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Christmas Fantasy by Barbara Edwards

The tradition in our family is to celebrate on Christmas Eve.

This year I had a fantasy. Come with me.

I decorated the house with all my old ornaments, the manger with my grandmother’s figures, chipped and broken as they be, the food was prepared and when I opened the door to my first guest, the music swelled behind me. A familiar polka brightened the air and my parents swirled past with broad smiles. They looked as they did when I was a child and we went to Eugene park to the dances. Somehow my space had swelled to hold them.

I teared up, then blinked as I beheld my daughter Theresa and her husband Don, both of whom have gone before. they looked so happy.

I know when my sister Patricia joined them, this was to be Christmas to remember. All the people I ever loved were coming.

My sons and their wives brought covered dishes to share. Like usual they took over in the kitchen and told me to have fun. My nephew Bobby came in time to greet his children with hugs and smiles.

When I opened the door and my cousin Bill Petersen grabbed me in a huge hug and whirled me off my feet I couldn’t stop the tears of joy. I have missed him so much.

All my grand-children spilled in in a flood of laughter. My Great Grandsons, Charlie and Henry grabbed the spotlight.

The family shared memories from years ago. The highlight for me was all my sons singing carols as they did when they were growing up.

We will be together this year on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas to you all.

St George Island State Campground damaged by Hurricane Michael by Barbara Edwards

If your one of my followers, you know my husband and I winter on St George Island, Florida. We volunteer at the State Campground doing general maintenance, picking up trash, painting and other tasks. Thsi year Michael hit the island with a 12 foot storm surge. The residential area is built on pilings. The damage is great.

This is the main gate entrance.

The road that extends 10 miles through the park is gone along with the dunes.

The way is impassable except for four wheel drive vehicles.

Thank God, the rangers who live on-sight evacuated and their homes which are on pillars remain. None of them were hurt.

I know many people have worst damage. And I send them my prayers and sympathy. But I will miss seeing everyone this winter.

Why I wrote Dixie’s Gift by Barbara Edwards

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”
― Will Rogers

Dixie by Barbara Edwards

Dixie’s Gift, my Christmas novella is based on memories of my Dixie who spent her days keeping me from becoming a hermit. She’d demand a walk. Taking me out of my house to enjoy the fresh air and get some exercise. She’d sleep on my feet, keeping them warm while I wrote.

We got Dixie from a retired teacher who fostered dogs waiting for a forever home. It was a serendipitous happening.

My husband wanted a German Shepherd, but ever time I got bitten it was a shepherd so I said no. I was watching the Westminster Dog show and a beautiful dog called a Belgian Malinois was competing for best of show. They described the breed as being family oriented, energetic and needing an owner who spent time with them. Since the breed looked similar to what my husband wanted, I checked with several breeders who said their females weren’t breed every season.

My husband and I were having coffee and I was flipping through the Penny Saver when I spotted the ad for adopting her. I called despite the fact we weren’t going to be home the following weekend. It was love at first sight. This beautiful dog had been discarded after a bitter divorce. She’d been kept in a dog cage all day every day.

When we got home we didn’t know if she was housebroken and put her in a dog cage. I never heard such a horrible scream from a dog. She vomit and pooped and I let her out promising not to do it again.

We decided to take a chance and took her inside. She was housebroken, but wouldn’t answer to the name they provided. My son came over and started calling her by dog names until he laughingly called Dixie, a reference to our Civil War reenacting. She perked up and went to him so Dixie it was.

Dixie loved re-enacting and went with us to events, she loved riding in the car, sleeping in the tent and watching the horses.

Dixie went with us to Yellowstone.

I didn’t really think about my companion passing away and when she was diagnosed with cancer, it broke my heart. She was in terrible pain, but I didn’t want to let her go. It took me a week but I finally made the wrenching decision to send her over the rainbow bridge.

This story features the ghost of a dog who doesn’t want to leave her mistress alone and writing it helped me through those first lonely months.

I still miss her. Dixie is buried in my flower garden next to our house.

Dixie’s Gift

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-

Buy Links: http://a.co/hvdAjFY

https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/3671-dixie-s-gift.html

Author: Barbara Edwards

Sexy newcomer Michael Burke can barely take enough time from his successful restaurant for a decent night’s sleep, let alone romance. Still, he is intrigued by the beautiful widow and can’t resist entering her shop. Sparks fly, and when Ellen has an accident in a snowstorm, he comes to her rescue. Trapped by a blizzard and aided by Dixie’s Gift, Ellen and Michael find more than shelter–they find love.

Cover artist: Debbie Taylor

Excerpt:

He brushed a wisp of her hair from her cheek. It clung like spider silk to his fingers.

He rubbed the strand and his heart raced. When her lips parted, he bent forward to taste their soft curve.

Sweet, so sweet, he thought as her mouth melded with his. His hands slowly slid from her slender shoulders to her waist. Soft as a feather, she sighed. Her curves fit against his hard chest like matching puzzle pieces.

The lights blinked, dimmed, and then flared back on.

Comments:

Dixie’s Gift tugs at your heart, and though the snow threatens, you can’t help but be warmed by this sweet story. A must read! — Kara O’Neal, Author

“Dog lovers, do not read this book . . . without a box of tissues nearby. A touching story of love and compassion.” – Diane Burton, author of the Outer Rim series.

“Delightful. . .Barbara Edwards weaves a heartwarming holiday tale of rediscovering love after the death of a spouse and the loss of a beloved pet. It’s a refreshing story with a theme of joy and peace and filled with engaging characters. And who can resist a romantic winter setting with lots and lots of snow?” ~ Judy Ann Davis, Author and Educator

Dixie’s Gift by Barbara Edwards is a gift of a read. Sweet, romantic, poignant, and touching, it will bring a lump to your throat and satisfaction to your heart. If you don’t shed a tear, you’re a robot.” ~ Award winning author Alicia Dean

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2016 finally ended by Barbara Edwards

2016 was a rollercoaster ride. Not the fun one at an amusement park, but a shock after shock. My husband was diagnosed with bladder cancer. He started with chemo that hurt his kidneys and he had his bladder removed along with his prostate, two lymph nodes and six inches of his small intestine to rebuild the drainage duct. I learned more than I wanted to know.

He had complications that resulted in his gall bladder being removed and a collapsed lung. Four months later he was home and doing better. It took him all summer and fall to get back his strength and routine.

During the summer I got an inquiry on my ancestry.com account asking about my deceased daughter. It turned out to be my grand-daughter, her child, looking for family. She’d been adopted and her father had claimed there was no family for her. Just grandparents, five uncles with spouses, a dozen cousins and a half brother they didn’t know about.

Thank you, God, for answering twenty years of prayer that her children would be taken care of. I now have spoken with my three grand-daughters. It is difficult to know what to say. They are scattered across country and my husband and I are thinking about a road trip to at least the closest.

My book was rejected by a big publisher. Sigh. Another asked me to remove a sub-plot and its back to work. Otherwise my writing has been slow. Even my blogs have been difficult.

Most of my family gathered for Christmas Eve and did a silly grab bag involving colorful socks. My oldest son and his wife had her son for company in another state.

On Christmas morning my oldest son’s wife Linda had a massive heart attack and later died. She was a wonderful woman who loved my son as much as he loved her. She called me her Mom. I don’t know why things like this happen. I don’t blame God. I may never understand.

So here I am. At my computer, determined to write my stories. To have a good year. To remember Linda with love. To welcome my grand-daughters, and in another sweet moment, my grand-son’s wife calls her two children my great-grand-children.

Keeping memories of the men in my family by Barbara Edwards

In remembrance on this Father’s Day.

My father, Francis Radjeski, lived a long and full life, passing away in his eighties. He was a foreman at Bowsers manufacturing for most of my youth, then worked for a company Called American Research. he built environmental test chambers.

He didn’t talk much about growing up in New York with seven brothers and sisters. He never said why he chose to leave all of them behind and move to Connecticut when I was a toddler. I do know he worked in the Brooklyn Navy Yards during World War II and wasn’t drafted because he was vital to the war effort.

My father was a skilled electrician, welder and carpenter.

His biggest gift to me was his love of books. Every evening he’d read a chapter from one of the classics to us. I heard Tarzan, Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, Huckleberry Finn, and many others.

His dream was to be a writer but he never published a word.

My grandfather, Anthony Radzijewski, was born in Poland and migrated to New York in the early 20th century. I don’t know why and never thought to ask. He arrived at Ellis Island with fifteen dollars and a suitcase with a change of clothes.

He had a job at the Parson’s estate on Long Island for as long as I can remember. He was the head gardener. His Rhododendrons won awards for their display.

From the stories he was a tough disciplinarian, using a razor strop to enforce his orders with the boys.

He grew grapes on an arbor at the house in Bayside and we picked the grapes to make jelly. Before my time, they raised a pig in the backyard. Even to this child his roses were beautiful and smelled like heaven.

My mother’s father, Cyprian Gadamowitz, also migrated from Poland. He and his brothers were going to be conscripted into the Russian Army and their father, a pharmacist, sent to them to America. They were to go to South America (Brazil?) but my grandfather had been so seasick he refused to get back on the ship. He also had seven children.

I remember he had a rooster in the backyard that chased me. I even have a photo of that bird somewhere.

Cyprian worked as a mason. He did tile work in the Empire State building when it was built. He worked hard and drank hard. I don’t recall him ever kissing us grandchildren or giving us a hug.

It’s my blessing that because these men lived, I live. I like to think I’m as strong and tough as they were.

Have you written down your family memories?

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#New Release from Guest Maureen Bonatch #Giveaway Why this Story?

perf5.000x8.000.indd Forget Me Not, a new release by Maureen Bonatch. Please welcome my guest Maureen Bonatch. She’s here to tell us more about her new release. Please share how you came up with the idea for this story.

The story for FORGET ME NOT formed last February while my hubby, my girls, and I stole away to a cabin over Valentine’s weekend to relax and enjoy quiet time together. Despite ensuring access to the finer things in life such as bathroom and shower facilities, the snow blanketed our remote cabin into peace and solitude. I spent this time reflecting upon how fast life goes by and how many decisions are guided by our head and not our hearts. These decisions might prove fruitful financially, but no money can buy, or replace, true love.

maureenbonatch FORGET ME NOT is about second chances and taking the time to enjoy the little things in life like family, friends and good conversation. My heroine must learn to shed her insecurities and embrace the small town where everyone knows everything and loves you all the more because of it.

What if your memories hadn’t been made yet?

Forget Me Not (A Candy Hearts Romance)
by Maureen L. Bonatch
Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B018L3GFAG
The car accident totaled Sabrina Post’s convertible and reinvented her memories. She can’t recall dumping Cole Dawson ten years ago. What her new clairvoyant visions tell Sabrina is he’s her husband.

Any practical girl would question her sanity. But if Sabrina wants to make this imaginary future a reality, she’ll have to regain Cole’s trust and eliminate her rival, the coffee shop waitress who’s pegged Cole as husband #4.

To prove she’s foreseen their destiny, Sabrina stirs Cole’s interest by revealing specifics about him she couldn’t have otherwise known. Unfortunately, the one detail he vividly remembers is the pain when she left him and their “rinky-dink” town in her rearview mirror.

If Cole can’t believe she’s a changed woman, can Sabrina accept the only second chance she has at love exists in her memories?

A Fantasy romance from The Wild Rose Press
Release Date: January 6, 2016
Cover Artist: RJ Morris
Editor: Frances Sevilla

ISBN(s):
978-1-5092-0502-8 Digital

Link to Page on my Blog for Giveaway.

<a href="http://http://www.maureenbonatch.com/2016/01/dont-forget-today-is-release-day-for-forget-me-not/“>http://www.maureenbonatch.com/2016/01/dont-forget-today-is-release-day-for-forget-me-not/

My Pinterest Board with all of the Candy Hearts Books & Extras for Valentine’s Day:

https://www.pinterest.com/maureenbonatch/valentines-day-ideas-the-candy-hearts-series-featu/

#Sale Dixie’s Gift by Barbara Edwards #TWRP

Dixie’s Gift
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-
Buy Links: http://amzn.com/B017OJGVI
http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=6532

Author: Barbara Edwards
Dixie was my friend and companion for years after we adopted her. She kept me exercising by insisting I get up from my chair and take her out. She would eat anything I ate except for clams in marinara sauce. When she crossed the Rainbow Bridge I cried for days. Then I took the memories and wrote this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Blurb: Ellen Carter deeply grieves for her husband Dan, but at least she still has Dixie, her beloved Malinois. However, soon Dixie leaves her too. But the faithful dog cannot rest easy in heaven while her mistress is unhappy. Dixie pleads with the Archangel Michael to let her send help, and intercedes for Ellen in the only way she can. But will Ellen get the message, and more importantly, will she accept Dixie’s gift?
Sexy newcomer Michael Burke can barely take enough time from his successful restaurant for a decent night’s sleep, let alone romance. Still, he is intrigued by the beautiful widow and can’t resist entering her shop. Sparks fly, and when Ellen has an accident in a snowstorm, he comes to her rescue. Trapped by a blizzard and aided by Dixie’s Gift, Ellen and Michael find more than shelter–they find love.

Excerpt:
He brushed a wisp of her hair from her cheek. It clung like spider silk to his fingers.
He rubbed the strand and his heart raced. When her lips parted, he bent forward to taste their soft curve.
Sweet, so sweet, he thought as her mouth melded with his. His hands slowly slid from her slender shoulders to her waist. Soft as a feather, she sighed. Her curves fit against his hard chest like matching puzzle pieces.
The lights blinked, dimmed, and then flared back on.

Comments:
Dixie’s Gift tugs at your heart, and though the snow threatens, you can’t help but be warmed by this sweet story. A must read! — Kara O’Neal, Author

“Dog lovers, do not read this book . . . without a box of tissues nearby. A touching story of love and compassion.” – Diane Burton, author of the Outer Rim series.

Stand behind the “Thin, Blue Line” by Barbara Edwards #Police

Stand behind the “Thin, Blue Line” by Barbara Edwards

Another police officer died in the line of duty.
Where is the cry of rage?
Where is the protest that a man who kissed his wife and children good-bye in the morning, is dead?
And the reason?
He was part of the ‘Thin, Blue Line’ that separates chaos from civilization.
I can drive my car because the blue line keeps bad drivers off the streets.
I can go to the store and bring home my purchases because they stand between me and thieves.
The ‘Thin Blue Line” is there to take drug dealers to jail and save my children from their harm.
I may not carry a gun, but I don’t have to because of the ‘Thin, Blue Line.’
I am sick of those who blather on about gun control when they don’t help solve the problem. Another law won’t do it. Enable the police to enforce the laws on the books.
How many other dangers do those wearing the uniform face daily?
I admit I’m prejudiced. I’m married to a retire police sergeant. I thank God every day that he survived his years on the force to retire.
I pray for those still facing that threat. I pray for the families of those who’ve been killed or hurt.
I condemn those who think chanting ‘Pig, Pig, Oink, Oink, Bang Bang’ is righteous.
We need the Thin, Blue Line.
Spread the word.
The “Thin, blue Line protects us all.
Not by color, religion, politics, or sex, but by the fact that protecting us is what they do.
Remember that when you dial 911.
Remember that when you get a traffic ticket.
Remember that when you need protection.

I’m proud of every officer who puts his or her life on the line for me.
Thank you.
Barbara Edwards

A tribute to Dixie, my dog, on National Dog Day by Barbara Edwards #TWRP #MFRW

Today is National Dog Day and I’m posting photos of Dixie, the inspiration for my upcoming release ‘Dixie’s Gift’. Dixie’s Gift is my Christmas Story from The Wild Rose Press.

Dixie was my dog, a beautiful Belgian Malinois. She slept at my feet, took me for walks, loved the people I love and held a large portion of my heart.

I’m not sure how old she was since we didn’t know when we adopted her, but she lived with us for ten years.

Dixie loved to travel. From Maine to Florida to Colorado and Utah, Dixie hung her head out the window of the truck.

When she was diagnosed with bone cancer, I cried for a week. She crossed the rainbow bridge with me petting her head. It hurt, but I owed it to her to stand by those last moments.

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Am I a Bigot? by Barbara Edwards

Am I a bigot? by Barbara Edwards

I always regarded myself as a thoughtful, considerate person. Now I wonder. Society has changed so much. I’m out of step. I believe marriage is between a man and a woman. There. I said it. I am out of the closet.

I remember the time when boys and girls not only couldn’t kiss in public, they couldn’t hold hands or hug. Today the news showed pictures of couples that I considered private business.

Am I a bigot? I don’t want to know what you do in your bedroom. I was twenty-six before I learned that anal sex was what homosexuals shared. I wanted my children to be that innocent, but the schools started teaching sex education in third grade. My kids didn’t understand or care. I did object but my objections were considered old-fashioned.

I’m still old-fashioned. A bigot in other words.

Your private life should be private. Social media is a cesspool of too much information. So it’s easier to e-mail the word then one person, big deal.

What do you do when you find out the world, or at least the corner of it you reach, finds most of that stuff boring?

Yeah, I think the picture of the baby is cute. Then I wonder about the child-molester trolling for cute kids. He has your name, address, the baby’s name and what you’re planning to do today.

Am I a bigot?

I’m tired of guarding my tongue and my words.

I have strong political views. Yet if I name a political party I’m argued with.

My religion means more than one hour in church each week, it defines my core beliefs.

I respect the Constitution.

I know in my heart that 90 percent of the people are like me. Don’t be shy. Stand up.

I repeat: stand up and be counted.