Title: Once Upon a December
Author: Sydney Logan
Date of
Publication: November 28th 2014
Christmas is in the air,
and best selling author Sydney Logan is gifting readers with a short story
collection, just in time for the holidays. Once Upon a December features
Sydney’s latest story, “What Child Is This,” along with her previously
published holiday stories in one complete collection. Available for the first
time in both paperback and ebook, these heartwarming and romantic tales are
sure to bring you joy this holiday season.
What Child Is This?
Estranged from his family
and the love of his life, Thomas Fisher finds himself stranded in an airport on
Christmas Eve. Imagine his surprise when a young boy takes him by the hand and
shows him the way home.
Mistletoe Magic
Melanie Taylor is on a
mission to find the perfect Christmas gift for her husband. Something special.
Something expensive. Something that will save her marriage. Can a chance
encounter on an elevator make her Christmas wish come true?
The Little Drummer
Boy
It’s Christmas Eve, and Justin Banks is
on the hunt for a last-minute gift for his wife, Megan. With the help of a
homeless man and the beat of a drum, Justin stumbles upon the one thing Megan
has always wanted. The one thing money can’t buy. It's amazing what we can hear
if we just take a moment and really listen.
Buy links
Excerpts
from
Once Upon a December
(A Holiday Short Story Collection)
by
Sydney Logan
Christmas is in the air, and best-selling
author Sydney Logan is gifting readers with a short story collection, just in
time for the holidays. Once Upon a
December features Sydney’s latest story, “What Child Is This,” along with
her previously published holiday stories in one complete collection. Available
for the first time in both paperback and ebook, these heartwarming and romantic
tales are sure to bring you joy
this holiday season.
***
Excerpt #1 from
“What Child Is This?”
Please
come home for Christmas this year?
I don’t bother replying to my
sister’s text. She knows I’m not coming home. I just power off my phone and
stuff it back into my jacket. With a tired sigh, I lean back, close my eyes,
and find myself doing the one thing I try never to do.
I think about the mess I’ve
made of my life.
Ten years ago, I’d been an
eighteen-year-old living in Paisley Springs, Tennessee—a tiny, rural town about
two hours north of Nashville. Ten years ago, I’d been a popular athlete with
dreams of becoming a professional basketball player. Ten years ago, I’d been
the golden child of Dr. Benjamin and Olivia Fisher.
Ten years ago, I’d been a boy
in love.
I still am.
Life is full of highways, and
some are just too long when you’re trying to find your way home. In my case,
some forgotten roads completely disappear. Time erases them, to the point that
you begin to wonder if they ever really existed in the first place.
But they did. I know they did.
I close my eyes and try to
ignore the image that flickers behind my eyelids. In my mind, Emma Hayes is
still eighteen years old. With her long red hair and deep green eyes, she’d
always looked at me as if I was her dream come true.
And I was, until I ripped those
dreams away.
We were together for more than
a year, and it had been the happiest time of my life. But being crazy in love
makes you do stupid things. Careless things.
And then things happen that you
never imagined would happen to you.
***
Excerpt from “Mistletoe Magic”
“Doing some last-minute shopping?”
Ethan asked.
Melanie blinked rapidly before nodding.
“I am,” she replied stiffly. “You?”
He lifted the gold bag, giving it a
little shake.
She nodded. “For someone special?”
“For my wife. You?”
“My husb—”
Her reply was cut short when the lights
dimmed, and the elevator lurched to a stop.
“Fantastic,” Melanie mumbled.
The emergency lights flickered on, and
Ethan pushed the alarm button before grabbing the elevator’s phone. Melanie
listened intently as he barked orders to someone before slamming down the
receiver.
“The entire block is in the dark,”
Ethan grumbled. He removed his jacket before settling himself on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” Ethan said. “The
guy said it might be a while.”
Melanie glanced down at her silk dress.
“I’m not sitting on this dirty floor.”
Ethan shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Melanie eyed his jacket.
“Speaking of suits, isn’t that Armani?”
“I have no idea which expensive name is
stitched on the label.”
She smirked. “But you know it’s
expensive.”
“There isn’t a suit in my closet that
didn’t cost a fortune. My wife insists upon it.”
“Maybe that’s because your wife has
good taste.”
“Maybe that’s because my wife is too
hung-up on labels.” Ethan loosened his tie and sighed tiredly. “Just sit down.
I hate enclosed spaces, and you’re making me nervous.”
A stubborn Melanie remained on her
feet, but the four-inch heels of her favorite boots weren’t the most
comfortable, and after a few minutes, she finally relented and removed her
coat. It was far less expensive than the dress, after all. She placed it on the
floor before slowly sitting down.
“See? Isn’t that better?”
Melanie sighed loudly.
“One of us should probably conserve our
cell battery,” Ethan suggested, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “My
Blackberry has a full charge, so I don’t mind keeping mine on if you’d like to
save yours.”
With a nod, Melanie reached into her
bag and turned off her iPhone.
“You don’t want to text someone first?”
Ethan asked. “Your husband might worry if you come home late.”
Melanie somehow resisted the urge to
laugh.
“No one worries about me,” she said.
A brief look passed between them before
they both quickly looked away.
***
Excerpt from “The Little Drummer Boy”
Rum pum pum pum.
It’s
faint, but it’s there. A quiet,
rhythmic beat that blends into the night. How this old man heard the sound is
beyond me.
“You
hear it, don’t you?”
With
a nod, I look around, hoping to find the source of the sound. The man points
toward the coffee shop’s covered alleyway.
“Back
there,” he says.
The
carolers begin their rendition of “O Holy Night,” and once again, I hear the
“rum pum pum pum” coming from the darkness.
Intrigued,
I step away from the old man and walk slowly toward the alley. Each step brings
me closer to the beat, until finally, I see a little boy, nestled in the
corner. His only light comes from a lantern, and a snare drum rests in his lap.
The drum is scarred and the strap is frayed, but it’s obviously his most prized
possession.
Probably his only possession.
Does
he live here? In this filthy alley? And where are his parents?
“Shall
I play for you?”
His
voice is just a whisper. His clothes are dirty and ragged, and the faded blue
jacket he wears is about three sizes too big.
“I
heard you playing,” I tell him, keeping my voice soft and light. The last thing
I want to do is scare the kid. “You’re very good. Are you alone?”
He
nods.
“Where
are your parents?”
His
face contorts in pain, and my stomach lurches. He can’t be more than five years
old. Maybe six.
“Shall
I play for you?” he asks again. A little stronger this time. A little more
determined.
Because
I don’t know what else to do, I nod. The covered alleyway has thankfully kept
most of the snow away, so I find a flattened section of shredded cardboard and
sit down. I don’t think about the fact that I’m probably ruining my
thousand-dollar suit. I just sit and listen.
The
boy’s sticks pound the head of the drum.
Rum pum pum pum.
Rum pum pum pum.
Each
rhythmic thump pierces my soul, and when he comes to the end of his song, I
reach inside my jacket for my wallet.
“No,
sir,” he says softly. “I don't need your money.”
It’s
hard not to laugh. The kid is surrounded by dumpsters and living in a cardboard
box. If anyone needs my money, it’s this child.
“What
do you need?”
“Just
food.”
“I
can pay you with food?”
The
boy nods vigorously, and I notice his eyes are suddenly a little brighter. The
poor guy is probably starving and could definitely use a bath. Dirt cakes his
face, but he has the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Why
don't you come home with me?” I hear myself say. “My wife loves to cook.”
He
shakes his head. “I can't leave. My mom told me to stay here. I have to stay
here.”
“How
old are you?”
“I'm
six, sir.”
“Do
you have a name?”
“My
name’s Luke.”
“Well,
Luke, my name is Justin Banks, and it's cold out here. It's going to keep
snowing.”
“Yes,
sir,” he whispers, his voice trembling.
“I
could take you home with me for a little while. You could take a bath and eat
some dinner with us.”
At
the mention of a bath, he smiles.
“And
then we can try to find your mom and dad.”
The
little boy bows his head, and when he looks up at me again, the light in his
eyes is long gone.
“My
mom told me to stay here.”
I
close my eyes in frustration. I can talk a judge and jury into almost anything.
Have I really met my match in a six-year-old living in a cardboard box?
Maybe
so.
But
I have a secret weapon.
About Sydney Logan
Amazon best selling author Sydney Logan holds a Master's
degree in Elementary Education. She is the author of three novels - Lessons
Learned, Mountain Charm, and Soldier On. Sydney has also penned several short
stories and is a contributor to Chicken Soup for the Soul.
A native of East Tennessee, Sydney enjoys playing piano
and relaxing on her porch with her wonderful husband and their very spoiled
cat.
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/@SydneyALogan
a Rafflecopter giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment