Thirty Days of Giving--DEC 30-JAN 1

Two-a-days continues! Hearts Unfold is still FREE and for the next three days, Heart of My Own Heart is too!

http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Miracle-Valley-Rise-Book-ebook/dp/B008A6Q1IQ/ref=asap_B007ILHX90?ie=UTF8

Thirty Days of Giving--DEC 28-29

Two-a-days! This week there will be two free books available every day in the spirit of all those After Christmas Sales! So today and tomorrow, download the first AND second books in the Miracle at Valley Rise series. And keep your eyes open for other specials as the week goes on!

Hearts Unfold (Miracle at Valley Rise Book 1) - Kindle edition by Karen Welch. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Entreat Me Not (Miracle at Valley Rise Book 2) - Kindle edition by Karen Welch. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Thirty Days of Giving--DEC 26-27

Today is Boxing Day, which, once you've read your free copy of Shannon's Daughter, you will know is the birthday of our hero, Kendall Gregg. So what are you waiting for? Grab your copy and curl up with one of my favorite damaged-but-nearly-perfect men and enjoy!
Oh, and don't forget to listen to the audiobook sample. Matthew Lloyd Davies did a wonderful job of bringing this story to life!

 http://www.amazon.com/Shannons-Daughter-Karen-Welch-ebook/dp/B00H3R7LKU/ref=la_B007ILHX90_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1451147484&sr=1-4

Valley Rise Christmas--Day Twelve

Twelve posts, twelve holiday scenes--the last from Christmas at Valley Rise.  When Carter and Staci spend their Christmas Day delivering meals to shut-ins, they experience the age-old truth that blessings come through giving rather than receiving, and wisdom is often found in unlikely places.  Their visit with an elderly man proves to be one of the high points of their first Christmas together.

It took two hours to make the final six stops.  These homes, isolated on the winding back road that circled the sulfur springs, were more difficult to reach from the SUV.  In some cases, the driveways were long and the snow too deep for Staci to maneuver close to the house.  By the time they had waded through the nearly foot-deep snow to make several of the deliveries, both she and Carter were admittedly cold and tired. 

At the last stop, no one seemed to be at home.  After banging on the front door, Staci walked to the rear of the house, calling in the back door in an attempt to rouse the homeowner.  “I know he has to be here.  Maybe he’s deaf.  Carter, look under the door mat and see if there’s a key.  A lot of folks out here leave a key handy in case of an emergency.”  Back at the front of the house, Staci remained on the ground, rather than attempt to navigate the steps to the porch again.

“Are you sure?  That sounds like an invitation to be robbed.”  He bent down to lift the snow-covered mat.  “No key here.”

Staci looked around for another hiding place.  Propped against the porch was an old iron wagon wheel.  On a hunch, she put a finger into the hub and felt the little metal box that held the key.  “Here.  Try this.”

Carter shot her a skeptical glare as he put the key into the lock.  “I just hope he doesn’t keep a loaded shotgun handy to greet unexpected visitors.  I thought everyone knew we were bringing them dinner today.”

Staci joined him on the porch.  “They did.  That’s what has me worried.  Maybe he’s just asleep.  Napping by the fire, or something.”

The penetrating chill that met them on entry ruled out that scenario.  “Mr. Dawson?” she called into the dimness.  There was no sign of a light and most of the window shades seemed to have been drawn.  None of the rooms showed much sign of recent occupancy.  “We brought your Christmas dinner from the church, Mr. Dawson.”

With growing apprehension, they went from room to room, peering together into each doorway.  “I don’t like this, Staci.  We should call somebody.  What if he’s. . .not alive?”

In the kitchen, on a cot next to the cold wood stove, they finally located Mr. Dawson.  He was lying on his back beneath a mound of worn quilts and blankets, his eyes closed and his mouth open.  With a lump in her throat and her heart pounding, Staci gently touched the mound in the vicinity of his shoulder.  “Mr. Dawson?  Are you okay?”

With a sputtering snort, the old man opened his eyes and blinked.  “Are you a nurse?” he asked hoarsely.

“No sir.  We brought your dinner from the church, Mr. Dawson.  Are you sick?”

He seemed to think about it for moment.  “No.  Just ran out of my arthritis medicine and thought you might have some on you.  Sorry it’s so cold in here, but I couldn’t get out to the woodshed for the snow.”  He made a feeble attempt to push away the covers.

“Just stay there, sir.  I’ll get some wood and see if I can start a fire for you.”  Carter looked around for a place to set the Styrofoam tray.  Every surface seemed to be occupied with stacks of dishes, folded newspapers and rows of tin cans.  He finally chose a pile of ancient magazines as a suitably stable resting place for the dinner. 

As he headed for the back door, Staci flashed him an approving smile that made his heart thump against his ribs.  “Thank you, Carter.  That would be great.”

“No problem.”  Why, he wondered as he plowed toward the sadly leaning woodshed, did he suddenly feel like a hero?

When the fire was finally blazing in the stove, and a substantial supply of wood stacked in the kitchen near the backdoor, Staci cleared a space on the table and set out Mr. Dawson’s dinner.  “I’m afraid it’s not very warm anymore.  Would you like for me to put it in the oven for a few minutes?”

But Mr. Dawson, with surprising agility, had taken his place at the table and was already tucking into the meal.  “No ma’am, this is fine.  I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.  It was too cold to get up.  This is mighty fine fixings, mighty fine.  Did you cook this yourself, young lady?”

“No sir.  The ladies at the church did.  Now is there anything else we can do for you?  I’m afraid your pipes are frozen.  You’ll need to get someone out here to take care of that for you.  I can call someone, if you’d like.”

“That’s all right.  Some of the neighbors usually come around every few days.  There’s a jug of water there in the refrigerator.  I’ll be fine.  You young folks have better things to do on Christmas than see to an old man.  But I sure do appreciate this meal.  And that’s a good blaze you got started there, son.  I can keep that going now.”  When he looked up, his eyes were shining with gratitude.

While Staci seemed to hesitate, hovering over the old man, Carter looked around the shabby kitchen, taking in the clutter and the sad state of disrepair, the cardboard filling a shattered window pane and duct tape mending a torn place in the worn linoleum.  His eyes came to rest on the mantle above the closed fireplace, where the wood stove now radiated warmth.  There a little wooden stable held a place of prominence in the midst of an assortment of faded photographs.  The porcelain figures of the crèche were carefully arranged, obviously placed by a loving hand.  Drawn to take a closer look, Carter stepped toward the mantle.\

“That’s a nice crèche, Mr. Dawson.  I’ve never seen one quite like it.”

Turning to watch as Carter picked up the figure of one of the wise men, the old man smiled.  “I brought that back from Germany, son, over sixty years ago.  A present for my bride-to-be.”

He examined the finely painted figures.  “It’s beautiful."

“I don’t bother with a tree anymore, but I always put that on the mantle, just the way my wife did for fifty-two years.  I figure that’s the only kind of decoration I need.  Now you two run along, before it gets any worse out there.  I appreciate all you’ve done, but I’m fine here.  I’ve got fifty-two years of memories to keep me company.  Two young people in love like you need to have some fun on Christmas.  Make some memories for yourselves.”

Thirty Days of Giving--DEC 24-25---4 for 1!

Exclusively for my friends and family in the wonderful world of social media--All four books, one download, only 99 cents! (Amazon won't let me give it away, so this is as low as I can go.) Please help yourself and share with your friends!

 http://www.amazon.com/Miracle-Valley-Rise---Books-One--Four-ebook/dp/B00J39ZPTU/ref=asap_B007ILHX90?ie=UTF8

Valley Rise Christmas--Day Eleven

And finally we come to Christmas at Valley Rise--which takes place in 2012 and features three generations of the Moss family as they gather for the holiday.  As always, there's music, laughter, family, and fun, and of course, a little romance! 

And there was Staci, her eyes glittering with laughter, sitting by the fire with his grandmother.  In spite of himself he grinned, as he freed his hair from Aiden’s grasp and set him on the floor.  “Hi!  I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight.” 

“Uncle Rob insisted.  Come here, Aiden.  Your cousin Carter has your overalls all in a twist.  Really, Carter, you shouldn’t be so rough with him.  You’re supposed to set an example for the little ones, aren’t you?”  She scowled up at him, as she settled the little boy on her lap, and Carter tried to look suitably contrite. 

“He started it.  Besides, I was outnumbered.  I had to defend myself, you know.”  Taking a seat on the floor beside her, he found it hard not to smile again.  “Give a guy a break, Staci.  It’s Christmas, after all.”

“What do you think, Aiden?  Should we let Carter act like a little kid, just because it’s Christmas.”

Aiden seemed to consider his answer.  “Uh-huh.”  He nodded solemnly.  “Staci, Phoebe says Carter has a crunch on you.”

Staci blushed, soft color blossoming in her cheeks.  “A crunch?  Aiden, I don’t even know what that is.  Carter is my friend.  Or at least I hope he is.” 

When she looked up to meet his eyes, Carter nodded with the same solemnity.  “Sure.  At least as much as a guy can be.  Friends with a girl, I mean.”  Now he felt the blood rising in his own face.  He knew his grandmother was watching them, one of those wise little smiles in her eyes.  Even Aiden gave him a doubtful stare, before snuggling more comfortably in Staci’s lap.  

   It was magical, sitting there on the carpet with Staci beside him, kids all around, the adults occupying every available seat, as they munched popcorn and listened to the well-known story.  Stani’s voice was deep and warm, his distinctive accent perfectly suited to the phrasing of Dickens’ work.  Each year, the story had become richer to Carter, as he understood better the symbolism of those ghostly visitations.  Now he watched the faces of his cousins as they too listened, mesmerized, to their grandfather.  When he stole a glance at Staci, her cheek resting on Aiden’s coppery curls, her eyes gleaming in the firelight, a lump rose in his throat.  This was the best part of his life, this time with his family, and now with the girl he loved.  This Christmas, as never before, there was no room in his heart for hurt or resentment.  Nearby, on the couch, his father sat with a protective arm draped around the shoulders of his tiny wife, staring contentedly into the fire.  Gloria wore a sweet little smile on her lips, as she slowly ran her hands over the roundness of her belly, seeming to soothe her unborn child as she listened.  All around the room, there was a feeling of peace and unity. 

Valley Rise Christmas--Day Ten

Even the most Christmas-spirited among us are subject to a  holiday mood swing or two.  In Offered for Love, Emily experiences her share of highs and, in this scene, lows.

It would be late on Christmas night before they shared another such moment.  By the time they settled in bed at nearly midnight, when the twins finally abandoned their fight against sleep after two days of too much excitement and too little normal routine, Emily admitted that she was for once thankful to see Christmas end. 

“But it was overall a lovely Christmas, and definitely different from any we’ve had so far.”  With a sigh, she rested her head on the pillow next to his and closed her eyes.

“You didn’t overdo, did you?  I know you probably couldn’t nap this afternoon, but you did have a nice long rest.  And it was almost comical the way everyone was falling over themselves to see that you didn’t move off the couch this evening.”  He let out his own sigh.  He had been on the go since six this morning, and both physically and emotionally, he was sure he must be exhausted.

“It was pretty funny.  My cup runneth over, literally.  And my plate never seemed to empty, either.  Someday, when I’m back to normal and this is all behind us, I suppose I may wish for so much attention, but right now, I’d like to do a little more for myself, please.  I am quite capable of pouring my own tea, you know.  And I’m only eating for two this time, not three.”   With a drowsy chuckle, her voice drifted to a whisper.

He lay there holding her, too tired to fall asleep, reliving the highest and lowest of the moments.  Christmas Eve in an ancient candlelit church, observing the solemn, traditional service, opening gifts around the tree, helping his excited sons tear wrapping paper from their first Christmas gift—a rocking horse built for two—seeing Emily’s eyes light at the locket containing two copper curls and the miniature portraits of her “darling baby boys.”  Joy, tinged inevitably with sadness.  The call, placed from the parsonage where everyone had gathered to wish them a collective Merry Christmas, had tipped the balance for a time.  While she had listened to each familiar voice send a personal greeting, holding the phone so that he could listen too, and bravely responded to every one, as soon as the receiver dropped into the cradle, she’d laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed.  He had the sense that all the emotions she’d held so firmly in check were released in that moment, and he was grateful when everyone in the room found some pressing matter requiring their attention, leaving the two of them alone for a time.  “I’m sorry.  I know it’s silly,” she’d whispered.

“Not at all silly.  Cry if it helps.  But I warn you, I’m that close to joining you, love.  I think what did it for me was little Emily.  Can she really be two years old and talking so plainly now?”  The baby girl delivered on Christmas Eve, the child who had such a place in the miracle of their own first Christmas in love, had spoken her soft, sweet greeting so clearly into the telephone that she seemed to be right there in the room with them. 

Emily had smiled then, but the cloud over her spirits had lasted for hours.