Favorite Holiday Movie
There are so many wonderful holiday movies and books that it's really hard to make a choice. My favorite movies, however, are the ones that make you laugh, so it's no surprise that I'd pick ones that make you chuckle and leave you with a smile on your lips.
Sadly, I can't make up my mind between two old favorites that I can't seem to stop watching around this time of year. So here they are, the two best holiday movies for making you laugh and enjoy the lighter side of the season.
The plot will delight romance lovers, but the music is really what this film is all about. Irving Berlin wrote many of the songs and lyrics and that alone make the move worth watching, not to mention Astaire's great dancing. Sometimes I wish folks would take up ballroom dancing again—there's nothing like it and old & young alike can do it without looking like plucked chickens flapping their bony wings the way modern dances do. Sigh.
White Christmas, sung by Bing Crosby You're Easy to Dance With Happy Holiday I'll Capture Your Heart Singing Come To Holiday Inn, and more…
Shepherd brilliantly captures the fervent longings and challenges of childhood. There's the school bully, the challenge of getting our parents to understand what we really have to have for Christmas, and the family holiday dynamics as dad tries to outdo everyone else in the neighborhood on the Christmas decorations without blowing all the circuit breakers. Of course, since my childhood was a little later than Ralphie's, we had a silver tinsel tree and one of those color disks that rotated to change it blue, red, and green, but we blew a fuse or two with the holiday decorations. And I can so empathize with Ralphie when he first discovers that advertisers don't always play fair with things like secret decoder rings. (LOL)
Published: Nov 12, 2010
Publisher Line: Black Rose Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Memories may help her survive, but will they help her resist her vampire protector?
Exploring Gwen's long abandoned childhood home in the company of her neighbor, John, sounds like an intriguing evening. However, she soon realizes her mistake. John is a vampire and her house is not exactly empty. Secrets—and the dead—don't always stay buried, and John's extraordinary strength and determination may be all that can withstand what awaits them in the darkness.
In the following excerpt, Gwen has asked her neighbor, John Wright, to accompany her to her abandoned family home. She knows he's a vampire, but despite this, she's attracted to him and wants his company on this adventure.
But when the two of them get to the house, she's not so sure it's a good idea to enter…
Excerpt from Vampire Protector
John stopped and waited on the stoop. He glanced over his shoulder. When she didn't move, he held out his hand in a peremptory gesture. Gwen stared at it, thinking how human his hand looked with a sprinkling of dark hairs on the back of his wrists and strong, blunt-tipped fingers.
He must have been working outdoors the day he died, for there was still a tinge of sunburned red deepening the tan. The sun-kissed color reinforced the false sensation of heat radiating from him. He felt warm and alive to all her senses, despite the knowledge that he was not.
Her heart twisted with loneliness. It had been so long since she had felt arms around her. But she hadn't met a man she felt she could trust, and a vampire was out of the question.
She had lost her way and did not know how to find the path back to a real life.
"Hold my hand if you're afraid of ghosts," he offered with a twisted smile. A flicker of sympathy grew in the depths of his eyes, revealing a sad recognition of the gulf between them: vampire and human.
With a sense of surprise, she felt his warm gaze tug her even closer to him. As if his awareness of the differences between them meant they shared similar core beliefs and that she could trust him because of that.
She shivered and thrust her thoughts away.
"Hanging onto your cold, dead fingers is not going to make me feel any better."
"I'll warm them for you." His dark eyes flickered. The corners crinkled with silent laughter.
"You can make me think they're warm. But they'll still be cold, dead fingers." The hairs rose along her neck and arms. She glanced over her shoulder toward the graveyard across the street.
"The remnants of the dead—those tatters—have probably drifted over from the graveyard. They'll collect here. It's not that I'm afraid of them. It's not like they'd consciously attack me or anything, but they'll be attracted to the body heat of anything living. Like me."
She gestured toward one of the drifts of leaves in the farthest corner of the porch.
A few pitiful gray, black, and white feathers lay amidst the debris. At some point in the past, a mockingbird had tried to nest in the shelter of the porch. The bird had been sucked dry of energy and warmth before it realized what was happening and flew away. All that remained was a dry handful of feathers and bones.
The sight did not bode well for anything alive that entered the house.