Toy Factory Revolution


It being close to Christmas I had a new story idea. What happens when Santa’s elves want to make new toys?

So far the newest story involves snowflake disco-ball lights, wide-collared shirts, nervous elves, and glitter.

This has proven interesting so far and the following is what I have come up with so far.

As always feel free to share with me what you think and Happy Reading!

Flames danced in the fireplace lending their warmth to the patrons of the Cocoa and Cider Shoppe.

Groups of two and three sat at little round tables; frozen, mirrored snowflakes were suspended above the tables providing multicolored light. Cups of steaming cocoa and cider littered the tables.

In a corner table sat three elves – Gloriana, Barstol, and Alfred; the head elf.
“We have to try,” Gloriana insisted as the snowflake chains in her hair tinkled like little bells.

“I know Gloriana, but you can’t change a thousand years of tin soldiers and orange cloves overnight,” Alfred agreed as he tugged on his wide, paisley print collar.

“The tailor elves aren’t going to like it if you rip another collar,” Barstol reminded Alfred.

“I can’t help a nervous twitch! All elves have them,” Alfred exclaimed as he tugged on his collar once more.

“Not all elves lose their collars three times a day,” Barstol shot back.

“Boys, can we please talk about the toys,” Gloriana sighed.

“How do we change Santa’s mind,” Barstol quietly asked.

“There has to be a way,” Gloriana insisted as she looked around the room.

“SHHH,” Alfred and Barstol whispered in unison as they nervously glanced around the shoppe.

“You don’t want the Elven Guard to overhear us, do you,” Alfred squeakily asked as he tugged once more on his paisley print collar.

“I hear they changed their paint formula,” Barstol informed.

Gloriana groaned as she tilted her head causing the snowflake chains in her hair to twinkle. “What did they do now? The last time their paint balls tagged me, I couldn’t get those silver snowflakes off of my favorite gold dress,” she complained as she drank the last of her cider.

“The slurping sounds of an empty cup,” a waiter with dirty blond hair sighed as he approached their table with another mug in hand. “Another cider with extra nutmeg for you, Gloriana,” he stated as he sat the mug down without rattling the china cup against the saucer.

Thanks Jack,” Gloriana returned with a smile.

With a jaunty wink, Jack sauntered away leaving the elves to their conversation.
“Have you tried the Tailor Elves,” Alfred wondered.

“I know an apprentice Tailor and she about popped her eyes out when she saw it,” Gloriana confirmed.

“What did you tell her,” Alfred asked with a nervous tug.

“I told her it was a new design that I painted by accident,” Gloriana replied smugly.

“Clever,” Alfred commended.

“Not really. She set me up with the Master Tailor. They want to copy the design for the mid-Christmas Clothing Line.”

“Better that than behind Tinsel Bars,” Barstol chuckled; to which Alfred nodded sagely.

“That would not be good for the toys,” Gloriana pointed out.

“What toys,” Barstol pointed out. “We’re still producing the traditional Christmas treats from a century ago,” he groused.

“How do we get The Man to see that times are changing,” Gloriana asked while her shaking her head.

“Which brings us back to our original discussion,” Alfred glumly stated.


Book Suggestions For You…


I had a review on Chapter 1 for Fall From Grace that was less than appropriate. Rather than discuss the subject matter, the reviewer chose to denigrate me and my lineage; he followed this up by wishing death and damnation upon me. Not once did this person say  what upset them about the chapter. They went on to violate the dead with such profanity that I fail to see how they can see the joy in life. I pity that person.

While I do give props for combinations of words, there is no reason to use such distasteful words to attack an author just because you are uncomfortable with the subject matter. Whether you agree with a person on politics, religion, or any other subject, there is no need to spread vile hate because you have nothing better to do.

Now I realize that we all have different opinions on this, but this should be common sense – yes I realize that common sense is in short supply for some folks.

I am an author. It is my job to entertain with words. If you don’t like what I write, might I suggest that you read a work by someone else?

In fact, if you like horror, quirky romance or a form of erotica I invite you to read any of the works by PM Barnes. The reviews she’s gotten for her work are stellar. Five out of Five stars. Point of fact, she has a great deal going on for reviews that comes with the ability to win a FREE SIGNED COPY. You can find her books here:


David Moon is also a great author of the horror and erotica genres. His work is also highly rated. Again five stars. If you didn’t care for the writing style of 50 shades, you’ll want to read The Wife’s Wicked Weekend. The quality is better by a magnitude of 100, minimum. You can find his work here

In fact, I have an author friend in Indonesia who knows how to tell a tale. Jayedi Reiji has written a novel called Nigella. You can find his work here He is also on Instagram – Nigellanovel.

These are not the genres I write in, but they are great authors who would love to entertain your mind in ways that you may not have explored yet.

Each and every one of these authors can be found on Facebook. You can find their work on Amazon for purchase. I truly hope you enjoy their works in ways that you may not be able to mine.

Let the Season Begin


“Dashing through the snow” We all know the words to the populat carol. Many of us have fond memories and traditions for this time of year. Jack Frost has forgotten this.

Over the years he has become a bitter being who has forgotten why he celebrates the season. For us mortals, that bitterness can have devastating effects.

Giving a young Jack Frost the chance to remember is the premise behind a new holiday classic, Spirit of Winter.

Spirit of Winter Cover_FRONT

To give you a better idea here is a bit more of an idea for you to ponder.

The entrapment of his sister’s spirit has caused Jack Frost to forget what it means to play; thus causing bitterly cold winters.

Santa Claus, Mother Nature, and Father Time conspire to show Jack the meaning of winter once more. To accomplish this they turn him, and by extension themselves, into children. Will learning to play again bring Noelle Frost back?

Will Jack remember his sister’s spirit or will winter become frigid and inhospitable for the rest of time?

Keep in mind that the paper back form of Spirit of Winter is printed in the double spaced format so that people with reading disabilities may enjoy the story as well. This includes dyslexia.

As always,



Holiday Memories


Holiday Traditions,

We all have them. No matter where on this planet we are, we have traditions. In this case I am talking about winter. Do you celebrate the winter solstice? Christmas? What do you do to celebrate the season? Do you make snowmen or angels? Popcorn garland and paper chains? Is your celebration more elaborate or religious?

Personally, after my husband and I decorate the house I set up a massive holiday village. It has lights and brick roads. Living in Florida we don’t go into the snow. Then again, we didn’t when we lived up north either.
The weather didn’t work well with our arthritis and I have Reynault’s – which basically means my capillaries don’t open all the way causing me to get colder faster.

We also take rides around the neighborhoods to see how others have decorated – that is one of our favorite traditions.

If you have any favorite traditions or know of someone who does, feel free to share the story. What does winter mean to you? Do you remember to have fun?

As always,
Happy Reading!


Spirit of Winter

Meeting the Sandman


Hi all

For this post I am sticking with Jack Frost. The following scene is between a child Jack and his therapist. As always feel free to leave a comment and


“Grandpa Frank, I don’t want to be here,” Jack bitterly complained.

“Don’t frown Jack, you look like you just ate a lemon. There’s nothing wrong with talking to a doctor Jack,” Grandpa Frank sternly informed his grandson.

“I’m not crazy,” Jack pouted.

“Never said you were. But you do need to talk about how you feel with someone that you can trust to keep your secrets. And Dr. Sands is the most trustworthy person I know,” Grandpa Frank sagely informed with a twinkle in his eyes. Jack sat there pouting at having to talk to a stranger.

The two were sitting in a baby blue waiting room. They were sitting on the only two cushioned chairs in this odd room. The other chairs were brightly colored and hard plastic. Wooden frames hung on the walls.

Each frame was filled with a different picture. Most were done in crayons. All of them seemed to revolve around snow and winter. One picture was different. For starters it wasn’t done in crayon nor was it bright.

Muted would be the best word to describe it. The picture contained a large glass box that was engraved with icicles. Holly was entwined with the icicles. If Jack stared hard enough he could almost make out a figure in the glass box.

Cocking his head Jack rose from his chair and crossed the room. Jack stood on his toes to try and get a better look at the picture. As Jack concentrated on the picture he began to get light headed.

“Jack,” a soft male voice called from across the room.
Jack shook his head and turned to see a portly, balding man standing next to an oak door. Slumping his shoulders Jack walked towards the man. Jack glared at Grandpa Frank as he passed him. It took no more than a few seconds for Jack to reach the open door.

“I’m Dr. Simon Sands. You can call me Simon,” Dr. Sands jovially greeted as he ushered Jack into his office.

Jack shuffled his feet across the thresh hold before freezing in his tracks. Jack barely heard Simon close the door. This office was incredible. The walls were a sandy color and seemed to swirl when they were stared at. On every solid surface was a snow globe. Blue and purple icicle lights hung from the ceiling and several quilts were stacked high on a plush couch.

“Wow,” Jack breathed, “You really like winter.”

“That and sleep,” Simon chuckled.

“You have the neatest office I have ever seen,” Jack complimented.

“Thank you. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable,” Simon invited.

Forgetting that he didn’t want to be there, Jack quickly climbed on the couch and burrowed in.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” Simon asked quietly.

Jack frowned. He had no clue how to talk to a stranger about himself. Jack didn’t like talking about himself. Scrunching his brow Jack asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me. For instance do you have a favorite color,” Simon asked patiently.

“Blue,” Jack replied shortly.
“What shade of blue?”

“All colors. Especially when they mix with light and water to create the colors of winter. Winter’s my favorite season,” Jack finished wistfully.

“Why is that?”

“Because winter is fun. You can make snowmen and have snowball fights. You can slide down hills and skate. But most of all you can dance,” Jack finished giddily.

“Do you like to dance,” Simon asked.
“Not really,” Jack shrugged noncomittally.

“What else do you like?”


“What about your Grandpa?”

“I’m not sure right now. I didn’t want to come here.”

“What about your family?”

Jack’s blue eyes lit up at the mention of his family. “My sister. Noelle. She is the best,” Jack enthused.

“Where is she now?”

“She’s sick in the hospital. It seems like everyone is forgetting her. Mom and Dad had to leave the country for work and Grandpa Frank keeps trying to get me to play. I can’t play without Noelle,” Jack harshly muttered.

“Why can’t you play without her,” Simon asked.

“Because she is the only one who ever cared for me. It wouldn’t be right,” Jack harshly insisted.

“Your grandpa loves you,” Simon stated.

Jack sneered before replying, “Not really. He didn’t start coming around until we were five.”

“Just because he wasn’t always there doesn’t mean he doesn’t care,” Simon gently explained.

Jack just frowned sourly at that. “If you love someone, you should be there for them,” Jack insisted.

“Sometimes being there isn’t possible Jack. Sometimes things change,” Simon patiently explained.