Out Today! One Christmas Knight - perfect holiday reading

ONE CHRISTMAS KNIGHT, an anthology of medieval novellas, is now out at Amazon. There are seven wonderful historical romances here, by various authors, all set around Yule and Christmas.

Here's a blurb for each of  the stories, plus the blurb and an excerpt from mine.

DEBORAH MACGILLIVRAY—THE SELKIE’S DAUGHTER

Sir Rhys de Valyer, on his way to Scotland to join his liege, Julian Challon, becomes lost in a blinding snowstorm. But this is only the start of his troubles. In a brutal ambush, he and his men are attacked and left for dead. Rhys only escapes the horrible fate due to his trusted steed, who manages to drag him away from the battle. Fearing death’s approach, he never expects a beautiful snow angel to come to his rescue.
After being cast out by her family for being the bastard child of a Selkie, Annys Bràigheach has made her life in the sanctuary of Rowenwood Forest, far away from the world. In spite of her acceptance of the solitary life, her heart still yearns for more. To her surprise, after making a Yuletide wish, she discovers a handsome knight, clinging desperately to his horse, half-frozen with two arrows piercing his body. Her healing skills may save him, but can she reach his heart?
Magic can happen at Yuletide if only you can believe….

KEENA KINCAID—AN UNEXPECTED GIFT

When Meryk the Outlaw finds a badly beaten woman beside the road, he almost rides on. With a price on his head and a winter storm raging, even a short delay could cost him everything. But when he discovers she’s ready to give birth, he takes the risk and vows to protect her.
Ada of Bew doesn’t want the outlaw’s help—much less his protection—but she has no choice. Unable to run any farther and ready to give birth, she must place her faith in this stranger…or die at the hands of the men who want to kill her unborn son.
In the struggle against the cold and would-be kings, Meryk and Ada discover love is the most unexpected gift of all, but will they survive long enough to claim it?

LIVIA J. WASHBURN--KEEPSAKE

Sir Hugh Tarrant returns home from war with a limp from an enemy's sword and a hole in his heart from the death of his beloved. Lady Margaret Dillon is filled with anger at the man she believes deserted her sister. On a stormy Christmas Eve night filled with danger, fate throws them together and makes unexpected allies of them. Will passion ignite as a result...or will they survive to find out?

ANGELA RAINES—LOST KNIGHT

Annalisa has lost everything to her uncle. Taking sanctuary in a convent for safety, she yearns to go back and reclaim her rightful place. When she discovers a seriously wounded man, she realizes that he might be the one who can help her.
Jack wakes up in a convent, wounded and fearing for his own sanity. The last thing he remembers is a firefight in the Middle East, and the pain of being shot. Waking up centuries in the past is not what he expects—but Jack has his own code of honor, and when Annalisa asks for his help, there’s no way he can turn her down.
With the help of Mother Albrade, a nun who has powerful visions and knowledge of the future, Jack and Annalisa begin a journey of discovery and bravery that just might change both their lives—or end them.

C. MARIE BOWEN—HAWTHORN AND MISTLETOE

Cursed by a bitter enchantress in ancient times to wander the earth as an immortal, Jurian Locke is bound by both love and magic to answer his beloved's need in times of danger.
Into each new life, his soulmate is born, unaware she is tied to him by magic, unknowing that a threat to her life will send forth a summons to a man she doesn't know.
Drawn together in dangerous times—his eternal love is her single chance at life. His curse, the only time he can be with the woman who possesses his heart.
Her call reaches him, this time, in 1328 at a Yuletide tournament for King Edward III.

TANYA HANSON—CANTICLE

To save her family’s fortunes, Lady Alisoun must wed an elderly earl the day after Christmas. But in the chapel on Christmas Eve, her heart collides with that of an elegant, mysterious stranger. Is he…one of King John’s spies?
Raised in a monastery, Lord Kitt has no experience with love, but finds his heart lost to a lovely lady. Yet he cannot succumb, for the day after Christmas, he must marry a woman he has never met.

LINDSAY TOWNSEND—SIR BALDWIN AND THE CHRISTMAS GHOSTS

Ambitious and arrogant, the young knight Sir Baldwin returns to his family’s lands and estate at Brigthorpe to face disaster. The pestilence has struck, destroying his parents and all his family save for a young half-brother, Martin, whom Baldwin does not wish to acknowledge because Martin is the bastard child of a serf. Baldwin needs to learn kindness and how to be a lord–and quickly.
Into this hopeless situation comes Sofia, a young woman who can see glimpses of spirits, of the restless dead. These revenants are very restless around Sir Baldwin.
Somehow, Baldwin and Sofia must work together, to make a true Christmas for the survivors of Brigthorpe and the Christmas ghosts. Can they do so in time—or will the gulf of class and custom make any love between them impossible?


For sale here at Amazon here 

And at my author Amazon page here

For sale at Amazon UK here


Excerpt from Sir Baldwin and the Christmas Ghosts.

One Christmas Knight

Sir Baldwin and the Christmas Ghosts

Lindsay Townsend

December, North of England, 1369

                                                                                                                    

“I can help you with your ghosts, sir.”

For an instant, no longer than a single beat of his heart, Sir Baldwin of Brigthorpe was too startled to answer. That a stranger had entered the manor and he had not heard any approach was disconcerting, that the said stranger could sense the spirits that accosted him every night was disturbing. Not that he let such unworthy, serf-like feelings show on his face. He was a knight—courage and power were his.

“Sir? Do you wish for my help?”

He would have ignored his own peasants if any had dared to keep questioning him, especially one certain grizzling boy, but courtesy to strangers had been ground into him. Reluctantly, he fashioned some reply. “I do not think anyone can aid me. There are too many ghosts.”

I should not have admitted that. Mother of Almighty God, I must be wearier than I thought.

Scowling, Sir Baldwin swept the last of the rotted floor strewing into the fire-pit in the great hall and watched the stinking mess smoke and slowly burn. His back and shoulders ached worse than after a sword practise but he forced himself to straighten and relax. He had not been physically attacked yet and doubted he would be. There are few left alive to try. The ghosts were another matter. There are so many...

Reminded of his losses afresh, the grief sharp as broken glass within him, Baldwin looked at the dais. A swift glance reassured him that the brat was still asleep on the platform, snuggled down in his own long winter cloak. Last year I would never have given a cotter bastard any of my clothes, even though we are akin. Frowning anew, he flicked the broom from hand to hand and raised his head. “How did you come here?”


Lindsay Townsend

Regency comedy GOOSED! OR A FOWL CHRISTMAS is Here!

Goosed! or A Fowl Christmas, the first in my Regency The Feather Fables series, is now available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Kobo and Apple.

BLURB:

The Feather Fables--where birds twitter and chirp and bring romance.

Ah, Christmas, what a glorious season. Decorations, friends, good will to all, a time of magic and miracles.

But not for Miss Julia Shaw. She is new to the area, her farm desperately needs upkeep, and the pittance she earns from her artwork doesn’t pay the bills. And then her pet goose escapes. Making matters worse, when she first meets the devastatingly attractive Lord Tyndall, the abominable man insults her as he returns her goose. No peace and good will for her this Christmas.

Exhausted from a year of business travel, Robert, Baron Tyndall, returns to London only to fall prey to his mother’s matchmaking attempts. Escaping to his country estate, he finds solace with the birds in his aviary. Except that a plague of a goose that belongs to his new neighbor, Miss Shaw, has somehow entered his aviary and wreaked havoc. That disagreeable lady had better keep her misbegotten bird to herself. Too bad she is so lovely. What a horrendous Christmas this season has become.

But even in the blackest depths, a spark of light can glimmer. For at this wondrous time of Christmas, miracles and magic can and do happen.

A sweet, traditional Regency romance with fantasy elements. 61,000 words.

EXCERPT:
What was that infernal din? Catching up her shawl, Julia dashed down the stairs and then out through the front door. Winding her shawl around her, she rounded the house and almost slammed into an unfamiliar gig.

The vehicle blocked her view of the goose pen, from which the honking emanated. But no one was there—her pet goose had run off. She ran around the conveyance and stopped dead.

Her pet had returned! Flapping, honking and biting, the flying goose—He could fly? She had never before seen him do so—attacked a large, stylishly dressed gentleman.

The man, his arms high to protect his head, flailed at the goose. His back was to her, his upended hat lay in the dirt and white feathers covered his black greatcoat. He swore. Loudly.

Julia’s ears burned. “Do not hurt my goose, sir!”

The man batted at the goose again and turned toward her.

Julia gasped. He was the man on the road a few days ago. His dark eyes blazed, his brown hair was mussed, and his sharp cheekbones had flushed from the effort of warding off the goose.

Her pulse raced. He had looked handsome at a distance. Up close, he was magnificent. Tingles raced over her skin.

“This spawn of Satan is your property, madam?” He jerked his head back from the goose’s open bill as the bird dove in for a bite.

“He is, sir, and you will not harm him!” She jumped between the man and the goose.

The goose, breathing heavily, plopped to the ground. Eyes afire, he angled his head around her. He hissed at the man.

“Gracious, what is the matter?” She stroked the goose’s head.

The bird went limp, as if he had been pumped full of air and all the gas suddenly escaped.

She tipped her head back to glare up at the man. Good gracious, he was tall. “He has never acted this way before. What have you done to him?”

The man’s jaw dropped. “I? This feathered blackguard has tried to bite me ever since I saw him. And just now he attacked me.” He scowled at the goose. “If he is your property, you are welcome to him.”

Available at

Amazon

Amazon UK

Also available at the other Amazon stores

Barnes and Noble

Nook UK

Smashwords (note, all formats are available on Smashwords)

Apple iBooks

Kobo

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Thank you all,

Linda
Linda Banche

Welcome to My world of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com

Warm up your winter: 'The Snow Bride'

She is Beauty, but is he the Beast?

Elfrida, spirited, caring and beautiful, is also alone. She is the witch of the woods and no man dares to ask for her hand in marriage until a beast comes stalking brides and steals away her sister. Desperate, the lovely Elfrida offers herself as a sacrifice, as bridal bait, and she is seized by a man with fearful scars. Is he the beast?

In the depths of a frozen midwinter, in the heart of the woodland, Sir Magnus, battle-hardened knight of the Crusades, searches ceaselessly for three missing brides, pitting his wits and weapons against a nameless stalker of the snowy forest. Disfigured and hideously scarred, Magnus has finished with love, he thinks, until he rescues a fourth 'bride', the beautiful, red-haired Elfrida, whose innocent touch ignites in him a fierce passion that satisfies his deepest yearnings and darkest desires.

Coming Dec 27th from Bookstrand Publishing 2011
15% discount until January 3! Pre-order here.

Read Chapter One

Here is another excerpt to tempt you:

Magnus was worried. The fire he had made should have brought his people. It was an old signal, well-known between them. His men should have reached the village by now—that had been the arrangement. They were bringing traps and provisions in covered wagons, and hunting dogs and horses. He had been impatient to start his pursuit of the Forest Grendel and so rode ahead, returning with the messenger until that final stretch when the man turned off to his home. He had ridden on alone, finding the wayside shrine.

But from then, all had gone awry. Instead of the monster, he had found an ailing witch, and the snowstorm had lost him more tracks and time.

Magnus shook his head, turning indulgent eyes to the small, still figure on the rough pallet. At least the little witch had slept through the night and day, snug and safe, and he had been able to make her a litter from woven branches. He would give his fire signal a little longer and then return Elfrida to her village. There he might find someone who could translate between them.

Perhaps she did have power, for even as he looked at her, she sat up, the hood of her cloak falling away, and stared at him in return. She said something, then repeated it, and he drew in a great gulp of cold air in sheer astonishment, then laughed.

“I know what you said!” He wanted to kiss her, spots and all.

He burst into a clumsy canter, dragging his peg leg a little and almost tumbling onto her bed. She caught him by the shoulders and tried to steady him but collapsed under his weight.

They finished in an untidy heap on the pallet, with Elfrida hissing by his ear, “Why have you done such a foolish thing as to burn all our fuel?”

He rolled off her, knocked snow off his front and beard, and said in return, “How did you know I would know the old speech, the old English?”

“I dream true, and I dreamed this.” She was blushing, though not, he realized quickly, from shyness.

“Why burn so wildly?” she burst out, clearly furious. “You have wasted it! All that good wood gone to ash!”

“My men know my sign and will come now the storm has gone.” He had not expected thanks or soft words, but he was not about to be scolded by this red-haired nag.

“That is your plan, Sir Magnus? To burn half the forest to alert your troops?”

“A wiser plan than yours, madam, setting yourself as bait. Or had your village left you hanging there, perhaps to nag the beast to death?”

Her face turned as scarlet as the fire. “So says any witless fool! ’Tis too easy a charge men make against women, any woman who thinks and acts for herself. And no man orders me!”

Magnus swallowed the snort of laughter filling up his throat. He doubted she saw any amusement in their finally being able to speak to each other only to quarrel. Had she been a man or a lad, he would have knocked her into the snow, then offered a drink of mead, but such rough fellowship was beyond him here.

“And how would you have fought off any knave, or worse, that found you?” he asked patiently. “You did not succeed with me.”

“There are better ways to vanquish a male than brute force. I knew what I was about!”

“Truly? You were biding your time? And the pox makes you alluring?”

“Says master gargoyle! My spots will pass!”

“Or did you plan to scatter a few herbs, perhaps?”

He thought he heard her clash her teeth together. “I did not plan my sickness, and I do not share my secrets! Had you not snatched me away, had you not interfered, I would know where the monster lives. I would have found my sister! I would be with her!” Her voice hitched, and a look of pain and dread crossed her face. “We would be together. Whatever happens, I would be with her.”

“This was Christina?”

“Is Christina, not was, never was! I know she lives!”

Magnus merely nodded, his temper cooling rapidly as he marked how her color had changed and her body shook. A desperate trap to recover a much-loved sister excused everything, to his way of thinking.

She called you a gargoyle! This piqued his vanity and pride.

But she does not think you the monster, Magnus reminded himself in a dazzled, shocked wonder, embracing that knowledge like a lover.

Lindsay Townsend
http://www.lindsaytownsend.net

Christmas in July - a host of Christmas pasts

As part of Christmas In July I'm giving away a pdf of my historical romance, Flavia's Secret. This romance is set in Roman Britain, in and around Aquae Sulis (The Roman city of Bath) and has its climax during the ancient Roman 'Christmas' - the Saturnalia.

It may not have been Christmas exactly, but the ancient Roman Saturnalia (17th-23rd. December) was certainly an opportunity for feasting and gift-giving. Over the years, this time of merry-making, sacrifices and gift-giving expanded to a week and the poet Catullus - who knew a thing or two about parties - called it 'the best of days'.

In many ways this ancient festival was rather like Christmas:

Schools were on holiday.
Gambling was allowed.
Shopping at special markets was encouraged.
Holiday clothes were worn - the informal, colourful 'dining clothes' instead of the plain, bulky toga.
Presents were given - parrots, wax candles, dice, combs, perfumes, little pottery dolls.
Feasting was indulged, with Saturn himself in charge as Lord of Misrule.
People wished each other a merry Saturnalia with the evocation, 'io Saturnalia!' ('Yo Saturnalia!')

Some of my other stories also take in Christmas. Why? Because Christmas is a time for families and for romance: the romance of exchanging gifts and vows, the romance of walking together in crisp white snow, the romance of sitting together before a blazing fire.

My A Knight's Captive finishes at Christmas-time, too. With the heroine Sunniva and the hero Marc, we witness the Christmas-Day coronation of William of Normandy as King of England. Then we go with them to Sunniva's holding in the north of England, where, in a hut in the snow, she discovers the truth about her own dead mother.

In a lighter vein, to celebrate the fun side of Christmas, I've a short story coming out with Muse It Up in December about a beauty that just won't wake up, despite the kiss of the handsome prince....

Christmas is a time of contrasts: the dark outside contrasted with the bright fire inside, the feasting after the careful mid-winter saving of treats, the hope that finally the year has turned.

This is what draws me to writing about Christmas, and Christmas as it was celebrated in the past.

How about you? What do you find appealing about Christmas?

My latest book, by the way, is another medieval, To Touch the Knight, available now.

Lindsay

Christmas Craziness!

I love this time of year. All the festivities in life and in virtual life. There are always so many promotional events, parties, baking, blogging and of course the regular writing tweeting working and eating we do. Its insane and fun, takes my mind off the dreaded winter and snow that is also a part of this time of year.

Added to all that is a new release I had out on Dec 1st! Which was preceded by a total crash and rebuilding of my website...and Oh my how my head has been spinning. I think I am coping well...I don't know if my family would say the same thing however...

I will be so happy when things are a little smoother, although not too smooth. I love being busy, I love interacting with readers and other authors and I absolutely love love Christmas with my family and all the craziness that it implies.

I hope that all of you have a wonderful season, celebrating with those you love and giving to everyone as much as they give to you. I am sending out virtual hugs and love and if you are interested in some of the other craziness I have been up to this month please check out my brand new revamped website, which also includes a free short story I wrote just for Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

www.courtneybreazile.com

MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE Release Day!

Mistletoe Everywhere, my Regency Christmas comedy, is here!

BLURB:
A man who sees mistletoe everywhere is mad--or in love.

Charles sees mistletoe. Not surprising, since he's spending Christmas at Mistletoe Manor. But why does no one else see it? And why does it always appear above Penelope, the despised lady who jilted him after their last meeting?

Penelope wants nothing to do with the faithless Charles, the man who cried off after she accepted his marriage proposal. But he still stirs her heart--and he stares at her all the time. Or rather, he stares at the empty ceiling over her head…What does he see?

According to folklore, mistletoe is the plant of peace. Can Penelope and Charles, so full of hurt and anger, heed the mistletoe's message and make peace?

EXCERPT:

After Charles had heaped his plate with more food than he wanted, he took one of the empty chairs at the table bottom, as far from Penelope as possible.

His tensed muscles eased as he joked with his friends. Smythe made a comment and Charles turned to answer. He caught sight of Penelope…and a monstrous bunch of mistletoe above her.

"Gordon? What is it?" Smythe swiveled in the direction Charles was staring. He looked up and down, and from one side to the other. "I say, with your mouth hanging open like that, you must see something spectacular, but damned if I know what it is."

With an audible click, Charles clamped his jaw shut. "I thought I saw…" He forced his gaze back to his companion. "Nothing. I imagined I saw mistletoe."

Smythe's eyebrows rose. "Mistletoe?"

"Yes. The house is named 'Mistletoe Manor', so the place is filled with mistletoe decorations. Pictures, wall hangings, ceiling trim, whatnot."

"Indeed." Smythe's eyebrows rose higher. "That 'mistletoe' you saw is over that Miss Lawrence. Lovely little filly." His lips curved into a knowing grin. "My jaw dropped the first time I saw her, too."

Charles stiffened. "I was not looking at Miss Lawrence. I believed I saw mistletoe over her."

"'Mistletoe'." Symthe's grin widened. "Of course."

And I hope you will get what you want for Christmas, too!

BUY LINK: http://www.thewildrosepress.com/mistletoe-everywhere-p-4295.html

CONTEST: Leave your name and email in the Guest Book on my website, http://www.lindabanche.com, for a chance to win a PDF copy of Mistletoe Everywhere. Contest runs through December 15. Note, all of you who entered my Pumpkinnapper contest are already entered to win a second copy of Mistletoe Everywhere.

Thank you all,
Linda
Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com

A Week in Dubai

It was chaos! All over Europe, people were rummaging through their drawers, frantically searching for their long johns, their thermal vests, their wooly knickers, their caps and gloves. The big chill had dug in its icy talons, dumping unusual amounts of snow on unsuspecting innocents, catching thousands of ill-equipped motorists off-guard. Hundreds of unfortunate Eurostar train passengers had spent the previous night stranded in the Channel tunnel, and airports everywhere had come to a tumultuous standstill.

As for us, at seven o’clock in the morning on December 20th, 2009, we were zipping up our suitcases, getting ready to fly to Dubai.

Apparently, it was the dawn of the coldest day on Swiss meteorological record. In La Brévine, a village up in the Jura mountains nicknamed the Siberia of Switzerland because of its extreme temperatures, the mercury dropped to minus 34° degrees Celsius. Of course, if you’re reading this in deepest Alaska, minus 34° degrees Celsius probably sounds like pool party weather, but for us Swissies it’s definitely a take-refuge-under-the-duvet-and-watch-TV sort of day. Not that it was that cold in the genteel lakeside village where we live; when the Prescott family tripped down the garden path in single file and bundled into the car it was probably a balmy minus 12°, which still feels a bit nippy when you’re not wearing a winter jacket. Since it wasn’t snowing in Geneva, we figured the airport would be buzzing with holiday-bound activity. We were far too excited to be going on our first ever beach holiday at Christmas to think about delays or cancellations due to bad weather elsewhere.

However, when we walked into the surprisingly quiet departure hall, one glance at the flight schedule board prompted a mutual moan of dismay: our KLM flight to Amsterdam was already delayed by one hour, and the frenzy of cancellations and mounting delays zipping all over the board didn’t bode well. Worse, there were rumors of a large snow-cloud blowing in from the north-east, set to dump vast quantities of plane-paralyzing white stuff on Geneva airport’s runways within the next couple of hours. We might not be going anywhere.

As it happened, we were luckier than most. Our plane finally took off three and a half hours late, which should have caused us to miss our connecting flight in Amsterdam, but since the weather in Holland was channeling the North Pole, our Dubai flight left with over five and a half hours delay. So, after a day of lounging around reading magazines, followed by a smooth six hour flight spent snoozing and watching movies (ooh, I really enjoyed “The Time Traveller’s Wife”!) we landed in Dubai’s mega-massive, ultra-contemporary airport at four o’clock in the morning local time.

Passing through immigration was an experience in itself. If you’ve ever fantasized about gorgeous young sheikhs, you’ll get a pleasant eyeful while showing your passport there! Maybe I was so tired I was hallucinating, but that night the Dubai immigration officers were all movie-star gorgeous, immaculately decked out in traditional long white attire, their black hair, dark eyes and chiseled features off-set by white headdresses secured by black cord. As for their female colleagues, they were beautiful, too! The young lady at the desk closest to us looked fabulous in her black silk outfit, her huge eyes and full mouth impeccably made-up, her gorgeous face framed by a matching veil edged with sparkly silver thread. Seriously, nobody should look that good at four-thirty in the morning. Well, certainly not immigration officers!

Haggard, sweaty, our clothes terminally creased, we dragged our luggage through the terminal where we were immediately ushered into the biggest car in the world and chauffeured through Dubai’s scintillating, techno-cool, sky-scraping scenery, catching our first glimpse of the brand new “Burj Khalifa”, the tallest building in the world, culminating at a 828 metres (apparently it’s nice and cool up there in the summer!). Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of the Royal Mirage Arabian Court, a beautiful seafront hotel built on reclaimed land on the eastern side of the famous “Palm”, the first of Dubai’s man-made islands. By the time we’d checked in and settled the kids in their room it was five-thirty in the morning. Mr. Prescott and I were more than ready for bed.

We were also more than ready for the bright, warm sunshine pouring into our room when we finally opened our eyes the following afternoon. We got up and managed to drag our comatose teenagers out of bed, then went to have something to eat at “Eau Zone”, the hotel’s trendy beach and pool restaurant. Later, we wandered down the long stretch of white sandy beach, our linen trousers rolled up, our flip flops dangling from our fingers in true Condé Nast Traveler style. We paddled and pottered and took deep breaths of sea air, admiring the incredible lineup of skyscrapers close-by. Still tired from our long trip, we plonked ourselves on sunbeds and snoozed for a while, and when the sun dipped a little too low for comfort we just wandered back to our room, flopped onto the bed and discussed what we’d like to do during the week.

Of course, relaxation (and getting a bit of a tan) was a top priority for all of us, and we spent plenty of time lounging by the pool, or on the beach. To Mr. Prescott’s surprise, my daughter and I even swam in the sea, quite an achievement considering neither Olivia nor I are famous for acts of bikini bravery in chilly waters. But we’d never spent Christmas in a warm country before, and there’s just something special about swimming in the sea, so we hauled in our tummies, braced ourselves, grimaced and went for it. Besides, it wasn’t really that cold at 22°, but in all honesty, at 28° the swimming pool was far more inviting!
One of the highlights of our week in Dubai was an expedition into the desert in a 4x4

I’d never done anything like this before, and wasn’t sure whether I’d enjoy it; hurtling up and down sand dunes seemed more like a macho sort of thing, but as it turned out I thought it was brilliant! Nabil, our driver, was keen to show off his rally driving skills, and once reassured we weren’t going to be sick in his car (apparently it’s happened quite a few times), took us for a fast, thrilling ride. The desert is magnificent, awe-inspiring, and mind-bogglingly vast. We saw a couple of antelopes, and I tried to take photos, but we were bouncing and skidding and giddy with excitement, so they didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped. We stopped at a vista point at sunset, and our giddiness subsided, replaced by a profound sense of calm. Dinner was provided at a nearby “Bedouin camp”, complete with camel rides (too many people), sand painting displays (what was on offer was kind of kitsch, but the technique was amazing), lots of rather greasy food, henna tattoos (potent stuff; two weeks later I still have mine!) and a belly dancer. We enjoyed the festivities, then skid-slip-jump-zoomed out of the desert at 120 kilometres an hour. Yeeha!

But the best was yet to come. On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, we took a taxi to Atlantis, a spectacular new hotel on the far end of the “Palm”. Atlantis has 1,500 rooms, including underwater suites where you can lie in bed and watch the fish swim by! Personally, I found Atlantis’ architecture rather cheesy in a “My Little Pony” meets “The Little Mermaid” sort of way. Nor was I impressed by the sickly-sweet smell if fast food permeating the air at the entrance to the huge waterpark and aquarium. But once we checked in at the ticket office, snapped on our plastic bracelets and hopped into the little golf-cart type vehicle that whisked us off to Dolphin Bay, I forgot all about such insignificant trivia. Of course I did; I was going to swim with dolphins!

Interacting with the dolphins was a magical experience none of us will ever forget. Our dolphin was a female called Lexie, who was initially a little distracted by her sexy dolphin boyfriend busy catering to another group of wonderstruck tourists a couple of splashes away. Nevertheless, she soon settled down to entertain us. Guided by precise hand signals from two dolphin trainers, Lexie danced with us, kissed us, hugged us, spun us around, and as a grand finale, pulled us one after the other across the lagoon at top speed! She showed a series of impressively high jumps, and even “spoke” (incidentally, when dolphins “speak”, the noise comes out of their blowhole, not their mouth). What do dolphins feel like? Smooth and slick and tough. Kind of like…moisturized bananas!

Christmas morning was spent lounging by the pool. We then enjoyed a nice light lunch at the beach and pool restaurant before heading off to the Dubai Mall, which, with 1500 shops, is supposedly the biggest in the world. Of course, my daughter and I didn’t share the same shopping program as my husband and son, so we immediately split up. While they went in search of sportswear and skateboard equipment, Olivia dragged me off on a quest for Top Shop. We got terribly lost in this overwhelming temple of consumerism, but my shopaholic daughter discovered plenty other shops to pillage on the way. We had a good giggle in Jimmy Choo, entertaining a fantasy of surprising the Prescott boys a couple of hours later decked out in designer bling from head to toe. Sadly, common sense got the better of me and the bling fantasy was soon abandoned. Olivia consoled herself in Top Shop, and I briefly considered doing some credit card damage in Gérard Darel (there was a dusky pink suede fringed handbag that definitely had my name on it), but I took a deep breath and kept walking. My husband was speechless to discover that the only thing I had bought was Jo Malone’s new fragrance, “Vanilla and Anise”. It smells wonderful, but, frustratingly, doesn’t seem to linger.

On Boxing Day, we headed back to Atlantis for adventures in the waterpark. Unfortunately, it was a little cloudy, and a chilly wind made running around in a wet bikini somewhat unpleasant. Nevertheless, Olivia and I enjoyed our leisurely ride down the Lazy River in giant rubber rings, screaming in all the right places as we splashed down the rapids, but no way were we going to follow the boys and launch ourselves off the “Ziggurat”, allegedly the highest and steepest waterslide in the world. After one last super fast rollercoaster ride in a rubber ring through a pitch black tunnel, Olivia and I called it a day and headed back to our hotel for lunch at a sheltered table at the beach restaurant, leaving the Prescott boys to pursue further aquatic adventures on their own.

Just over twenty-four hours later, following a lovely long day at the pool, we boarded our flight back to Amsterdam. To my surprise, I managed to sleep almost all the way, waking up just half an hour before landing. Our connecting flight to Geneva left on time, and by nine o’clock on December 28th we were home again, having had a wonderful holiday, and looking forward to spending the rest of the holidays with friends and family.

This trip was extra significant to my husband and me because, in a way, it marks the end of our wonderful family cocoon. Our daughter, Olivia, graduates in June 2010, and in the autumn she will be leaving home to start University. Although we know she’ll often be coming home for the holidays, our baby will officially have left the nest. Our son, Greg, will follow suit in a couple of years, and the Prescott household will never be the same again. It’s not that I’m particularly worried about these milestones, I’m just increasingly aware of them and determined to make the most out of these last few years of family togetherness.

Time is precious; use it to make beautiful memories with those you love. We made some great ones in Dubai.

I wish you a Happy New Year!

Lots of love,

Francesca

My award winning romantic comedy, “Mucho Caliente!,” is available in print from: Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com
It is available as an e-book from:
BookStrand, Mobipocket and All Romance Ebooks
It is also available in Kindle from Amazon.com
"MUCHO CALIENTE! - Wish upon a Latino Superstar"
An effervescent romantic comedy
LASR: Best Long Book of the Year 2008 : "Laugh out loud hilarious!"
NOR: Top Pick : "A seriously fun book with more twists and turns than expected"
CRR: “Hard to put down”

http://www.francescaprescott.com/