Okay so I’m not really going to talk about going Christmas caroling though I will say that we had two different groups of carolers show up at our house this year. I didn’t realize people still did that and it was just so charming. So putting the caroling aside what I want to talk about is Christmas music. I love the songs of the season, the fun ones, the spiritual ones, the crazy ones – all of them. We have a fairly large collection of holiday CD’s at my house and I get them our right after Halloween so I get to listen to them all through November and December. I never get tired of the traditional songs no matter how many renditions I hear of White Christmas and O Holy Night.

I think this love comes from my childhood. I remember when my mom would get our her Christmas records – that’s right kids, those big round things you played with a needle. She had the Frosty the Snowman one and two others and they were delightful. A few years ago my brother took those old records and recorded them onto CD’s for my sister and I so that now we can still enjoy those songs from our childhoods. They sound scratchy and old fashioned and wonderful.

When I decorate my tree, wrap presents and do my holiday baking I’ve got my Christmas music going and I sing and do my thing and it just makes me so darn happy. Our collection is varied though admittedly I have a considerable amount of country singers holiday albums because it’s my favorite genre of music. So I get my twang on with my George Strait and Reba McEntire, but then I like the earthy guitar sounds from Deanna Carter’s album. It’s hard not to still love the Ally McBeal CD with Vonda Shepard and Robert Downy Jr. – makes me nostalgic for the show though.

I usually buy a new CD each each to add to the collection and a few years ago I stumbled upon one from a group I was sort of familiar with, but it looked interested so I picked it up. It’s by Mercy Me – they’re the band who sang that really popular song I Can Only Imagine from a few years ago. Well, we’ve had this Christmas CD now for several years and it still reigns as my all-time favorite. Each song has a different feel to it, almost as if they’re playing homage to some classic bands and styles. It’s just fantastic and it’s always the first one I play.

There are plenty of others that I love, but far too many to list. So how about you? Do y’all enjoy holiday music? What are your favorites? Comment and you might win a collection of my books autographed just for you.

This post is not about Christmas. It’s not about my childhood Christmases when my siblings and I had to wait until my grandparents arrived before we could open presents. It’s not about the grilled cheese dinners we used to have on Christmas Day. No – we weren’t poor, but my parents always hosted a huge Christmas Eve dinner for my dad’s side of the family and that was about it for Mom. She took the next day off! And well-deserved it was. Anyway, we kids didn’t really care about fancy dinners and probably wouldn’t have eaten much of it anyway. Grilled cheese suited us just fine.

This post isn’t about writing Christmas cards or shopping or trying to find the perfect gift. It’s not about online shopping versus visits to the mall. I’m not going to tell you about the hours volunteered at the Capuchin Soup kitchen or mornings spent packing donated food goods for the food bank.

No, this post is about 2011 – and the two new Margo Maguire books that will be coming next year. One of them is out quite soon. In fact, my release date is February 22! It has seemed like such a long way away – 2011. But hey – it’s almost January! And February is always such a dreary month, especially here in Michigan, that I’m thrilled to have something fun to look forward to  (instead of the mid-winter doldrums).

So here’s a sneak peak of my newest cover. The book is Seducing the Governess, and it’s the first of two books about a couple of sisters whose mother was disowned by her noble father, the Duke of Windermere.  Then, when the two girls were orphaned as toddlers, the nasty old grandfather wanted nothing to do with his daughter’s progeny, so he had them separated and farmed out to families in different parts of England. When the old duke becomes ill, and sees that he is close to death, he realizes his error and hires a man to find the girls – now young women. Seducing the Governess is the story of the first of these two sisters.  The second book, Wicked, will be out next December.

Next time I’m up, I’ll give you some more details on Seducing the Governess, the story of Mercy Franklin, granddaughter of the Duke of Windermere, who was raised by a strict vicar and his wife. Mercy is forced to make her living somehow, and finds herself at Ashby Hall, where she becomes governess to the niece of the earl, a man severely damaged at Waterloo before inheriing his elder brother’s earldom and guardianship of the little girl.

In the meantime – Happy Holidays!

I love Christmas books. Which probably isn’t surprising to anyone who knows me, ’cause I just love Christmas. From the pretty tree to the fancy decorations to the many traditions to the gift-giving and cookie eating. I mean, this is a holiday where you can eat endless cookies. Who couldn’t get behind that? (I mean, besides the surgeon general.)

This year, I’ve been on deadline–the book was due Friday in fact. So I haven’t had a chance to read a Christmas book yet. A few years ago I picked up an antholgy of Mary Balogh novellas. The book was called Under the Mistletoe. Five novellas, all by Mary Balogh, all about Christmas. You’d think with a description like that the stories would get repetitive, but they didn’t. The next book cued up on my Kindle is a rerelease of another Mary Balogh, A Christmas Promise. I can’t wait to get started on it.

I suspect my love of Christmas books started long ago, when I was a teenager reading every Bantam Loveswept I could get my hands on. One of my favorites was The Finishing Touch, by an author named Joan Elliott Pickart. (Man, I loved her books! But that’s the subject for another blog.) The hero, a famous movie star, hires the heroine to decorate his new home in time for Christmas, but convincing her to stick around after the holidays is much harder.

Another favorite is Doc Holiday, by the inimitable Debra Dixon (love her too, but also the subject for another blog!). This one is a reunion story … and you know how much I love those! Plus, there’s a cute kid, a holiday parade and a lopsided Christmas tree. All in all, it’s just delightful.

Do you have a favorite Christmas book? For those of you who don’t celebrate Christmas, are Christmas books annoying or do you just ignore them?

This time of year is magical to me.  I love the smell of the season—a heady mix of cinnamon spice and fir.  I love the bright gleam of colored lights strung on trees and neighborhood houses, the merry jingle of holiday tunes, and the thrill of finding just the right gifts for my friends and family members.  Since I have a tough time buying for my husband, it is wonderful when I find him just the right present (I refuse to do the boring old stand-by of socks and underwear!)

I guess I’m lucky in that the holiday season holds a lot of good memories for me.  My parents, even when times were tight, always made Christmas special for my sister and me when we were growing up.  When I decorated the tree this year at my house, I rediscovered all of the ornaments I’ve collected through the years, some of them bought during travels to England, some from my daughter’s preschool days, and others that have been given to us by family and friends.  One of the ornaments, a rocking horse made from wine corks, red wool, and ribbon, dates from my childhood, when my sister and I sat at the kitchen table and made these adorable decorations with my grandmother.  What a lot of memories that one brought back to me.

There’s one Christmas memory, though, that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.  It’s too darned hilarious!  It’s a notch in hilarity above the first year that I was cooking Christmas dinner for my family and parents, who were visiting from Canada.  No stress, right?   Ha ! The turkey was cooked about an hour early, so I removed the bird from the pan that was filled with delicious juices I planned to use for gravy, and set the bird aside to rest.  My husband, trying to be helpful in the kitchen, thought I’d finished with the pan and dumped the juices down the sink.  I turned around, saw him scrubbing away at the soapy pan, gasped, and said, “Oh, sh**!”  Rather loudly.  Yes, my parents heard.  And started laughing.  We still have a chuckle over that incident.

But the one instance I’ll never forget is of my husband on Christmas morning, several years ago.  For a few weeks prior, we’d been having trouble with the toilet blocking up in our master bathroom.  Thank goodness for plungers.  Well, on this particular Christmas Day, my husband woke before me and, shall we say, answered the “call of nature.”  Still snoozing, I heard the toilet flush, a weird gurgle, and then loud cussing.  My husband rushed out of the room and returned moments later with a bucket and plunger.  As I squinted at him over the blankets, he hefted the plunger, cried “Merry Christmas!” and then disappeared into the bathroom.  I burst out laughing.  My stomach ached from giggling so hard.  Of all the crazy things to happen on Christmas Day . . .  But that incident has given us some great laughs.

What about you?  Do you have any funny Christmas stories to share?

The winner of In a Cowboy’s Arms or Captured and Crowned is kris. Send your name and mailing address to janettekennyATgmailDOTcom. Oh, and tell me which novel you want.

And since the winners from my last contest never claimed their prizes, I selected a second winner. Laurie G, send me your name and mailing address and I’ll get an autographed book off to you as well.

I’m feeling nostalgic this year as Christmas approaches. Lately I’ve been thinking about all the things we used to do at Mom’s house around this time of year — things that date back many years, into my childhood.  Every family has these traditions. Some of them are fun and sweet, and some are bizarre and laughable, but they’re there, and we do them because they ‘must’ be done every year.

In our house, because my sisters were much older than me and moved out, we would have Christmas breakfast rather than Christmas dinner at Mom’s. This was because the girls all had their own dinners to prepare, or were going to the in-laws later in the day. I swear to God my mother cooked at least two pounds of bacon and probably two dozen eggs for the 15 of us (a few of which were kids). There would  be homemade rolls and jam — sometimes even fried dough! We’d all gather around the table — there was a 2nd one for kids, of course — and eat until we were stuffed. And we’d talk. Usually at this point the rest of the family would have opened their gifts, so we’d hear what they had gotten — and would be thanked for what we gave.

After breakfast we’d file into the livingroom where my parents (pre-divorce) and I would open our gifts. Sometimes we would keep gifts under the tree for the grandchildren to open as well. My oldest sister ‘played Santa’ as she had for as long as I can remember, and doled out the presents. We’d unwrap, exclaim and gush over our gifts, thank everyone, and then when it was over, the family would trickle out to return to their own lives. Mom and I would work on getting the turkey in the oven, and sometimes my grandmother might nap, or buzz around like a raging bee, depending on how much tea she’d had with breakfast.

I remember that I wasn’t allowed to remove gifts from under the tree until the 28th at least. They had to be left there so they could be shown to guests who came to visit. This was big where I came from, going around to visit on Boxing Day and the 27th to partake in cookies, tea and to ‘see what they got.’ When I was a kid this was annoying, boring and sometimes a lesson in envy.

When my husband and I moved in together we started making our own traditions — such as watching Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas, or The Muppets’ Christmas Carol, on Christmas Eve (sometimes The Nightmare Before Christmas as well). To this day whoever wakes up first on Christmas morning has to wake the other up with a shake and a softly gleeful, “It’s Christmas!” We get up — make our usual Christmas breakfast (no bacon or fried dough, sadly), and then enjoy our coffee as we unwrap gifts. I sit on Steve’s side of the tree and hand him his presents, and he does the same for me — that way we can save the ‘big’ gifts til last. Then, the rest of the day passes in a lovely, chocolate haze as we bask in how fortunate we are to be able to give each other so much.

This year we’re shaking things up. Normally we donate toys to charity. This year I’d like to adopt a family if we can. I have a check ready for the local animal shelter as well. Instead of having Christmas dinner here at home (where I make enough turkey to feed my entire family in Canada), we’re going to have it with friends. I’m sure this will be lovely, but part of me doesn’t want to break tradition, so I told Steve we’d get a turkey breast so we can continue to eat turkey for the following days.  And we’ve started a new tradition of getting together with friends on Christmas Eve, which we quite enjoy.

So now that I’ve revealed my traditions to all of you, I want to hear some of yours! What do you and your loved ones do to make the holidays special?

 

Sure there are some not so fun surprises too. When you buy via the web, you have to be very observant that the site is secure for credit purchases. Merchants have flashy promo to lure and sometimes mislead a buyer to think they are getting a deal when in reality they aren’t.

Shipping is where a lot of places trip you up. I was almost snookered a couple of times by the Free Shipping icons at the top of the sites, only to find out later it only applied: a) to a certain dollar amount that was usually $50 or even $100 minimum, or b) items bought during a very brief time frame, or c) only certain items.

However, I’ve found that if you are a risk taking shopper (insert the person who waits until the last minute to rush to a store or shop online) you can find prices are slashed on some items right now. Many merchants are having big sales now to unload their stock, so if you are lucky, you can find some incredible buys.  With some retailers, you can even have packages gift wrapped and shipped elsewhere, which is another time saver.

So did you shop online this year?  Find any buys?   Are you done shopping? 

I’ll give away an autographed copy of In a Cowboy’s Arms  or Captured and Crowned to one commenter.  Free shipping included.  Winner will be announced tomorrow night.

Congratulations to Joyce G., the winner of Laura Griffin’s new book, UNFORGIVABLE!

Please email laura@lauragriffin.com with a mailing address.

This song has been stuck in my head for days. Not just because it was featured on Glee’s holiday extravaganza, but because… it’s COLD outside! As I write this, it’s 35 degrees. It’s supposed to slide down into the 20s before dawn. The paper said it hasn’t been this cold in Central Florida in 21 years.

Like most thin-blooded Floridians, I freeze when the mercury dips below 60. Since the warmest jacket I own is a hip-length pea coat, to keep my teeth from chattering, I’ll pile on as many layers of clothing as I can – despite looking like the Michelin Man’s bag lady cousin. 

Even if my fashion sense goes out the window at the first hint of an arctic blast, I love little snaps of winter. So does my hair, which usually makes obscene gestures, protesting the Sunshine State’s heat and humidity. When it’s cold, my hair relaxes and behaves itself for a welcomed change. The cold even inspired me to finish my Christmas shopping early.  I could easily change my tune to Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow! Believe it or not, Florida had flurries back in 1989. My car doors froze shut that December.  It was a novelty that my family still talks about…21 years later.

Keeping with the spirit of our record lows, here’s a link to a list of the coldest cities in the USA:

http://www.thedailybeast.com/galleries/2423/1/?redirectURL=http://www.thedailybeast.com/galleries

That slide show presents some serious c-c-c-c-c-c-cold and makes me realize what a baby I am when it comes to Jack Frost’s kiss!  It’s dropped two more degrees since I started writing this post.  I’m about ready to go turn up the heat (I can’t fathom what below zero temps feel like).  How about you? Do you like hot weather or cold?  How do you make the best of the winter weather? What do you do to warm yourself up from the inside out?

Well, it’s that time of year, so I’m going to tell you a story about Christmas. It’s not really the happiest story, but I think it’s a good story anyway. This is the story of one of the worst days of my life, how it got better, and who made it so…and yes, it happened during Christmastime.

My father died when a drunk driver ran into his car. I was just out of college at the time and worked for his  company. My dad was a printer and made those coffee table books and posters for museums like the Met and the Smithsonian. He loved his clients. Dad was the king of long-term business relationships…he remembered where a kid went to college, remembered special anniversaries, asked after parents. His clients loved him too. As my father’s employee and as his daughter, I felt I owed it to his closest clients to go down to D.C., where Dad did most of his business, and see them in person.

You can imagine how it felt to sit in their offices six weeks after my father’s death and have those folks tell me how wonderful he was, to have them cry and shake their heads in disbelief that their old friend was gone. But I wanted to make Dad proud—doesn’t every daughter?—so I let them hug me, thanked them for their kindness and told them how much my father had always loved working with them, and how much it meant to my family and me to know how highly they regarded my dad.

It was awful. To this day, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Add to this, I didn’t know anyone in Washington. I didn’t want to go back to an empty room after my long day, so I just walked, found myself in Georgetown, which was bright with Christmas lights, awash in wreaths and ribbons, all those posh shops and beautiful restaurants, the elegant townhouses and wrought-iron fences. Snow was falling, and the whole scene looked like a Christmas movie. Georgetown truly is one of the most beautiful neighborhoods in America.

But I wasn’t really in the mood for a proper dinner. I spied to a Roy Rogers, figured I’d get a burger and maybe go to the movies and distract myself as long as I could before going back to my hotel. In front of the restaurant was a homeless man, sitting in the slushy snow on the sidewalk. “Can you spare some change, miss?” he asked. “Sure,” I answered. “But I don’t have any change. Come in the restaurant, and I’ll get some.”

The guy was white, and he was dirty and skinny, reddish hair. I don’t remember his face too well, but he had a scruffy beard. He followed me in uncertainly—clearly he wouldn’t have been sitting on the street if that restaurant had welcomed the homeless. Up at the counter, I ordered two of everything—burgers, fries, coffee, milkshake (he could use some fattening up). Then I brought the tray back and asked him to eat with me.

He couldn’t believe I’d bought him food. He admitted that he would’ve spent my money on booze, and told me it had been a long time since he ate a square meal (if you could call it that) in a restaurant. “Most folks wouldn’t do this,” he said. “They wouldn’t let me eat with them.”

Before you think this is a story of my goodness and mercy, let me tell something. It isn’t. I was nervous. He did not smell good, this guy. I told him I was married (I wasn’t) and that my husband was meeting me in half an hour. I could’ve given him a hundred dollars, put him up in a hotel for the night, at least paid for cab fare to a shelter, and I did none of those things. I could’ve bought him a lot more than a hamburger and fries.

But he was thrilled, and I admit that it was kind of nice, sitting there under the disapproving gaze of the Roy Rogers manager. My new pal liked that we were breaking the rules…the rule was, he told me, that you had to buy something to come in the restaurant, and he couldn’t afford even a cup of coffee, being that he spent whatever money he got on alcohol. He slept in his car most nights, though he would go to a shelter tonight. He showed me a very old and tattered picture of a girl—his daughter. She would be in her twenties now, but he hadn’t seen her and indeed, didn’t know where she was anymore.

At the end of the meal, I gave Ted the change from my twenty. He thanked me, and I waved as I crossed the street, sort of concerned that he’d follow me, take my purse, kill me, whatever. He didn’t. He just waved, a huge smile on his face. “God bless you, nice lady!” he shouted.

I’m guessing that Ted has died by now. Life on the street, alcoholism, illness…I’m quite sure I’ll never see him again. But I wish I could, because if I did, I’d thank him for giving me the chance to do something decent. I’d tell him how grateful I was that he showed me his most precious possession, that worn picture of his child. I’d apologize for being afraid of him and lying to him, and I’d thank him for reminding me just how much I had. Most of all, I’d thank him for being nice to me. I was a lost soul that night with an awful ache in my heart…and Ted, he helped me. In the season of angels and miracles and hope, I really think that Ted was a sort of angel, because that cheerful, smiling homeless man gave me a place to stay, a person to talk to and a chance to look outside of myself, at least for a little while. He took one of the saddest, hardest, loneliest days of my life and let me find something good in it.

So here’s to you, Ted. Wherever you are, I hope you’re okay.