Bell Bridge Books

Serving Up Holiday Cheer

by Kathleen Eagle

Isn’t it strange that when you’re a kid it takes forever for the holidays to roll around from one calendar to the next, but the older you get, the faster they roll? And the more holiday memories you collect, the more nostalgic you become. You’re driving down the road and you hear the first few notes of your father’s favorite Christmas song. You get all misty. The road better not be the interstate–or the turnpike where I grew up–because misty can turn to waterworks in a hurry, and windshield wipers don’t do anything for eyeballs. When you’re a child, it’s all about anticipation. For an adult, memories become part of the joy. We recreate the look and the sound and the scent of holiday magic the soft, glowing way we remember it and the way we hope it will be for our children and our children’s children.

Which is why we tell stories. We save up, and we shop. We clean, and we cook. We decorate, and we practice our songs and our plays. But without the stories, these traditions won’t be remembered. The storyteller’s gift is precious. During the holidays, it is memory.

THE SHARING SPOON is a collection of three novellas. They’re romantic, of course, and the characters are fictitious, but they’re built on some of my memories. “The Wolf and the Lamb” is a Western. I’ve loved Westerns since I was a child, and guess what: So has my cowboy. One of our theme songs could be “My Baby Loves the Western Movies.” (I guess I’m dating myself, but that’s okay. Memories are never out of date.)  In “The Twelfth Night” some of my Lakota husband’s childhood memories come into play. And in “The Sharing Spoon“–a contemporary Thanksgiving tale–memories of our move to Minnesota helped me create a fun and fanciful story using the American Indian magnet school that recruited my husband. True story: a family walked into the office, and the dad slapped the book that contained the original version of “The Sharing Spoon” on the counter. “Is this the school in this book?” he asked. The secretary carefully, cautiously explained that the story was fiction. “But the author’s husband is a teacher here,” she said. “Sign my kids up,” was the man’s response. The secretary herself told me this story, and she’s sticking to it. Sweet, huh?

I hope you’ll grab “The Sharing Spoon” while it’s on sale. I’ve heard from several readers who say that re-reading it has become an annual tradition for them. That, too. is as sweet as hot chocolate with a peppermint stirring stick. May your holidays taste even sweeter!

Make your Thanksgiving sweet! Pick up THE SHARING SPOON today!

Reflections From My Front Porch

by Lora Lee

Hey there, y’all! Come on up and sit a spell on my front porch. It’s a lovely Fall afternoon, so relax in that rocker over there and let’s visit.

Did you know there’s a Clergy Appreciation Day? You didn’t? Neither did I. I even checked my calendar. Nothing. Zip. Nada. However, I trust the Bell Bridge marketing department when they tell me there is such a day. After all, they’re pretty smart about that sort of thing.

Now, if any of y’all have read Bringing in the Thieves, my cozy mystery in the Joyful Noise Mysteries, you know that the main character is a preacher’s daughter. Yep, Frankie Lou is a PK and her halo is in dire need of polishing. Seems she didn’t appreciate her clergyman father during her rebellious teen years. Hmmm. I wouldn’t know anything about that.

What’s that you ask? Oh, of course, I’m a PK. Always have been, but I’m not at all like Frankie Lou, bless her heart. After all, I’m a lot older and I know better. Life when I was growing up was different for a PK. Frankie Lou’s modern day problems were . . . well, you can read all about her in the book. I’ll give you a brief inside look into my own childhood days and you can draw your own conclusions.

There was one period during WWII when daddy was a Captain and chaplain in the US ARMY that I remember well. That was a worrisome time ‘cause my big brother was in the US NAVY somewhere out in the Pacific during that time, too. Momma shed a lot of tears while both of them were gone.

The time came when Momma and I were able to move where Daddy was stationed. That meant attending a new school where I didn’t know a soul. Can’t say I liked fourth grade that year.

Daddy was so handsome in his uniform. I felt pretty special when we ate in the mess hall with the other officers. But one Thanksgiving, Daddy wanted us to eat dinner with the enlisted men. Momma agreed so that’s what we did. Daddy loved those young men like his own son and did his best to prepare them for what they might be facing if they were sent overseas. I’m pretty sure those men appreciated the clergy because the chapel was always filled every Sunday.

I only had eleven years to appreciate my clergyman father. I didn’t even appreciate God the day Daddy died, but through the years, Momma kept me on the straight and narrow with her unconditional love. My appreciation of the clergy has grown as I’ve matured. And believe it or not, God never gave up on me, either.

Thanks for visiting on the front porch with me today. Y’all come back, ya’ hear.

Lora Lee

Pick up Bringing in the Thieves, the first in the Joyful Noise Mysteries, today for only $1.99!