Why Christmas in July Is the Best Reading Holiday Nobody Talks About and a free holiday romance. book by Josie Riviera

 Every July. I turn the air conditioning down to a temperature my electric bill will never forgive, I make a mug of green tea, I pull a blanket over my lap, and I read a Christmas romance novel. Outside here in the southern U.S., it is ninety-five degrees, and the cicadas are deafening. Inside, I am perfectly, contentedly pretending it is December.

There is a reason Christmas in July has become a genuine cultural tradition. Retailers figured it out years ago, but readers knew it long before the sales did. Christmas stories are all about slowing down, candlelight, and the sense that love might arrive before the year runs out.

Crank down the thermostat, and give yourself a Christmas in July. Along with several other great authors, I'm offering my sweet romance, Christmas in the Air, FREE with Newsletter signup.

Consider it my gift to you.

Are you a Christmas-in-July reader, or do you save your holiday romances strictly for December? Please tell me in the comments below.

Josie Riviera is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary, historical, and inspirational romances that read like Hallmark movies. She lives in the Charlotte, NC, area with her wonderfully supportive husband. They share their home with an adorable Shih Tzu, who constantly needs grooming, and live in an old house forever needing renovation.

Sign up for her newsletter and get a FREE ebook on her website: josieriviera.com

A New Season Sale! by Liz Flaherty

Once upon a time, my husband and I drove over a bridge with a sign giving the crossing the name Fallen Soldier Bridge.

It was one of those things you just don't forget. One of those things you know you need to do something with, but what? 

That explains the genesis of Fallen Soldier, Pennsylvania, from which came the A New Season Trilogy, the stories of Syd, Riley, and Dinah. They've loved before. Lost before. Gotten their hands dirty in working through life. Learned. 

They are no longer young. They've never been perfect. But they're starting over.

And their stories are on sale for 99 cents.

Amazon: A New Season

D2D:  A Year of Firsts

            Reinventing Riley 

           The Summer of Sorrow and Dance 

I hope you spend some time in Fallen Soldier and that you enjoy the trip. Thanks!

Bumps in the Road by Liz Flaherty

I started out writing sweet romance. 

Of course, I did. I was nine years old, typing a princess story on my aunt's portable Royal typewriter at a table on my grandparents' enclosed front porch. From there, I moved to stories about 13-year-olds who crushed on their brothers' friends. (Think Trixie Belden without the mysteries.)  They were much like me, only my heroines had good hair and were allowed to wear lipstick. 

As I went through junior high, writing stories in longhand on looseleaf note paper I kept in double-pocketed folders, the stories stayed sweet. Several first kisses were exchanged, some noticing of how guys looked in letter jackets because they all had broad shoulders and hair just a little longer than was actually acceptable. Everyone drove really cool cars and the girls never sat at home on Friday nights; if they didn't have dates they were perfectly happy to go out with girlfriends in yet another cool car.

And yes, they all had good hair.

Sometimes they swore a little. Not a lot, but likely more than I could have gotten by with. 

Time out for marrying, having children, working full time, raising said children, and being a terrible housekeeper, and then I got serious again. I had a ton of Chapter Ones in folders, several main characters whirling around in the back of my mind (behind the insanity of teenagers in the house) I joined RWA. I was a charter member of a chapter. I loved ... no, I loved being part of the whole romantic fiction industry long before I was published.

Which took several books and many, many submissions of expensive photocopies of paper manuscripts in Courier font--remember those? And then I sold a Precious Gems novel, Always Annie. In addition to the lukewarm love scene I'd already written, editor Hilary Sares required another one. A not especially lukewarm one. And a little more sizzle here and there, thank you very much. 

For that book and several others, I sizzled. Not a lot, not especially happily, but I wrote a couple of love scenes I was actually proud of. Even now, I think they were pretty good. 

I still swore a little, sometimes a little more ... what  ... earthily? Not coarsely (in my estimation), not the Bad Words that I never said anyway. But sometimes it was like a United Methodist bishop once said, paraphrasing, if he hit his thumb with a hammer, the first word he said wouldn't be darn. 

I wasn't writing sweet anymore. While I may insist I don't know how it happened, I do. Yes, I do. 

But personally, when I read, I either skipped or skimmed love scenes. I thought euphemisms were often dumb but I didn't enjoy the clinical terms, either. They felt forced. Sometimes it felt as if the love scenes were held together by mere threads of story. 

As I went along, with different publishers, trying different things, I gave up writing love scenes that included eithe body parts or consummation. Just as I gave up always writing women who had good hair. Yes, that was me you may have heard cheering as I slammed the bedroom door shut. Not because I have any kind of problem with other people writing or reading anything up to and including erotica. 

But, as Bob Dylan wrote so eloquently so long ago, It ain't me, babe. 

Frankly, it's not always easy to say what I want in a story without swearing, so sometimes I do. Not often, but I refer back to what the bishop said. 

So, here are the bumps. I think you can write too sweet, but what that means is that it's too sweet for me, not for your readers. I think you can be too crude , but doing it just because you can isn't reason enough. For me. 

As usual, I don't have a solution to what is sometimes a problem, and I am the first to admit and complain about the constant obstacles in the publishing road. I do have thoughts, though.

Should we have ratings like movies do? I think it would be a good idea, since what one person considers merely spicy yet another person finds to be unmitigated filth. What one person considers sweet or clean is insipid and colorless by someone else. 

Regardless, we will all continue to do what we've done all along. We will tell--and hopefully sell--our stories. We will wend the way to happily-ever-after over whatever bumps get in our way. Aren't we the lucky ones?

P. S. If you're looking for a sweet and clean marriage resurrected story, Early and Nash's is way up there in my list of my own favorites. It's a story of family, faith, and quilting. I hope you'll give it a look.

 

Then and Now--home sweet home USA! by Lyn Cote

This photo is dated July 4, 2014 and shows what I see from my front porch. Things haven't changed much which is fine by me! Hope you're all getting ready for the 4th and are happy to be Americans. I am! God bless American!!! Lyn Cote

The Treasure Hunt Within Museums by Pat Simmons

I don't care what city or country I'm in, if someone suggests a roadtrip to a museum, save me a seat. Not just any musuem--it has to be history, especially Black history--the artifacts, the oral history, and more. My latest museum find was in Phoenix area while in townfor a family reunion. While other relatives shopped, Kerry and I took an Uber to the Musical Instrument Museum. I didn't have any pre-conceived notions about what I would see.

From the moment we walked through the doors and were handed headsets, Kerry and I were blown away. Not only did they display historic instruments, but music from around the WORLD---a lot. There were so many impressive displays, but one was worth the cost of the $20 admission--the orchestra display and the "show and telling" of the instruments in the orchestra. But there's more. The museum had captured music not only from different eras, but countries too.

I was not disappointed in our field trip. As a matter of fact, I sold the idea of visiting the MIM to my local cousins. My tip of anyone is to explore what's in your backyard. You'll never know what you will find. ------------------------

Pat Simmons is a multi-published author of fifty-plus Christian romances. She is a self-proclaimed genealogy sleuth, a five-time recipient of the RSJ Emma Rodgers Award for Best Inspirational Romance, and the 2022 winner of the Leslie Esdaile “Trailblazer” Award. Pat lives in St. Louis and holds a B.S. in Mass Communications from Emerson College in Boston, Massachusetts, and has worked in radio, television, and print media for over 20 years. She serves as a publicist on the board of the Christian Book Lovers Retreat (CBLR). Visit her at www.patsimmons.net.

Dangerous Secrets and Afternoon Tea

What happens when a determined Regency widow suspects her oldest friend is keeping dangerous secrets?

In this scene from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer, Lady Wynwood invites Solomon Drydale to tea—and promptly begins an interrogation.

“Tea?” Laura offered.

Sol eyed it. “Is it poisoned?”

“Would you believe me if I told you no?”

“No,” he answered baldly.

“No tea, then.” She took a slightly perverse satisfaction in sipping her tea while studying him.

Sol shifted in his chair in the silence. “I was surprised to receive your note today, asking me to call upon you when I had seen you only a few days ago.”

“Eighty-four hours ago, in fact.”

Sol cleared his throat. “Just so that I’m aware of the situation, are you upset with me or with something that happened while we were at Lady Meynhill’s birthday celebration?”

Her eyes narrowed at him.

He sighed and answered his own question. “Both.”

“You promised me that long discussion, did you not?”

He colored slightly but gave a smile full of all the charm he could infuse it with, including that adorable—er, lone dimple on his left cheek. “But I sent you that note as soon as I returned to town late Saturday—actually, quite early Sunday morning.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. The one that said, ‘All are well. Thanks for your help this weekend.’”

“It was not that terse, surely.”

“It was nearly that terse. But it was not your letter, Sol. I realize there are certain things about which you cannot speak.” She had purposefully never spoken to him about his clandestine work for the government officials in the Home Office. She had suspected—how could she not, when she and Sol had been such close friends in the ten years since her husband died? Although she had not known about Sol’s work for the government when they had first met decades ago at her debut into society, she had observed him closely enough in the past few years to know that he was involved in some way in the government’s efforts against France’s secretive infiltration of these shores. And then his mysterious agenda at the birthday celebration this past weekend had solidified it in her mind, although he had never overtly spoken about it.

—from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer

Enter the Goodreads Giveaway

Pride and Prejudice meets Mission: Impossible—Christian Historical Suspense with slow-burn romance and a touch of the supernatural.

An alchemist’s potion creates monstrous soldiers who could turn the tides of war. Can a team of misfit aristocrats stop the sale to Napoleon?

Ready for More Regency Intrigue?

Click below to enter the Goodreads giveaway for an ebook copy of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer and step into a world of Regency intrigue, danger, and slow-burn romance.

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📖 Alternately, read the first 3 chapters now

What Scotland Taught Me About Storytelling by Merri Maywether

This summer, America is sharing a phenomenon I experienced in 2018. After spending any amount of time with a Scottish person, you walk away a changed person  

For those just hearing this. The Tartan Army, a.k.a. Scotland’s fans, have been in Boston for the World Cup, and they brought the cultural conversation. 

They’ve anointed statues with the bright orange traffic cones. 

They have consumed enough beer to render a bar dry. 

Social media and news posts have shared countless stories about the Scottish-American love fest. 

This was nothing new to me. The summer of 2018 was my first trip to Scotland. I met with a group of authors. We talked books, hunkered down in an estate, and wrote. By day, we were storytellers.

The night was ours to do whatever we wanted. We hiked Arthur’s Seat and returned to hang out in a pub. We visited cemeteries. We danced in a ceilidh. We roamed the cobblestone streets and visited places authors before us frequented. 

I came home delighted. Randy and I had made friends, and even more important, my book was done.

Or so I thought.

When I sat down to revise it, something felt off.

There was a distinct difference in the writing styles.

In the first half of the book, the Lane family had always been warm. But after spending time with Scottish people, the candid stories, banter, and shenanigans in the second half were livelier.

It was like the book was written by two different people. And in a way, it was.

After spending time in Scotland, I noticed people differently. I listened differently. That’s a picture of me with someone who started out as a stranger and became someone I’d share photos and life’s fun lessons with. The teasing between family members, the stories shared around a table, the way complete strangers could become friends by the end of the evening—I wanted more of that on the page.

That’s one of the reasons I love traveling. We often think we’re collecting memories, but sometimes we’re collecting pieces of ourselves we didn’t know were missing until another culture helps us see them.

And then, those pieces find their way into a story.

So I rewrote Paradise Hills Thanksgiving—eventually I had to go back and rewrite the prior books, too, but that’s a different blog.

So when I see another post about the Tartan Army charming Americans, I smile. It happened again. An encounter with a Scottish person added color to the story.

And more people get it.

Scotland is beautiful, but the real magic has always been her people. No matter where they are, they have a way of turning strangers into friends and ordinary moments into stories worth sharing.

💖💖💖 Merri’s Newest Release 💖💖💖

One overheard conversation. And a second chance that hinges on trying again after a secret is revealed.

Alana wasn’t looking for trouble at a friend’s wedding — but she found it when she overhears her Jimmy say exactly what he thinks of her. The words sting more than they should, considering they’re based on the person she’s pretended to be.

Jimmy isn’t proud of what he said. His apology is genuine — until it unravels something neither of them expected. Because Alana’s secrets, when they surface, look a lot like a woman who never trusted him at all.

In the warmth of Three Creeks, where everybody eventually knows everybody’s business, Jimmy and Alana must decide what’s worth salvaging — and whether an honest mistake is still a mistake when the truth is more complicated than it looks

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One More Chance is an Amazon Kindle Unlimited story.