Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Greetings to all my readers,

I wish to apologize for not having been very active with reviews or much else lately. I’ve had a lot of family issues keeping me busy and not giving me the time I need to keep up with my reading for reviews. I’m hoping to get back on track again in the next few weeks. I want to thank you for still coming by, and for faithfully following when I’ve only had a few things to share with you.

The past couple of months have been difficult and the upcoming holidays will most likely not see as much good cheer as holidays of the past. However, I do wish to express my gratitude to you all and to count among my blessings the wonderful people I’ve met through my years doing this blog. Without you, my life would not be as full as it is and so this Thanksgiving, my readers are at the top of my ‘what I am thankful for’ list.

10 Fun Facts About Thanksgiving

**maybe armed with these, you can prevent any discussions of politics**

1. Leaving a legacy—when Abe Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday, it was thanks to the tireless efforts of a magazine editor named Sarah Josepha Hale – who also wrote the nursery rhyme, "Mary had a Little Lamb."

2. Born in the U.S.A.—but Thanksgiving is not just an American holiday. Canadians celebrate it too, except they do it the second Monday in October.

3. Have it your way—if Ben Franklin had had his way, the turkey would be our national bird. An eagle, he had written in a letter to his daughter, had "bad moral character." A turkey, on the other hand, was a "much more respectable bird."

4. Speaking of birds…gobble, gobble? Hold on there…Only male turkeys, called toms, gobble. Females, called hens, cackle.

5. And to make it worse, they are doomed from birth—those poor turkeys just don't stand a chance. Just look at the name we give them. A turkey less than 12-weeks-old is called a fryer-roaster.

6. Ever wonder why this succulent dinner bird is even called a turkey? Well, it seems the Europeans took a liking to the guinea fowls imported to the continent, and since the birds were imported by Turkish merchants, the English called them turkeys. Later, when the Spaniards came to America, they found a bird that tasted like those guinea fowls. Consequently, when they were sent to Europe, the English called these birds "turkeys" as well.

7. There are four places in the U.S. named Turkey. Louisiana's Turkey Creek is the most populous, with a whopping 440 residents. There's also Turkey, Texas; Turkey, North Carolina; and Turkey Creek, Arizona. Oh, let's not forget the two townships in Pennsylvania—the creatively named Upper Turkeyfoot and Lower Turkeyfoot!

8. Going shopping for all the big sales? Well, if you’re a plumber you probably won’t be. Black Friday is the busiest day of the year for them, according to Roto-Rooter, the nation's largest plumbing service. After all, someone has to clean up after household guests who "overwhelm the system."

9. A tradition is born— TV dinners have Thanksgiving to thank. In 1953, someone at Swanson misjudged the number of frozen turkeys it would sell that Thanksgiving -- by 26 TONS! Some industrious soul came up with a brilliant plan: Why not slice up the meat and repackage with some trimmings on the side. Thus, the first TV dinner was born!

10. Finally, something truly unique to add to your trivia list—in 2013, the first day of Hanukkah and Thanksgiving came together for the first time since 1888. Scientists say the confluence won't occur again for another 70,000 years, give or take a millennium.

And Some Funnies because what would Thanksgiving be, without a few laughs.

May your holidays be filled with joy, laughter, good reading 

and most importantly, love.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone, safe travels, good eats, 

and Happy Reading! 

THANKSGIVING THANKS & A NaNoWriMo EXCERPT

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I've much to be thankful for this year. I'm thankful for my health and the enduring health of my family and friends. One dear friend who is need of a kidney transplant will be having her surgery a week from now. An early Christmas miracle, you could say.

I'm especially thankful for the success of this quirky blog over the past year and I have you, my faithful wonderful readers, to thank for that. As I've said in the past, I do it all for you and adore you all for your consistent patronage. You lend greatly to my enjoyment in doing this blog and keeping me going.

You've been my greatest support and your comments on my creative works has been such a boost to continuing my attempts at getting published.

Speaking of which, some of you already know that I participated in this year's NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) event. I'm pleased as punch to tell you all that I have succeeded in reaching the goal of 50,000 words with 11 days yet to go. I wrote 50,000 plus words in 20 days - I'm still pinching myself. Of course, I am still writing as the novel is not yet finished but the end is in sight. Avon Romance is accepting any completed NaNoWriMo romance novels in their own National Romance Writing Month event. My new deadline is December 1oth! I plan to have it done. It may not be as polished as I'd like but there's time for revision later if they decide to publish it. Wish me luck, my dears.

My NaNoWriMo Novel is a historical romance titled - IN THE ARMS OF HER ANGEL - and to say thank you for always following, I'd like to share the first chapter with you. It's not polished but I hope you enjoy it.

EXCERPT FROM  -  IN THE ARMS OF HER ANGEL by Amy Valentini

South Carolina 1802

            “Stop that filthy little bugger! He stole my purse!”

            The Sea Angler Tavern was noisy and crowded with men tipping back tankards of ale and shots of whiskey after long hours working on the docks of the busy Port of Charleston. Many of them, already deep in their drinks, would probably have made a better target for Ginny Blackwood but when she spotted the portly man standing among his friends, his purse openly displayed on his belt which was slung below his belly, she knew she’d have no better chance. She had not expected him to be so alert to her hands at his side when she cut the purse free.

            Now, with escape foremost in her mind, Ginny grumbled a curse through gritted teeth as she tucked her head. Pulling her oversized hat over her eyes, she kept her eyes on the floor just ahead of her as she moved quickly between the crowded tables. When a round bellied man reeking of sweat and whiskey stepped in front her, his gluttonous middle jiggling as he laughed at a humorous tale, she quickly changed her direction and skirted around another crowded table.

           “Somebody do something - that wharf rat stole my money!” The shout went out again through the noisy room. Ginny silently prayed that no one was paying attention to the drunk’s alarm. Scrambling past another group of merry makers, she nearly sighed with relief when she noted that there was only one more table between her and the door to freedom.

          Her heart pounded in her ears as she scurried past the last table, her hand clutching the stolen purse tight to her middle. Thievery was not her strong suit but Ginny was desperate for currency. She’d taken a great gamble pinching any purse but if she was going to survive alone in this city until she could gain passage home, she needed money. More than that, she needed to find the thing that would save her father.

          The noise of the hot, crowded room seemed to fade away as the beating of her heart filled her ears. A satisfied grin teased at her lips when she saw the door to the street so close. However, when a large hand suddenly grabbed the front of her patched jacket and pulled at the dirty linen blouse beneath it, that satisfaction vanished. Yanked to a sudden halt from the side, she slammed against something hard. The air in her lungs exhaled in a great whooshing sound.  

         Caught red-handed, panic descended on Ginny as every sound disappeared around her. Fear forced her focus on the broad chest inches from her face. A hard wall of flesh over muscle covered in fine embroidered cloth and surrounded by soft, tanned calfskin. Her gaze slowly slid up the façade of the mountain of masculinity standing before her. The scent of sandalwood and soap filled her nose as her eyes caressed fine linen and a neatly tied cravat. Just above the edge of fine fabric, a strong jaw shifted and a full mouth curled slightly. Her eyes widened when a set of smiling dark eyes that looked like melted chocolate surrounded by thick curling lashes came into view. The full shapely lips beneath a straight perfect nose parted exposing straight white teeth. She fought back a smile when the tall man furrowed his black brow slightly before lifting one dark slash as if he was trying to resolve his curiosity about the creature he’d captured.  

          “What have we here?” The brick wall asked with a chuckle that sounded overly loud in Ginny’s ears. Heat flushed her cheeks and beads of sweat formed on the back of her neck and when a couple of drops slid down her back, she shivered. “Did you steal old Pete’s purse, poppet?”

          Laughter from nearby joined the brick wall’s chuckles and for a brief moment, Ginny was tempted to join in with a giggle in response to the man’s use of so many pees. His voice was smooth, deep and strangely soothing. It sent a ripple of warmth through her body pooling in her gut. She almost relaxed against him for comfort but as the pounding in her ears began to wane, her panic and a desperate need to escape came rushing back.

          In that moment, Ginny knew what she needed to do. She pressed her fists against a rock hard chest and pushed until she could swing up her right knee even as his grip on her clothing caused her blouse and ragtag jacket to climb over her ears. Her intended aim was for the softer parts of this tower of muscle whose firm hold on her kept her prisoner but his legs were so long that her knee connected with the man’s inner thigh instead. It mattered not, for her assault on his body was enough for him to react as any man would. The man quickly bent to protect his manhood and his hold on her clothing loosened.

          Pain stung her knee on impact. She caught herself wondering if he had a wooden leg beneath those black britches. It mattered not for her maneuver had worked. With a loud groan and exhalation of air, the tall dark-eyed man with a captivating smile stopped smiling and backed away slightly. His grip on her clothing loosened just enough to give Ginny the edge. She yanked herself in the opposite direction. A ripping sound filled her ears. A moment later, she was falling away from the brick wall. Caught off balance, she quickly found her footing, raced for the door and into the street.

 

#

 

          Rubbing the inside of his thigh where the curious urchin had caught him off guard and slammed him with his knee, Daniel Embry cursed under his breath. For all of his well-intended efforts, all he’d succeeded in doing was getting a bruised leg and a handful of cloth from the wharf rat’s filthy coat. He glanced at the piece of cloth in his hand. Something glittered in the glow of the hanging lanterns sprinkled throughout the rafters of the tavern. He looked more closely. It was slim gold chain.

        

         “Old Pete ain’t going to be happy about you letting the brat get away, old man!” Finn McShane exclaimed, laughing heartily. The red-haired man slapped Daniel on the back nearly knocking the piece of gold from hand. The jolt caused something attached to the chain to drop and dangle just below his wrist - a delicate gold charm. Daniel eyed the elongated charm and thought it strange that a lad would be wearing such a thing. Then when the image of deep blue eyes the color of the deepest seas fringed by long dusky lashes flashed through his mind, he wondered if it had been a boy at all.

        

        “You all right, Daniel,” Finn asked with a worried frown. For the first time, Daniel noticed weathered wrinkles had begun to groove his old friend’s forehead. 

         Daniel snagged the gold chain and its charm from the cloth and pushed it into his coat pocket. Turning to face his first mate, he grimaced at the tightness in his thigh.

         “The bugger kicked me too close for comfort,” Daniel growled before raising his mug of ale to his lips. His gaze caught Finn’s puzzled look. Daniel grinned at the man whose bushy red hair glowed like blood-tinged cotton around his head. “Fortunately, all is well and intact.”

         Loud shouts from the back of the tavern where some of his crew, including the victim of the urchin’s crime, had spent the last couple of hours drinking and eating drew their attention. Daniel recognized one of the men as his quartermaster who was standing over a smaller unknown man. The men were nearly growling in each other’s faces.

        Finn McShane ran his thick fingers through his red mass of curls and groaned. “Want me to break that up?”

        Daniel gave his first mate’s question some thought then smiled. His men deserved a chance to blow off some steam after a long day of loading cargo into the hold of the Falcon. Of course, he preferred they take it outside so that he wouldn’t have to bail them out of jail or pay for damages but he doubted that would happen as he watched the rest of his crew join the men intent on fisticuffs.

        “If it looks like they’re going to bust the place up or kill someone - yes,” Daniel announced with a loud guffaw as he grabbed a nearby serving girl and switched his empty tankard for a full one. He winked at her, receiving a giggle and blush in return. “Otherwise, let ‘em be.”

        Daniel and Finn watched the somewhat attractive young woman saunter away swaying her hips deliberately before glancing over her shoulder at them as she moved through the crowd.

        “You need to get yourself a woman, old man,” Finn remarked leaning close so only Daniel would hear his words.

       “No. Thanks.”

       “Gad, man, you can’t go on mourning a woman who wasn’t even yours yet,” Finn groaned then immediately regretted his words when he saw Daniel’s eyes narrow and blacken. “I … uh … I just mean,” he stammered.

       Daniel dropped his gaze to his tankard. Finn had touched on something that was too close to the mark. His betrothed died four years earlier in a tragic carriage accident leaving his heart broken and empty. It wasn’t as if Daniel had shunned women completely from his life for he’d partaken in the occasional tumble but with no promise of a future.

      “Never mind, Finn,” Daniel said before taking a long draught on the tankard. “I’m tired is all.”

      Raising his hand, he clapped it on the firm shoulder of his right hand man and friend. Finn McShane had been his friend since they’d played together as children at Green Mount Farm. Finn’s father worked with Jason Embry, Daniel’s father helping build his shipping business while his mother worked as one of the cooks at the Embry farm. When Daniel and Finn were old enough, the two lads went to work on the ships learning all they needed to know from their fathers. Several years ago, Daniel became the captain of the Falcon and he’d immediately named Finn his first mate. Daniel put his full trust in his old friend. He knew Finn would always put his safety and that of the crew before anything or anyone. He also new his old friend had his best interest at heart when he suggested Daniel’s pursuit of feminine companionship, even if only for a night. As a man, married to his first sweetheart, Finn suggestion was well intentioned but Daniel’s heart was still broken and filled with pain and betrayal.

      “That sweet morsel over there is eager to make your acquaintance,” Finn murmured as he nodded his head in the direction of the serving girl who while delivering tankards of ale to a table of patrons, glanced over her shoulder at Daniel. When she noticed Daniel glance in her direction, she moved to the next table and while setting a tankard before a man who slid his hand along her backside, the girl bent low over the table, which allowed Daniel a purposeful display of her full bosom. “Very eager, it seems.” Finn winked at Daniel.

      Turning his back on the girl’s obvious seductive pose, Daniel drained his tankard and set it down heavily on the table. “Like I said, I’m tired and frankly, not interested. You think her so delectable, why don’t you go for it, Finn?”

      The red-haired man threw his head back with a loud guffaw then shook his head, his curls bouncing around his head. “My Molly would have my head on a pike if I were to even sniff after such a young thing.”

      “Oh, so you’re saying she’d be okay with you tupping her if she were older?” Daniel teased his friend. At first Finn must have thought him serious for his laughter ceased and his brow furrowed into deep grooves. Then the man widened bright blue eyes and laughed again.

      “Ha, she wouldn’t care the girl’s age! Molly would cut off my xxxx and feed it to me with biscuits and gravy,” Finn grumbled as he restrained his laughter but his twinkling red-lashed lined eyes belied his humor.
        

      Daniel slapped his friend on the back.

      “You’re right about that,” Daniel laughed along with his friend even as he envied him his loving wife and two little girls. If Christina had not died, he was sure they would have a family together as did Finn and Molly McShane. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you in the morning. I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on those fools, Finn.”

      Finn glanced toward the men. They were no longer growling at each other but laughing as the quartermaster held the smaller man in a bear hug, bouncing him up and down. He rolled his eyes and smiled at Daniel. “Of course - get some sleep, old man.”

      Daniel always got a kick out of Finn calling him old man since this red-haired son of an Irishman was one year older than his own twenty-six years. Daniel nodded his head, turned and strolled to the exit. The inn, where he’d taken a room while in the port of Charleston was just two blocks away. As he strolled along the street, his thoughts went to the wharf rat that had stolen Pete’s purse. His hand slid into his pocket, he fingered the charm secreted there, and his thoughts turned to wide azure tinted eyes and pale clear skin with a flush of pink riding high on delicate cheeks. A pink moist mouth that opened and pulled into a pucker as  captivating eyes blinked just before the mischievous urchin kneed him in the groin. Was it possible that cherub face and this charm belonged to a boy? If it had then perhaps, Finn was right and Daniel had best see to finding some female company for an attraction to a lad was not something he wanted to consider.

 

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Happy Thanksgiving Everyone and Happy Reading!

Unwrapping: Wacky Wednesday - Giving Thanks ...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. For those of us in the USA anyway and as always it gives us pause to think of all the things for which we're thankful - good health, family, friends and all things good. As I contemplated the coming day, it gave me further pause to think of the things we might not have had we not had such a close relationship with Great Britain even after we did that whole Revolution thing and told England where to go!

No hard feelings, of course, so today we have a good relationship with our distant relatives 'across the pond' and think kindly on them as we do all relatives who live far away.


As I began baking and cooking ahead some of the items that will dress our Thanksgiving table, I thought about that first Thanksgiving. It wasn't at all what it is today, it's even been recently confirmed that the Pilgrims didn't even have turkey on their menu ... can you imagine?  No pumpkin pie, either?  Shocking!

This made me wonder about where some of our Thanksgiving and holiday staples came from including decorations as well as foods. I was surprised to learn that we can trace some of our traditional constants back to Great Britain even after we threw them out.

Take our beloved CHOCOLATE, for example. Yes, it was a New World discovery but it was a Brit by the name of John Cadbury who developed an emulsification process that solidified chocolate into bars for before him, chocolate was consumed mostly as a liquid sweetened with sugar and milk.  Imagine the holidays without chocolate - shoot, imagine any day without chocolate. Thank you, Mr. Cadbury, a Regency man.

How many of you like to indulge in Mincemeat Pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas?

Well, we're talking British origins there for sure.  Mincemeat pie was originally derived from eastern recipes based on meats, fruits and nuts brought back to Great Britain by the crusaders but eventually evolved into the spicy all fruit and nut pie of today.  Much better without the meat. 

What would Thanksgiving be without the potato?

Yes, the potato was yet another New World discovery that was slow to be accepted by most of Europe but it was the brave citizens of the British empire, in particular the Irish, who took this simple spud and discovered its great use as a staple and farm crop. They were the ones who invented new ways to use it, particularly mashed. The potato became such an essential staple to the islands of Great Britain that the population grew substantially during the early 1800's eventually culminating in the great emigration from Great Britain to America when disease struck the potato farms of Ireland in 1845.  Who would ever have thought that the potato would be so instrumental in the expansion of our country's population.

Do you like to decorate your Thanksgiving table with a lovely centerpiece?

One of the flowers that I most associate with Fall and Thanksgiving is the beautiful Chrysanthemum. 

Chrysanthemums, often called mums, are of the genus (Chrysanthemum) constituting approximately 30 species of perennial flowering plants in the family Asteraceae which is native to Asia and northeastern Europe - Surprised?

Can you guess how they came to be in the Western World and Europe?

British explorers and merchants began traveling to the Far East where Chrysanthemums had been cultivated and grown by the Chinese since the 15th Century but may have been brought to Japan as far back as the 8th Century. The Japanese revered it as a Happiness Flower even giving it its own festival. It has long been the centerpiece of Japanese art and culture. Discovered in Asia by British merchants in the late 17th Century, the beautiful flowers were brought back to England where the short growing season proved perfect for the hardy yet delicately beautiful flowers to grow and flourish. 

I love Chrysanthemums and love that their origins in the western world start in England with their popularity growing during the Regency era so I included them in my own Work in Progress. Since I usually share an excerpt with you on Wednesdays, I thought I'd share the scene with you, hope you enjoy it:

“Miss Embry, may I say how beautiful you look this evening?” the Earl of Parkhurst remarked with a smile as he awaited his bride at the bottom of the great staircase. As she reached the last steps, he offered his hand to her. Rose shifted her nosegay from her left to right hand before she placed her free hand in his.

“Thank you, Lord Hawkings. Please, do feel free to tell me how beautiful I look.” She teased humorously as she flashed him a brilliant smile. Was it possible his compliments were sincere?

The man smiled with amusement as he allowed his eyes to take in her overall beauty. As he perused the whole of her stunning image, his smiling green eyes came to rest on the pearl that rested just above the creamy hills of lush flesh. Warm luscious flesh that he hoped to sample very soon.

A sly smile playing on his lips, he reached out and gently lifted the pearl. As he cradled the pearl in his fingers, the back of his hand brushed his soon-to-be bride’s exposed bosom as it peeked above the lace of her bodice. Rose gasped when she felt the warmth of his hand brush against her bare skin. “I’m glad you accepted my gift and you honor me by wearing it.”

“It is far too extravagant, milord.” Rose exclaimed nervously as her eyes dipped to the pearl resting in his long fingers. She blushed as the back of his hand pressed slightly against her bosom. He removed his hand and let the pearl fall back against her skin. The pearl suddenly felt cold against her skin after the heat of his hand. Expecting him to lower his hand, the Earl surprised her by reaching into her nosegay and pulling loose one of the beautiful pale yellow chrysanthemums. As he lifted it from the collection, he slowly slid it along her breast to her collarbone and along her neck before raising it to her nose. She inhaled its wonderful spicy scent without hesitation.

She saw the Earl smile before he pulled the flower away and tucked it into her hair above her left ear. He leaned forward as he did and whispered near her ear. “Only someone as beautiful as you could ever do justice to nature’s own beauty.” He lingered a moment and she heard the intake of his breath as he drew in her scent. Rose felt the warmth of his breath on her neck as he slowly exhaled. His cheek briefly brushed against hers as he paused to take another inhalation. He liked that she smelled of gardenias. It was even more delightful than the fresh bloom he had just tucked into hair. Gardenias was a familiar scent from his youth in Louisiana. Perhaps, he would tell her that later when they were alone.

Rose was shivering with nervous energy as she contemplated what to do about halting the proceedings so when she felt his cheek brush against hers, she reacted more out of instinct than rejection by taking a quick step backward. This man’s touch, his scent, his flirtations had caused a flush of heat racing over her body. Had he been another man, perhaps she would not have minded but his similarity to Hawke was becoming unbearable. She wanted the man to be Hawke not his arrogant cousin who was now attempting to woo her only moments from their vows. She was tempted to run back up the stairs and escape. She stopped herself from fleeing but when she glanced up at his lordship’s face, she saw hurt and disappointment there. Wondering if she had truly offended him by her reaction, she opened her mouth to apologize but too late. Lord Hawkings stepped back, straightened his waistcoat and spoke before she had the chance.

“Think of the pearl as a small token of my appreciation or payment if you so choose. You shall surely earn it.” His tone was flat, dry and full of annoyance not to mention cruelty. Rose nearly gasped at his reference to payment. He saw the shock in her face and regretted it immediately. He had forgotten the role he was playing and had not considered that Rose would not expect such an intimacy from a man she had only met the day before. She had injured his pride with her physical rejection. Perhaps this was a mistake after all. Had he really thought she might have feelings for him? He didn’t care. They had an agreement and if she refused him later, he would simply leave. Perhaps he would anyway.

“Sir, I wish a private moment with you, if I may?” Rose demanded politely in a lowered voice.

“You may have it after the ceremony for it is time to begin.” The Earl of Parkhurst was no longer in the mood to play at courtship. The sooner this charade was over the sooner he could return to his own life. He turned and walked toward the doorway leading to the ballroom. He turned sightly to find his bride had not followed. Impatiently, he crooked his arm and waited.

Rose watched him, she knew he expected her to follow but she contemplated running away instead. Could she really proceed with this farce? He’d dismissed her needs as if she was a servant. Was that what she was to be in his household? Fine with her, she decided. He needed a wife so she would be one, in name only. If the despicable man wanted an heir, he would have to get one from one of his village whores.

She saw him crook his arm. He expected her to take her place at his side. She hesitated. Seeing his niece's hesitation, William stepped forward, took her arm and led her to the Earl. “You are a vision of beauty, my dear. It’s a shame your father isn’t here.”

“Thank you, Uncle William. I wish he was here, too.” To save me from this wretched marriage, her brain screamed even as Rose gave her uncle a weak smile as she allowed him to place her arm in her soon-to-be husband’s. Her knees shook and the temptation to flee struck her again but before she could act upon it, the tall man at her side moved forward and her turncoat feet followed.  ---

Thanksgiving fills us with so many thanks. So tomorrow when you're sitting down to indulge in turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and pie while enjoying the lovely chrysanthemum centerpiece surrounded by friends and family give thanks to the world for making it a lovely day. There's a little bit of world history on that table not just good ol' American ingenuity. Although, the turkey, pumpkin, sweet potatoes and bourbon are all ours.

Any Thanksgiving trivia you'd like to share or perhaps just a comment on the world or my story perhaps ... I'd be thankful to share it.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends, family and the world.  Happy Reading as always.