If my front porch was my place to work, then my backyard was my place to dream. 

One of the nicest perks about being a professional writer was that daydreaming was part of my job description, and my yard was the perfect place to do that.

You can preorder Carry Her Heart now! It's available as a paperback, Kindle eBook, and audiobook!

Holly

#TeaserTuesday—Carry Her Heart

Just 3 weeks until Carry Her Heart's release!
It's available for preorder now.

I love exploring the idea of friendship in my books.  I've been so lucky to have friends I've been close to since my school days, and so many wonderful friends I've discovered since then.  And even more fortunate to have old friends I've reconnected with and found an entirely new friendship!  

Holly

Teaser Tuesday, Carry Her Heart

Carry Her Heart

1 Month and 4 Days (but who's counting) until 

CARRY HER HEART'S release!!  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always been someone who's comfortable being by myself...especially when there's a good book involved. Maybe that's one of the reasons I love this scene in the book.  The hero's broken up with a girlfriend and my heroine asks him,

“Do you miss her?”

Ned shook his head. “No. I thought maybe, if nothing else, I’d miss the companionship, but it’s been six months and I don’t. That seems harsh to say.” He sighed. “I do feel her absence sometimes, but it’s not quite missing and more of a passing thought than a heartache, if that makes sense. And now that I have Princess, the house seems full enough.”

I nodded. I understood that. I’d always been someone comfortable being by myself. Even as a child. Give me a book and a comfortable chair and I could make an entire day of it.

How about you??  Can you make a day of a comfortable chair and a good book??

Holly

Teaser Tuesday: Just One Thing

Thanks everyone for the congrats about Just One Thing's new Reviewers' Choice Award and for it having one of the top highlight quotes on Kindle! I thought I'd use it for  #TeaserTuesday. This short scene seems just about right given the weather!  Okay, so most of us are no longer anticipating snow...we're buried in it!  LOL

Just One Thing 

I walked home that night and it felt like it could snow at any moment. There’s a certain crispness that hits right before the snow. The ground felt crunchier under my feet and there wasn’t a cloud overhead, just a black, black night sky filled with stars and a half-moon. 
I could see my breath in the moonlight and I was thankful I’d worn my heavy wool socks. I’d have to pull out my boots soon, not just because of the potential snow, but simply for the warmth.
        I watched my breath come out in vivid puffs and felt a sense of anticipation. 

PS Just One Thing was released in German this month!

#Teaser Tuesday...Carry Her Heart

Given the weather that's gripping most of the US, I thought this was an appropriate #TuesdayTeaser!

Carry Her Heart 
release date 4-28-15

I’d always thought that autumn smelled of cinnamon. I breathed deeply and decided winter smelled of peppermint. Not peppermint candy, but the real herb I had growing in the backyard. Sharp, cold, with a bit of a bite. Clean. Not that it was officially winter yet, but the season arrives early on the shore of Lake Erie.

As if on cue, it started to snow.

“And thus it begins,” Ned intoned.

I laughed. “Another Erie winter.”

“Snow shovels and snowblowers,” he said.

I added, “Snow brushes.”

Ned took it as a challenge, thought a moment and said, “Snow pants.”

“Come on, that’s a bit of a cheat.

Teaser Tuesday, Christmas in Cupid Falls

#TeaserTuesday

Christmas in Cupid Falls

by Holly Jacobs

This week, a sneak peak at Nana Vancy's cameo in Christmas in Cupid Falls:

<<They reached the coatrack and all three of them pulled out their coats.

Nana Vancy smiled at him as she slipped hers on. She looked as pleased as if he’d aced a spelling bee. “Yes, my friends. I adopted Clara Barton and Madame Curie to help match Annabelle’s second cousin’s daughter by her third marriage once removed. Bela was so mad when I came home with the dogs, but they stole his heart. There have never been two dogs so loved. And when I decided that matchmaking people might not be my calling . . .”

Kennedy’s laughter couldn’t be contained at that. “From what you told me, there were a few glitches.”

Nana Vancy grinned as she nodded and admitted, “Just a few, kedvenc, but I did help bring together some very happy couples. But when I matchmaked Annabelle’s second cousin’s daughter by her third marriage once removed, who was a veterinarian—”

Kennedy laughed as she interrupted, “—with a man who was allergic to dogs.”

Nana Vancy said, “It all worked out, didn’t it? And I discovered my true calling was matching dogs to their forever homes. And with help from family and friends, I started Everything But a Dog Foundation.”

That was a long story made longer, Mal thought but didn’t say out loud as they walked out onto the sidewalk. He glanced to make sure that Kennedy had zipped up her parka against the cold.

She caught him at it and glared at him. He didn’t need the words to know she was telling him she could look after herself.

He sighed. This time it wasn’t only Kennedy who looked at him, but Nana Vancy, too. She pointed down the street at a big man with two dogs. A large black one and a much smaller white one that had a very sausage-like build.

Mal looked at the big man smile as the tiny woman approached him. He wasn’t a romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but when Nana Vancy’s Bela joined them with the dogs, Mal could see how much love there was between them. It reminded him of Clarence and Joan. Or his grandfather and grandmother.

Nana Vancy walked up to the big man and their bodies brushed, as if drawn together like magnets.

“Kennedy, Malcolm, this is my Bela.” There was pride in her voice . . . and love.

“Bela Salo,” he said, shaking their hands.

“And this is Madame Curie.” At the sound of her name, the black dog sat down and offered them her paw.

Kennedy knelt down awkwardly and took the paw. “Aren’t you a beautiful girl?”

The little white dog, not to be outdone, jumped up at Kennedy, anxious for some affection, too. But Kennedy’s center of gravity was extremely off because of the baby. The small dog hurtling in her direction was enough to topple her, but Malcolm sprang forward and grabbed her under her arms, steadying her.

She looked up. “Thank you,” she said, then turned her attention to the demanding sausage-like white dog.

Nana Vancy shot him a look that made him feel like a bug under a microscope, then she said, “And that rude dog is Clara . . . Clara Barton. She has no manners and very little brains.”

Bela looked slightly insulted on the dog’s behalf. “But she is all heart, that one.”

As if to prove his point, Clara was busy kissing Kennedy, who hadn’t asked Mal to remove his hands, so he continued to steady her as she continued to kneel by the small dog.>>

Teaser Tuesday…Books from Christmas in Cupid Falls

‪

Christmas in Cupid Falls

#‎TeaserTuesday‬ Christmas in Cupid Falls

Here's another ‪#‎EasterEgg‬ from the new book. I'll confess, the GLH books I mention I remember from grandmother's. They sat on her shelf in the hall. Later, they sat on Mom's shelf. These days, they're on my shelf. They're fragile and brittle with age, but I think of Mom and Nana every time I look at them. 

~Holly

Grace Livingston Hill

Teaser:<<She dusted and couldn’t help but run her fingers along old favorites. They were all old hardbacks. Grace Livingston Hill was Aunt Betty’s favorite. The copies were old and the slipcovers were yellow, but she remembered reading The Spicebox and Miranda. L. M. Montgomery’s Green Gables books. Louisa May Alcott. Gene Stratton-Porter. She pulled out A Girl of the Limberlost. Oh, how she’d loved that book.

Gene Stratton-Porter & LM Montgomery

Yes, the books would stay. She’d found comfort in them when she’d first come to live here. And they felt like old friends on the shelf.>>

Kindle eBook 
Paperback
Audio 

Teaser Tuesday, Christmas in Cupid Falls

#TeaserTuesday 

CHRISTMAS IN CUPID FALLS  is officially out in the world.  Reviews are coming in and I'm thrilled that people are enjoying their first visit to Cupid Falls!  For all you Nana Vancy (Everything But…) fans, today's teaser is from her cameo.  And for those WLVH fans, a disc jockey at Erie's favorite radio station get a cameo, too!  (Speaking of WLVH, Lovehandles is on sale for $1.99 )

Here's today's teaser:

<<He (Mal) glanced to make sure that Kennedy had zipped up her parka against the cold.

She caught him at it and glared at him. He didn’t need the words to know she was telling him she could look after herself.

He sighed. This time it wasn’t only Kennedy who looked at him, but Nana Vancy, too. She pointed down the street at a big man with two dogs. A large black one and a much smaller white one that had a very sausage-like build.

Mal looked at the big man smile as the tiny woman approached him. He wasn’t a romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but when Nana Vancy’s Bela joined them with the dogs, Mal could see how much love there was between them. It reminded him of Clarence and Joan. Or his grandfather and grandmother.

Nana Vancy walked up to the big man and their bodies brushed, as if drawn together like magnets.

“Kennedy, Malcolm, this is my Bela.” There was pride in her voice . . . and love.

“Bela Salo,” he said, shaking their hands.

“And this is Madame Curie.” At the sound of her name, the black dog sat down and offered them her paw.

Kennedy knelt down awkwardly and took the paw. “Aren’t you a beautiful girl?”

The little white dog, not to be outdone, jumped up at Kennedy, anxious for some affection, too. But Kennedy’s center of gravity was extremely off because of the baby. The small dog hurtling in her direction was enough to topple her, but Malcolm sprang forward and grabbed her under her arms, steadying her.

She looked up. “Thank you,” she said, then turned her attention to the demanding sausage-like white dog.

Nana Vancy shot him a look that made him feel like a bug under a microscope, then she said, “And that rude dog is Clara . . . Clara Barton. She has no manners and very little brains.”

Bela looked slightly insulted on the dog’s behalf. “But she is all heart, that one.”

As if to prove his point, Clara was busy kissing Kennedy, who hadn’t asked Mal to remove his hands, so he continued to steady her as she continued to kneel by the small dog.

“I love dogs,” Kennedy said, as Clara continued on her love-fest.

“Maybe I’ll find your dog at the adoption day?” Nana Vancy said. “I’ll find you the perfect dog.”

“She’s very good at it.” Bela laughed and added, “Better finding dogs their match than people.”

“Now, Bela,” Nana Vancy scolded, “I always managed to make things work out.”

“Ask the people she matched if it was easy.” Bela guffawed.

“Love isn’t easy,” Nana Vancy said very seriously. She looked at Mal and continued, “It is not supposed to be. Because if it was, you wouldn’t appreciate it half as much. Look how hard Bela made things on me, and all these years later, I still appreciate that he’s mine.” She turned her gaze back to the big man.

Kennedy kept petting Clara as if she thought Nana Vancy had forgotten the idea of her adopting a dog, but the older woman obviously hadn’t. “I will find you the perfect dog, Kennedy.”

Kennedy started to rise, with difficulty, but Malcolm gave her a tug and righted her easily.

Kennedy rested her arms on her stomach. “Nana Vancy, I’ll come see you in a few years. I don’t think it would be fair to a dog to bring it home and then introduce a new baby. I don’t think I’d be able to give it the attention it deserved.”

“Well, maybe if someone were to give you a hand?” Nana Vancy looked directly at Mal.

Kennedy obviously caught the look, because she said, “Mal’s a friend and neighbor, but helping me with a dog isn’t in the cards. He will be going back to Pittsburgh soon, and I’ll have the baby, the flower shop, and a town to look after. In a couple years I’ll get the baby a dog. I promise.”

Nana Vancy didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and dropped the issue.

They stayed and visited with the older couple.

Mal watched Bela as Nana Vancy spoke. Bela was a quiet man and seemed happy to let her do the talking for both of them, but he watched her every move. And it was easy to see he was enchanted by her. She’d spoken of their children and grandchildren, which meant they’d been together for a long time, and still Bela watched Nana Vancy with love in his eyes.

Mal realized he’d been watching the older man watching Nana Vancy so intently that he’d lost track of the conversation. But it was obviously over, since Nana Vancy kissed Kennedy and said, “I’ll be here early on for the event. Me, Bela, our helpers, and all the dogs. And thank you for the helpers here. Oh, Angel is coming from the radio, too.”

“Radio?” Mal asked, feeling as if he were playing catch-up.

“It’s on the event listing on the computer,” Kennedy said. “The Everything But a Dog portion of the day is being covered by WLVH in Erie.”

“WLVH, where love is more than just a song,” Nana Vancy said with a chortle. “It took me a while to learn that.”>>

Teaser Tuesday…Christmas in Cupid Falls

Christmas in Cupid Falls

‪#‎TeaserTuesday‬ Christmas in Cupid Falls (There's an Easter Egg in this scene…something that really happened to me.)

“The legend? I know you’ve heard the stories,” she said. “Everyone in town has.” She remembered when she first came to live with her aunt. There’d been an article in the paper talking about the legend. She’d been enchanted by it. She remembered cutting out the piece and was sure she still had it somewhere in her desk.

Malcolm nodded. “Yes, of course I’ve heard the legend.”

“I know that Waterford is understandably proud our first president spent time there. And I like to think that Washington indirectly had a hand in bringing our young hero here, which means Washington helped found Cupid Falls.”

Malcolm laughed. “So that old story is now a legend. The word legend does seem to give it more authority. Did you know that Pap fell in love with my grandmother at the falls?”

“No.” She’d heard a lot of family stories from Pap and Val, but not that one.

Malcolm nodded. “They were seniors in high school and had a senior skip day. Pap assured me that although it wasn’t an official day off for the seniors, all the teachers and parents knew about it and didn’t try to stop it. I think he was afraid I’d skip school and use that as justification.”

“What, you?” she asked with mock shock. “Malcolm Carter the Fourth would never do something like skip school. I don’t think you ever got in trouble in school.”

“And you did?” he countered with a grin.

“Yes. I got a detention our senior year.”

She could see her answer surprised him, then his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “For what?”

She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “I’ve tried to keep it quiet because I don’t want it to impact my political career, but I’ll trust you with my secret . . . I took my shoes off in gym class. It was the first warm day of spring and we had gym class outside. Everything was so green. I think anyone who didn’t go barefoot should have had detention.”

She paused as a group of people came over to talk to her. They assured her that everything was beautiful and thanked her, and they all shot obligatory dirty looks at Malcolm.

He didn’t seem to notice. When they left, he took her arm again and she didn’t complain. She probably should have, but she didn’t.

“You are a wild, wild, barefoot woman,” he said.

“It was my wildest high school moment.” She laughed at the memory. “So finish the story about how Pap met your grandmother.”

“He’d been dating another girl for a while, and my grandmother had a steady beau from middle school on. But they’d both broken up with their significant others around the same time. They met by the falls for the senior skip day. He swears he looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. She said the same. And they both used to say that that was the day they really met, and after that day, they knew.”

“That’s lovely.” Since the moment that she’d heard that story of George Washington’s man, she’d loved the idea that the falls had some magical power. She liked it even more now, thinking of Pap and his wife meeting there.

“Yes, lovely.” Malcolm was looking at her as he said the word.

The look he gave her was penetrating, as if he’d seen something about her he’d never seen before. It made Kennedy feel vulnerable, and she didn’t like the sensation. So she tried to steer the conversation away from the falls. “Pap said he’s bringing his new lady to the dance,” she blurted out. “Will it bother you?”

She’d just thrown Pap under the bus, but Malcolm stopped staring at her. He looked surprised for a moment, as if weighing what she’d said, then he slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t think it will bother me. He loved my grandmother and he’s mourned her a long time. And he’s lost my mom as well. He deserves to find whatever happiness he can.”

With that, her arm still tucked under his, they walked up Main Street side by side.