How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
I’m dedicating this month’s Charity Sunday to Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation because the book I’m featuring is Finding a Christmas Miracle (written with my pal, Jan Selbourne). Jan and I wrote two novellas to make up the book and our heroes are enlisted men in their respective armies during Vietnam. They don’t die but dying is a chance every military member knows could happen. And if it does, Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation is here to help pick up the pieces for the children who need help with school expenses and counseling. This is a 4-star rated organization in Charity Navigator with 100% ratings in both Financial and Accountability arenas—I haven’t seen that before.
“Our mission is to provide college scholarships and educational counseling to military children who have lost a parent in the line of duty.” Please comment on this post and help me send a good donation to this worthwhile group!
Finding a Christmas Miracle
Two exceptional novellas by award-winning authors, Jan Selbourne and Anne Krist
Blurb:
Two men are engulfed in a war no one understands or wants—Vietnam. They’re both hoping for a miracle with little expectation of finding it.
Jan Selbourne lends her award-winning writing talent to A Miracle in the Outback. Nick Saunders is in a hurry to escape a family argument and also to return to his Army base in Wagga Wagga. He doesn’t need another complication. Rachel Garth is a woman with a broken down car, a small girl, a deadly snake, and a baby on the way. She needs Nick’s help. He doesn’t know it, but he needs hers, too.
In award-winning author Anne Krist’s The Miracle of Coming Home, Army PFC Tom Stabler wins a trip to his parents’ Nebraska farm for Christmas. He needs the time away from the war. Lately, he’s been feeling lost and too alone. Trouble is, being home is almost as bad. Then Susan Swensen arrives, just as sweet and pretty as he remembers. Can Susan help him find himself again, or will it take a miracle?
Buy link:
Universal link https://books2read.com/u/3n2KvK
Excerpt:
Awake now, Tom wondered if he’d ever adjust to the feeling of safety again, ever truly believe it existed. He feared he’d always be peering into shadows for the hidden enemy or listening for the almost silent, deadly snick of a landmine trip.
Falling back on the pillow, he stared at the posters on the opposite wall, illuminated by weak moonlight shining through the window. One was for a rock concert held in Omaha four years ago. He’d wanted to take Susan Swensen, but her father wouldn’t let her go the hundred-plus miles into the city with him. Too far, he’d said in his thick Scandinavian accent. Too much can go wrong with a car. Young people can get stranded. Alone.
The last was said with a long, thoughtful stare right into Tom’s soul. How had the man known of Tom’s evil intentions to fake a car breakdown in order to make time with his daughter? Eventually, when she was accepted into nursing school, Mr. Swensen had let Susan go to Omaha. By then, Tom had gone much farther. All the way to Hell, in fact.
The other poster hailed the Fighting Hawks, his high school football team, on which he’d been the star linebacker. Those were heady days. He’d made a great linebacker at the university, too, but a lousy scholar, which was what put him on academic probation and placed his ass squarely in the middle of that worthless strip of land called Vietnam.
Now he wouldn’t even make a linebacker. He skimmed his hand down his chest and across his stomach. Lean—skinny almost. Where once had been bulk there was sinewy muscle. He could still run, though. Oh, yeah, he got lots of practice running. From firing position to firing position, from cover to transport helicopters—black birds hovering over open kill zones to lift guys out of danger or drop them in—and from helicopter back to cover. Some days it seemed he ran the whole damn time.
It felt that way now. But what the hell was he running from?
Tom sighed. There was no going back to sleep. Throwing off the covers, he roused himself from the warmth and sat up, looking at the four walls and feeling dislocated.
This room held the bed where he’d slept since he was six. Today, Christmas Eve, he turned twenty-one. After all those years, the bed should be familiar, and it was. The bed and the room. Both fit, both were comfortable. But Tom no longer was.
It was the same with the house. When he arrived early yesterday morning, he’d sensed something was off but hadn’t been able to put his finger on the problem. Now he knew. Somehow, while he was gone, things had changed, and no one had told him.
His bedroom, the kitchen where he’d watched his mom bake cookies, the living room where he’d beaten his dad at chess for the first time, all felt cramped and alien, as though he’d read about them but hadn’t lived in them. Even his family was all wrong. Gray threaded his mom’s hair, and his dad moved slower. As for his granddad, he was a frail replica of his previous self, with a wrinkled face and almost translucent skin. The loss of grandma had taken him hard. He’d greeted Tom with a smile and firm hug but Tom hardly knew what to say to him.
This life, these people, belonged to a Tom Stabler who no longer existed. The man he was now would have to adjust his thinking to live here again, and learning how would sure as hell take more than one week.
Loneliness clawed at his insides. Here, in the one place he should have felt a part of things, solitude engulfed him. It would have been better to stay in Nam than be here with everything wrong, no longer a part of his home, his family.
Reviews:
Jan Selbourne and Anne Krist creatively interweave emotional circumstances with developments that are frequently unexpected, and the result are stories which I will long remember for their realism. Both novellas are stirringly heartwarming holiday romances. 5 Stars, Amelia Richards
Well done, both ladies. 5 stars, Lesley Wilson
For heart-warming Christmas romance, the two novellas in Finding a Christmas Miracle certainly fit the bill. 5 stars, jcbooks736
5 stars on Amazon with no review Thank you, whoever you are!
Author Anne Krist:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.
Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K
Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales.
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
We all write characters with all kinds of characteristics. But have you written characters with disabilities?
us come up with believable heroes or heroines. In my novella Awards Night, Allison comes home to find a car crashed through her fence and plowed into a tree. The man who’d been driving is not injured much—except he’s blinded by damage to his head. Allison doesn’t know the man. He says his name is Frank, and as you might guess, he’s pretty cranky. Some might even say nasty. But really, he’s scared half to death. In reality, though he doesn’t share this with Allison, Frank is the CEO and founder of a major international electronics firm. He’s not used to taking orders or feeling helpless. But now he does (to a certain extent) and he is. How he adjusts is quite interesting (I hope!).
I didn’t consciously set out to give Adrian Bryce, 
He enlisted to escape arrest and a wife who despised him. On the eve of the Battle of Amiens, he meets Andrew Conroy, a man with no family. In the thick of that huge battle a bayonet slices through Harry’s leg and he collapses beside the body of Andrew Conroy. Could he? It’s a huge risk, it’s his only hope. Harry swaps identity discs. Now Andrew Conroy, he’s one of the thousands of casualties and injuries in overcrowded hospitals, and eventually discharged as medically unfit with a leg that leaves him lame. Months later, the impact of this deception hits home when an unknown cousin of the dead man finds him. What follows pushes Andrew into a nightmare of murder and deception. His disability will be his alibi and almost his downfall when he meets Lacey, with secrets of her own. The only way to get to the truth is tell her the truth.
On the 25th April 1915, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps formed part of the allied expedition that set out to capture the Gallipoli peninsula—Turkey. These became known as Anzacs and the pride they took in that name continues to this day.
both Australia and England, where 2,000 Anzac troops marched through the streets of London. A memorial service was held at Westminster Abbey, attended by King George V and Queen Mary. Since then, on every 25th April except 1919 when the Spanish flu was rampant, services are held in every city and town in Australia and New Zealand, the Casey research station Antarctica, the very moving dawn service at Gallipoli in harmony with the Turkish people, Belgium and France and the UK. While checking my facts before writing this tribute I was surprised how many other countries acknowledge this day.
the news, heard the promises made by politicians, and the reporting on offenses by the media. It wasn’t a pretty picture. My Air Force uncle went for a year. My Navy dad continued to hear rumors that his ship would be sent. I had friends who were drafted, a catechism teacher who became a POW (a great man, Jeremiah Denton), and my own sweetie’s draft lottery number was in the 60s, had he not stayed in school.
war is a necessity and sacrifices are inevitable. Where would we be without the soldiers of the Revolution? What if no one had decided to enlist after Pearl Harbor? Where would the world be had America and other nations not stood shoulder to shoulder against tyranny? We’re damn lucky we have 
men and women of character who are willing to leave their families and fight for freedom and country. We honor those who died for us on Memorial Day.
war and throw that person a party to honor them. They said go to our barbecues, have a few drinks, be with our families, but take a moment to say thank you.