Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 11-14-18

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Dear Reader,

Please say hello and welcome today's guest author Carolanne Miljavac. You'll learn more about Carolanne at the end of her guest column, but for right now, let's get right to it...

Hope & Laughter

A family of four sat in the floor tears running down their cheeks. The light of the flickering candles bounced off the water falling from their face to their feet. I know what you must think. But this isn't a picture painted of a family without peace. No. This is a family capable of laughter regardless of all their grief.

My mom may have worked two or three jobs at a time, but it didn't keep us out of poverty. We spent many nights making the most of our life without lights. We lit candles, we played games, and we laughed ourselves to tears. When the water was cut off and we had to bathe, brush, and flush using gallon jugs of water from granny's house...we laughed in the car there and back. Behind the trailer walls you could find us sitting around a tiny pop up table in the kitchen struggling to eat our Ramen noodles without choking. Almost every meal entailed my mama laughing so hard she couldn't breathe or eat. She'd yell at my brother and I to go to our room until we could stop being so funny. Times were a never ending highway of hard, but we could always giggle over a game of cards.

I believe with all my heart that laughter is a gift. It's a sliver of distraction from whatever struggle you're facing. It's a reminder that you are ok. Laughter provides momentary relief from your disaster. I've been asked many times what gives me hope.

My answer is laughter. As long as I'm capable of laughter, there's hope for joy in my future. It carries me through hard times, and it will carry you too. Keep smiling no matter what you're going through.

--Carolanne Miljavac

Email camiljavac@gmail.com There are six copies of Odd(ly) Enough for six lucky readers at the book club.

About the author, Carolanne writes...

Carolanne Miljavac is a southern-raised, Jesus-saved, barely sane author of a new release Odd(ly) Enough, a speaker, and social media goofball. She is married to such a lucky man, and mother to three sweet, loving, kind little girls who only whine EVERY now and then. Poverty and abuse were tough to overcome, Carolanne now has over 100 million video views and nearly half a million social media followers. A true reflection of "beauty for ashes," Carolanne has become the go-to girl for a good laugh, motivation, loving truths, and vulnerability. She pulls heartstrings while tapping funny bones with a message of freedom and revelation. Her purpose in life is to spread love and joy without sacrificing honesty.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Columns 11-12-18

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Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author and a dear friend of mine, Jessica Keener. It's a post that will touch your heart and inspire you.

(You'll find information about Jessica, her latest release, and book giveaway after her guest column.)

Lost and Found

Every year, when November comes around, I am reminded of a miracle in my life--my rebirth in a Boston hospital where I underwent a bone marrow transplant thirty-nine years ago. The procedure was highly experimental, with a 50/50 risk of working. My extraordinary brother donated his bone marrow and saved me.

My primary nurse, Vivian Kelly, was another extraordinary person who saved me at that time--physically, mentally, and emotionally--and this is who I want to honor today.

For two and a half months, I was confined to a critical care, isolation room. Every morning, five days a week, Vivian came into my room dressed in layers of sterile clothing--surgical pants and gown, head covering, face mask, a double set of gloves, shoe coverings. In addition to nursing duties, she cheered me up when I slipped into depressive states. She was practical and energizing. She administered medications, kept me on task, and talked to me about anything--my love life (my rocky relationship with a guy at the time) and hers. She was a single mom, raising three young kids. She had put herself through college and nursing school. She was a black woman in a white world of nurses and doctors. She told me how some patients had refused her care because of her skin color.

I adored Vivian for her ability to take away my fears, her intelligence, and humor. She lifted me up--every single day.

After I left the hospital, Vivian moved to California to practice nursing on the West coast. I stayed on the East coast. We lost touch. But this year, I felt a powerful urge to find her. Why had I lost touch with her in the first place? I was mad at myself. It had been 39 years. I worried she may not be alive. Finally, my husband urged me to contact Vivian's college. This is how I found her. And, it turned out, Vivian, had also been looking for me!

This summer, we reunited in person. Vivian came to Boston where she still has family. To reconnect with someone who had been so pivotal in my life is another kind of miracle. Vivian is retired now but her energy and Facebook posts reflect so much of who she is--strong, smart, independent, funny, and loving.

If you have been thinking of someone uniquely special in your life, someone who drifted away for whatever reason, I urge you to take that 50/50 risk, reach out, and find them.

--Jessica Keener

Jessica is pleased offer five signed copies of Strangers In Budapest--she can be reached at jessicakeener1@gmail.com

Jessica Keener's newest novel, Strangers In Budapest, is an IndieBound Now in Paperback selection for November 2018.
Published to wide acclaim, it was chosen as a best new novel by Entertainment Weekly, Simple.com, and others. Boston Magazine called it "the perfect page-turner," and Publishers Weekly wrote: "Keener immerses the reader in Budapest's post-communist period in all its tumultuous glory." Keener is the recipient of a Massachusetts Cultural Council Artist's Grant and has been listed in The Pushcart Prize under "outstanding writers." She has taught literature and writing at Boston University, Brown University, U. of Miami, and Grub Street in Boston, and has written more than a hundred feature articles for national magazines such as The Boston Globe, O the Oprah Magazine, and Design New England.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

THE PRIZE (Thriller) by Geoffrey M. Cooper

Do you think medical researchers are sincere, hard-working, dedicated? Some are. But not all. When Pam Weller discovers a drug against Alzheimer's, her rival sees the coveted Nobel Prize slipping away. His all-consuming ambition drives him to concoct a plot that threatens Pam's career, her freedom and even her life.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on THE PRIZE to read more and to email author Geoffrey M. Cooper, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 11-08-18

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Dear Reader,

From the very first sentence I knew it was going to be a magical read, and I wasn't disappointed. This year's First Place winning story in my annual Write a DearReader Contest was written by Karin DeLaurentis.

Congratulations Karin!

Karin told me she's entered the writing contest every year since 2008, when she started reading at the book club through the Grandview Heights Public Library in Columbus, Ohio.

"I enjoy reading," Karin said, "and looking back, it's a sweet, romantic walk down memory lane, and reading has shaped me--the person I am today."

Thank you so much for entering Karin.

California Dreaming

The package always arrived at our little Ohio home a week or two before Christmas, wrapped in brown paper and bearing the exotic postmark of Los Angeles, California. It was more anticipated by my sister and I than Santa. Even my mom felt the thrill.

Unbundled to reveal unfamiliar paper and ribbon, here were gifts that came from another coast. My little fingers carefully opened the tiny box. Inside was a small gold bracelet, alternating charms of ruby red gemstone hearts and tiny bunches of pearl grapes. I exclaimed with pleasure. The bracelet was something I never knew I wanted until I saw it, and then I knew it was exactly what I always wanted.

The givers of this gift, my maiden great aunts Cora and Elsie, sent me something wonderful every year for Christmas. They never asked what I wanted. They never requested a size or color. But every gift they sent was somehow--perfect. Unforgettable.

Cora and Elsie were fascinating ladies. They were born before the turn of the last century in the tiny town of Macedon, Ohio, to a hardscrabble farm home of graying clapboard. They lived quietly. They became young school marms at the redbrick one-room school house. They cared for their brother and elderly mother. But when their mother died, they did something that maiden ladies in 1920 just didn't do.

They packed their bags, said goodbye to their family, and boarded a bus to Los Angeles.

They wanted an adventure. I imagine them making plans over dishes, canning or wash day. Just a half-humorous suggestion at first, then more serious with each conversation, they talk it over, growing more excited, more excited. Slowly realizing: we can do this. Over the protests of friends and family. Saving their meager salaries, counting each nickel 'til they had enough money.

In the land of movie stars and palm trees, Cora and Elsie lived a life they could only imagine back in Ohio. It was the free-wheeling 1920s, the era of flappers and bootleg. Instead of school marms, they found work as pert and well-dressed shopgirls at the May Co., a large department store. They picnicked at the beach in risque bathing costumes with their dapper-looking boyfriends. They tooled around on Sunday afternoons in a sleek coupe. In their frequent letters home, they described visits to Sunset Boulevard and the Hollywood Bowl, the La Brea Tarpits and Grauman's Chinese Theater. They spied stars and starlets (right on the streets!), and attended the 1925 premier of Ben Hur. In old photos, they look sweet--Elsie taller and quietly pretty, Cora the beauty, very petite with coal black hair and a Clara Bow smile.

The ladies never married. They lived together in their sunny bungalow apartment until Elsie died in the 1970s. Cora was ill by then, and at last, came home. She lived with my grandma, her sister-in-law, for a short time, and I was lucky enough to know her a little before her death. She still dyed her hair coal black and beneath the wrinkles she still had her Clara Bow twinkle. I wonder if she and Elsie ever thought about all those clever gifts they sent us? I wonder if they understood, beyond our conventional thank you notes, how thrilling it was for a little country girl to get a shiny blue and gold box from the May Co. in Los Angeles, California?

I am guessing they did. I am guessing that young Cora and Elsie, as they dreamed of California in their farmhouse beds at night, might also have dreamed of owning a charm bracelet decorated with little red rubies and pearls.

Karin DeLaurentis
First Place Winner
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Karin nominated Grandview Heights Public Library to win a cash prize. Since she's a winner, I'll be sending her library a check for $100.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Fiction)
ENVY by Rachel Van Dyken

Go to: https://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

Dear Reader Column 11-07-18

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Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Susan Lee Miller. The Second Place winner in this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

Susan's writing painted pictures of childhood memories for me, and I bet you'll recognize some of your own, too. She's been a reader at the book club for several years, and she said this wasn't the first time she entered the annual writing contest. Enjoying retirement, Susan and her husband have three adult children, and she added, "I have a sweet, loving daughter-in-law."

One Summer's Day

I wake slowly, twisted in sticky sheets. My sister is mummified in her bed covers. The air dragged itself through our dormer window and just hangs there. It's going to be a hot one.

'Sue, it's time to get up.' 'Mom, why do I have to get up and Becky gets to sleep?' 'Because she is little and you are not.' I am 11 years old. Still, as I assemble my Frosted Flakes and milk, I am humming. The long summer is a rollercoaster, it takes forever to get up the big hill, but that downhill part flys by faster and faster until you slide into the platform. We are still on the incline.

The percolator is perking, the parakeets squawking, the mutt is chasing the cat, and two of my brothers are fighting. Again. My mother: 'Stop arguing or I will tell your father!' They stop. 'And don't forget you have to clean the garage today', guaranteeing another fight.

'Sue, can you give me the broom?' My warrior mother stands at the door, scrutinizing the front stoop through battle weary eyes. She planted evergreen bushes on either side, and now black, hairy spiders with bodies as big as quarters and legs six inches long live there. Every night they spin gummy webs that span the front steps. Every morning she weaponizes the broom and beats the webs back so we can safely descend the steps.

'Mom, can I go out?' 'First do your job.' I wipe down the bathroom sink, toilet and floors, interrupted twice by siblings who need the toilet. By 9:00 AM it's rank. We have one bathroom for (then) a family of eight, including three little boys.

'Mom, can I go out?' 'First take the baby for a walk so I can get some work done.' I lug the navy blue, oversized baby carriage down the front steps, concussing my baby sister buried under receiving blankets. Girls and their mothers emerge from neighbors' houses. 'Oooh, can I see the baby?' By the time I circle the block, two other girls with baby carriages have joined the parade.

My mother is sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning paper, drinking coffee and smoking. 'Mom, can I go out?' 'Where are you going?' 'The library.' 'Be back by lunch.'

I ride my blue bike several blocks, cut through the woods, cross over the Thruway overpass and keep pedaling. I go everyday. I get the next books in a series, and read paragraphs from books I randomly choose. Maybe I'll find a new writer.

I get home in time for lunch. 'Sue, can you help the kids make sandwiches?' We eat baloney or peanut butter and jelly on white bread, but cannot touch the sweet, thinly sliced Krakus ham; that's reserved for my father to have on rye with Hellman's mayonnaise.

I sneak up to my bedroom, plop on the bed and start reading The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet. I am sweating, but it is bliss. 'Sue, what are you doing?' 'Reading.' 'Just reading? OK, can you...?'

My father is not home for dinner tonight, so we fool around until my mother kicks us out of the house. Someone suggests softball. I can't pitch, catch, hit or run, and am picked last for a team. Finally, it's my turn at bat. The pitcher lobs me a slow one that drifts through the dusk. I swing, and hear a clang as the bat smacks the ball and it flies down the street. 'Holy crap!', swears the pitcher. I barely see the bases, and grin the whole way around.

The mothers, backlit shadows in their front doors, call, 'Time to come home.' The steady rumble of the Thruway's trucks is getting louder, the truckers are making time.

Susan Lee Miller
Second Place Winner
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Susan nominated Henry Waldinger Library to win a cash prize. Since she's a winner, I'll be sending the library a check for $50.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

KIDS BUZZ: Two for kids ages 8-12! If you're looking for "an entertaining mystery for children who like their chills seasoned with laughs" (SLJ), try Andrea Portes' HENRY AND EVA AND THE CASTLE ON THE CLIFF; and if princesses are your thing, MORE THAN A PRINCESS by E.D. Baker "will engage younger readers... themes of courage and self-acceptance give it a powerfully positive message" (Booklist). For a chance to win free copies, go to KIDSBUZZ.

Dear Reader Column 11-06-18

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KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Jessie Heninger, this year's Third Place Winner in my annual Write a DearReader Contest. Jessie's entry is writing that makes you stop and really think. I admire the unique style, because on any given day, reading her story could take you down a different path in your mind.

No doubt about it, Jessie was excited to hear the news about her entry. "I can't believe it! Thank you so much! The writing life can be so discouraging. Thank you for putting wind in my sails."

You did a great job Jessie, sail on!

Cracks

Not everyone knew about the cracks but everyone had them.

Dotty had her own, of course, cracks were what made you human. At times they could even make you beautiful. Like that Japanese pottery that was mended with gold to become something even more lovely than it had originally been.

But the cracks were dangerous, and hurt. Sometimes they continued to ache off and on like a bruise that never fully healed. If one of your cracks broke open it could hurt the people around you. This happened all the time, especially to people who didn't understand about cracks, to the people who didn't know to be careful. Once in a while a person would split so wide open and deep that the devil tar that lived inside would flow out destroying innocent people in it's wake. That had happened not long ago at a school; killing children and spreading hundreds of new cracks, like a spider web of fissures crisscrossing the country.

Dotty knew all of this and she knew about her own. She had learned how to walk lightly over the areas of her soul that were most vulnerable.

Which is why she was caught so unaware by the breaking open of one of her very oldest cracks. In the end it wasn't something catastrophic that broke her open. Instead, it was something small, and vain which made it even worse when the chasm in her heart split wide and shattered her soul.

She hadn't heard the warning sound of the cracks spreading like thin ice at the end of winter. And was shocked as her spirit snagged and she toppled over the edge.

She hit the tar-like substance so hard that all the air rushed out of her lungs. She reached for the bottom of the pit with her feet but this crack was old and years of insecurities had carved it deep. Deep enough to drown in.

She struggled against the sticky tar, but it was hard to keep her head above it's oily surface.

She was treading the liquid now, trying to make her way to the edge where she could climb out. She knew from experience that there was a way out. Sometimes it was a small thing, like a sunny afternoon, or a crocus peeking up from the snow. Sometimes the only way out was the hand of a friend. She simply had to stay above the black surface long enough for them to hear her cry and find her.

Dotty was trying very hard to stay above the swampy, water. She was trying hard not to splash the poison on the people around her. She told herself not to give up, somehow she'd find a way out because she always had.

But, her arms were getting tired and her heart was too heavy and her friends had disappeared. What if some cosmic event had split open all the cracks, and her friends were waiting for her to pull them out and she was waiting for them? If she got out but they didn't make it, what then?

She didn't think a chasm like that could ever heal over. In fact it's sharp edges may just slice open her heart and she'd bleed to death.

Her arms were growing numb and her head was sinking lower into the slime. She prayed to her God that he would send her a way out; a humming bird, or the laughter of a child. Anything that could give her a way out of the hate and ugliness coursing through her own soul.

"Just a little longer." She whispered to herself. "You can wait a little longer."

Jessie Heninger
Third Place Winner
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Jessie nominated Lynnwood Library to win a cash prize. Since she's a winner, I'll be sending the library a check for $25.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 10-30-18

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Dear Reader,

Today"s guest author, Robin Caroll, grew up in Louisiana with her nose in a book. She still has the complete Trixie Belden series, and her love for mysteries and suspense has only increased with her age. Robin's passion has always been to tell stories to entertain others and come alongside them on their faith journey--aspects Robin weaves into each of her published novels.

Best-selling author of thirty-plus novels, Robin Caroll writes Southern stories of mystery and suspense, with a hint of romance to entertain readers. Her books have been recognized in several awards, including the Carol Award, HOLT Medallion, Daphne du Maurier, RT Reviewer's Choice Award, and more. Her newly released mystery is Stratagem.

When she isn't writing, Robin spends quality time with her husband of nearly three decades, her three beautiful daughters and two handsome grandsons, and their character-filled pets at home in the South. Robin serves the writing community as Executive/Conference Director for ACFW. To find out more about Robin, visit www.robincaroll.com or say hello at: email robin@robincaroll.com

Creatives.

My husband likes to tell people he is, and always has been, surrounded by creatives. His mother was an artist--extremely talented (of which I'm quite envious) and loved to write. He likes to tell people that she was preparing him for his life as my husband, because he isn't creative. He would be wrong. The man does some creative creations in the kitchen that surpass making a meal. He's created some of the best dishes I've ever eaten.

I am an author, but I don't know if I would have made it to 30+ published books had it not been for my husband and his support and encouragement that allow me to be creative.

Our middle daughter is a published poet. She performs her original poetry in "slams" and performance opportunities. She's a writer as well, in her freshman year of college with a double major in English and Journalism. Her expression of how she interprets life astounds me.

Our youngest daughter is an artist. Her talent amazes me as she paints and sketches these beautiful extensions of how she sees the world. She has had pieces exhibited and displayed in schools, garnering accolades. She'll be a senior in high school next year, and plans to become a family lawyer eventually. I can't wait to see how her creative tendencies will come into play in her future life.

But sometimes being creative and writing can be tough to balance, especially when under deadline. At that point, I feel like I need a creative outlet, and it can't just be writing. I don't have a natural bent to sketching or drawing or anything beautiful, but I love colors and designs and I love crafting. Enter the world of art journaling--where I don't have to be artistically gifted to create pages that mean something, speak something to me.

I can take different mediums--watercolors, acrylics, stamps, stencils, stickers, collage papers, etc. and blend as much or as little as I want to get something that I like. It's getting ink on my fingers and just setting my creative self free. I've even got to where I'm happy to share new pages in my art journals on my social media accounts. Check them out and let me know what you think! 

We all have a creative side. Whether it's part of our career like writing or part of our inner joy like my art journals, or performing, or art, or cooking--being creative in some way is in our DNA. What's yours?

-- Robin Caroll 

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

DRAGONFIRE (Fiction) by Donna Grant

It's been six years since the first book in the Dark King series launched and captured reader's hearts. I'm thrilled to share the newest book with you. Join me on a passionate, emotional journey through Romania and Iceland with an indomitable Dragon King, Roman, and the courageous Sabina as they work their way through a tangled web of magic, lies, deceptions, and hidden knowledge to triumph over their enemies--and discover a love of the ages.

Go to: https://authorbuzz.com/dearreader click on DRAGONFIRE to read more and to email author Donna Grant, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 10-29-18

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Dear Reader,

Like two teenagers, my husband and I were in our pajamas last night, sitting in our "new" used 2016 car, jammin' to the tunes, volume cranked, and the bass pounding at concert level.

My husband and I thought ours was good enough. We were going to keep driving it until it was out of "gas" literally. The odometer on our 2006 Toyota Avalon read 160,00 miles, but our mechanic assured us our car would easily outdo the famous, pink, Energizer Bunny who brags that it "Keeps going and going and going." Perhaps our sky blue Avalon's interior did look a little tired, but the engine would keep "going and going and going" maybe even to 250,000 miles.

Yes, it would have been good enough. My husband and I agreed that we felt comfortable driving our 2006 Avalon and we didn't need anything fancy. So thinking back, I'm not quite sure why we changed direction abruptly, and started thinking about getting a different car--but I'm so glad we did.

Those car commercials with happy, smiling people, looking sexy and 10 years younger, while they're driving down the road in their new cars, I can concur, there might be a little bit of truth in that fantasy.

Our new 2016 Avalon, it's fun! It's loaded with gadgets (that will probably take me months to figure out how to use), it's something different which adds a new twist to life, and our new car gets great gas mileage, better than the sticker boasted, because my husband and I spend most of our evenings "driving" in our pjs, volume cranked and the bass pounding at concert level.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

 Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

** AUTHORBUZZ **

THE BETEL NUT TREE MYSTERY (Mystery) by Ovidia Yu

Tensions rise in 1936 Singapore when a dead Englishman is found covered in juice from the betel nuts chewed by locals. Afraid of Colonial backlash (and hoping for a story), Chen Su Lin plunges into the investigation against Inspector Le Froy's advice. I based Su Lin very loosely on my grandmother who wanted to be a journalist, ended up a teacher, and loved stories.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on THE BETEL NUT TREE MYSTERY to read more and to email author , you'll get a reply.

 

Dear Reader Column 10-19-18

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Dear Reader,

My husband loves it when I spill food on my shirt, because for years he was the slob. It was one of his amusing trademarks. He never seemed to notice, but I could spot lunch leftovers on his shirt, from way across the room. But now the table has turned. If I want to know what we ate for lunch, I look down at my own shirt. Today's menu: Cream of tomato soup, (yep and there's the orange smudge to prove it) and that Dove Bar I tried to secretly eat for dessert, a sliver of chocolate makes a huge statement on a light blue, dry clean only blouse.

Even when I caution myself, "Be careful, you're an adult, eat slowly and you won't spill anything," that reminder apparently isn't anymore meaningful than when I'm wearing good shoes, decide to pull a few weeds and twenty minutes later my flower garden looks pristine, but my shoes are ruined. I really should change my shoes and I really should eat slower--but I never listen. After all, I'm only going to pull a 'few' weeds--but we all know that never happens. And there-in lies the answer to why even though I ate today's lunch with the best of intentions, it ended up on my shirt anyway.

The worst part about being a lunch slob is I'm never the first person to notice. It doesn't really bother me when my husband gets that silly grin on his face and points to the chicken salad on my shirt. But then it makes me wonder, "Just how long has it been there?" Was it hanging around when the mailman asked me to sign for the package? Was it there when my neighbor stopped by to say hello? I bet during our entire conversation she was debating whether or not to tell me.

Maybe the solution is to only buy clothes that have a patterned design. Who knows, maybe the women in the Scottish town who invented paisley used to be lunch slobs, just like me.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 10-17-18

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Dear Reader,

Book club readers were inspired, by recent columns, to tell their stories....

"Suzanne, I volunteer at one of our local hospitals, knitting baby hats. I only go into the office once a month to drop off the hats. Today, I walked in just before the office closed. It was a rare occasion when many of the day volunteers were getting ready to leave and the evening volunteers were gathered together at the same time. When I walked in, I heard the tail end of a conversation, '. . . but I will wear a wrinkled blouse!' I said 'Are you sharing ironing war stories?' They asked 'What is the most unusual thing I iron faithfully?' I didn't have to even think about it, as I iron my husband's cotton boxers every week. He will even wait by the ironing board and slip on a pair warm off the iron! I didn't get to hear any of their answers because they erupted into laughter and said that my story won hands down. As I was leaving, I got to thinking about this encounter and I am worried that next spring at our volunteer banquet, I won't be recognized for the number of baby hats I knitted this year, but, my face will appear on the overhead with 'She irons her husband's boxer shorts, as he waits by the iron board.' Oh well, I have about five months for them to forget, or prepare my husband. Happy ironing and reading! You delight me everyday with your musings!" -- Leslie R

"Suzanne, your 'undies' column was funny, but I bet I can top it...

I'm in my 50s now, but I still remember a day back in eighth grade when I went to Catholic school, and my class was walking across the school parking lot, to go to a funeral mass for a classmate's family member--when OOPS! What do you think decided to release its grip of static electricity and fall out the bottom of my uniform skirt? Yup, you guessed it. A nice, bright, white pair of undies fresh from the laundry. I don't think I've ever grabbed something up and shoved it in my pocket so quickly in my life. There was some snickering [from the other kids], but under the somber circumstances it was kept low key, thankfully. Still it was pretty mortifying at the time--now it's pretty funny. (Well, not the funeral mass part. I'm so glad it didn't happen then. Yikes!) Thanks for my laugh of the day!" -- Kim S.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Warmest regards,

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 10-16-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

Today's guest, USA Today bestselling author, Nancy Naigle writes small-town love stories and women's fiction. In 2018 two of her novels, Christmas Joy and Hope at Christmas, became Hallmark Original Movies.

Nancy devotes her time to writing, horseback riding, and the occasional spa day with friends. A native of Virginia Beach, she now calls North Carolina home. Her latest novel, Dear Santa, releases today. A holiday romance, where the owner of a quaint Christmas shop, in a reclaimed lighthouse on the coast, is fighting to keep her business alive when big, bad Christmas Galore moves into town, and is shaking up more than her business. The initial attraction is hard to deny, but it's going to take some special Christmas magic to make these two see things in a new light.

Please welcome author Nancy Naigle. Drop her a line and say hello. Nancy loves to hear from readers. Email nancy@nancynaigle.com

Credit: @thehallremark on Instagram

Hey y'all. Nancy Naigle here from the beautiful state of North Carolina. Fall is my favorite time of year from a weather standpoint, but boy if it isn't the craziest month of to-do's vying for attention!

I recently saw a picture of a snowman made of two pumpkins on the bottom and a jack-o'-lantern as the head. He was wearing a Santa hat.

The only thing that would make that picture more perfect would be a pile of candy wrappers scattered at the bottom, because I'm pretty sure I'm not the only reader with a stash of the "good candy" already open in a drawer--in September--safe from everyone but me. Research shows the average family spends $47 on candy for Halloween. That has to equate to at least one extra trip back to the store. Two, maybe? The last of which has to be the less appealing stuff so it won't disappear again. Right?

And if teensy candy bars, candy corn, and sweet tarts aren't making us more hyper than normal, there's the Halloween pumpkin and costume decisions. Something innovative, warm enough to not have to wear a coat, but who wants to be cold? Suddenly we realize it isn't even sweater weather consistently except for football Friday's and Halloween lands on a Wednesday this year. It'll be dark so early. Those short days are torture.

Oh, but wait, did you see the post? Mmmhmmm, the one about ## shopping days left? Some people have practically finished their shopping, while my gift list is still rather blank. (gulp) I haven't even planned my Thanksgiving menu yet, and I auto-clicked on three new Christmas book releases this week because this is when they come out. I need to read!

Priorities, people!

And then the Hallmark Countdown to Christmas advertisement comes on. It's beginning! Hooray. Oh no? Something orange is reflecting on the screen, only to notice the leaves have changed and I didn't even notice. When did that happen? Probably while I was at the store buying more candy.

Time is flying by because October has become an interesting blend of Summer-Fall-Thanksgiving-Christmas-Y'all all mushed together at the ratio of 4:1. I'm already behind! You too? I knew we were kindred spirits.

Here's some advice. Make a little "me time" every single day. There's time. Make it happen. You'll recoup that fifteen or thirty minutes triple-fold. Trust me.

If you're not able to get out and see the beauty happening near your home, then sign up to receive pretty fall foliage snapshots via email in the Fall Color Report from Asheville, NC to get your fix.

Go ahead and promise yourself a fifteen-minute sanity check each day. Because by-golly we're all going to need it.

Care to share your plans, adventures, crafts or advice to get it all done? I'd love to hear all about it at nancy@nancynaigle.com. *scoots the bowl of Halloween candy. Take three. They're small.

--Nancy Naigle
nancy@nancynaigle.com

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

 Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com