Friday, November 27, 2015

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 3

Happy Day-After-Thanksgiving FFFs!
Yeah, I know, I could have said "happy Black Friday" but I didn't want to. :) This morning I woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. Usually I just turn over and go back to sleep until the alarm goes off. But this morning my brain was so busy already that real sound sleep was impossible. I was thinking off all the things I needed to tell you, new decorating ideas for the house, my list of "to-do" projects, projects that I think would be so much fun, things I need to clean up, deadlines for other things, what was going on today . . . and the list went on. So, on that note, I'm going to start my list of what I needed to tell you.

• I posted about a sale of books on Read Another Page, so go check it out. And no, sorry, I don't have my books listed on there this year.

• Since December starts next week, you might want to keep checking this blog because you never know just when I'll post something. And I have plans . . . :)

• If you were hoping for a Black Friday sale of my books, sorry, I didn't get one ready, but December is coming. I'm planning on on some sales and giveaways either here or on my Read Another Page blog between now and Christmas, so stay tuned.

• Perhaps you don't want to wait for a sale, well, I have a special offer for you from Amazon. If you'd like to get a paperback copy of any of my books (or any other books) here is a 30% off any book code.

• My new book "Through the Tunnel" is now published. You can  use that 30% off to get it if you just can't wait any longer. :)

Well, I think that was all the list I had to tell you. I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Enjoy the last part of

Thanksgiving Makeover
Part 3

    “Hey, Brad,” one of the boys asked, “what are we going to do next? I mean, we’ve already had the big game and the parade.”
    “Well, when it gets dark we are going to have a bonfire–”
    “And roast s’mores!” Cherry put in eagerly.
    “But until then,” Brad shrugged. “We could always play some games like monopoly, or freeze tag, or capture the flag.”
    “Hey, yeah, let’s play capture the flag! We could use the whole neighborhood and the yards, and maybe some of the older ones would play too!” the boy’s enthusiasm was catching.
    With a grin, Brad stood up and picked up his paper plate. “I’ll check with Dad, but I think that’d be fun.”
    Mr. Miller had no objection and, after checking with the other adults, gave permission, provided there was to be no going in and out of houses. “And no one is allowed to cross any street but this one. Understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” Brad replied, and hurried off to see if Sgt. Crawford and Mr. Hunter would join them. Much to Brad and the other children’s delight, both agreed to play after everything was cleared off the street. Never had a Thanksgiving feast been cleared away so quickly. Trash bags were filled with paper plates, utensils, cups and napkins. The extra food was divided up and taken to houses, tables were wiped off and then folded and returned to houses, though some ended up in the wrong place and had to be switched a day or so later. All the chairs were also put away, and before long the street was back to normal.
    It was a lively game that followed. The street was declared “no man’s land,” and the only safe place to cross into “enemy territory” without being certain you were seen, was the empty lot where the parade had been organized. Many were the prisoners caught, the daring prison breaks, and the mad rushes back for the safety of your own side. It was growing dark before Sgt. Crawford, with a few select team members, Brad included, managed to slip across the street one at a time under cover of a diversion farther down the street. Once over, they hid for a little while before creeping stealthily around the houses. The flag was found, but before they could hope to get it, they would have to elude the vigil of the two guards who paced the yard three feet from the swing set where the flag rested in the baby swing.
    “If we all rush them together,” Brad whispered, “They’ll just call for help. I think we should try to get closer and then just have two of us appear and try to lead them away.”
    “Good plan,” Sgt. Crawford nodded. “Who volunteers?”
    Brad and two others did. When he wasn’t chosen, Brad was secretly relieved. He wanted to be in on snatching the flag and taking it to victory.
    Before motioning the decoys to leave, Sgt. Crawford gave a few other whispered instructions.
    Moments later, the “guards” were drawn farther from the swing set. Not too far, but far enough to give Sgt. Crawford and his companion time to rush for the flag. Tingling with excitement, Brad remained where he was, motionless, hoping that the growing darkness would hide him from the sharp eyes of any opposing team members.
    Shouts came from the two guards and Brad wished he dared steal a peek around the corner of the air conditioning unit behind which he crouched. Heavy footsteps were coming closer. Was it–? Brad fairly held his breath until a white cloth dropped almost in his lap and the footsteps turned and darted away. More shouts and footsteps. Brad hid the cloth behind his bent knees and watched as two figures from the other side raced past his place of concealment. When the shouts grew distant, he ventured to lean out and glance about. All was still, even the guards had left their post to chase the two who they thought had their flag. Springing to his feet, Brad raced as quickly as he could towards the street, the white flag clutched firmly in his hand. If he could only make it to the street without being seen, he stood a good chance of winning the game. Just before he ventured from between the two houses, he paused. No one was close. With a burst of speed he dashed for the street waving the white flag and shouting “Victory!”
    From everywhere members from both teams seemed to appear, but there was really no contest, for Brad had a head start and crossed the street to safety well ahead of the fastest runner.
    There was much laughter, a few groans, and one or two complaints, but no one paid attention to the latter.

    By six o’clock darkness had settled over the neighborhood. The promised bonfire had been started and everyone was gathered around. Most of the younger ones begged for hot dogs to roast, for they had run off most of their dinner. After the biggest appetites were satisfied, the s’mores were brought out, and soon sticky fingers and chocolate-adorned mouths, gave proof of their enjoyment.
    It was a perfect evening to sit around a fire with friends and family. Mr. Miller started the final event of the day by naming three things he was thankful for. “The Lord Jesus Christ, a wonderful wife and kids, and a neighborhood to enjoy a day with.”
    From his seat beside Trenton, Brad looked up at the sky as one by one each person named three things he or she was thankful for. Without the streetlights on, the stars seemed brighter, closer. The moon, a crescent, shone with unusual luster, and there seemed to be a new hush over the homes and yards all around them. This was a Thanksgiving Brad would never forget. He half wished that next year the power would be out again. “But nothing would quite equal this year,” he mused, watching the sparks shooting up as a few more logs were placed on the fire.

Do you like playing Capture the Flag?
What was your favorite part about Thanksgiving this year?
Will you be hanging around in December?

Friday, November 20, 2015

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 2

Good morning!
In some ways it feels like it should be Friday because it seems like quite a while ago since I posted last. But on the other hand, it doesn't seem possible that it could be Friday the 20th! Does anyone else feel like the days are going by much too quickly?

It's been a good writing week for me. I have not written this much in one week since the beginning of April! Yeah. Crazy. If I can write tonight and tomorrow night I may set a new record. Perhaps I'll even get ten thousand words written. I've never written that many in one week before. It sure would be fun. And if I did, I would hope that would mean I could finally get this Christmas story finished. It's already 13 parts long. And now I have an idea for another Christmas story. Though I really hope this one will be shorter. :P

Update on Through the Tunnel:
I only have one more person, my sister, who has to finish reading this book. But she can't get to it until Sunday as she's way too busy sewing. I got the cover fixed and uploaded last night. Hopefully it will be right this time. I'm going to work on making corrections on the interior hopefully today or tomorrow. And there is a chance that the book will be available on Amazon by next Friday. Anyone excited?

And now I'll let you get to your story. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving Makeover
Part 2

    Brad was frowning. “I don’t know. He’s supposed to be in a sleigh on top of a house, but . . .” Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “The dog house! If we could put it on wheels of some sort, we could cut a cardboard box so it kind of looks like a sleigh and the whole thing can be pulled or pushed.”
    It was an ingenious idea. Brad raced home to ask his dad for a little help in getting the dog house to the lot. One of their neighbors, who had been talking with Mr. Miller when Brad arrived, offered the use of his small gator and flat trailer to put the doghouse and such on. “You can use it if Hunter’ll drive it,” Mr. Johnson agreed. “I don’t want any youngster accidentally running into the next float or dumping Santa Claus into the street.”

    It was almost noon before the “Neighborhood Macy’s Parade” was ready to begin. From all around the neighborhood families and friends gathered in the front yards along the side of the street. The end of the street had been blocked off with bright orange cones, so there was no fear of traffic to interrupt the parade.
    Loud were the cheers when the “floats” began to appear. There was one with pilgrims and Indians. Who cared that the Indian’s feathers were bright blue and pink, or that the pilgrim father’s paper hat blew off and he had to chase it. Next came the “band” consisting of a pot beaten enthusiastically, a kazoo, and a trumpet.
    The onlookers roared with laughter when they beheld Cherry leading on a string an enormous “turkey” who seemed strangely tall considering that its face appeared to be that of Trenton wearing a beak and red floppy comb under his chin. It took only a look at the boots under the yellow paper “feet,” however, to realize that Sgt. Crawford, home from the Marines for several months, was the lower part of the bird. “He’s probably got couch cushions or his pack on his back covered with a cloth,” whispered one lady to her husband amid the laughter.
    “Yep, and I reckon it’s supposed to be one of those balloon things.”
    The “Macy’s” float came next, with a large sign, and a wagon full of stuffed animals, and dolls all sporting fashionable clothes.
    Three bicycle riders came next, followed by a few more ingenious “floats,” but the crowning moment came when “Santa Claus came to town.” No one minded or even commented on the fact that Santa’s legs stuck out the bottom of his sleigh and the toes of his boots were hooked on the edge of the roof so that he wouldn’t fall out. His outfit was splendid, and he sported a beard of white batting which made him sneeze several times as he was carried slowly down the street waving to the people and shouting, “Come to Macy’s and buy your Christmas presents!” This last bit brought down the house, and even the sound of the gator’s engine was drowned out.

    Pulling off the itchy beard, Brad asked, “When is the game, Dad?”
    Mr. Miller chuckled. “Not yet. You’ve got to give everyone a little time to recover from the parade. And besides, aren’t you all hungry yet?”
    “I am!” Rosa exclaimed. “But we can’t eat a Thanksgiving dinner, can we?”
    “Well, not like we usually do, but we’ll eat a feast later in the afternoon. We’ve got three turkeys roasting in roaster ovens powered by a generator Mr. Leeks had. Between all the families, I imagine we’ll have enough to at least taste a bit of turkey. If they don’t get done, or if anyone is still hungry after we eat, they can roast hot dogs.”

    At two o’clock everyone gathered in the “Neighborhood Bowl” behind Mr. Merrik’s house for the big foot ball game. All the players had been divided into two opposing teams: Panthers vs. Cowboys. All around the field chairs had been set up, a few trucks had been parked and more chairs set up in their beds. “To give the impression of stands,” Mr. Miller had told his wife. Since no one had real padding, the game was tag football, but no one minded. One of the men used to work as a referee and he had pulled out his black and white shirt and hung his whistle around his neck.
    At half time the score was 3-1 in favor of the Panthers. Most of the ladies left the game then, as did a few of the men who weren’t playing. The ones who remained, however, cheered every play and shouted encouragement to the younger players until they were hoarse.
    When the game finally ended the Cowboys had managed to win the game by one point at the very end. Brad came off the field rather winded and hot. He found his sisters and brothers waiting for him in the back of their dad’s truck. “Well, I thought we were going to win,” he remarked, reaching for the water bottle Rosa held out to him.
    “But it was a really close game,” Rosa said, waving to a friend who had been sitting on the other side of the field. “Now you have to go get cleaned up so we can eat.”

    Everyone agreed it was a most unusual place for a Thanksgiving dinner, but the middle of their quiet, blocked off street seemed to be the perfect place to put tables and chairs. “Of course, anyone is welcome to sit in the grass or on their porch, if they’d rather,” Mrs. Miller told everyone as they all gathered.
    It wasn’t the traditional Thanksgiving meal most families in America would be partaking of, but it was a feast. The three turkeys had been roasted to perfection and, with the use of three grills, two gas stoves, and two dutch ovens, the ladies had managed to prepare potatoes, both mashed and baked, stuffing, corn, cranberry sauce, and a few other dishes, not to mention the pies which had been baked ahead of time. As for rolls, Mr. Henthorn, who worked at a bakery, had brought home dozens of rolls the evening before, when he had learned of the intended feast. Though there wasn’t enough turkey for everyone to have as much as they might have wanted, no one was hungry by the time the meal was over.
    Brad leaned back in his chair and looked down the length of the street. “It sure is funny to be eating our Thanksgiving meal in the middle of a street.”
    Rosa nodded. “But we wouldn’t have fit anywhere else very well, except for the empty lots, and that would have been a long way to carry all the tables and things.”

Have you ever eaten in the middle of a street before?
Do you like playing football?
Are you excited about "Through the Tunnel"?

Friday, November 13, 2015

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 1

Hello FFFs,
What's the weather like at your place? It's chilly here right now. But it was warmer this week and on Wednesday we thought we might blow away because the wind was so strong and it blew nearly all day from the south. After dark it switched around and blew from the north dropping the temperature quite a bit. Right now the sun is coming up and it's pretty calm and still outside. Most of the leaves still on the trees blew off in the wind and the ground is now thickly spread with a crunchy carpet.

Last night my grandpa and I went to a concert. It was lovely except that for some reason they were running the air conditioning! Everyone was freezing most of the first half. We listened to a violin, clarinet and piano trio. The violin was a Stradivarius! I forgot what year she said it was, but the tone was incredible!

I have been writing. Some. On Monday and Tuesday. I was gone to work in the nursery at church Wednesday night and last night was the concert and tonight I'm going to babysit my youngest niece and nephews. So . . . Maybe tomorrow night.

I don't have any update on "Through the Tunnel." I'm still waiting for the proof copy to arrive. Perhaps it will come today. I was hoping for yesterday but forgot the mail didn't run on Wednesday.

If you haven't read my blog post on Read Another Page, you might want to check it out. Especially if you have never read my book "Home Fires of the Great War." If you have read it and you haven't left a review on Amazon, I'd love to read what you think of the book.

And now I will give you the first part of this Thanksgiving story. It's a different kind of story. I can't decide if I like it or not. I'll leave that up for you to decide.

Thanksgiving Makeover
Part 1

    The early pre-dawn light was just beginning to spread across the eastern sky, giving a hint to a beautiful Thanksgiving day. The neighborhood was still shrouded in darkness. Not a light shone in any window, giving the impression that no one was awake or that everyone had left town for the holiday. However, the eerily dark streetlights hinted that something more than late sleepers was causing the darkness.
    Inside the Miller home, eleven-year-old Brad shut his Bible and placed it back on the shelf before snapping off his flashlight. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, but when they did, he slipped from his small room and knocked softly on the door across the hall.
    It opened in a minute and his sister appeared.
    “Are you ready?” Brad whispered.
    “Yep.” There was excitement in Rosa’s voice as she turned off her light and tucked it into her pocket.
    Together the siblings hurried down the hall to the stairs. A faint light glimmered from the living room, and Brad and Rosa headed towards it.
    Looking up from his Bible as the children entered, Mr. Miller smiled. “Is it time already?”
    “Yeah, it’s just after six.”
    “Is Mom awake yet?” Rosa asked.
    Mr. Miller nodded. “Yes. She’s going to let the younger ones sleep as late as they want because I don’t think anyone except Molly is going to take a nap today.” As he spoke, Mr. Miller had risen, set his Bible on the table and picked up a camping lantern. “All right, let’s get coats and get to work. Brad, get the posters, Rosa, the papers.”
    The air was brisk as the three figures stepped outside. The soft twitter of a single bird was the only sound to be heard.
    “It sure is quiet without the hum of that streetlight,” Brad whispered.
    “And dark,” Rosa added, shivering.
    The Millers worked quickly, tucking a paper announcing the unusual day’s events, into the front door of each family who was in town. Posters were stapled to light posts. Across the top of these was written in large letters: “Neighborhood Thanksgiving Festival.” Below was a list of events and where they would take place. Though most of the families already knew about the day, the time and place of most of the events hadn’t been announced.
    As they returned to their own home, Brad could hardly wait for everyone to get up. He didn’t even think about the sudden power outage which had knocked out all their original plans for a “normal” Thanksgiving; he was just eager for the fun he knew would be coming.

    Breakfast was hardly over before the excitement and work began. Arrivals at the front door seemed incessant, and Brad and Rosa were kept busy answering questions or directing people to the kitchen to talk with their mom, as she fed baby Molly, or to the back yard where Dad was working.
    At nine o’clock Mr. Miller came inside. “Brad,” he called.
    “I think it might be a good idea to head up to the empty lot and start getting ready for the ‘Macy’s Parade.’ It’s going to take quite a while to get everything ready, I imagine.”
    Brad pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Come on, Rosa!” he shouted.
    Instantly Cherry and Trenton began to beg to go, and Ryan started crying, “Me too! Me too!”
    Turning in despair to his mom, Brad exclaimed, “Mom, I can’t watch the little ones and get a parade ready!”
    Mrs. Miller smiled as she stepped over Molly’s scattered toys. “I know you can’t. Miss Elise and Mr. Hunter said they’d come help when the time came. The younger ones can stay with Miss Elise while you and Mr. Hunter get everything ready and organized.”
    A flurry of jackets were pulled on, and five Miller children raced out the door and up the street to the empty lot which marked the end of their housing development. From nearby homes other children spilled from doors, some dragging wagons or hopping on bikes, others carrying bags or boxes from which trailed fabric of all sorts.
    Everything in the lot was mass confusion for several minutes until Mr. Hunter, a college age young man who was respected by every child in the neighborhood, got everyone’s attention. After that, Brad was able to assign numbers to the various “floats,” and the work of decorating them and dressing up began. There was much laughter over some of the floats, much borrowing of garments, a seemingly constant request for safety pins, and much running back to houses to get thing forgotten or needed.
    “Mr. Hunter,” Brad asked, when everyone was busy, “since this is supposed to be a ‘Macy’s Parade,’ and they always end theirs with a Santa Claus, do you think we can too?”
    With a laugh, Mr. Hunter shrugged. “We can try. We’d have to find a red coat though, unless someone has a Santa suit.”
    “I don’t know of anyone who does. But I’ll ask the kids.” And Brad ran off. He didn’t believe in Santa and knew most of the other kids didn’t either, but the big parade they were copying always had a Santa at the end, and it just wouldn’t be the same without one. There were no Santa suits, but he learned he could get a pair of red snow pants, a red hoodie and a Santa hat. “I still need a black belt, white gloves and black boots,” he panted, running back to Mr. Hunter who had three-year-old Ryan on his shoulders.
    “I can get a black belt for you and you should be able to find some black boots.” He turned to his sister. “Hey, Elise, do you have any white gloves Santa can wear?”
    “Sure. If you’ll keep Trenton with you, Cherry and I’ll run and get them.”
    “And grab my black belt from the closet, will you? Oh, and see if you can locate any black boots,” Mr. Hunter called after her. Then he turned to Brad. “What is Santa going to ride in?”

What would you make "Santa" ride in?
Have you ever made a parade?
Have you ever had a holiday without electricity?

Friday, November 6, 2015

Through the Tunnel - Part 2

Hello FFFs,
Yes, I'm back and bringing you the next part of "Through the Tunnel." Don't blame me for where it ends. I just pulled out the next thousand words for you today. :P
And now there is good and bad news. The bad news is: You won't be getting any more parts of this book here on my blog. (Unless I decide to do a page with the first chapter like I have for most of my other novels.) The good news is: I ordered my proof copy this morning! Now that doesn't mean the book will be published by next week. It still has to go through the final round of edits and have the corrections made before I can upload the final copy. But it's coming along. :) I spent nearly all afternoon yesterday finishing the layout, uploading that, and then getting the cover completed and uploaded.

On another note, I do have a Thanksgiving story written. That will be starting next week. I have hopes of writing a Christmas story or two, but right now I have no ideas for any. Perhaps that's because I've been too focused on "Through the Tunnel."

Now I'm wondering, how many of you just skipped the top part of this post and went directly to the story first. Anyone? :)

Through the Tunnel
Part 2

    Raising his eyebrows slightly, Leigh stole a quick glance behind them before pulling his gloved hand from his pocket. Sometimes his sister had the strangest ideas, and he wasn’t sure where she got them. He didn’t mind holding hands with her, if no one was watching, but they were fourteen and it wasn’t exactly the thing to do when others were around.
    Lissa didn’t seem to notice her brother’s hesitation, but seized his hand and straightened her shoulders. “Are you ready?” she breathed.
    Leigh nodded, and in perfect silence, except for their footsteps, the twins entered the small arch in the stone bridge. The snow wasn’t as deep and the very center had only a thin dusting where snow had been blown in. The hand holding his own trembled as they neared the snowy world beyond the bridge, and Leigh squeezed it.
    Feeling the pressure, Lissa tightened her grip, and a tingling feeling of excitement and anticipation raced up her spine and then shot to the very tips of her fingers and toes. They were almost there; almost to the end of the tunnel and into their new world, their new life. In spite of the fact that the rational part of her mind was telling her that it was all her imagination, and the world they were about to enter was the same snowy one they had left on the other side of the bridge, Lissa refused to listen to anything rational.
    Stepping out into the white wonderland, Lissa and Leigh gazed about them a moment before their eyes met.
    Lissa nodded. “We are here. This, Leigh, is a new world.” She made a gesture with her hand. “See, there are no footprints. Everything is fresh and new.” Her eyes left her brother’s face and swept over the landscape once more until her gaze locked on the towering pine tree that was missing its top. Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure how, she felt that she was that tree,  stunted and suppressed. “I won’t stay that way,” she said half aloud.
    “What? You won’t stay what way?” Leigh asked.
    Tearing her eyes away from the tree, Lissa shook her head. “Nothing.” There were some things hard to talk about, even to her twin. As she put her hand in her pocket, she felt the orange Leigh had given her. Now was the perfect time to eat it. “Here,” she said, pulling it out. “Let’s eat the first food in our new world.”
    She took one glove off and tried to dig her nail into the thick skin, but she couldn’t get it started.
    “Let me try.” Taking the fruit, Leigh pulled a small pocket knife from his coat pocket and soon had the skin off and the orange divided into two parts. “Here.”
    Lissa took one half but said, “You eat the other half.”
    “No. I had lunch. You eat it,” and he set the second half on top of the first.
    For a moment Lissa hesitated. She was hungry, yet her desire to continue to pretend was stronger still. “We must both eat if we want our new life in this world to be better than the last.” She held a half out, pleading with her eyes for her twin to take it.
    “I’ll eat one piece,” Leigh agreed, peeling a small wedge from the juicy orange. “You have to eat the rest of it.”
    Lissa knew from his tones that he wouldn’t budge from his statement. Most of the time she liked the feeling of being taken care of by her brother, but sometimes she wished he wasn’t quite so protective. Giving in, Lissa nodded. “Let’s walk while I eat,” she suggested, popping a piece of orange into her mouth and savoring its sweet flavor.
    Neither twin said a word as they slowly strolled forward along the snowy path in companionable silence. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Finally, after Lissa had finished her orange, pulled her glove back on, and stuck her hand in her pocket, Leigh asked, “Why did you leave the cabin?”
    “To get away from everything. I was tired of the constant complaining, arguing, and shouting. There hasn’t been a moment of silence since we arrived. Even at night there are snores, or loud voices from those who don’t go to bed. I just couldn’t stand it any more.”
    “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. I’ll be glad to get back to school.”
    “Leigh,” Lissa looked up at her brother, “do you think we could ask Mrs. Harrel if she has a different home for us?”
    For a moment Leigh was silent. “I don’t know. We might end up in a worse place. The Grose family aren’t too bad back home, are they?”
    “N-o-o-o, I guess not.” Lissa had never liked living with the Groses. It wasn’t that they were mean to her, but no one really got along, the children, all middle school and younger in age, treated her like their personal slave, and when she didn’t comply with their demands soon enough, they would cry and carry on until Mr. or Mrs. Grose scolded her for causing such a fuss.
    With Leigh it was different. He was gone much of the time to one sports practice or event or another and when he was home, he wasn’t at the beck and call of the younger ones.
    “Perhaps I should have joined a sports team,” she muttered.
    “You? Ha!” Leigh chuckled. “You know you hate playing sports.”
    Lissa knew that well. She had been made to join a sports team when they lived with another foster family, and she had been miserable.
    A few flakes of snow began to drift down from the white sky. Tilting her head back, Lissa squinted up and tried to catch one on her tongue.
    “Lissa, perhaps we should be heading back now.”
    Slowly Lissa readjusted her scarf, glanced back the way they had come, and shook her head. A sudden fit of independence or recklessness had come over her, and she folded her arms. “I’m not going back yet. They’ll only scold us for going out anyway and, if that’s the case, we might as well take our time.”
    Leigh’s eyes widened. He’d never heard his usually compliant and eager-to-please sister talk in this fashion. “Lissa, what’s gotten into you?” he asked. “Do you just want to make Mrs. Grose worry? Come on,” he placed a hand on her arm. “The snow is coming down a little harder. We don’t want to be caught out here in a storm.”

Are you ready to buy the book?
Do you wish it was out now?
Will you be back to read the Thanksgiving story?