Short Story Review: A Very Holly Christmas by Sheila Roberts

It is a year after the big Christmas strike in Holly. Joy thinks her husband Bob is turning back into Mr. Humbug. Sharon Benedict is determined to have a beautifully decorated house inside and out. And things are moving forward for Carol White and Jerri Rodriguez.

If you read On Strike for Christmas by Sheila Roberts, you certainly won't want to miss this short follow up story that returns to the town of Holly one year later. Just as funny as the original story, you'll be aching for more from the ladies of the knitting club and their families. If you didn't get a chance to read On Strike for Christmas, then this short will give you a great glimpse into a talented writer who knows how to touch your hearts and tickle your funny bone.

Title:  A Very Holly Christmas
Author: Sheila Roberts
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Sold by: Macmillan
ASIN: B005T54NYK
Current price:  FREE

I downloaded a free e-copy of this book from Amazon. I received no monetary compensation of any kind to provide this review.

Seasonal Titles: The Nine Lives of Christmas by Sheila Roberts

Bestselling author Sheila Roberts brings us a humorous, heartwarming Christmas novel about a matchmaking cat who brings a couple together just in time for the holidays. When a guy is in trouble, he starts making deals with his Creator…and Ambrose the cat is no exception. In danger of losing his ninth and final life, Ambrose makes a desperate plea. He’ll do anything—anything!—if he can just survive and enjoy a nice long, final life. His prayer is answered when a stranger comes along and saves him, and now it looks like he has to hold up his end of the bargain.

The stranger turns out to be a fire fighter named Zach, the quintessential commitment- phobe who’s in need of some serious romantic help. If Ambrose can just bring Zach together with Merilee, the nice lady who works at Pet Palace, it’s bound to earn him a healthy ninth life. Unfortunately for Ambrose, his mission is a lot harder than he ever anticipated. Now it’s going to take all his feline wiles—and a healthy dose of Christmas magic—to bring them alltogether in time for the holidays.

Read an excerpt!

When a guy is in trouble he starts making deals with his Creator, and Ambrose was dealing like crazy. Vicious teeth snapped at him and his whole life (actually, all nine of them) flashed before his eyes. If this dog got him it was all over.

Becoming dog food looked like a distinct possibility since the tree Ambrose had chosen was small and the particular branch he was perched on was a flimsy twig barely capable of holding a kitten let alone a mature cat. And the big, black beast below seemed to have springs on his paws.

I’ll do anything, Ambrose yowled. Anything! Please, let me live a little longer.

This was life number nine. He knew he wouldn’t get any more but he’d settle for a longer one where he could finish his days in comfort. Under the circumstances, it would be a miracle if he survived to see that happen. But he’d seen people stringing up colored lights on their houses just the other day, which meant Christmas season was about to begin, and wasn’t Christmas supposed to be a season of miracles? Not that Christmas had ever been good to Ambrose. That was when he usually managed to meet his end.

So he wasn’t surprised at what was happening to him now. That didn’t mean he had to like it though. What a horrible way to go! Pulled from a tree and brutally murdered by a bloodthirsty mongrel. All these houses and there was not a single human around to help him on this cold, gray morning. No surprise, really. Humans bought houses and then rarely stayed in them … until they got old, and by then, like Ambrose, their days were numbered.

Below him the dog showed his fangs and growled. Needing a miracle here. Soon!

Not that he deserved one. He thought of little Robbie, who he’d scratched many a time in his seventh life, and poor Snoopy the beagle that he had tortured in his eighth life. He shouldn’t have made the dog’s life so miserable but he’d been getting bitter by then. How he had enjoyed driving old Snoopy crazy by jumping on him and riding him around the house with his claws dug into the dog’s back. Hee-hee. That had been…

Bad, very bad. He would never do anything like that again.

Why, oh, why hadn’t he picked a tall, sturdy tree to climb instead of this immature maple? What had he been thinking? The answer to that was easy enough. He’d been thinking, Run!

It started to rain, fat, freezing pellets that dug under his fur, and an angry winter wind pushed the tree, making its branches sway. Nooo. Ambrose dug his claws deeper into the bark. I’ll be a good cat and earn my keep here on Earth. Just send me some help and I’ll prove it.

Now the dog was on his hind legs, pushing against the tree and reaching for Ambrose like he was some kind of doggy chew toy. Determined not to go down without a fight, Ambrose hissed at him and took a swipe with claws unsheathed. That only made the beast more berserk.

Where was a dogcatcher when you needed one? Help! Is anybody listening?

Out of nowhere, appearing as suddenly as the rain had come, Ambrose saw a man wearing what humans called jogging clothes. He ran up to the dog and yelled, “Go on, get out of here.”

Between the man’s aggressive clap and that big dog growl of his, he not only scared away the dog he almost gave Ambrose a heart attack.

The beast loped off down the street and the man said, “Okay, guy, looks like you’re safe.”

Safe, the best word in the world. Ambrose peered down at his rescuer. The fur on top of the man’s head was what humans called blond – not as handsome as Ambrose’s orange coat, but a shade that humans admired greatly and his eyes were as blue as a Siamese kitten’s. He was large, which meant he probably had a spacious, comfy lap. The friendly smile he wore showed the man was a kind person. Something about the face looked familiar. Where had he seen this man before?

“You’re on your own now,” he said to Ambrose, who was still clinging to his branch. “I know you can get down anyway. You aren’t going to want to stay out in this any longer than me,” he added, and then jogged off down the street.

Ambrose could hardly believe he was safe. Wet and uncomfortable and hungry, but safe. The freezing rain was letting up now and the angry clouds began to drift away, ashamed of all the misery they’d caused. It was going to be a good day after all. He settled down to give his racing heart a chance to calm.

One last gust of wind woodshed past him with a whisper. Remember what you promised.

Of course Ambrose remembered. And he would be a better cat. When the opportunity presented itself. There was no hurry, really.

He made his way down the tree and was halfway across the lawn when he caught sight of the same dog loitering on the corner. The dog saw him, too.

Yikes! Time to scat. Ambrose darted into the street.

A screech of brakes, a spray of water and an angry honk of a horn made all of his lives flash before his eyes once again as Ambrose barely dodged the huge metal monster. Once more the wind whispered. This time it said, Last chance.

Okay, okay, he got it. The time to atone for his wicked past was now. But how, exactly, was he supposed to do that? Where to start, and with whom? The storm had pretty much scrubbed the street of living creatures. Except for the murderous dog and that big man.

Helping the dog with anything was out of the question. That left the man, which made sense. A life for a life.

He set off at a run. His rescuer had a head start but Ambrose had four legs, which evened things considerably. He caught up with the man in time to see him enter a house on a quiet street. It was a large house, much the same as Ambrose’s old home, freshly painted and blue as a robin’s egg, and it had a chimney. That meant a warm fire on a cold day. Not a bad place to land.

It took patient camping under the bushes by the porch but finally Ambrose was rewarded and the door opened to reveal the same man, this time wearing different clothes. He stepped out of the door and Ambrose rushed in. Oh, delicious warmth.

“Whoa,” said the man, “what’s this?”

What? He couldn’t tell? Ambrose refused to dignify such a silly question with a response. Instead he began to prowl the front hall of his new home. Interesting. Wood floors, a stairway on one side, and off to the other an arch opening onto what humans referred to as a living room. The house felt old and hummed with memories, like the one his last owner, Adelaide had lived in.

That had been such a cozy home. Her horrible offspring hadn’t cared about the memories though. All they’d cared about was putting the place up for sale.

Put it up for sale, indeed! Just where had they thought Ambrose would live if they sold the house? Of course, he’d soon found out and that was why he’d run away.

“Whoa there, Tom,” said the man, scooping Ambrose off his feet.

Tom? What an insult! Did he look like a common cat? His name had never been Tom. Never! He was Cupcake-Tiger-Morris-Muffin-Macavity-Blackie-Toby-Claus-Ambrose, Ambrose, of course, being his latest moniker.

“This isn’t a hotel for cats,” the man informed Ambrose as he opened the door. He stepped back outside and shut the door behind him, then plopped Ambrose on the porch. Back out in the cold. Of all the nerve!

Ambrose watched, tail twitching, as the man strode down his front walk, got in a shiny black car and drove away. If this inhospitable human is the key to keeping my ninth life I am in the doghouse.

He could almost hear Adelaide saying, “Be patient, Ambrose dear.” (Something she always told him when he was half starving and rubbing against her legs while she poked around opening his cat food can.) Good advice now though. He could be patient.

Read the reviews!

"The Nine Lives of Christmas is such a sweet, fun and engaging story that is sure to lighten any reader's heart. I fell in love with Ambrose immediately and found Zach and Merilee to be enduring. This is the perfect story to begin the holiday season and would make the perfect gift for anyone - including treating yourself! I adored The Nine Lives of Christmas and eagerly await the next work by the wonderfully talented and always delightful Sheila Roberts!"

--Cafe of Dreams

"It is safe to say cat lovers everywhere will love this novel, but I think there is so much more to it...This novel has plenty of charm, smooth writing and entertainment for book lovers everywhere. Full of romance and pets with personality, it's a book you won't want to miss this Christmas."

--A Cozy Reader's Corner Reviews

"If you're looking for a delightful seasonal love story with tons of laughs, look no further than The Nine Lives of Christmas."

--The Book Connection

PURCHASE THE NINE LIVES OF CHRISTMAS AT AMAZON, BARNESANDNOBLE, MACMILLAN, AND LIBERTYBAYBOOKS!

Writing since 1989, Sheila Roberts has had 26 books published, both fiction and nonfiction, under different names. Her books have been chosen for book clubs, Readers Digest Condensed books, and her popular novel ON STRIKE FOR CHRISTMAS was made into a movie and appeared on the Lifetime Movie Network. Her novel ANGEL LANE was named one of Amazon’s Top Ten Romances for 2009.

However, before she settled into her writing career, she did lots of other things, including owning a singing telegram company and playing in a band. Writing and helping others to find ways to better themselves are her greatest passions and her popular newsletter SUPER YOU, is dedicated to helping women improve their lives.


When she’s not making public appearances or playing with her friends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends, and chocolate. Drop in for a visit at her website: http://www.sheilasplace.com or connect with her at Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php#!/pages/Sheila-Roberts/76502579853?ref=ts and Twitter at http://twitter.com/#!/_Sheila_Roberts.
Sheila Roberts lives in the Pacific Northwest. She’s happily married and has three children.

Author Spotlight: Angel Lane by Sheila Roberts

The small town of Heart Lake is beginning to lose its friendly, small town feeling, so Sarah Goodwin, who owns the town bakery, Jamie Moore, owner of The Chocolate Bar, and Emma Swanson of Emma’s Quilt Corner decide it’s time to find a way to help people feel more connected. Their solution: random acts of kindness. And not just from them. The women sponsor a town meeting, encouraging the few people who turn out to start a movement. Soon people all over town are extending kindness to each other in heartwarming small ways. But as the three friends cope with lost cats, mixed signals, business challenges, and unexpected romance, they learn that no good deed goes unpunished. Most important, though, they learn that the only way to get a better life, a better town, a better world, is to give your heart.

EXCERPT:

Change. Sarah hated it, unless it was good and was happening to her. What she hated most was when people moved away. First her sister and brother-in-law had to drift off to California in search of sun – which was highly overrated, if you asked Sarah – and take her nieces. (At least one of them had had the good sense to come back.) Then Jonathan had left. And now Steph was moving.

And speaking of moving, Sarah thought, checking out the strangers driving past her, was Heart Lake some new destination spot? It seemed like lately she was seeing as many new faces as old, familiar ones. Why couldn’t life stay the same?

By the time she came through the door of the chocolateria even the sensual aroma that danced around her nose couldn’t tease her into a happy mood.

She took in the array of truffles behind the glass counter with a scowl and marched to where her niece, Jamie Moore, stood, smiling and holding out a steaming cup of Sarah’s usual weekly treat, a coconut mocha. (Hold the whipped cream – a woman had to draw the line somewhere.)

“I hope that’s a double,” said Sarah. “I need it.”

“A double with decaf so you won’t be awake all night,” said Jamie. She arched a delicately penciled blonde eyebrow. “Is this a two truffle day?”

“More like a ten, but I’ll stop at one. How could you tell?”

“Other than the fact that I knew Steph was leaving today? Just a lucky guess.”

Sarah took the mocha with a sigh and moved over to the glass case. A summer of weekly truffle treats at her niece’s new shop had already added three pounds to her hips. Even when Sarah was young she’d had a bit of a bubble butt. After opening the bakery it had grown from a bubble to a balloon, and now, by fifty-six, it was nearing the size of a hot air balloon. Every once in awhile she suggested to herself that changing this weekly coffee klatch to the back room of Emma’s quilt shop wouldn’t be a bad idea. A girl couldn’t get fat on fabric.

Her friend Kizzy, who owned a kitchen shop in town, kept urging her to join her teeny bikini diet club, but Sarah wasn’t ready for that. So Kizzy settled for getting Sarah out on a Sunday afternoon walk around the lake. Sarah wasn’t sure it did much good. At the rate she was going, to see any improvement she’d probably have to walk all the way to Florida. And back.

Okay, one truffle. She bent over to examine the rows and rows of treats calling to her from behind glass. Flavors ranged from dark chocolate with Grand Marnier filling to white chocolate with lavender. Then there was the fudge: traditional chocolate, rocky road, penuche, and the new caliente flavor with its south of the border bite. And now, with summer giving way to fall, white and milk chocolate-dipped apples had replaced double-chocolate ice cream bars.

“Decisions, decisions,” teased Jamie. How she managed to stay a size eight was a mystery. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the girl didn’t eat.

“Don’t laugh. It’s hard when you’re only choosing one,” said Sarah. “You could do my hips a good deed and come up with a no-fat, no-calorie truffle.”

“I could,” Jamie agreed, “if I made it out of cardboard.”

“How about the white chocolate-raspberry?”

“Good choice,” Jamie approved, and pulled one out for her.

The shop door opened and in stepped a woman in her early thirties with a round, freckled face, a curvy figure, and strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had a coat thrown on over jeans and a pink flower print flowing top. Emma Swanson, proud owner of Emma’s Quilt Corner. One Wednesday in September, she’d wandered into the shop just as Jamie and Sarah were getting ready to end their day with a dose of chocolate. The impromptu get together had quickly become a weekly tradition, and casual friendship had made a fast evolution into sisterhood.

Emma flipped the sign hanging on the door to Closed and locked it, announcing, “It’s officially five.”

“Good,” Jamie said with a sigh. “I’m ready to sit down. I’m pooped.”

“Too much business,” said Emma. “I wish I had that problem,” she added with a sigh.

“Be patient,” Sarah told her. “Quilting is catching on.”

“I hope so,” said Emma. “So far my best customers are still my grandma and my mom. And Mom doesn’t even quilt. Oh, and you, of course,” she added, smiling at Sarah.
Sarah had spent a small fortune on fabric a week earlier so she could make quilts for both the girls for Christmas. She’d been so busy with the bakery that she hadn’t quilted in years. But she was sure it would all come back to her, like riding a bicycle. She hadn’t ridden a bicycle in years, either. She’d rather quilt.

They settled at one of the white bistro tables on the other side of the shop, Emma and Sarah armed with their mochas and truffles and Jamie only with a cup of chocolate tea.

“No wonder you’re so skinny,” Emma said, pointing to it. “I don’t know how you keep from eating all your inventory.”

“I have Clarice for that. Anyway, I sampled so many truffles when I was first learning how to make these things that I don’t care if I ever taste another one again as long as I live. Well, unless it’s a new recipe,” she amended.

“I sampled a lot of my recipes when I started the bakery, too,” said Sarah. “All it did was turn me into an S.T.”

“Yeah, that was what did it all right,” mocked Jamie.

“What’s an S.T.?” asked Emma.

“Sweet Tooth,” Jamie answered for Sarah. “And you were an S.T. before you even opened the bakery. I was around, remember?”

Sarah shook her head. “This is the problem with having an older sister who makes you an aunt before your time. You end up with lippy nieces who know too much.”

“You imported me,” Jamie reminded her with a smile.

“And I’m glad I did. Someone in your family needed to come back home. You make a great addition to Heart Lake.” She took a sip of her mocha, then sighed.

“They’ll be back by Christmas,” Jamie reminded her, accurately interpreting the sigh.

“Seeing them go had to be pretty hard,” said Emma. “I know how much you love your granddaughters.”

“My mom wore sunglasses when I went to say good-bye,” said Jamie.

“Doesn’t everybody in L.A. wear sunglasses?” asked Emma.

“In the house?”

“Um, that’s weird.”

“She didn’t want me to see she’d been crying.”

“I was brave and didn’t cry,” bragged Sarah. “Not until they left, anyway.”

“Well, we sure could use a few more Stephs here,” said Jamie. “You’re not going to believe this, but two little twits ran the four-way-stop on Lake Way and Alder yesterday.”

Emma looked at her questioningly. “Somebody ran a stop sign and you’re surprised?”

“Somebody ran a stop sign in Heart Lake and I’m surprised,” Jamie corrected her. “There were two old ladies at the crosswalk. If I hadn’t let them go they’d still be standing there.”

“You know, people used to just about kill each other with kindness at that four-way stop,” Sarah reminisced.

“Well, they’ve kept the kill each other part,” said Jamie.

Emma sighed. “I wish Heart Lake could stay just like it was when I was in school.”

“Nice places like this can’t help but grow,” Sarah said. “Everyone wants to be the last person in Paradise. Of course, as more people move into Paradise it gets harder to stay connected. Then people stop caring and it’s not paradise any more.” She frowned and took a sip of her mocha. “I guess people are too busy to be nice.”

“It only takes a minute to let two old ladies cross the street,” Jamie said in disgust.

“Well, there’s your random act of kindness for the day,” Sarah told her. “You know,” she added thoughtfully, “if everybody just did one nice thing a day . . .”

“We’d be living in Mayberry,” Jamie finished.

“I used to love those old reruns when I was a kid,” said Emma.

Jamie rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

Sarah was still thinking. “Why couldn’t we do one good deed a day?” she asked suddenly. “It might be fun to try. You know, paying it forward.”

“Like in the movie,” Emma said with a smile.

“That worked real well at the stop-sign,” said Jamie. She downed the last of her chocolate mint tea. “Well, here’s my something. Your chocolate therapy is on the house,” she said to Sarah and Emma. It always was, but she cocked an eyebrow and grinned at Emma. “So, top that.”

“Maybe I will,” Emma said. “If I see a hot-looking homeless guy, I’ll take him in for the night.”

Okay, they weren’t taking her seriously. Sarah could see that. But somewhere in there was a good idea, and she was going to find it.

READ THE REVIEWS:

"Roberts returns to Heart Lake, Wash., for a second beguiling visit (after Love in Bloom)." - Publisher's Weekly

"A beautifully written story that is populated with real and charming people." - FreshFiction.com

"Angel Lane is a delightfully, wonderful and inspiring story, that I had to literally pull myself away from." - Cafe of Dreams





Sheila Roberts lives in the Pacific Northwest. She's happily married and has three children. Writing since 1989, she has had 24 books published, both in fiction and nonfiction under different names and in different languages. However before she settled into her writing career, she did lots of other things, including owning a singing telegram company and playing in a band. But writing and helping others to find ways to make their lives better are her greatest passions.

Her down-to-earth wisdom and quirky upbeat sense of humor make Sheila a popular speaker to groups large and small. Her books are becoming perennial hot sellers. Her book Bikini Season was a Bookscan top 50, a Target Breakout Novel pick and an Amazon Beach Read pick. On Strike for Christmas will be released this year for the third year in the row and has been optioned for film. Her new release Love in Bloom has been chosen as a Reader’s Digest Condensed Book. Now… if she could just get on “Dancing with the Stars”!

You can visit her website at www.sheilasplace.com to find out about her latest women's fiction novel, Angel Lane.