By Debra Sennefelder

January is now behind us and I’m settling into February quite nicely. Last week I finished the first draft of the next Food Blogger mystery and now it’s set aside for about a week while I turn my attention onto my next release, HOW THE MURDER CRUMBLES. I’m so excited for this release because I love the story so much and I love, love, love the characters who populate the charming town of Wingate, Connecticut. The one downside to this book while I was writing it was that since it featured a cookie baker, I always wanted cookies. I thought today, I’d share an excerpt from the book with you. In this snippet, Mallory is leaving work and heading home to get ready for date night with her boyfriend.

With her apron off, she grabbed her cookie mug prototype for Gil’s company. On her way to the back door, she picked up her backpack. When she reached her bike, she set the cellophane-wrapped mug in the basket and then unlocked the bike. So many things had changed when she made the move from Manhattan to Wingate. She had traded her one-bedroom with a Hudson River view for a cottage. She had swapped her beloved high heels for supportive shoes. And her commute had gone from subway to bicycle.

A lot of changes in a short period for someone who craved stability and had an aversion to making spontaneous decisions. But it had seemed that the stars had aligned a few months ago. A lost promotion, a merger that made her position at her company vulnerable, and a backstabbing colleague had Mallory craving career independence. Then her aunt had called with the news that she wanted to sell her bakery, the place where there were so many memories of her childhood. By the end of the call, Mallory had said she would buy the bakery. Over the following weeks, she had pulled together a business plan and shared her vision of what she wanted her bakery to be. Then, with her aunt’s approval, she went for it. She’d never felt so exhilarated and scared to death at the same time.

She hopped on her bike and cycled down the driveway along the two-story building that housed The Cookie Shop. On the second floor was a studio apartment that was currently between tenants.

Then she turned onto Main Street. The winding street was Wingate’s central hub of activity and was postcard-perfect from one end to the other. Century-old lampposts dotted the long stretch of sidewalk where historic brick-façade shops mingled with Victorian painted ladies and stately Federal period buildings. Once a manufacturing town, Wingate was now known for its shops, restaurants, and galleries. Being named one of the Top Ten Shopping Destinations in the state for eight years running by CT Life and Style magazine, the town had become the place that had something for everyone—from thrifty shopper to antique connoisseur to weekend explorer.

Her next turn took her down Lilac Lane, a residential street where front yards bloomed with bright spring colors, and birdsong filled the air as she pedaled along the road. At the stop sign, she made a right onto Old Lantern Road, and within a minute, her rental cottage came into view.

Her for-now home was a hodgepodge of architectural styles—part cottage, part Craftsman, part Victorian. The sage green dwelling with a picket fence was utterly delightful. When she found it, she hadn’t hesitated to write the check for the deposit and one month’s rent. She also wasted no time in purchasing an Adirondack chair to sit by the pond where she could ponder her life-changing decisions. Unfortunately, though, she’d yet to have time for the reflective exercise.


I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek into the book. To pre-order, please click here.

Now, I’d love to know what your favorite cookie is. Mine is oatmeal raisin (which is one of the recipes in the book).



Debra Sennefelder is the author of the Food Blogger Mystery series and the Resale Boutique Mystery series. She lives and writes in Connecticut. When she’s not writing, she enjoys baking, exercising and taking long walks with her Shih-Tzu, Connie. You can keep in touch with Debra through her website, on Facebook and Instagram.

When Walls and Water Speak

One day, I looked at an area along the brick walkway in the front of my house and realized I needed to do something extreme. Despite having spread grass seeds more than one season, only weeds grew in the shadow of a magnificent weeping yaupon that arcs over the sidewalk and shaded a crescent-shaped area.

I looked at it with despair and frustration.

(How many times have I looked at a blank page without a clue what words to paint on it?)

Suddenly, I saw a garden in that crescent-moon space. In a previous post, “Goddess in the Garden,” I wrote about its transformation into a moss-garden.

But nature had other ideas. When it rained, water caught in the yaupon’s draping branches, streaming down them in torrents that hit the ground and tunneled trenches into my creation.

(How many times have the words I carefully crafted looked very different when I returned to them later, requiring I rewrite them or throw them out altogether?)

I tried to repair the craters, but each time it rained, the holes and mini-gullies returned. The space was not happy. I was not happy. But I had put in so much work!

It was not fair.

I grumped. And repaired what the water had torn up.

Until it rained, yet again . . . as it is wont to do. And again.

Finally, I surrendered.

“What do you want to be?” I asked my garden.

(Once, I wrote about a blank wall speaking to me, eliciting mockery from a local radio host, but the wall wanted something, and I listened.)

“I want to be a pond,” my garden said. “I want the water.”

“What about little rocks?” I mused. “Can’t I just put pebbles down where the water flows?”

The garden’s reply was a definite, “No.”

So, I began to dig. It hurt to dig up what I had painstakingly planted, what was beautiful just as it was, for something new.

[How many times do we have to start over in our lives, to force open scars, so new love and light can enter?]

I dug for days. Frogs came to visit.  One cutie in particular dove into my hole on three occasions, probably looking for a place to hibernate for the winter. I took him out each time and asked him to be patient.

Finally, the hole was done…I thought. Then came the Plastic War.  Instructions on lining the pond sounded very simple.


One of our horses, who should be named “Curious George,” made an appearance to help out, but alas, was not equipped. Hubby helped with the large rocks I coveted. It was a great feeling when they settled into place!




The rocks came from the streams and creeks on our property. My husband became accustomed to having his truck appropriated for rock gathering expeditions.

My fear was that the black lining would show along the steep sides in the deep end. I had never done anything like this and had no real plan other than the foundation rock placements.

(How many times have I started a book with only a few words, just a sketchy idea of my characters, and no idea what happens next?)

I tempted the creative muse yet again with my crazy pond idea. Yet, she didn’t fail me.

My biggest fear was the sides of the deep end.  How would I keep from having gaps that showed the liner?

As I worked, I realized the edges of the stones placed on edge along the bottom provided a shelf for another layer and so on. Each stone had to be fitted for shape and stability. They let me know when it wasn’t the right place for them.

When I thought I was finally finished, the water said I was not honoring its flow, and I had to tear up and redo a section.

It is the middle of winter. The plants I tried to save are hopefully sleeping. Some of the moss is thriving, even in the cold. The water is happy, flowing as it wanted to all along. The garden is something very different than it was and yet the same.

Isn’t that so of us, as well?

Every moment we are different, a memory of all the moments before spun into the illusion of a constant, just as the garden changes every moment—as water swirls, plants grow and rest, leaves fall and change form. Every morning when I visit, I and the pond are new and old. Sometimes I change it by way of a rock that needs adjustment, a tuft of moss to add, or a new idea of where a gift of crystal should nestle.

Sometimes I just breath in the peace of it.

(The tales I’ve told don’t change once they are printed, yet each time a reader opens the book, they come alive, changed by the perspectives and person who recreates them from a few words. The stories are the same and yet different, a joining of imaginations—theirs and mine.)

I am looking forward to the spring when I hope my frog friend will return.

T.K. Thorne photo

T.K. Thorne is a retired police captain who writes books and blogs that go wherever her imagination takes her. TKThorne.com

After the Hurricane

By Barbara J Eikmeier

The Wood Stork lifts off from the edge of the pond. His long slightly curved beak points the way like a menacing weapon, and his shaggy head droops, in sharp contrast to his elegant body. My hostess calls him The Professor.

Wood Stork – image from stock photos

From the lanai I also see the Great Blue Heron, and the Tricolor Heron, his white belly flashing us as he takes flight. I’m impressed with the perfectly still, dark feathered Cormorant standing on the rock, with his wings fanned out. My hostess shrugs and says, “Oh he is quite common.”

I’m teaching for a week in Southwest Florida. In Ft Myers to be exact. The same Ft Myers where Hurricane Ian made landfall on September 28, 2022. I’m staying with my friend Bridget and peppering her with questions about the hurricane and its aftermath. The writer in me can’t help it.

If creating a setting or writing a dramatic scene featuring catastrophic weather, I’m not sure I could write a convincing hurricane. I can do flood waters from the creek rising after torrential rains. I can do a monsoon. I can do a tornado warning and get my characters to shelter before the funnel cloud touches down. I can even do a tidal wave warning. But my knowledge of hurricanes comes strictly from the weather channel.

Going to and from class today my driver toured me around Ft Myer, pointing out the canals that bring the water inland creating waterfront properties. Many homes and businesses are still draped in bright blue tarps. The palms lining both sides of McGregor Blvd are missing palm fronds, but otherwise are standing tall, new growth sprouting high above the ground. Three months of cleanup have already taken place. But then there is the marina and the topsy-turvy pile of yachts and smaller boats, twisted among huge chunks of broken up dock, bringing home the truth of what happened here. I saw a sailboat trapped at the base of a bridge; its silver mast tangled with the black post of a streetlight as if braided together. Another sailboat rested on its side, the mast pointing inland, the sails shredded to ribbons, fluttering in the breeze.

Restaurants are closed. Beaches are closed. A little island, seen from the bridge, has been stripped of vegetation.

Today the calm of my friend’s pond, is a different view from the story she tells of that day when she watched the water rise, saw it churn one direction, then change directions as the eye of the storm passed overhead. She exclaimed, “The wind, oh that awful wind that continued for hours, or rather for days.” And she describes the surprise of seeing whitecaps on her little pond.

I’m keenly aware of the devastation that happened here, but I’ve also seen the spirit of Southwest Florida in the people I’ve met. Seasonal residents have returned. Year-round friends greet them and immediately ask how their places fared in the hurricane. They are rebuilding and supporting each other.

Originally, I thought I’d make this trip part work, part vacation – after all, its Florida in January! Hurricane Ian changed things, but I still came. It turns out that I didn’t need that trip to the beach, and I didn’t need an excursion to Sanibel Island, but I did need to see the amazing strength of Southwest Florida in the people I met. After all it’s the human spirit that defines a place.

Image from Ft Myers tourism

Barbara J. Eikmeier is a quilter, writer, student of quilt history, and lover of small-town America. Raised on a dairy farm in California, she enjoys placing her characters in rural communities.

Sharing the Spotlight

Sharing the Spotlight

by Saralyn Richard


When BAD BLOOD SISTERS came out last March, a book club chose it as its first selection, and invited me to speak. This was no ordinary book club. It was the Elks Lodge #126, and they were fund-raising for the Texas Elks Children’s Services, Inc. So enthusiastic were they about BAD BLOOD SISTERS! They split the book club discussion into two events:  1)a tour of the local funeral home with a discussion  about the book in the wake room (because the main character works in death services); and 2)a dinner, book talk, and raffle.

I was touched by the amount of attention they were giving to my latest novel. Sympathetic to their drive to raise money for this worthy organization, I offered to auction the privilege of being a named character in my next book. Asta Timm, Elks Sweetheart, loved the idea and we decided to start the bidding at a reasonable price.

The night of the book club dinner, there was a buzz in the air. The Elks organizers, including Karen Crummett Sawyer and Asta, had a number of fun surprises. We ate, we drank, we talked about the book, we played a trivia game (with prizes). Then it was time for the raffle. The bidding opened and took off with a bang. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to be a character in a book. My head swiveled from one side of the room to the other as friends outbid one another over and over again. Finally, the auction ended, with the closing bid at ten times what the opening bid had been.

The winner of the auction, Tammie Caballero, became one of the key characters in CRYSTAL BLUE MURDER, which was published in September. Tammie was thrilled, because she wanted her family name in the spotlight. She knew her grandfather would be proud. When I replaced Tammie’s name in the manuscript, MS Word made 365 changes.

Tammie has come with me to several book launch events, and I always introduce her and ask her to say a few words about her part in the book’s journey. Her involvement in the book adds a special dimension that we both enjoy talking about. I have a new friend for life, and the Texas Elks Children’s Services has a generous benefactor. I can’t say enough about the Elks, Asta, Karen, and Tammie. I love sharing the spotlight with them!


Award-winning author and educator, Saralyn Richard writes about people in settings as diverse as elite country manor houses and disadvantaged urban high schools. She loves beaches, reading, sheepdogs, the arts, libraries, parties, nature, cooking, and connecting with readers.

Visit Saralyn at http://saralynrichard.com, on her Amazon page here, or on Facebook here.

Laguna Beach Photo

A Getaway When You Can’t Get Away

by Sparkle Abbey

Travel and a change of place impart new vigor to the mind.  – Seneca

Laguna BeachIt’s exciting that travel is opening up and people are once again beginning to plan trips. For some of us that means a road trip to visit family for the holidays or a short vacation to warmer climes. For others it means something bigger. Perhaps booking that trip to a far-away destination that you’ve always wanted to visit.  The wonderful thing about travel is that it not only gives us new perspectives, but it can also offer a much-needed break from the day-to-day routine. Given that, we hope you’ve got some travel plans in your future.

In the meantime, some of us are exploring different locales without leaving home. Books hold a wide variety of places and spaces between their covers. Just among The Stiletto Gang authors we have upstate New York, the San Juan Islands, and Canada. Our books also include New England, the Gulf Coast, the California coast and tons of other places in between. We have big cities and small towns. Real places and others that are completely the product of our imaginations.

What we always hope to do as writers is make the setting an integral part of the story. So that it’s not just “where” the story happens but that it’s part of “why” the story happens. And why it couldn’t happen (at least not in this particular way) somewhere else. Even if the setting for our story is fictional or even in a different time period, we want it to feel real to the reader. As if you’ve traveled there with us. And we hope it’s a place you’d want to spend time if you could.

New England coast photo


As readers, we have locations from the books we’ve read that we love and want to visit again and again. Some we’ve been lucky enough to visit in real life and others not yet.

What about you? Is there a particular place you’ve read about and then visited? Or maybe there’s a place you’ve traveled to only in the pages of a book, but you’d love to visit in real life.

If we could gift you with an all-expense paid trip, where would you go?




Sparkle Abbey books

Sparkle Abbey Pampered Pets Series

Sparkle Abbey is actually two people, Mary Lee Ashford and Anita Carter, who write the national best-selling Pampered Pets cozy mystery series. They are friends as well as neighbors so they often get together and plot ways to commit murder. (But don’t tell the other neighbors.)

They love to hear from readers and can be found on FacebookTwitter, and Pinterest, their favorite social media sites. Also, if you want to make sure you get updates, sign up for their newsletter via the SparkleAbbey.com website

Clicking Our Heels – Our New Year’s Resolutions

Clicking Our Heels – Our New Year’s Resolutions

Every year, we make New Year’s Resolutions (or at least most of us do). This year, we are going to share our resolutions with you and have the courage to check back and report to you how we did later in the year.

Kathryn Lane – Balancing work and play, being consistent about exercising, and making time to relax.

T.K. Thorne – I want to spend less time on a computer.

Shari Randall/Meri Allen – I’m the worst about resolutions. My resolution is not to make any!

Mary Lee Ashford – 2022 was a big year for me as I retired after 32 years of working in local government. So needless to say, it’s been an adjustment year for me. In the past, I’ve always started the year with a list of goals – some work related, some writing related, and others more general and personal. This year my New Year’s Resolution is to slow down and take time to focus on the most important things.

Donnell Ann Bell – As I write this, I am really working hard at diet an exercise. (I’ll let you know how I’m doing by New Years. I have a book due!

Lynn McPherson – My New Year’s Resolution is to be more organized. Yes, it’s been on the top of the list before and I have yet to succeed, but maybe this year I’ll sort myself out. I also want to bake more. Cupcakes, muffins, and cookies. Fresh baked everything is my favorite!

Debra H. Goldstein – To relax and accept what I cannot change, but to go full steam ahead with the things I can control.

Barbara J. Eikmeier – I don’t make Jan 1 resolutions.  I use my birthday as my personal New Year and I do make a list of “goals”. They generally have to do with wellness but in 2011 I set of a goal of teaching myself how to bake pies!

Debra Sennefelder – I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions. I stopped that a long time ago. Instead, I focus on goals. Right now I’m in the process of working on my goals for the upcoming year.

Dru Ann Love – I learned not to make resolutions.

Lois Winston – I gave up making New Year’s resolutions years ago.

Linda Rodriguez – I’ve stopped making New Year’s resolutions. I do always try to take the last few days of year to do some reflecting over what has happened during the year and what I feel about it and also to look at things I would like to carry with me into the new year. So, rather than resolutions, I tend to set one or two guide words or phrases for the coming year, such as Peace, More Pleasure, Health and Strength, etc.

Saralyn Richard – My most memorable New Year’s resolution was made when I’d lived in Chicago for about three years. I promised myself I wouldn’t complain about the winter weather. (Complaining accomplished nothing, anyway.) What I found when I stopped complaining was that the winter months went by quite painlessly. I don’t live in Chicago anymore, but my resolutions are always based on that theme–I try to be as grateful as possible throughout the year, no matter what befalls me. Gratitude is my resolution.









It’s A New Year With New Goals

By Debra Sennefelder

Happy New Year!

On behalf of the Stiletto Gang I hope you and your family had a wonderful holiday season and a wonderful start to 2023.

I’m coming off the holidays, a book release, hitting the halfway mark of a first draft while preparing for the release of book one in a new series. Oh, and add in goal planning sessions for the new year. Yeah, it’s been hectic.

I enrolled in an online course last month to help shore up my goal setting and time management for this new year. I’ve been doing a pretty good job the past few years but I have to admit that the past two years have been rough for numerous reasons. That’s why I decided to seek outside help. And so far, I’ve been really happy with the course and the shift in mindset of how I look at my day and how many hours I have to devote to writing and the business of writing. I also made the decision to pair down my commitments and the number of goals I set for the year and for each quarter.

While reviewing my goals, business and personal, I realized that there was something missing not only in the list for 2023 but had been missing from 2022 also. Reading. I’d let that habit slip away and I realized that I missed reading. I missed the ritual of regularly sitting down with a book I’d been dying to read with a cup of tea and Connie curled up next to me. So many nights were spent watching one too many reality shows or re-runs of Hallmark mysteries. Mornings were a rush to get the day started so I could hit my word count goal. I want that to change in 2023.

In order for that to change I’ve made a personal goal to read 24 books. That will be two books a month and I think that’s doable. I’ve even bought a journal to document my reads this year. This is a first for me and I’m looking forward to journaling about the books I’m going to read. I want to read books from: my current TBR collection (physical and e-book), my local library and there are some new releases I’m interested in. So, I want to make sure that the 24 books I’ll read this year are a mix from those three lists. Having this plan is definitely making me excited about reading this year.

Have you set a goal or resolution that you’re really excited about? If so, please share in the comments.

SLEUTHING IN STILETTO is the latest Resale Boutique Mystery series and is available from your favorite retailer.

Debra Sennefelder is the author of the Food Blogger Mystery series and the Resale Boutique Mystery series. She lives and writes in Connecticut. When she’s not writing, she enjoys baking, exercising and taking long walks with her Shih-Tzu, Connie. You can keep in touch with Debra through her website, on Facebook and Instagram.


They Can’t All Be Red Herrings, Right?

By Lois Winston

I’m currently writing my 12th Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery. This one is tentatively titled A Crafty Collage of Crime. As some of you may remember, I moved from New Jersey to Tennessee a year and a half ago. Since then, many people have asked if Anastasia will eventually make the move south. My answer is an emphatic, “No!” Anastasia is a diehard Jersey Girl and will remain firmly planted in the Garden State.

However, I have decided that in this book, Anastasia and Zack will take a trip to Middle Tennessee wine country. Yes, there are wineries in Tennessee. Who knew? Certainly not me until I moved here, but it turns out that there were quite a few wineries in the area before Prohibition, and after Prohibition ended, the wine industry slowly began to revitalize. It’s now once again thriving.

Anastasia and Zack find themselves in Tennessee because Zack has accepted an assignment to photograph the local wineries for a spread in a national wine publication. Anastasia travels to Tennessee with him. Of course, she immediately discovers a dead body. (Doesn’t she always?)

Now, here’s my dilemma: I have a basic plot and characters fleshed out, but I have so many potential suspects, that I’m finding it difficult to choose which will be the killer. Any one of them would work. I’m thinking I may have to write the book several ways, with a different killer for each version, before I settle on the real killer. That’s a lot of extra work. So I’m hoping that as I continue to work on chapters, the killer will eventually reveal himself to me.

If you’re a reader, have you ever read a mystery where you thought one of the other characters should have been the killer? If you’re an author, do you always know right away who your killer will be, or does the killer sometimes change as you write the book?

Death by Killer Mop Doll, the second book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mysteries, is now available as an audiobook through Audible, iTunes, and Amazon. If you’d like a chance to win a promo code for a free download, post a comment.


USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

Happy Holiday!

A Husband’s Tale —by T.K. Thorne

Yes, I am Jewish and don’t “officially” celebrate Christmas, but well, I’ll let my husband tell it [except for my added comments, of course.]:

“She had me at Dickens. You need a bit of backstory to understand that.

During some of my wife’s travels earlier this year, she discovered a Dickens festival in some far away world called California. Being a wonderful wife, [this is my favorite part] and knowing my deep affinity for anything related to Charles Dickens, Mrs. Thorne started formulating a plan to get us to that festival as a way to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary and my birthday. I choose not to release the number of anniversaries of the day I made my appearance on this planet, but suffice it to say this year was a milestone.

Saying I sorta like Dickens’ writing is like claiming Elmer Fudd sorta likes to hunt wabbits. I’ve read everything Dickens wrote (more than once) especially all the works regarding Christmas. Yes, there is more than A Christmas Carol, but I’ll spare you the list. I also love to watch the many, many, many versions of ACC that have been produced on film. I dare not tell you my favorite for fear of influencing you, but suffice it to say I watch them all, every year. My darling wife  [Why doesn’t he talk like this the rest of the year?] flees in distress when she hears the opening line, “Marley was dead, to begin with.” I can “hear” her eyes roll even though she may be in another room when she realizes what I’m watching.

The problem for her was to get me to the mystical land of California and keep it a surprise. I suppose after discarding the idea of using a baseball bat and burlap sack, she decided the best course of action was to just ‘fess up; she told me about the event and asked, “Would you be interested in going?” My heart skipped a beat and I tried to contain my joy. I replied, I think in an even voice, “Yes, but why don’t we go to the one here in Alabama?”

You see, I knew that just up the road in Tuscumbia, they’ve had a Dickens festival for the last eight years. It’s called “It’s a Dickens Christmas Y’all!” I discovered it in a North Alabama tourist booklet last year, but knew my wife would never want to go immerse herself in my Dickens fantasy, so I stuck the information in a drawer.

Here is where this little story reminds me of another favorite writer. Do you remember O. Henry’s The Gift of the Magi? In it both husband and wife give up something important in order to buy Christmas gifts. The wife sold her long, lovely hair to buy a chain for her husband’s prized pocket watch; he sold the watch to purchase the jeweled hair combs she had long admired. The story is about sacrifice in the name of love.

In our case, my sacrifice was stifling the desire to check out Tuscumbia’s festival by tucking the brochure away and hers was a bit of her sanity in offering to go.

This story has a happy ending because we did go and both had the jolliest of times. It was the best gift I have ever received. Not only did we attend, we went in costume, which is not a requirement, but enhances the experience.

[These photos are from our return trip this year-2022.Left to right, with ghost Marley and Christmas Future, with Tiny Tim, and carriage ride.]


There were plenty of events that catered to kids. Even though I felt like a youngster, we didn’t go to those. Instead we went to a feast on Friday night and the light and water show in the park on Saturday night. Between those two, we packed in a snack of scones, a reading of ACC, a canine costume contest, poetry, music, a carriage ride, and wandering around the town enjoying the food, the shops, and most of all, the people.

The volunteer Tuscumbia Retail Development group organizes the festival with the help of the city council. If you’re interested in going next year, give the folks there a call at 256-383-9797. They are the most sincere, friendliest, fun-loving group of ladies it has been my privilege to meet. From the moment we met, they treated us like old friends, and now we are. [Indeed!]

We will not be waiting until the Christmas season to visit Tuscumbia again though. There’s plenty to do and see anytime including the Alabama Music Hall of Fame, Belle Mont Mansion, Cane Creek Canyon Nature Preserve, Railroad Depot Museum, and Ivy Green, the birthplace of Helen Keller. As for the Dickens festival, we’ll be there next year. Hope you will join us.

Merry Christmas, y’all!”* [And Happy Hanukkah!  …You didn’t think I’d let him get the last word, did you?]

T.K.Thorne is a retired police captain who writes Books, which, like this blog, go wherever her curiosity and imagination take her.  More at TKThorne.com

*Originally printed in The Blount Countian (Dec 25, 2019) by Roger Thorne