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Christmas Wishes (A Blossom Street Novel), by Debbie Macomber
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Katherine O'Connor (known as K.O.) adores her five-year-old twin nieces- and strongly objects to her sister's plans to dispense with Christmas. Zelda is following the theories of child psychologist Wynn Jeffries, author of The Free Child (and, as it happens, K.O.'s neighbor). K.O. is particularly horrified by his edict to "bury Santa under the sleigh," and she's out to prove that Wynn and his ideas are full of...snow. He's not going to ruin her nieces' Christmas! Too bad the guy's so darned attractive....
RAINY DAY KISSES is a delightful romantic comedy at Christmas-or any other time of year!
Seventeen years ago Susannah Simmons was a career girl who knew nothing about babies. But after babysitting her infant niece, Michelle, Susannah learned that one determined- and screaming-baby can make the corporate world look like...child's play. Thank goodness for her charming neighbor Nate Townsend. Now he's her charming husband, and Susannah's a mother as well as an aunt. And every Christmas Eve, Michelle tells her cousins how their mom met their dad- a story in which she plays a starring role!
- Sales Rank: #1559686 in Books
- Brand: Mira
- Published on: 2007-10-16
- Released on: 2007-10-16
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.13" w x 4.21" l, .42 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 400 pages
- Great product!
Review
Christmas Letters is "a fine companion to a glass of eggnog." -- Publishers Weekly
About the Author
Debbie Macomber, with more than 100 million copies of her books sold worldwide, is one of today's most popular authors. The #1 New York Times bestselling author is best known for her ability to create compelling characters and bring their stories to life in her books. Debbie is a regular resident on numerous bestseller lists, including the New York Times (70 times and counting), USA TODAY (currently 67 times) and Publishers Weekly (47 times). Visit her at www.DebbieMacomber.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
It was him. Katherine O'Connor, better known as K.O., was almost positive. She squinted just to be sure. He looked identical to the man on the dust jacket of that ridiculous book, the one her sister treated like a child-rearing bible. Of course, people didn't really look like their publicity photos. And she hadn't realized the high and mighty Dr. Wynn Jeffries was from the Seattle area. Furthermore, she couldn't imagine what he was doing on Blossom Street.
She'd never even met him, but she distrusted him profoundly and disliked him just as much. It was because of Dr. Jeffries that she'd been banned from a local bookstore. She'd had a small difference of opinion with the manager on the subject of Wynn's book. Apparently the bookseller was a personal friend of his, because she'd leaped to Dr. Jeffries's defense and had ordered K.O. out of the store. She'd even suggested K.O. take her future book-purchasing business elsewhere, which seemed unnecessarily extreme.
"K.O.," Bill Mulcahy muttered, distracting her. They sat across from each other at the French Café, filled to capacity during the midmorning rush. People lined up for coffee, and another line formed at the bakery counter. "Did you get all that?" he asked.
"Sure," K.O. said, returning her attention to him.
"Sorry—I thought I saw someone I knew." Oh, the things she was willing to do for some extra holiday cash. One witty Christmas letter written on her sister's behalf, and all of a sudden K.O. was the most sought-after woman at her brother-in-law's office. They all wanted her to write their Christmas letters. She'd been shocked to discover how much they'd willingly plunk down for it, too. Bill Mulcahy was the third person she'd met with this week, and his letter was the most difficult so far. Leno or Letterman would've had a hard time finding anything amusing about this man's life.
"I don't know what you're going to write," Bill continued. "It's been an exceptionally bad year. As I explained earlier, my son is in a detention home, my daughter's living with her no-good boyfriend and over Thanksgiving she announced she's pregnant. Naturally, marriage is out of the question."
"That is a bit of a challenge," K.O. agreed. She widened her eyes and stared again at the man who waited in the long line at the cash register. It was him; she was convinced of it now. The not-so-good doctor was—to put it in appropriately seasonal terms—a fruitcake. He was a child psychologist who'd written a book called The Free Child that was the current child-rearing rage.
To be fair, K.O. was single and not a mother. The only child-rearing experience she'd had was with her identical twin nieces, Zoe and Zara, whom she adored. Until recently, anyway. Overnight the five-year-olds had become miniature monsters and all because her sister had followed the "Free Child" rules as set out by Dr. Jeffries.
"My wife," Bill said, "is on the verge of a breakdown." K.O. pitied the poor woman—and her husband.
"We've written Christmas letters for years and while life wasn't always as perfect as we—well, as we implied…" He let the rest fade away.
"You painted the picture of a model family."
"Yes." Bill cleared his throat and offered her a weak smile. "Patti, that's my wife, chose to present a, shall we say, rosier depiction of reality." He exhaled in a rush. "We never included family pictures and if you met my son, you'd know why. Anyone looking at Mason would know in a minute that this kid isn't a member of the National Honor Society." He released his breath again and shook his head sadly. "Mason's into body piercing," Bill added. "He pierced his eyebrows, his nose, his lips, his tongue, his nipples—"
K.O. stopped him before he went any lower. "I get it."
"You probably don't, but that's lucky for you. Oh, and he dyed his hair green."
"Green?"
"He wears it spiked, too, and he…he does this thing with paint." Bill dropped his voice.
K.O. was sure she'd misunderstood. "I beg your pardon?"
"Mason doesn't call it paint. It's some form of cosmetic he smears across his face. I never imagined that my son would be rummaging through his mother's makeup drawer one day."
"I suppose that is a bit disconcerting," K.O. murmured.
"I forget the actual significance of the black smudges under his eyes and across his cheeks," Bill said. "To me it looks like he's some teenage commando."
Yes, this letter would indeed be a challenge. "Have you thought about skipping your Christmas letter this year?" K.O. asked hopefully.
"Yeah, I'd like to, but as I said, Patti's emotional health is rather fragile. She claims people are already asking about our annual letter. She's afraid that if we don't send it the same as we do every year, everyone will figure out that we're pitiful parents." His shoulders drooped. "In other words, we've failed our children."
"I don't think you've necessarily failed," K.O. assured him. "Most teenagers go through a rebellious stage."
"Did you?"
"Oh, sure."
"Did you pierce anything?"
"Well, I had my ears pierced…."
"That's not the same thing." He peered at her earrings, visible through her straight blond hair, which she wore loosely tied back. "And you only have one in each ear—not eight or ten like my son." He seemed satisfied that he'd proved his point. "Then you'll write our Christmas letter and smooth over the rough edges of our year?"
K.O. was less and less confident that she could pull this off. "I don't know if I'm your person," she said hesitantly. How could she possibly come up with a positive version of such a disastrous year? Besides, this side job was supposed to be fun, not real work. It'd begun as a favor to her sister and all of a sudden she was launching a career. At some stage she'd need to call a halt—maybe sooner than she'd expected.
Her client shifted in his seat. "I'll pay you double what you normally charge."
K.O. sat up straight. Double. He said he'd pay double? "Would four days be enough time?" she asked. Okay, so she could be bought. She pulled out her Day-Timer, checked her schedule and they set a date for their next meeting.
"I'll give you half now and half when you're finished." That seemed fair. Not one to be overly prideful, she held out her hand as he peeled off three fifty-dollar bills. Her fingers closed around the cash.
"I'll see you Friday then," Bill said, and reaching for his briefcase, he left the French Café carrying his latte in its takeout cup.
Looking out the windows with their Christmas garland, she saw that it had begun to snow again. This was the coldest December on record. Seattle's normally mild climate had dipped to below-freezing temperatures for ten days in a row. So much for global warming. There was precious little evidence of it in Seattle.
K.O. glanced at the coffee line. Wynn Jeffries had made his way to the front and picked up his hot drink. After adding cream and sugar—lots of both, she observed—he was getting ready to leave. K.O. didn't want to be obvious about watching him, so she took a couple of extra minutes to collect her things, then followed him out the door.
Even if she introduced herself, she had no idea what to say. Mostly she wanted to tell him his so-called Free Child movement—no boundaries for kids—was outright lunacy. How could he, in good conscience, mislead parents in this ridiculous fashion? Not that she had strong feelings on the subject or anything. Okay, so maybe she'd gone a little overboard at the bookstore that day, but she couldn't help it. The manager had been touting the benefits of Dr. Jeffries's book to yet another unsuspecting mom. K.O. felt it was her duty to let the poor woman know what might happen if she actually followed Dr. Jeffries's advice. The bookseller had strenuously disagreed and from then on, the situation had gotten out of hand.
Not wanting him to think she was stalking him, which she supposed she was, K.O. maintained a careful distance. If his office was in Seattle, it might even be in this neighborhood. After the renovations on Blossom Street a few years ago, a couple of buildings had been converted to office space. If she could discreetly discover where he practiced, she might go and talk to him sometime. She hadn't read his book but had leafed through it, and she knew he was a practicing child psychologist. She wanted to argue about his beliefs and his precepts, tell him about the appalling difference in her nieces' behavior since the day Zelda had adopted his advice.
She'd rather he didn't see her, so she dashed inconspicuously across the street to A Good Yarn, and darted into the doorway, where she pretended to be interested in a large Christmas stocking that hung in the display window. From the reflection in the window, she saw Dr. Jeffries walking briskly down the opposite sidewalk.
As soon as it was safe, she dashed from the yarn store to Susannah's Garden, the flower shop next door, and nearly fell over a huge potted poinsettia, all the while keeping her eyes on Dr. Jeffries. He proved one thing, she mused. Appearances were deceiving. He looked so…so normal. Who would've guessed that beneath that distinguished, sophisticated and—yes—handsome exterior lay such a fiend? Perhaps fiend was too strong a word. Yet she considered Wynn Jeffries's thinking to be nothing short of diabolical, if Zoe and Zara were anything to judge by.
No way!
K.O. stopped dead in her tracks. She watched as Wynn Jeffries paused outside her condo building, her very own building, entered the code and strolled inside.
Without checking for traffic, K.O. crossed the street again. A horn honked and brakes squealed, but she barely noticed. She was dumbfounded.
Speechless.
There had to be some mistake. Perhaps he was making a house call. No, that wasn't right. What doctor made house calls in this day and age? What psychologist made house calls ever? Besides, he didn't exactly look like the compassionate type. K.O. bit her lip and wondered when she'd become so cynical. It'd happened around the same time her sister read Dr. Jeffries's book, she decided.
The door had already closed before she got there. She entered her code and stepped inside just in time to see the elevator glide shut. Standing back, she watched the floor numbers flicker one after another.
"Katherine?"
K.O. whirled around to discover LaVonne Young, her neighbor and friend. LaVonne was the only person who called her Katherine. "What are you doing, dear?"
K.O. pointed an accusing finger past the elegantly decorated lobby tree to the elevator.
LaVonne stood in her doorway with her huge tomcat, named predictably enough, Tom, tucked under her arm. She wore a long shapeless dress that was typical of her wardrobe, and her long graying hair was drawn back in a bun. When K.O. had first met her, LaVonne had reminded her of the character Auntie Mame. She still did. "Something wrong with the elevator?" LaVonne asked.
"No, I just saw a man…" K.O. glanced back and noticed that the elevator had gone all the way up to the penthouse suite. That shouldn't really come as a shock. His book sales being what they were, he could easily afford the penthouse.
LaVonne's gaze followed hers. "That must be Dr. Jeffries."
"You know him?" K.O. didn't bother to hide her interest. The more she learned, the better her chances of engaging him in conversation.
"Of course I know Dr. Jeffries," the retired accountant said. "I know everyone in the building."
"How long has he lived here?" K.O. demanded. She'd been in this building since the first week it was approved for occupation. So she should've run into him before now.
"I believe he moved in soon after the place was renovated. In fact, the two of you moved in practically on the same day."
That was interesting. Of course, there was a world of difference between a penthouse suite and the first-floor, one-bedroom unit she owned. Or rather, that the bank owned and she made payments on. With the inheritance she'd received from her maternal grandparents, K.O. had put a down payment on the smallest, cheapest unit available. It was all she could afford at the time—and all she could afford now. She considered herself lucky to get in when she did.
"His name is on the mailbox," LaVonne said, gesturing across the lobby floor to the mailboxes.
"As my sister would tell you, I'm a detail person." It was just the obvious she missed.
Most helpful customer reviews
5 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Great Holdiay Read---Laugh Out Loud Funny!!!!
By Amazon Customer
Christmas Wishes: Christmas LettersRainy Day Kisses
This book was laugh out loud funny!!!! I have just recently discovered Debbie Macomber, and I thought this book was considerably different from the Blossom Street books I have been reading. I think Debbie Macomber is a very versatile author. It isn't often I read someone's work that I can both laugh and cry at!!! Way to go!!!
Oh, and I love the confrontation between author/doctor and just a regular family member!!!!
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Cute Book
By rebelmomof2
I am not a big Debbie Macomber fan ... but this book fit the mood when one is sick and don't want to think about anything other than light fluffy romances. This book fits the bill for me today. It's cute, syrupy sweet and a fast read. I managed to read it within a day of taking care of a sick kid, sick hubby, changing the sheets and doing the laundry and all this while not feeling so hot myself. This book is perfect for those calagon moments that you wish you could have just to take you away from the mess at hand.
This book has two stories in one book. The first one deals with K.O. who doesn't have time for pretenses such as her sister allowing her twin daughters to have the rule of the roost and she definitely did not like the author of the book, Wynn Jefferies' theories on how to raise children. Then she gets set up on a date with the author and predictably, love follows.
The second one is about a woman who is on the fast-track to being a VP of a popular sporting goods company only to realize that she is missing the excitement of having her own family when she babysits her nine-month-old niece. Then her next-door neighbor comes over and saves the day and captures her heart. Love is bliss.
This is a cute book for those times when you do need a lighter fluffy reading ... or for that long plane ride home.
11/06/09
4 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
K.O.'s Eating Disorder
By College Kid
I liked these stories - so four stars.
But I was disappointed - and frankly, concerned - to see K.O weighing herself first-thing every single morning, agonizing over gaining 2lbs, reducing caloric intake for the day, spending the day on the treadmill, starving herself, and brushing her teeth whenever she gets hungry so she won't eat. The only things she eats, when she's alone, is stuff like 'a piece of dry toast' for breakfast, and 'a cup of yogurt and a glass of V8' for lunch. She has a bran muffin once a week, as a treat. Her stomach is rumbling, and she can't bear to look at food, but she refuses to eat. Instead, she gets on the treadmill. Because Wynn "won't want her" if he finds out she gained weight. Really, she says that. And she's talking about 2 pounds!!
If this is how K.O. lives her life, I think she's questionably close to suffering from an eating disorder. She's like one of those anorexic girls in the Intervention show who say "I'm just watching what I eat, ok? Back off!" But daily weigh-ins, having rules about reduced calorie days, brushing your teeth instead of eating... This is not a healthy way to live. She's certainly coming in under the 2000 calorie line, and then she works out for 4 miles on the treadmill? When people admit to doing that, they often have deeper problems.
K.O. sets a bad example for the rest of us by making it seem normal, even desirable, to be so fixated on her weight (instead of her strength and her health) and to take measures like these to manage her weight. I think K.O.'s next stop on Blossom street should be a counselor.
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