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Loree Lough: They Called Her Shoog & Giveaway

1/29/2012

 

This week we welcome Loree Lough to Author Memories.

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Loree Lough is an award-winning  author of 84 books with nearly 4 million copies in circulation. When she isn't at the keyboard, you might find Loree sketching or painting, in the garden messing with her roses, or hiking the trails near her teeny cabin in the Allegheny Mountains (perfecting "identify the critter tracks" skills). In a modest home shared with her real-life hero, daughters and grandkids routinely gather around "the longest dining room table in the Baltimore suburbs" to taste-test Loree's latest culinary concoctions (which explains her lifetime Weight Watchers membership).


They Called Her Shoog
by Loree Lough
Growing up, I lived in a neighborhood where ice skating, and St. Bernard-pulled sleds speeding through the streets were routine winter sights—at least, when the sun was up. After supper, moonlight illuminated elaborate snow forts, where kid-fierce snowball fights might have lasted until bedtime…if soggy mittens and wet socks hadn't driven us inside. 

Summers found us sprinkler hopping, hop-scotch scribbling, and riding bikes in the empty school parking lot. After dark, it took some serious concentration to win Statues and Hide-and-seek, because it wasn't easy, standing still and keeping quiet while swatting mosquitoes! 

The summer when I was ten, a pretty little redhead moved into the house on the corner. Her parents and older siblings called her Shoog…and it was Shoog who introduced us to a whole new way to spend our summer days: Picking apples in her grandfather's orchard.
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Shoog looked at lot like this little girl.
Every morning at precisely 7 a.m., Gramps pulled into Shoog's driveway, the smoke from his burled-wood pipe curling from the driver's door window as we clamored for a wall seat in the pickup's bed. (Getting stuck in the middle with nothing to hold onto but the hope you wouldn't end up in Skinny Jimmy's lap made for an adventuresome ride, indeed!) Once there, Gramps doled out flimsy bushels…and a growly reminder that for every full basket we delivered, we'd earn a dime.
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Bushels (bushel baskets)
Those first few days, we figured Shoog rode up front in the truck…that she never picked fruit because, well, she was Gramps' granddaughter. From her perch on the hood of the rusty old truck, she'd applaud and cheer as the dimes were doled out. And when Little Bobby (who was a head taller and outweighed us all by fifty pounds) bit into an apple and saw the other half of a worm he hadn't swallowed, it was Shoog who patted his back as he tried valiantly not to throw up.
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This looked so much like Gramps' truck, it's spooky!
Leave it to Web-toed Tommy to ask why Shoog never joined in the fun: "Because," Gramps quietly explained, "Shoog has leukemia." Kids being kids, we shrugged it off and went back to climbing trees and shaking apples from the branches. But on the way home that day, there wasn't the usual tomfoolery in the back of Gramps' truck. 

Back on familiar turf, we scattered to show our moms the shiny coins we'd earned. After wolfing down bologna or PB&J sandwiches, we took up our customary positions under the big tree in Marty's front yard, playing Telephone and I'm Thinking of a Number Between while listening for the tell-tale jingle of the ice cream man's bicycle. All except for Shoog, that is. While we lapped melting vanilla from our fingers, she was inside, resting up from the morning outing. 

It was a sweltering Friday in August when, while gnawing that last bite of chocolate from my frozen treat, I got a bright idea: If we all went home and searched for loose change in our sofas, we'd have enough to buy an ice cream for Shoog on Monday! The kids agreed, but their moms had other plans: Sammy got stuck mowing the lawn and it was Clara's turn to fold the laundry. Bed-making, dishwashing, furniture-dusting and sibling-sitting took precedence over cushion diving. Miraculously, we managed to get our chores finished and collect enough to buy a cold treat for our frail friend.

 On Monday, we assembled at the end of her driveway to wait for Gramps' truck, and struck an oath not to tell Shoog about the surprise we'd deliver to her front door when he brought us home again. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. It wasn't like Gramps to be late. Gary, the oldest and bravest of us knocked on Shoog's front door… 

…and some nice lady we'd never seen before said "Sorry, kids; Shoog died last night."

Thanks to our mothers' real version of Telephone, we learned that her real name was Grace, and that if she'd lived, Grace would have turned eleven that following Friday. Diagnosed with the horrible disease at the tender age of eight, she remained her sweet, uncomplaining self, no matter what tests or treatments the doctors threw at her, inspiring the nickname that stuck.

Tiny and quiet and delicate, Shoog made a bigger and more lasting impression on me than just about anyone I can name. To this day, I wish I'd thought of a way to get closer to her while I had the chance, that I'd come up with the "let's buy her a treat" at the start of summer, that after returning home from a day in her grandfather's orchard, I'd rushed through my chores for no reason other than to spend a little time with her.

They called her Shoog…but her birth name was well-chosen, for she epitomized grace.

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GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, Feb 5th
to be entered in a draw for one book in Loree's First Responder series.
Winner's choice of:
Book 1 - From Ashes To Honor
or
Book 2 - Honor Redeemed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Honor Redeemed, Abingdon Press, Feb 2012

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Honor Mackenzie works as hard to guard the dark secrets of her past as she does training search and rescue (SAR) dogs. As for prize winning reporter Matt Phillips? Well, not even his former SAR work is as important as protecting his motherless twin sons.

Then a jumbo jet crashes onto a major highway at rush hour, and puts them face to face at the grisly scene--and forces Matt and Honor to reconsider the reasons they've been avoiding love. Even amid their blossoming relationship, it's hard for Honor to let go of haunting memories. Matt is still struggling with those issues when he hears that Honor has disappeared during a dangerous rescue effort.
                                                                                        
He leads the search team, desperate to find her before a blizzard moves in. But even if he does, will they find their way back to one another...or go back to living alone?

The First Responder Series:

Book 1 - From Ashes to Honor, Aug 2011
Book 2 - Honor Redeemed, Feb 2012
Book 3 - A Man of Honor, release date TBA

You can find Loree online at these sites:

http://www.loreelough.com
http://theloughdown.blogspot.com

Christian Fiction Online Magazine:
Loree is a featured columnist ("Loree's Lough Down").

Some final words from Loree:
I'm not just shootin' the PR breeze when I direct folks to the "Giving Back" tab at my web site (http://www.loreelough.com); I really do want them to share in the satisfied after-effects that last far longer than any contributions--whether roll-up-your-sleeves volunteer hours or dollars and cents--if not to one of the worthwhile organizations listed, then at a charity that's close to their hearts!

Dina Sleiman: 19th Century Family Treasures & Giveaway

1/22/2012

 

This week we welcome Dina Sleiman to Author Memories.

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Dina Sleiman writes lyrical stories that dance with light. Most of the time you will find this Virginia Beach resident reading, biking, dancing, or hanging out with her husband and three children, preferably at the oceanfront. 
Since finishing her Professional Writing MA in 1994, she has enjoyed many opportunities to teach literature, writing, and the arts. Dina is represented by Tamela Hancock Murray of
The Steve Laube Agency. She has recently become an acquisitions editor for WhiteFire as well. Join her as she discovers the unforced rhythms of grace.

19th Century Family Treasures
by Dina Sleiman

My great grandfather, affectionately known to us as Great Pop pop, was also a great story teller. He would regale us with tales of life at the turn of the century. With stories of our eclectic relatives. Everything from Native Americans, to inventors, to a real life signer of the Declaration of Independence. Having a bit of the story telling bug myself, I always wanted to get his tales down on paper.

I have such fond memories of this old man. Toward the end of his life I started cleaning his house. He would pay twelve-year-old me an exorbitant amount to dust and vacuum. Of course at twelve, such things are actually fun. And his treasure trove of a house made it even more fun. The lovely antiques I dusted with care. The ingenious mechanical stairway leading to the attic that he'd invented himself. But perhaps most precious were those moments when, through a glimpse in the mirror, I'd catch him watching me clean. The beatific grin on his face as he leaned back in his recliner with his hands crossed over his ample belly was priceless. Then afterward he would take me out to eat, which, if you've ever driven with a man in his eighties, you will understand was quite a harrowing and exciting adventure in and of itself.

We never got Great Pop Pop's stories down on paper. But when he passed away unexpectedly, we were left with the treasures at his house. I inherited an antique bedroom set which legend claimed belonged to a Pennsylvania governor, and I still use pieces from it today. My mom claimed an old chest filled with even more treasures. A 19th century family album and an authentic Victorian gown. These treasures told stories of their own, and I'd like to share some of them with you.

Here's a great one to start with. I'm guessing Civil War era. Union soldier. Love the sword. Not sure how many generations back that would be. Maybe six. Likely his name was John Scutter Dickey, as there were several of them around that time.
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And I suppose these ladies in their hoop skirts must be from about the same period. Sisters of the soldier? Look at how incredibly long their skirts are. I have to wonder if they were standing on something for the pictures. The first appears to be in mourning. Hopefully not for the soldier.
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Don't you think either of these ladies could make a lovely heroine for a novel. Oh, oh, for the sake of the story, maybe they're not his sisters.  Maybe the one in black is mourning the loss of her fiance in the war and in sweeps handsome hero above who managed to survive. What should this one's story be? Quite a refined lady, isn't she?
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What about this funny looking little guy? I wonder what he thinks of the outfit and the curls. Bet he just wants to go outside and play. Although, if I'm not mistaken, he looks rather resigned to the situation. Perhaps a small bribe on the part of his parents?
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In case your wondering if this is actually my family or if I'm making this all up, here's a picture from a little later in the album.
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And here's a picture of my brother, Jonah Dickey, in 1996. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this is my family.
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From towards the end of the album, this is my full-blooded Seneca great great grandmother with a baby on her lap who might well be my great grandfather. Of course it looks more like a girl, but I believe she had six or seven boys and only one girl. So odds are, it isn't a girl. And didn't they dress baby boys in fancy dresses back then? (See boy in curls above.) Note that this baby is sitting on a log. Not quite the upscale scene of the earlier photos.
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And now for the finale, here's a picture of me at age fifteen in that Victorian Era gown that we found. The wrap is actual horsehair. Note the lovely jeweled buttons, the velvet hat, and the authentic muff. Of course, I didn't have the bustle to properly fill out the back. Our best guess is that this belonged to the same great great grandmother in the picture. It was long, even for 5' 10" me.
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So I hope you enjoyed this little trip through our family treasures. I know my mom and I had a fun time preparing it for you.

Have you ever found any family treasures? What are some of your favorite keepsakes? What sort of stories do they spawn in your mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, January 29th
to be entered for a free ebook version of Dina's  debut release,
Dance of the Dandelion

Note: If the winner already has Dance of the Dandelion, 
they can use the promotion code for any WhiteFire novel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dance of the Dandelion, WhiteFire Publishing, Oct 2011 

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Love's quest leads her the world over.

Dandelion Dering was born a peasant in the English village of Arun, but her soul yearned for another life, another world. One filled with color and music, with adventure and passion  . . . with more. Haunted by childhood memories, Dandelion determines to find a better existence than the life every peasant in the village contents themselves with. Even if her sweetheart William’s predictions prove true, and her journey leads straight to heartache.

From her sleepy hamlet to the intrigue of castle life, from the heart of London to the adventurous seas, Dandelion flees from the mistakes of her past, always seeking that something, that someone who will satisfy her longings. Will Dandelion ever find the rhythm to her life's dance . . . or did she leave her chance for true love at home in Arun village?

You can find Dina Sleiman online at the following sites:

www.dinasleiman.com
www.inkwellinspirations.com

Missy Tippens: Sitting On Nanny's Lap & Giveaway

1/15/2012

 

This week we welcome Missy Tippens to Author Memories.

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Missy Tippens lives in Georgia with her wonderful, supportive, pastor husband, three children, two dogs and a cat.

Missy wrote at home for 10 of her 16 stay-at-home mom years. She’s a former home-based business owner and taught at a local technical college for two years. However, writing is her passion and she hopes, her ministry.  From the wonderful emails and letters she's received from readers, she's amazed and blessed to hear how God has used her stories. The letters encourage Missy and mean the world to her.

Sitting On Nanny’s Lap
by Missy Tippens

My grandmother, born in 1900, was a strong, amazing woman. (I shared a story about her history on Lyn Cote’s blog a couple of years ago.) What’s even more amazing was that she had all that energy and drive packed into one small package. :)

Nanny was, at best, five feet tall. And that’s probably with a little bit of heel on her shoes, since she was always perfectly dressed. My grandfather was 6’4”. Nanny’s daughter (my mother) is 5’9 and her son, 6’4”. All five granddaughters were at least 5’5”. So we all towered over her from about age thirteen.
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10 yr old Missy is holding the cat. Nanny is in the middle, along with Poppy, Missy's grandfather, her mom, and her sister. May 1972
We often teased her about her height, especially once after she drove us somewhere and complained that the car windows were dirty. Well, those windows were perfectly clean—except for under the windshield wiper blades. :)

Nanny was always affectionate and loving. I loved sitting in her lap while she rocked and watched “her shows” on TV. The repetitive squeak of the chair would often lull me to sleep. I sat with her there as I grew up, even into college, my long legs practically dragging the floor as she rocked.
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Nanny in 1980
I also loved sitting in the backseat of the car between her and my mother when we travelled with my grandparents. I’d lay my head in Nanny’s lap, and she would run her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep, the sound of her voice as she talked with my mother soothing me.

There’s no place better than a grandmother’s lap. Even as we grow older—and bigger. No matter how old I get, I always remember the love and comfort I experienced there.

Nanny died in 1990, not long after my first child was born. Her home was ten hours away, so we never got to take him to see her. She never got a chance to rock my babies, but I always thought about her as I rocked them. And of course, my mother and my husband’s mother loved to rock them.  I’m glad my children will have their own special memories of being in a grandma’s lap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, January 22nd
to be entered for a free copy of Missy's newest release,
A House Full of Hope
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A House Full of Hope, Love Inspired, Feb 2012
(available now at harlequin.com and for pre-order at amazon)

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Back of the Book:

Before becoming a Christian, Mark Ryker ran with a bad crowd and broke hearts. Including his father's. Now a successful businessman, Mark has come home to Corinthia, Georgia, to make amends. But no one will forgive him. So when the widowed mother of four renting his dad's run-down house needs help fixing up the place, Mark gets to work. Pretty Hannah Hughes and her sweet kids have him longing to be part of the clan, but Hannah isn't ready to let go of the past. Still, they are working together on a house full of hope—and that's all Mark needs.

Read Excerpt

You can find Missy Tippens online at:
www.missytippens.com

Her personal blog for readers and writers: www.lifewithmissy.blogspot.com
Her group blog with and for Christian writers: www.writingbyfaith.blogspot.com
Her group blog for writers pursuing publication: www.seekerville.blogspot.com
Steeple Hill Love Inspired Authors: http://www.loveinspiredauthors.com/
Craftie Ladies of Romance blog: www.craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com

Cara C. Putman: Grandpa's Handcrafted Furniture & Giveaway

1/8/2012

 

This week we welcome Cara C. Putman to Author Memories.

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Cara C. Putman lives in Indiana with her husband and four children. She’s an attorney and a teacher at her church as well as lecturer at Purdue. She has loved reading and writing from a young age and now realizes it was all training for writing books. She loves bringing history and romance to life.
 
An honors graduate of the University of Nebraska and George Mason University School of Law, Cara left small town Nebraska and headed to Washington, D.C., to launch her career in public policy. 

Cara is an author chasing hard after God as she lives a crazy life. She invites you to join her on that journey.


Grandpa's Handcrafted Furniture
by Cara C. Putman

 
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Cara's Grandpa is the boy on the left circa late 20's to early 30's.
In December, my grandpa turned 92. Can you imagine the cute boy on the left in that photo, now a man who has seen 92 winters come and go?

Because Grandpa K is 92 and Grandma K is 85, I treasure the times I have with them. But the times I treasure most are when they share memories. Often when my family drives home (860 miles my door to my parents’), we’ll stop at the family farm to spend the night with Grandpa and Grandma. I’d slept in their guestroom for years, never knowing the story behind the furniture.

It’s a nice set. Probably walnut – I really don’t know woods well enough to distinguish them. And you can tell from looking at it that somebody carved it – quite well from my perspective, but being a child of the 80s, I assumed they’d bought it at a store.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My Grandpa is a child of the Depression. He was born in 1919 and grew into adulthood in the hard times of the 1930s. Living in eastern Nebraska, it was a hard time to find work and make a living. I don’t remember all the details, but during that time, I think it was a doctor took a liking to my Grandpa and asked him to make some furniture for him. That meant he had to learn how to build furniture. One of his first projects was that bedroom set I’d taken for granted. Each swirl in the wood was there because he carved it in place. The dresser matched the vanity and the bed because he made the set.

All of a sudden the furniture evolved from a nice set that I appreciated when I was exhausted from travel. Now, I view it as a treasure. It’s a treasure because a man I love and respect poured his energy and creativity into it.

After hearing the story and heritage of those pieces, I was quick to let Grandpa know I would exercise my right as his oldest grandchild to claim the furniture if none of his children wanted it or had room for it. It’s a set I would add to my home with pride because I know, love, and respect the man who crafted it all those years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, January 15th
to be entered for a free copy of
Cherry Blossom Capers which includes Cara's novella,
Dying for Love
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cherry Blossom Capers, Barbour Books, Available Now

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Cherry Hill Blossoms contains
 4 novellas set in Washington, DC:

Cara's novella:  Dying for Love

Attorney Ciara Turner is horrified when she stumbles over a judge’s dead body in Alexandria. Will she be able to retain her composure and control when she joins her nemesis Daniel Evans in investigating the murder? Constantly on the opposite side of domestic cases, they have to work together to find the murderer…just in case the police and marshals run out of luck. As they are thrust back together, Ciara is reminded of how Daniel swept her off her feet as a clerk. Now she has to choose whether to risk her heart to love.

You can find Cara online at the following sites:

http://www.caraputman.com

http://blog.caraputman.com

http://www.facebook.com/cara.putman

Barbara Early: Old Lang Syne & Giveaway

1/1/2012

 

This week we welcome Barbara Early to Author Memories.

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Barbara Early grew up buried in the snowy suburbs of Buffalo, NY, where she developed a love for all things sedentary: reading, writing, classic movies, and Facebook Scrabble. She holds a degree in Electrical Engineering, but her penchant for the creative caused her to run away screaming from the pocket-protector set. She taught for several years in a Christian school before home schooling her daughter successfully through high school. Barbara cooks up cozy mysteries with a healthy dose of comedy and sometimes a splash of romance, and was a double finalist in the 2010 ACFW Genesis competition.
 

Old Lang Syne
by Barbara Early

For a child, a new year was anticlimactic following the excitement of Christmas. Oh, sure, I’d get to stay up late on New Year’s Eve, but living with my mother and grandparents meant much of it was spent with adults. I remember sitting in my flannel jammies in front of  our “TV trays,” eating crackers with spray cheese and watching Guy Lombardo.
Then the kissing--yuck!--my grandparents being the worst offenders. When “Auld Lang Syne” started, everybody in the house had to kiss everybody else--unless you were so lucky to sneak off and pretend to be asleep.
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Grandpa Arbeiter and Barb
The new year also marked the transformation of those Christmas toys. Toys that squawked, beeped, and buzzed grew mute. Broken? That’s what I was led to believe, until years later when the conspiracy was uncovered. All the noisemaking parts were removed by my handy, but quiet-loving grandfather.

Grandpa, named Rudolph by his German-Hungarian immigrant parents, married Beatrice (Grandma) when he was eighteen, just before he shipped off to join the Navy during WWII. 

Following the war, he worked at the Wurlitzer factory, assembling jukeboxes and theater organs, like the one that still resides in the local historic theater.

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Wurlitzer organ
But theater organs didn’t survive the move to multiplexes, and jukeboxes likewise waned, leading to plant closure.  My grandparents scurried to find work. Grandma found a job at an electronics plant, where they hired women because of their small, nimble fingers and willingness to work for lower salaries. Grandpa never found a job, perhaps because his snowy hair made him look older than he was. Eventually, he settled into the majority of the household chores. He began to leave the house less often, then not at all. Decades later, I’d learn the meaning of the word “agoraphobia.”

Grandpa was a crusty fellow with a soft heart. He was the go-to disciplinarian. The oft-repeated threat for misbehavior was, “If you don’t stop, Grandpa will take a brush to your behind.” Or “He’ll ship you off to Father Baker’s,” which I learned much later was a home for wayward boys. Of course, the threats were enough.
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Grandpa, Mom and Barb
I thought Grandpa was one of a kind, from his mixture of kindness and sarcasm, care for his family and a bigotry common to the time, to his authoritarian dominance of the home. Until I saw All in the Family. My grandfather could have inspired Archie Bunker, right down to his armchair no one was permitted to sit in.

Grandpa’s inability to leave the house eventually took his life, as he neglected seeing a doctor until the pain became unbearable. By then, the cancer which began in his intestines had spread to his liver. He passed away in 1983, just weeks before my high school graduation.

But hardly a new year passes when I don’t think of Guy Lombardo, spray cheese, and my grandfather.
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?
Who do you think of when they play 'Old Lang Syne'?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY!
Leave a comment with a valid email address by midnight, January 8th
to be entered to win a free electronic copy of Barb's holiday novella giveaway, 
Gold, Frankincense, and Murder in your choice of Kindle, ePub, or PDF versions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gold, Frankincense and Murder, White Rose Publishing, available now.

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High school geometry teacher, Donna Russell likes her life well-ordered and logical, even if it is a tad solitary at times. But when a charming co-worker at the local food bank disappears just before Christmas, Donna is left with more questions than solutions.

After the missing man's neighbor, muscle-bound EMT Sam Holton, volunteers as Donna's crime-fighting sidekick, sparks fly between them. Donna wonders if Sam can be trusted, or if he's trying to throw an unknown into her calculations—and her life.

And when police recover a body from the icy Niagara River, Donna is faced with the most frustrating equation of all: can murder plus mayhem ever equal romance?

You can find Barbara Early online at the following sites:

www.BarbaraEarly.com


www.barbearly.blogspot.com

www.inkwellinspirations.com


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