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FernMichaels.com  |   BeverlyBarton.com
Joanne Fluke's Website  |   ShirleyJump.com


Paperback
Zebra Mass Paper
ISBN: 0821780476

'Tis the season when anything can happen . . . when passion sparks brightest . . . and miracles and magic can turn any heart toward love . . .

The Christmas Stocking, Fern Michaels
Philadelphia businesswoman Amy Baran is determined to raise money for a new seniors' center by harvesting Christmas trees from the small-town Virginia farm she remembers from her childhood. Trouble is, Gus Moss has come home from California with his own ideas about saving the farm his father has neglected. Neither wants to give up, but when attraction turns to romance, they just might have to give in . . .

The Ghost of Christmas Past, Beverly Barton
Wounded Special Ops officer Mack MacKinnon doesn't have any reason to look forward to the holidays --- until he rescues pretty widow Katie Hadley from a raging blizzard. Now, in a season of miracles, he's falling as hard and fast as the Christmas Eve snow . . .

The Twelve Desserts of Christmas, Joanne Fluke
Take two lovestruck teachers. Add a dollop of conspiring kids. Place in a boarding school over Christmas break. And add a little help --- and eight, great recipes --- from amateur sleuth Hannah Swenson, and you've got a romantic holiday tale that's sweet, delicious, and definitely served warm . . .

Twelve Days, Shirley Jump
Of all the luck --- Natalie Harris can't believe she drew Jake Lyons as her Secret Santa pal! The dreamy hunk leaves her completely tongue-tied. But with twelve days of secret gifts, sweet notes, and steamy emails to go, she just may conquer her fear and discover something surprising under the tree . . .

Treat yourself to four unforgettable tales of holiday romance filled with sugar and spice and everything nice . . .


Fern Michaels is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of over seventy novels, including Payback, Vendetta, The Jury, and Sweet Revenge, and numerous short stories. She lives in South Carolina.

New York Times bestselling author Beverly Barton has written over thirty contemporary romance novels and created the popular "The Protectors" series for Silhouette's Intimate Moments line. This sixth-generation Alabamian is a two-time Maggie Award winner, a two-time National Reader's Choice Award winner, and a recipient of a Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Series Romantic Adventure. She is currently working on her next novel of romantic suspense for Zebra Books.

Like Hannah Swensen, Joanne Fluke was born and raised in a small town in rural Minnesota, but now lives in sunny Southern California. She is currently working on her next Hannah Swensen mystery.

Booksellers' Best Award-winner Shirley Jump spends her days eating, shopping and writing romantic comedies to feed her shoe addiction and avoid housework. In Shirley's fictional worlds, dust bunnies dare not tread and toilets are magically cleaned by elves.

Click here now to buy this book from Amazon.com.



Take one snow-covered Christmas season --- full, as always, of expectation and promise. Add one young woman and one young man thrown together by fate or circumstance. What is the result? Four interesting, very different romantic novellas by authors Fern Michaels, Beverly Barton, Joanne Fluke and Shirley Jump.

In "The Christmas Stocking" by Fern Michaels, Amy Baran takes a leave of absence from her public relations firm in Philadelphia and returns home to Virginia to rescue her mother's holiday fund-raising project. The project --- selling Christmas trees in order to raise money to build a new senior citizens center --- has spun way out of control. Successful West Coast architect Gus Moss returns to the very same town to breathe some much-needed life back into his father's failing Christmas tree farm, Moss Farms. His father isn't interested in maintaining the business, but as part owner Gus wants to restore it to its former function.

Both Amy and Gus deal with issues from their respective childhoods when they return home. From the moment they meet, they are at cross purposes, and their attraction to each other creates some complications and distractions as they forge ahead to rescue their parents.

In "The Ghost of Christmas Past" by Beverly Barton, young widow Katie Hadley is fleeing her family's upcoming Christmas celebrations and memories of happier holidays with her late husband Darrell. When the car she's driving runs off the ice-covered mountain road near Gatlinburg, Tennessee, she finds herself totally dependent on the kindness of Mack MacKinnon, the brooding, handsome loner who rescues her. Mack drives Katie to his remote cabin in the woods where they are trapped for several days because of a severe winter storm.

Katie and Mack are very uncomfortable in each other's company. At first Mack is taciturn and doesn't care to make small talk, while Katie wants to fill the time chatting and getting acquainted. She is trying, unsuccessfully, to put the past behind her; he also wants to shut out his past --- the war and his physical and emotional wounds. The atmosphere in the rustic cabin is tension-charged.

Joanne Fluke's "The Twelve Desserts of Christmas" will have the reader torn between wanting to turn the pages and getting down the canisters of flour and sugar to make some of the delicious-sounding recipes that Hannah is baking for the students and their teachers. The setting is Minnesota, a boarding school during Christmas break. For various reasons, six children are unable to leave the campus, which means that two chaperones will be needed. Teachers Julie Jansen and Matt Sherwood, in the beginning stages of a romance, readily accept the assignment to look after the students, assuming they'll have time to be alone once the kids are settled down for the night.

But the girls and boys have made a rather peculiar bet that neither side intends to lose. The boys create flimsy excuses that drag Matt away from Julie and interrupt any alone time the teachers have. A mysterious email on Julie's computer causes a rift between Julie and Matt, and Hannah puts her amateur detective skills to work to solve the mystery.

In "Twelve Days" by Shirley Jump, the overbearing boss at Lyons Corporation, Brad Lyons, has decreed that his employees will be secret Santas to each other, giving a gift on each of the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Brad and his cousin Jake, an accounting major and a confirmed bachelor, own the company. Jake has jumped in to rescue the once-thriving family business from Brad's poor leadership. Natalie, a competent clerk at Lyons, has a crush on Jake; she stutters whenever she is around him. She reads to the children at the homeless shelter where Brad has encouraged her to volunteer on behalf of the firm.

Jake and Natalie draw each other's names and begin giving and receiving Secret Santa gifts. Natalie, emboldened by anonymity, encloses flirtatious notes with her offerings, and Jake buys expensive presents for her. Anonymous emails and text messages between Natalie (aka Spice Girl) and Jake create both mystery and tension. When Brad ends the volunteer project, Natalie decides it's time for her to leave Lyons Corporation. Jake is instrumental in finding the perfect job for Natalie.

Each of these novellas approaches the Christmas season from a slightly different perspective. All four are guaranteed to transport the reader to a magical time --- the holiday season --- when anything can, and just might, happen. This quartet of Christmas stories, with the added bonus of several dessert recipes and a 3D ornament, makes SUGAR AND SPICE a fine gift to give or receive.

   --- Reviewed by Carole Turner


Chapter 1

Los Angeles, California
October, Two Months Before Christmas

It was a beautiful five-story building with clean lines, shimmering plate glass and a bright yellow door. A tribute to the architect who designed the building. An elongated piece of driftwood attached to the right of the door was painted the same shade of yellow. The plaque said it was the Sara Moss Building. The overall opinion of visitors and clients was that the building was impressive, which was the architect and owner's intent.

The young sun was just creeping over the horizon when Gus Moss tucked his briefcase between his knees as he fished in his jeans pocket for the key that would unlock his pride and joy, the Sara Moss Building named after his mother.

Inside, Gus turned off the alarm, flicked light switches. He took a moment to look around the lobby of the building he'd designed when he was still in school studying architecture. He thanked God every day that he'd been able to show his mother the blueprints before she'd passed on. It was his mother's idea to have live bamboo plants to match the green marble floors. It was also her idea to paint clouds and a blue sky on the ceiling. The fieldstone wall behind the shimmering mahogany desk was a must, she'd said. Fieldstones he'd brought to California from Fairfax, Virginia, in a U-Haul truck. There was nothing he could deny his mother because he was who he was because of her.

There was only one picture hanging in the lobby: Sara Moss standing next to a sixty-foot blue spruce Christmas tree that she had his father plant the day he was born. That tree was gone now from the Moss Christmas Tree Farm, donated to the White House by his father the same year his mother died. Over his objections.

He'd gone to Washington, DC, that year and took the Christmas tour so he could see the tree. He'd been so choked up he could hardly get the words out to one of the security detail. "Can you break off a branch from the back of the tree and give it to me?" For one wild moment he thought he was going to be arrested until he explained to the agent why he wanted the branch. He'd had to wait over two hours for one of the gardeners to arrive with a pair of clippers. He'd had a hard time not bawling his eyes out that day but he'd returned to California with the branch. Pressed between two panes of glass, it now hung on the wall over his drafting table. He looked at it a hundred times a day and it meant more to him than anything else in the world.

Gus stared at the picture of his mother the way he did every morning. As always, his eyes grew moist and his heart took on an extra beat. He offered up a snappy salute the way he'd always done when she was right about something and he was wrong. At this point in his daily routine, he never dawdled. He sprinted across the lobby to the elevator and rode to the fifth floor where he had his office so he could settle in for the day.

As always, Gus made his own coffee. While he waited for it to drip into the pot, he checked his appointment book. A light day. He really liked Fridays because they led to the weekend. Still, it was the middle of October and business tended to slow down as a rule. He wished it was otherwise, because the approaching holiday season always left him depressed. He told himself not to complain; he had more business than he could handle the other ten months of the year. When you were named "Architect of the Year" five years running and "Architect to the Stars" six years running, there was no reason to complain. His burgeoning bank balance said his net worth was right up there with some of Hollywood's finest stars. He wasn't about money, though. He was about creating something from nothing, letting his imagination run the gamut. Architectural Digest had featured eleven of his projects to date and called him a "Wonder Boy."

Everyone in the business who knew or knew of Gus Moss were aware that when the new owners moved into one of his custom-designed houses, Gus himself showed up wearing a tool belt and carrying a Marty Bell painting, his gift to the new owners, that he hung himself.

Gus loved this time of the day, when he was all alone with his coffee. It was when he let his mind go into overdrive before the hustle and bustle of the day began. He ran a loose ship, allowing his staff to dress in jeans and casual clothing, allowing them to play music in their offices, taking long breaks. He had only three hard and fast rules. Think outside the box, never screw over a client, and produce to your capability. His staff of fourteen full-time architects, four part- timers, and an office pool of seven had been with him from day one. It worked for all concerned.

As Gus sipped his coffee he let his mind wander. Should he go to Tahoe for some skiing over Christmas? Or should he head for the islands for some sun and sand and a little snorkeling? And who would he ask to accompany him? Sue with the tantalizing lips, Carol with the bedroom eyes or Pam the gymnast with the incredible legs? None of the above. He was sick of false eyelashes, theatrical makeup, spiky hair, painted on dresses and shoes with heels like weapons. He needed to find a nice young woman he could communicate with, someone who understood what he was all about. Not someone who was interested in his money and had her own agenda. At thirty-seven, it was time to start thinking about settling down. Time to give up takeout for homecooked. Time to get a dog. Time to think about having kids. Time to think about putting down roots somewhere, not necessarily here in California, land of milk and honey, orange blossoms and beautiful women.

Gus settled the baseball cap on his head, the cap he was never without. Sometimes he even slept with it on. It was battered and worn, tattered and torn but he'd give up all he held dear before he'd part with his cap that said Moss Farms on the crown. He settled it more firmly on his head as he heard his staff coming in and getting ready for the day.

Gus finished his coffee, grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. He had a 7:15 appointment with the Fire Marshall on a project he was winding up. He high-fived several members of his staff as he took the steps to the lobby where he stopped long enough to give Sophie, the Moss Firm's official receptionist/greeter, a smooch. "How's it going this morning, Sophie?"

"Just fine, Gus. When will you be back?"

"By nine-thirty. If anything earth shattering happens, call me on the cell. See ya."

As good as his word, Gus strode back into the lobby at

9:27. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed an elderly couple sitting on a padded bench between two of the bamboo trees. Sophia caught his eye and motioned him to her desk. "That couple is here to see you. They said they're from your hometown. Their names are Peggy and Ham Bledsoe. They don't have an appointment. Can you see them? They're here visiting a daughter who just graced them with their first grandchild." Gus grinned. "I see you got all the details. Peggy and Ham here in California! I can't believe it."

"We're of an age, darling boy. Go over there and make nice to your hometown guests."

Gus's guts started to churn. Visiting with Peggy and Ham meant taking a trip down Memory Lane and that was one place he didn't want to travel. He pasted a smile on his face as he walked over to the patiently waiting couple. He hugged Peggy and shook Ham's hand. "Good to see you, sir. Miss Peggy, you haven't changed a bit. Sophie tells me you're grandparents now. Congratulations! Come on up to the office and have some coffee. I think we even have sticky buns. We always have sticky buns on Friday."

"This is a mighty fine looking building, Augustus. The lady at the desk said it's all yours. She said you designed it."

"I did," Gus mumbled.

"Mercy me. I wish your momma could have seen this. She was always so proud of you, Augustus."

They were in the elevator before Gus responded. "Mom saw the blueprints. She suggested the fieldstone and the bamboo trees. Did you see the picture?"

"We did, and it is a fine picture of Sara. We tell everyone that tree ended up in the White House," Ham said.

Gus was saved from a reply when the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Peggy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "This is so...so grand, Augustus."

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