THE LIGHTHOUSE by Kat Holmes is FREE tomorrow

AND Sunday.

Get your

FREE copy of AWARD WINNING Author Kat Holmes' debut Mystery Suspense Romance

THE LIGHTHOUSE...

You cannot BEAT that deal. Where else could you get a persistent ghost, a sexy sheriff, a beautiful heroine, and a diabolical murderer all in the same place...and for FREE?

This book, already a

Preditor's and Editors 2011 award winner, and a 2011

PEARL nominee will take you for a delicious ride as you pit yourself against the twists and turns Kat Holmes has woven into this story.

So remember to go into AMAZON.COM tomorrow or Sunday and snatch up THE LIGHTHOUSE...you will be glad you did!

Click below and head on over:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Lighthouse-ebook/dp/B004MDLK4G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1347804862&sr=1-1&keywords=THE+LIGHTHOUSE+by+Kat+Holmes

WE COME TOGETHER AS ONE (PART TWO)

It HAS been a long time since our debut posting...and Kat and I were neck to neck with her book,

The LIGHTHOUSE and my book

SANTA IS A LADY...

However, I have to give Kat Holmes, my most gifted daughter, extra points...her book is now available as BOTH e-book AND print. My SANTA IS A LADY is still only available as an e-book...but there are rumors it may be available just in time for THIS Christmas' gift giving in print as well...Still my daughter is a point ahead of me, L.J. Holmes.

It's time to move on to the next round of our books...

First MINE...it debuted in February 2011...and it's a short story but with one BIG surprising ending that leaves everyone shaking their heads long after they finished reading it...or so they've told me.

Allow me to introduce

FOREVER WITH YOU.

A Short Story by: L.J. Holmes
Genre: Contemporary Romance Erotica - Naughty but Nice!
Release: February 2011
Editor: Carrie RO
Line editor: Antonia Tiranth
Cover artist: Delilah K. Stephans
Word count: 3912
Pages: 19
ISBN: 978-1-926931-37-1
E-book price: $1.99
Warning: This has SOME sexual mild sexual content.
Blurb:

Coryne reluctantly hired, for her own peace of mind, the all too handsome Keith Patterson and his crew to build a very special house on her time limits.

Moving a small camper trailer to the site, Coryne keeps a close eye on the progress. Problem with that is she also is forced to be in close proximity to that very handsome, all too deliciously seductive Keith Patterson.

Resisting him is a full time job, and one she would have had enough trouble handling, but he made it harder because he let her know he was not at all adverse to the temptation she poses. She must resist...mustn't she?

Follow Coryne and Keith right to the very surprising ending and Coryne's "Forever With You" moment.

Excerpt: 
She lifted her tank top over her head and her full breasts puckered and tightened in the light breeze playing through the trees. The biker shorts, hugging her womanly curves, and her lacy, blue panties followed, as did the band in her hair and the sandals on her feet.
Gracefully, she dove deeply into the cold mountain water. Her whole body tingled. She loved swimming. In the city she’d been forced to always go somewhere where she was required to wear some form of suit. But here, there were no neighbors to be incensed by her boldness, nor any dirty, old men drooling over the slightest hint of her ripened cleavage.
She swam with vigor, stretching her body to its limits before turning over to float and indulge in some mindless woolgathering, her wet, black hair fanned out around her.
Reviews: I came to know Coryne intimately through her thoughts. Ms Holmes reaches inside her character to provide the reader with a deep insight into what drives this woman. With no need to work for money, Coryne shows her compassionate side as she puts her extensive legal training into representing battered women and their children. Sue Book Reviews - READ FULL REVIEW
You’d be forgiven, when reading Forever With You, that it’s “just another romance book”. Well, think again. Yes, it follows the great pattern of woman meets man, woman is attracted to man, man reciprocates the feelings, but with a twist at the end that you won’t see coming. Upon reading this twist, I was thrown into Question Land after a whispered “Oh!” came out of me because I was shocked at the book even having a twist. -Miz Love Loves Books - 5/5 review - READ FULL REVIEW
Ms. Holmes pulls from a believable relationship situation and creates an interesting, heart-touching story. She glides the reader along in the story through Coryne’s eyes, and it all comes together in a satisfying twist-of-fate ending. Beautiful! Kay Dee Royal review READ FULL REVIEW
This short story is only nineteen pages long, but those pages will keep you on the edge of your seat wondering why Coryne is so resistant to Keith’s charm and availability and how he will break down her walls. I highly recommend this entertaining and surprising read. Rochelle Weber review...READ FULL REVIEW

MEET THE AUTHOR

In March 2011 I also released another semi-full length novel called

THE PENDULUM SWINGS. This is my first fantasy...and Time Travel...sort of and this means I'm ahead, right? And it does have a really amorous fireplace to warm and titillate the cockles of the sexiest of men.

Author: L.J. Holmes
Genre: Time Travel Fantasy Romance Erotica
Release: March 2011
Editor: Carrie RO
Line Editor: Greta Gunselman
Cover Artist: Delilah K. Stephans
Word count: 17901
Pages: 59
ISBN: 978-1-926931-40-1
Price: $3.50
Warning: Adult Content
Blurb:
When you wake up in a strange room, that's bad, but when you wake up in a strange body, time, and everyone hates you, that's REALLY bad...and terrifying.
What do you do when your last memory is being skewered to death and your next is waking up in the body of another, thousands of years in the future?
You set out to be yourself and win over these future beings of course, because for some reason, the gods of your time have decided this is where you are supposed to live out the rest of your life.
Follow Siri as she belly dances, laughs, and teases her way through the distrust of the woman whose body she now inhabits, turning an entire household of haters into her staunchest fans...except for him. Can she win him over, or is he determined to only see the shell of who she used to be?
Excerpt:
Jason lifted the bottle from the bottom drawer, twisted the top open, placed it to his lips and chugged. The liquid, nasty and foul tasting, burned a long path all the way into his stomach. There it formed a blazing ball of misery, so Jason chugged again and slipped into the blood red leather chair, propped his feet up, and tipped the bottle back again.
As the warmth in his stomach radiated, his nerves began to settle and his words came back in bold detail.
Oh God, he thought, snapping his feet back to the floor. He told Siri he was filing for a divorce in the morning.
I don’t want to file for divorce—do I? Not yet! Later, most definitely, but not yet!
That’s ridiculous! I should get a divorce now. Wouldn’t it be better to cut my losses and get on with my life?
Losses…Mandi…
Despite his threat, he knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning custody of his beloved daughter. Once Joanna’s memory returned, she’d have him for fraud and anything else her evil little mind could come up with if he took her daughter.
Until her accident he wouldn’t have thought Mandi meant anything to Joanna, but  Siri, could not be a more loving, attentive mother.
Where did that leave him? Right here, if he wanted to be.
It was quite obvious Siri didn’t want him to leave. In fact, it was quite obvious Siri wanted him. God, she went up like a Roman candle in his arms.
So why am I down here drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Irish mash? Why not upstairs buried deeply inside Siri’s volatile heat?
Cause I’m an ass.
A lesser man would have taken all Siri offered. It didn’t mean he had to commit to her. But as long as he was the husband, wasn’t he entitled to the fruits of his wife’s bounty?
Absolutely.
He could see no reason to be locked in this awful room, pickling his innards in 120-proof grain alcohol when his body was strung tighter than a hot wire.
He’d played the good husband long enough. It was time he got his. Dammit, she owes me.
He’d been incredibly loyal to the heartless wench.
Jason set the bottle down with more vigor than finesse. It caught the edge of the desk, tipped over, and sloshed all over the side of the desk onto the thick sponge of the imported carpeting.
Joanna was going to have his hide. In that case, maybe he should just have hers first.
Righteously, Jason stumbled to his feet and tried to stand straight. The floor was drunk.
“Can’t handle your mash!” he accused the spreading stain. “Shame on you.”
Teetering against the rolling of the boozing floor, Jason managed, with much effort, to reach the door, but the stubborn thing refused to open. He dropped to the floor staring perplexed at the offending doorknob.
“Wanna keep me in here just in case the floor ties one on?” he asked the door. He turned his head and waited, but the door remained silent. “Not gonna answer!” He looked around the room, zeroing in on the mantle. Maybe there was a secret panel leading directly to milady’s boudoir. He’d read plenty of adventure stories when he was a kid, and there was always a secret passageway between the study and the lady-of-the-manor’s bedroom. Wasn’t Joanna’s great-great-great-great-whatever a pirate? Anthony Moore would have sunk the ship, but the great-great…now there was a brigand.
No self respecting brigand would have built a study without a secret passageway.
Jason stumbled back to his feet. The walls were crooked. Glancing back at the floor, he scolded the floor for feeding its mash to the walls, too. “Bad enough you had to sink into the pits of intoxication, you had to take the walls with you. You’re not nice Mr. Aubusson.”
The carpet ignored his rebuke, and the mantle seemed an awfully long way away. Either that or he was taking baby-steps, and for the life of him he couldn’t think why he would be doing that. Any more than he could figure out why the mantle curtsied for him. “What is this?” he drawled. “Don’t tell me now you want to dance?”
He stumbled over his own feet, reached out and caught the mantle ledge “I don’t think this is the right position for belly dancing, but hell, I’m game.”
The mantle dipped, swung, and spun him around until he felt quite dizzy. “Look Old Girl,” he said to the mantle’s carved trim, “this has been fun, but I’ve got to find that passageway. Don’t suppose you’d care to save me from tripping my fingers all over you by telling me where to look?”
The mantle remained stubbornly mute.

 MOVING ON:

I have to be fair here and tell you all, Kat's writings are usually fuller of body because she creates mini-epics compared to my little short stories...and she did not disappoint with her amazing April 2011 release

FROZEN.

Here Kat created an entire world that lives in perpetual ice, with its own god Tichi and goddess queen Awni. Into this strange world, a man from our world is swepy by circling lights and dumped, knee deep in a snow drift so out of time and place, he's barely able to snort when rogh hands snatch him and dump him...in of all places...a castle dungeon?.

Book One in the Artica Lights series
Author: Kat Holmes
Genre: Paranormal  Romance Erotica
Release:April 2011
Editor: Carrie RO
Line editor: Greta Gunselman
Cover artist: Delilah K. Stephans
Word count: 21741
Pages: 64
ISBN: 978-1-926931-46-3
Price: $3.50
Blurb:
Brent Larkin came to Antarctica to study penguins. He didn’t come looking for either adventure or romance. But when a freak storm blows in and he loses his way, that’s exactly what he gets. Attacked by some bobbing lights, he suddenly finds himself in a wintry forest surrounded by men with swords pointed at him. The next thing he knows he’s in a dungeon and chained to the wall.
Awni is the queen of Artica, a land of eternal winter. The daughter of a god, Awni’s cursed to never know the touch of another. Her icy skin is death for anyone who dares to touch her flesh. But, when a mysterious stranger shows up in her lands, she finds herself drawn to him. Eager to learn about his world, she invites him to spend time with her only to be shocked when he touches her and doesn’t freeze to death.
But Artica is a land ruled by tradition. Though she longs to keep Brent with her, the laws of the land force her to send him home. But without him, both she and the land begin to suffer. Now, Awni is facing the same peril as one of her ancestors. And if she perishes like her ancestor did, all of Artica will pay the price. Can Brent, returned to his own world, somehow find his way back and save her before all is lost?
Excerpt:
Groaning, Awni stood and stretched. Her muscles had tightened during the course of the meal. She picked up her glass and walked over to the balcony, but left the door closed. Brent wasn’t dressed for the outdoors.
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
Groaning, she guessed at his own stiff muscles, Brent got up and walked over to where she was. She pointed outside.
“This is Artica. Isn’t she beautiful?”
Awni held her breath as he took in the view. For some reason, his answer was very important to her. She watched as his eyes widened and he looked out in amazement.
“I didn’t get to see any of this when I first got here, but it’s stunning. You have hills, and forests, and plenty of animals who seem to like the cold weather.”
She smiled. “Yes, this land has been blessed. Life thrives here, and the beauty is unspoiled. It is home.”
He turned to say something to her, but his jacket caught on a hook on the wall and, suddenly, he lost his footing. He fell forward and warm male flesh met her cold, deadly skin. Awni jerked away in horror, causing him to hit the ground hard, and waited for him to turn to ice. She waited…and waited.
Looking down at him as he rubbed his elbow, she gasped. “What in the world? You should be dead!”

MEET THE AUTHOR

So...count-wise I, L.J. Holmes, am ahead with THREE BOOKS:


1.) SANTA IS A LADY



2.) FOREVER WITH YOU


3.) THE PENDULUM SWINGS

to Kat's


1.) THE LIGHTHOUSE


2.) FROZEN

BUT...Kat has her first book in BOTH e-book AND PRINT format...so that SHOULD count as TWO books...right...meaning we STILL Are tied!

YEAH FOR THE HOLMES GIRLS, L.J. Holmes and Kat Holmes...

Shakespeare, you old dude you...you need to shake off your years of moldering...because we plan to OVERTAKE your record...count on it!

WE COME TOGETHER AS ONE

Kat Holmes and I, Daughter and Mother respectively are both authors sharing one home...so it's time to bring out our stuff and, even though this is the hardest part of being an author for me...BOAST.

I'm going to begin by showcasing as much of our stuff side by side as I can...

To that purpose, now that I've quieted Shakespeare who sneers at those of us not to be-ing, let the boasting begin.

Kat and I share something in common with our first books...let me explain after I have presented our mutual debuts with our ever growing publisher, Muse It Up Publishing, Inc.


At this the beginning of our writing journey and as of January 2011 we were neck and neck. Where will the months of 2011 and 2012 take us and what about the years beyond?

After you read our debut posting please stay tuned...more is coming. Will we stay tied, or will one of us inch into the forefornt? Or could it be...maybe we'll join forces and double the storytelling fun?

Kat's first, THE LIGHTHOUSE, is a murder mystery, ghost story released by Muse It Up in January of 2011 to some really amazing pre-reviews that have blossomed since.

Take a look...


The Lighthouse

Author: Kat Holmes
Genre: Paranormal Mystery Romance Erotica
Release:January 2011
Editor:  Carrie RO
Line editor: Antonia Tiranth
Cover artist: Delilah K. Stephans
Word count: 46,879
Pages: 123
ISBN: 978-1-926931-18-0
Price: $5.50
Blurb:
When Rachel Westmont inherits a lighthouse from an aunt she didn’t even know she had, she’s overjoyed. The news couldn’t have come at a better time. Newly divorced from a self-serving doctor, the change of scenery is just what she needs. So she packs up and leaves California for a little island off the coast of Maine.
Rachel falls in love with both Star Island and the beautiful lighthouse and cottage she’s inherited. But, odd things begin to happen right from the first day. Cold chills permeate the cottage and books fly off the shelves. And someone seems to be playing pranks on her.
But when the ante gets upped and someone tries to kill her, Rachel must turn to hunky local sheriff Craig Lewis for protection. Now bodies are turning up, people are getting hurt, and Rachel is starting to suspect her aunt didn’t die a natural death. Can Craig stop a killer from claiming Rachel as their next victim? A little help from a ghost may be in order.
Excerpt:
Razor-sharp pain took her breath away. Her body lay broken and death raged to claim her. How cruel fate was. She’d just found peace and it vanished, been stolen from her in the blink of an eye. Why did this happen? What did she ever do to deserve this? Who would care for her beloved lighthouse?
A moment later, or perhaps an eternity, the pain stopped. She felt lighter than ever before. She felt free. No anguish, no loneliness, no misery. Everything in the world seemed perfect and filled with joy. She couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. This is life as destiny truly meant it to be. Mortal life could never compare to this freedom. Home beckoned.
She looked down at her body as she floated upward. It lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs leading to the tower of the lighthouse she cared for all her mortal life.  She could see the blood pooling around her head and the unnatural position of her limbs. Without a doubt they’d shattered as she’d landed. The sight would horrify her if she was still bound to her human body, but it meant nothing to her now.
Turning away, she looked upward as her form floated, heading for home. Excitement and anticipation filled her with glee. She’d get to be with her dear parents, after so many years apart. She missed them terribly. Her brother determined to break all ties with his past, both his home and what was left of his family, turned his back on her and the island home they’d gown up on. She’d been so alone for too long.
Rising, she finally reached the top of the lighthouse stairs and frowned at the hooded figure. Memory flooded back. The argument that ensued between them flashed before her. Then came the horrible moment when she’d been pushed and tumbled down the stairs. She’d been murdered.
She watched as her killer, calm as could be, walked down the treacherous steps of the lighthouse tower, checked her body for life signs, and then walked out without even a backward glance. No compassion showed on her killer’s face, only cruel satisfaction. No one would suspect her death to be anything other than a terrible accident.
The lighthouse that she’d long served, as keeper, dated back to the late 1700’s. The stairs were steep and very narrow as they wound up toward the top of the lighthouse where the light shined out. It possessed no railing either. It would be so easy for someone to slip and fall, and any fall would be deadly. Everyone would just assume that is what happened to her. No one would suspect she’d been pushed.
She could see the light now. It would be so easy to just head toward it. But she couldn’t leave, not yet. She couldn’t allow her murderer to get away with killing her. She needed to make sure her killer got caught.  The light was so beautiful and how she ached to follow it, but she turned away from its promise of peace and joy and headed back down. This lighthouse gave her haven all her life. Now she would haunt it until her murder was avenged. This she vowed.

WATCH THE TRAILER

Reviews: I loved this story, the mystery hooks you from the beginning and keeps you turning the pages.ParaNormalRomance Reviews - READ THE FULL REVIEW
The Lighthouse is a good read with suspense, love, and that dash of creepiness that kept me reading. Miz Love Loves Books 5/5 - READ FULL REVIEW

Not bad...huh...but there's more it won the

2011 Preditor's and Editors Readers Poll...Not bad! AND it has a trailer that is this side of over the moon powerful.


My first book came out a month before hers in December 2010. December means Christmas and this is the first book in my Christmas Miracles Series.

Like Kat, my book's cover speaks...dontcha love the intense look in my cover heroine's eyes? It makes me shiver every time I see it. Which is a good thing for a story about a land dedicated to Christmas...and that IS what Northeringale is...a land dedicated to Christmas...and yes, miracles.


Santa is a Lady

L.J. Holmes
Genre: Sweet Romance--Seasonal
Word count: 33,070
Page count: 89

Editor: CarrieRO

Line editor: Antonia Tiranth

Cover Artist: Delilah K. Stephans
ISBN e-book: 978-1-926931-06-7
Price: $4.50
Blurb:
Angie is someone who has had to walk through the fires of hell and battle with death itself to regain the use of her nearly shattered body. It’s Christmas, the time of wonder and magic for Angie, Cam a man who has spent the past nearly two years trying to pry his precious daughter from the unscrupulous hands of his late wife’s greedy Iraqi brother’s, and Jo, the precious daughter, who is finally free and in her father’s awed hands. Three people and one Christmas with so much magic swirling at last in their direction.

 My debut won the


Preditors and Editors 2010 Readers Poll award...and I'm still scraping my jaw off in disbelief. I also got a review from International Best Selling Suspense Author, Glenn Kleier...and may I just say...OMG!

Excerpt:

He didn’t look to the left; he didn’t look to the right; he made a direct beeline for Santa’s North Pole Throne and Angie’s vulnerable lap.
It had already been an eventful day. Although Angie knew when she did it, it was probably a petty thing to do, she arrived at eight o’clock, not the earlier seven-thirty Beck had commanded the night before. It had given Angie a fleeting moment of righteous tit for tat pleasure. Of course, Beck had not been the least bit amused and had shown her annoyance in the manner she helped Angie get into her Santa disguise.
Angie turned a deaf ear to Beck’s litany of complaints, but by the time the doors actually opened, Angie’s body felt a bit tender from Beck’s “loving” ministrations and her limp seemed a bit more pronounced as she made her way to the North Pole Throne and another day locked into Santa cheer.
The doors opened onto a stream of Santa fans that had been lined up in the cold that formed a queue from Santa’s throne to the door. Many had brought digital cameras demanding Santa and their cherubs pose this way and that. Santa felt old before her time by the half hour mark.
The line worked its way down as the minutes moved on. The cash registers’ ka-chings had also gradually filtered, in Angie’s mind, blessedly into silence as the store emptied of Beck’s sainted customers.
Into that silence, though, he vaulted.
Known throughout all of Northeringale and twelve of the fourteen surrounding townships, Julian Harper arrived. Some people looked at Julian and saw an adorable though outrageously precocious scamp. Angie knew better. She’d babysat Julian once, almost a year ago, and had yet to fully recover from the experience. He was, to put it kindly, the proverbial bull-in-the-china-shop. Nothing he did was done by half measures including lurching up onto Santa’s lap where he landed with an inhuman thud.
Angie’s hip screamed out a chorale of yelps and she had to force her lips not to give voice to the silent screams within her. Biting down on waves of rippling agony Angie spouted her usual, “What can Santa bring for you, my fine boy?” spiel.
Julian Harper’s repertoire didn’t consist of sitting still either. Angie looked around frantically for the boy’s mother. And wondered why she’d allowed him to come into Sweets and Treats without her. No doubt to get her own reprieve from the little hellion, Angie thought sourly.
Julian Harper boosted himself up into a standing position so he could stretch over Santa and check out the long fall of Santa curls running down Angie’s back, catching his grubby paws in the acrylic locks. His fingers, sticky from whatever he’d had in them before coming into Sweets and Treats became ensnarled in the phony mane literally handcuffing Julian’s hands and the wig together.
Using his feet, Julian kicked out to get leverage, then jabbed, and jumped all over Angie’s lap trying to free himself from his captivity while screeching right in her ears at the top of his lungs. Angie, sensing the approaching disaster screamed for Beck to come and prevent the serious trouble about to fall upon them. Just as she screamed, though, Julian’s booted foot bulls-eyed down on Angie’s already battered hip. Another scream, this one loudly vocal and crammed with Angie’s suffering rent the air.
Beck reached the wildly out of control Julian and pulled him and Santa’s wig away from Angie in one powerful sweep.
Julian, his paws filled with the fake Santa hair, stared at Angie’s hairless Santa and began squealing, “Santa’s a fake” over and over again loud enough to wake the dead. He also began wriggling frantically in Beck’s hold, but she held onto him for dear life carting him into the back of the store where the bathroom waited to get his grubby hands free from Santa’s wig.

Reviews:

My heart went out to Angie and Cam as they struggled to heal the wounds that don’t show—the ones that hurt the worst. I highly recommend this book. Have tissues ready, and be sure you’re in a chair you can’t roll out of when you’re laughing. Oh, and if you still text while you drive, read this book; and then think again. READ FULL REVIEW...ROCHELLE WEBER, AUTHOR & EDITOR

Christmas stories are hit or miss for me. They are either sappy or forced much of the time, and then there are the ones that capture the spirit of the holidays just right and become a keeper story to read each Christmas. Santa is a Lady is one of those "keeper" stories that caught me by surprise. READ FULL REVIEW - Wayfaring Writer

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES
by
L.J. Holmes
1/14/2012

Staring out the huge picture window, her nose pressed against the cool glass, she felt one hot tear forming in the corner of her eye.

Snow!

Never would she have believed she'd miss snow. Moving South meant a new beginning, a new life, and new possibilities. Up above the Mason-Dixon line, her old life and all its memories...those her mind did not from time-to-time regurgitate...meant nothing to her now...mere shadows of what once was.

All the people holding grip upon her heart, from the old days, moved down here right along with her...and yet, with Christmas coming, the longing for snow attacked her heart strings making her first Christmas here, melancholy.

What did she actually miss?

Driving before, during, and after a snowstorm gave new meaning to the word "horror."

Before, everyone races like mad ants to the grocery and hardware stores determined to stock up on staples and purchase the newest high powered snowblower before the first back-breaking flake falls. (No one wants to shovel any more.)

During the storm, many drivers dare to treat the slickening roads as nothing more than dry roads with spots of moisture their four-wheel-drive vehicles can laugh at. (The rise in business at body shops during and after snowstorms prove the error of these ass-umptions.)

After the storm, snow mountains pile along the gutters and sides of roads, dirty crusting towers sculpted by plows and their non-stop efforts to stay ahead of road dangers, create eerie tunnels for cars to whiz through.

Sounds somewhat safe for the whizzing through part, right?

Assuming those mountains don't come tumbling down from the vibrations cars driving past create, no amount of plowing, salting, and sanding can eliminate the trickiest problems that come after the snow.

Black Ice...patches of seemingly dry pavement coated with a thin but deadly layer of invisible ice.

No one, no matter how skilled a driver he or she may be, is up to beating black ice...and yet, the panorama blanket of newly fallen snow, sparkling like diamonds beneath the winter sun takes your breath away.

The crisp clean smell after a snowstorm is unlike any other perfume mankind or science has created in a laboratory or anywhere else.

Sighing, her mind travelling back to her country childhood, she saw the girl she'd been, seated, much as she is now, with her nose pressed against the much colder picture window's glass. The overhead lights in the eaves outside cast wide arcs of glittering luminescence, making the careening flakes racing towards the ground, appear like individual grains of twinkling diamond dust.

Hours she spent watching Nature perform before her awe-filled eyes, oblivious to the red spreading up her happily placed nose, imagining a world as pristine as this newly wafting snow.

And come the morning, that white sparkly blanket, untouched, unsullied, stretching as far as the eye could see made her gasp. Snow crystals laced here and there, dangling majestically from the naked branches of towering oaks, and flocking the spindly needles of pines were so much more dazzling than any artist's rendering, and they filled her heart with reverent appreciation.

Here in the South, she loved her new life, her new friends, many now closer than family, but deep in that pocket where the memories of her childhood in the country with Christmas a breathtaking card just beyond that picture window lived, a part of her ached for...

...the memories.

Somewhere in the background, of her mind, or her new home, she heard the strains of the one song guaranteed to bring her melancholy home...



...Bob Hope singing "Thanks For the Memories."

THE LEGEND OF SANTA DOG

I was born thirteen days before Christmas.

December babies frequently get gyped. Being so close to Santa's excursion,

our birthday's pale in the gift giving scheme of things...So I thought I'd make my last story a gift to all of you.

Happy Holidays to one and all. You have given me more than mere words can begin to express.

THE LEGEND OF SANTA DOG

by

L.J. Holmes

Once upon a time in a land far to the North, Santa busily prepared for his most hectic day of the year. All the elves scurried and hurried filling this sack, painting the eyes on that doll, and making sure ladders attached to each bright red engines went up and down without a hitch.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Claus bustled from stove to table making sure Santa's girth would expand to fill out his Once-A-Year Suit...

But deep in the stable yards, where the reindeer grazed, there was anarchy afoot..."Why should we sail off into the night sky yet again and freeze our antlers off for a world filled with disbelievers?" grumbled Donner.

"Yes, yes, yes," chimed in Blitzen. "My lumbago has been more irritating this year. I see no reason to expose it to this whirlwind trip. It is time Santa realizes Christmas has lost its soul and let us grow old gracefully."

All the reindeer added their words of discontent, forming a unanimous front against Christmas.

Soon word spread throughout Santa Town the reindeer were not going to fly come Christmas Eve. Santa hightailed it away from Mrs. Claus' table to the stable-yards and tried every argument in his extensive book...a man as old as Santa has many to draw on you can be sure...but the reindeer were adamant!

What was he to do?

He called a meeting in the town hall and all the citizens of Santa Town arrived. Many ideas were offered, but none proved possible...time was running out.

Unbeknownst to Santa and the people living in Santa Town, deep in the hills surrounding Santa Town, lived a beautiful German Shepherd Dog...abandoned as a pup, the dog traveled long and hard, ending up in these very hills. From his vantage point, he watched the comings and goings in Santa Town as he grew from puppy-hood to full grown dogdom.

Secretly he longed to be a part of Santa's team, but if his owners had abandoned him, he reasoned, surely Santa would see how unworthy he was...yet, he continued to watch and learn.

He watched the reindeer; saw what they ate and how they they trained their young...He duplicated their acts, eating the same berries and brush from the Santa Town forests and practicing the same exercises...

Lo and behold, miracle on miracles one evening he found he could fly!

Still, he was sad. He could fly, yes, but he was nothing more than a lowly dog. Santa would never let him be one of the team.

In his sad aloneness, he slipped into the moonlit darkness the very night of the town meeting, closed his eyes and lifted into the air to soar.

Inside the meeting hall, heartsick that Christmas would not happen this year, Santa turned his eyes to the window to beseech the Moonlight for widsom.

There, refelcted in the glow of the moon was a flying dog! A smile as big as the world spread across Santa's broad face, and a twinkle merrier than any he'd ever twinkled before glittered in his eyes. Eureka!!!

Out through the night, Santa ran...well ran as fast as a man who can fit in the Once-A-Year-Santa-Suit could run, keeping his eye on the flying dog.

When the dog landed, Santa was waiting...

Seeing Santa, the dog, embarrassed and afraid, tried to run into the woods, but Santa called out.

"Please, oh wonderful dog, do not leave. You are the answer to all my prayers."

Hearing the conviction in Santa's voice, the dog stopped, turned and saw...was it?...admiration?...for him?...a lowly dog?

Yes, Santa admired the dog and praised him most soundly pouring out his need of him. The dog bowed, nodded twice and reverently trotted after the head of all Santa Town.

The reindeer quickly learned the tale of the wondrous dog, and realized not all of the magic of Christmas died...for deep in the heart of a wondrous dog was the spark of pure simple love...and that is what Christmas is all about.

The team returned, and for the first time ever, at the front of the team was the newly named Santa Dog...So this year, if you hear a happy barking well into the night...listen carefully...It may just be Santa Dog leading Santa right to you.

FORGIVENESS

It's the ELEVENTH of December already and

I's still here...

One more day to go and I have met my personal

Nudge dare...Will I make it? There's no rhymn or reason to what I have come up with so far.

Nudge takes over me and you get what you get. So will Nudge stand up under the final hours and minutes?

We'll see.

 

FORGIVENESS

by

L.J. Holmes

Forgiveness is such a simple English word...even though it is a lot more than four letters long. Actually it's eleven...hmmm today is the eleventh of December and this word has eleven letters. Prophetic?

Eleven little letters, lined in a row, blended to form an idea destined for emotions now stirred, that make it so very hard to let the pain go.

Who came up with the concept of it? Do you think they knew the monumental tasks this word requires a person wade through before coming out the other end, bloodied from the battle?

Memories consumed me.

Tears rush to fill these throbbing eyes, while blood thunders through my veins. Normally I do not feel my circulatory system, but "normal" flew out the window the moment you arrived and asked for forgiveness.

Shaking my head, not in negation, but conufsion and something else, I try to wade through it. I gave you my trust...I gave you my all. You took what I had, then tore me apart, through a betryal so deep, I'm not sure if I exist any more. Did I die, or does it just feel like I did?

You stand here, all these years later and ask forgiveness from my vanquished soul, and that trust be returned as if all shiny and new. How can I do that? Every time I see me in your eyes, I see the reflection of the fool who gave all her love and innocence to you.

I see your contrition, and the creases of your anguish, but tell me, how do I find the rainbows again? How do I open myself to the world with trust when every breath I take reminds me of this razor sharp pain? You reduced me and my love to nothing more than a mere moment of lust.

Forgiveness. The word rolls so easily from your lips I wonder if you fully understand how deep the word must travel to find the center of the hurt you inflicted? How else was I to survive?

Love truly is a a double bladed thing, honed upon the leather of the strop,  and truth a rule that is filled with the essence of gold. You gave me the blade but not the truth, so I doubt you really cared.

Here is my truth, the only truth I can find...Forgiving you would be the easist part of all of this, or at least I'd like to think it would, if, that is, I could find it within my heart, to first forgive the fool, that's me.

Thank you again for your visit, and I wish you all the best Christmas and New Year.