Dana,
Thank you for the gracious welcome.
I will share a little bit of my Christmas story, Cactus & Mistletoe:
It wasn’t that Emma had never been kissed, but it was true she had never been kissed like that, and certainly not by someone like him. Once again, her mental feet were flying to pack and escape, but for once, her physical feet remained resolutely in place. After a moment, she let habit take over, and she began the preparations for hot cereal. You must go, Emma, she repeated for what seemed the thousandth time since her arrival, but something inside her seemed to have settled, was comfortable, was eager and insistent upon staying. As she stirred porridge she could imagine herself stirring porridge in that kitchen for the rest of her life, and it was not in any way a depressing image.
After a little while, Sammy hopped in. Hopping, literally, because while he wore one riding boot, and presumably a sock, his other foot was bare and the floor was cold. “The snow’s still here,” he announced, excitedly.
“Yes, I know.” Emma smiled encouragingly. “Where is your other shoe?”
Sammy looked at his hands. “I left it in my room. Dad told me to get some breakfast quick so we could go.” He pulled himself up onto a stool.
“Well, I think we can risk another moment’s delay so you can wear two shoes to go riding. Go on. Get your other shoe and I’ll put your porridge in a bowl.”
“Porridge?” He wrinkled his nose. “Like in the Three Bears?”
“Yes. Now, go on before I call you Goldilocks.”
He hopped out again, giggling.
She filled his bowl, and remembering her dislike of porridge as a little girl, stirred a little jam in for flavor.
She was getting milk from the refrigerator when Sawyer returned, in jeans, a thick pullover, shaved and hair properly combed. “Emma, I’m – I’m sorry about what happened,” he began hesitantly.
“Shh,” she warned, expecting Sammy back any moment. “Nothing more to be said about it,” she went on, pouring some milk into Sammy’s bowl. “There you are. Isn’t it much better with two shoes on?”
“Why is it purple?” Sammy asked, climbing back onto the stool. He sniffed it. “It smells grapey.”
“Because I put some jam in it. Eat it up. Your dad’s in a hurry.”
Sammy took a big spoonful.
“Remember the three bears,” Emma warned. “Test it before you take a big hot bite.”
Sammy blew loudly and wetly over the spoon. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked, before shoveling the porridge into his mouth.
“I have some things I need to do,” she returned, filling a bowl for Sawyer.
“Don’t I get jam, too?” Sawyer protested. “And it’s early yet. We can ride and be back in plenty of time for you to do whatever you need.”
She put the jam pot in front of him. “No, really, I…” the force of their combined stares was really beyond her defenses. “All right, all right. I’ll go, but you’ll have to wait a few minutes while I eat and dress.”
“Yay!” Sammy yelled and he and his father clinked spoons the way men might clink glasses to seal a deal.
Is that too long to be a snippet? I don't know the rules of snippetting. At any rate, thank you for letting me share. If you're interested in a different sort of romance, told from the hero's perspective, while he shambles through life after his wife departed, a romance where the reader isn't even sure who the heroine is 'til the end of the book, try Circle City Blues, by my fellow Bean, Susan Wells Bennett.
Thank you again, and come and visit us at the website soon. We've got a beautiful Christmas card there from all of us.
Emjae
inknbeans.com
