Thursday, December 29, 2011


At times, it seems as though Christmas has been going on for months, especially since it all began before Thanksgiving. The Christian community understands the meaning of the day, but even we become immersed in the commercial part of the season, too. And why not? It's a time for joy, sharing, caroling, food, and gifting. Even Santa Claus has a part in all the trappings. After a while, though, it all becomes wearying.

I must take after my daddy because he could not wait until it was all over. He always began trying to dismantle the tree to remove it from the living room as soon as the last gift was opened. In addition to the tree, he became tired of the rich food--abundant in my mother's kitchen--and begged her to cook a pot of pinto beans and make cornbread.

When I was in sixth grade, my older sister decided to marry her sweetheart on Christmas Day. Mainly this was due to the fact he was in the Army and wouldn't be home long, but also because our grandmother and grandfather--my daddy's parents--were married on Christmas Day. Daddy began to fume long before the day arrived, wondering how we could get that tree out of the living room so my sister could have her small family wedding in that same room.

On the big day, we got up earlier than usual to open gifts. Daddy kept saying, "Y'all hurry up, now...we don't have all that much time. So, rush we did, through the opening and oohing and aahing, with Daddy pacing and muttering. Soon, it was over, and Mother brought in big trash cans for the boxes and paper. She left the room to tend to the kitchen, Daddy went outside to do something, and my sisters and I went to our bedrooms to dress.

Then...we heard a crash and a tinkle of breaking glass. We all rushed to the living room. The big tree, now bereft of its presents, had fallen over across the living room carpet. Shattered Christmas balls lay about, and the icicles were strung out, and the lights had come loose from the electric plug, so those were dark and dead. So pathetic, this tree looked, as though it had become tired of the yammering about it being in the way.

So, the tree just up and died, falling on its face.

There are some who love to keep the Christmas trappings up and lit as long as possible. I've seen some homes that were decorated the first of November and stayed that way until March.
Halfway between San Marcos and Austin on Interstate 35 on the west side, Crumley's Grocery sat on a lot between a few older houses. The building was many decades old, and it was weathered and cluttered and really not too clean. The inside was absolutely stuffed with all kinds of vintage articles and stuffed animals. The owner was an icon of absurdity and eccentricity.

Most of all, Mr. Crumley outlined the front with Christmas lights decades earlier. Each year, he added more, and never took them down nor turned them off. It became an icon and was featured in the Texas Monthly magazine, a popular periodical filled each month with Texas stories. Just a few years ago, for some reason, it closed and the entire thing was bulldozed. But there was a man who loved Christmas.

On Ranch Road 12 from our house into town, a house sat off to the left. Long ago, the owner had created a peace sign on his roof, outlined with Christmas lights. Once it got it up, he left it... and although the lights didn't burn year round, they were turned on for a few months each year. 

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas             

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Skate 'Til the Sidewalk Ends

When I was a child, my little sister and I always got the same thing. We were very close in age, and about the same size--she grew to a nice height, and I remained shorter, so that we were about the same size. Mother dressed us as twins, same clothes, same shoes, same hair. Uh, no, not the same hair exactly. My little sister had naturally curly hair and I had naturally straight hair. In order for us to look more alike, then, by age four I had permanents on a regular basis. Otherwise, my short hair looked like Buster Brown, while my sister's short hair was all curly and cute. There is no justice in this world.
Christmas was always good, although we spent many of my young years moving about, transient, if you were, following oil camps. Still, my mother did so well on the one income, and managed to give us a good Christmas. I suppose we bordered on poor, but we sure didn't look like it and had everything we needed.
I remember getting a doll every Christmas, and what I got, my sister got. There were the bride dolls. Mine had blond hair, my little sister's had dark hair, and she proceeded to dunk her doll's head in mud so that it lost all its hair. I still have my doll to this day.
We got bride and groom dolls, baby dolls, Margaret O'Brian dolls, baby buggies, cap pistols in a holster, bandanas to wrap around our necks, jeans, but no boots. One year, we found tiny boxes up in the small Christmas tree that contained little gold lockets. Oh, I loved my locket. Whatever happened to it?
For years, we got packages of panties. Yes, those folded and wrapped tightly in a cellophane package, colored and slick and very pretty. As we got older, we always laughed about the fact we knew one gift we'd receive--a package of new panties.
All through elementary school, we wished for bicycles. We never got those, and I have thought perhaps they were too expensive. But would be difficult to move with two bikes, since everything we owned for all those years had to fit into the trunk of a 1940 Ford for the next move to another oil camp.
In fifth grade, though, we got skates. Remember those old metal skates with a key? I placed my foot on the skate, and used the key to tighten the clamps around the toes of my shoes and the heels. Now, I was mobile, and that began a new life of seeing the world on my skates.
There was a problem with that plan, though. I could only skate on a sidewalk, and the sidewalks invariably did not go very far in small West Texas towns. We had a big space of concrete behind the house where as many as four cars could park--if need be. I skated around and around there, then on the driveway to the front sidewalk. To the right, the sidewalk ended past the house next door. To the left, the sidewalk ended past two houses.
Oh, I loved those skates! Even though I fell sometimes and skinned my knees, I still adored them. I yearned to skate farther and farther, but one can only skate 'til the sidewalk ends. It was frustrating, stifling, even, and sometimes maddening that I could go no farther. I dreamed of soaring along a very long sidewalk, maybe across town! It was never to be.
 Maybe if we got everything we ever wanted, our yearnings and desires would diminish. Then we would stagnate, stop growing and learning, and become soft and lazy. And dull.
What was the best Christmas gift you ever received?
Merry Christmas to all!

Monday, December 12, 2011

Book Signing Adventure in San Marcos

On Saturday, December 10, I gathered my courage and had a book signing. It was like giving a party and fearing no one would show up. The venue was a popular coffee house, Mochas and Javas, a "home-grown business" owned by local resident Brian Carswell. He owns three MJs, and he is as popular as his businesses.
My writing group--The Write Girls--meet every Tuesday morning at nine o'clock at MJ at the intersection of Wonder World Drive and Hunter Road to discuss grandchildren, the weather, our families, the economy, congress, global warming, and yes, writing topics, too.

The book I sold was Wish For The Moon, a 1901 Texas story about Annie McGinnis, just on the verge of womanhood, whose life is changed when a stranger walks to the farm.
Available on Amazon in print and ebook
Please note the required attire for Saturday outings in San Marcos--jeans. Even I wore jeans, as did my husband. Jeans and athletic shoes and ball caps for the guys.

Rt. to left: Carolyn Goss, Celia Yeary, and Jini Etten
  You see why this is the perfect place to meet friends? Very cozy.
TapDa! The Girls! That's what we call these lovely young woman who run the place, the "Baristas." Aren't they pretty? And as nice, sweet, and polite as any southerner would appreciate. 
A vintage book, a vintage table, and a vintage author.

My soulmate, my life--Jim

I was pleased to sell 19 books here, and 5 the day after. If past experience holds, I may be lucky enough to have customers for all of them. I hope, I hope.
I think the book would make a good Christmas gift.
Thank you, everyone, who visited that cold day. You helped make it fun for me.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Clearing Emotional Clutter

These days, I find myself immersed and sometimes drowning in the busy-ness of the days. When I stop and reflect, though, I find that the unsettled, tense feelings are due more to Emotional Clutter than actual mundane, physical tasks.
Listing our priorities is one thing, but clearing out Emotional Clutter is another.

After all, I can look at my numbered list of "things to do" and carry through with least eventually.

But the emotional mess in my brain and heart is often more difficult to clear out. So, I find myself talking to myself more often.

How can we, as busy authors, mothers, grandmothers, wives, friends, and general community volunteers quiet the unrest in our souls, in our hearts, and in our minds?

And just what are these "emotional issues?"

Direction: Maybe I'm going in the wrong direction. Writing, editing, and promoting goggles up time. I do wonder sometimes if this is all worth the effort and the emotional turmoil it often causes. But if I were not writing, what would I do instead? Is there something more worthwhile? Or do I even need to find "something more worthwhile?"

Isolation: Generally I am a social person. But over the years, my social groups have disintegrated or they have merged into something else. As a result, I tend to stay home more, isolating myself from those I love and care about. Writing has filled the gap, yes, but it is an isolating type of venture, isn't it?  

Tension: I'm not an overly emotional person, tending to bottle up tense, unhappy, unsettling feelings. Some people cry, others throw something, and someone else might just scream. I don't do anything like that...but maybe I should.

Worry: What, me worry? I'm the world's champion worrier. I worry about my grandsons, I worry about the world economy, I worry about students and the loans they can't pay, I worry about all those hungry children out there, I worry about homeless people, I worry about everyone's health. No wonder I'm an emotional wreck at times.

What do you do to calm yourself in the midst of overwhelming duties and tasks, either self-made or something that barges in from outside your realm?

I can't claim to have any magic potions or spells, but there are some things you might do.

~*~*~My best calming method is to lie down, flat on my back, on my bed, cover up with a light quilt, and close my eyes. In those moments, I concentrate on breathing, and I may think of something lovely and pleasant...waves crashing on the shore, a slow walk through a dense, dark, quiet forest, or a very hot, aromatic bath. Soft, soothing music might help some, but me? I love complete quiet.

~*~*~I do like to write, so I might say, "Celia, you are having problems here. What is wrong? Write down your feelings, things that might be causing your agitation." I like this exercise because I often find myself writing something I hadn't even been aware of. When I do become aware of this thing, then I'm able to say, "Well, I can fix that," or, "Well, I can just forget that."

~*~*~Don't agonize over things you cannot control. Recently, I learned I can say, "I refuse to agonize over this." And you know? It worked fairly well. I'm in a small group that has the responsibility of seeking out persons for leadership. This is very difficult, but from the beginning I said to myself--"I'm not going to worry this to death. I cannot make something happen, so I'll carry out my duties and things will either fall into place...or they won't." Now, that removes quite a lot of stress.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas

Wednesday, November 30, 2011


"Sweet Sunshine Charity Cookbook" is now available on AMAZON.

Fifteen authors have not only contributed recipes for the Cookbook, each one has written a "cooking memory" with someone she loved. I wrote about making biscuits as a little girl with my Grandmother. She cooked on a big kerosene stove and of course, made everything from scratch. She tolerated my "helping." Some of us also wrote a children's story—mine is titled "Making Mud Pies for Mommy."
Each author also has added two childhood photos.
I love those photos!
Betty Dravis, Celia Yeary, Diane Craver, Melinda Clayton, K. G. Summers, Joselyn Vaughn, Diana Castilleja, Danielle Thorne, Ruth J. Hartman, Maggie Toussaint, Jennifer Shirk, Adelle Laudan, Katharina Gerlach, Stacy Dawn, Sharon Sullivan-Craver, Gemma Halliday.
The Cookbook is illustrated and the cover is fantastic.
It also contains coloring pages for children,
in addition to some very good recipes.
If you would like to add another charity to your list, I invite you to order one of these cookbooks—or more if you like!
Below are:
The Cookbook is now live on Amazon. The cost is $14.95.
The editor and producer of the Cookbook, Adelle Laudan, created an intro page on her website for an overview and examples of stories and photos.
 The charity is The Sunshine Foundation of Canada

 Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Linda LaRoque and her novel A Marshal of Her Own

A Little History on the Feed sack
Life on the prairie for women in the 1800s was hard. Fabric was scarce so every available piece of cloth was used until it fell apart. When the backs of skirts wore out, the panel was either turned around, or the piece was cut out. Sometimes the garment was cut down to make a garment for one of the children. Material was never thrown away, but recycled until it could only be used for cleaning rags.
Until around the 1840s foodstuffs, as well as animal feed, were packed in boxes, barrels, and crates which made it hard for a farmer without a wagon to get from the store to home. When the sewing machine was invented, double lock stitching made it possible to sew fabric secure enough to keep from spilling. Bags of flour, feed, etc. could be loaded on a horse.
The first feed sacks were made of heavy white canvas printed with the name of the flour or other product. The farmer could bring empty bags back to be refilled. When mills in America began producing inexpensive cotton fabrics in the later 1800s, these cheaper fabrics were used.
Not as durable, they weren’t refillable so women used them for quilt pieces and to make dish towels, curtains, pillowcases, sheets, and other items for the home. The manufacturer’s name was stamped on the sack in vegetable dye so the homemaker could remove it, often a difficult chore, and return it to pristine whiteness. Humorous stories about garments made with the stamp remaining abound.
In 1925 manufacturers began to realize how popular these sacks were to women and started to compete to have the most desirable patterns and colors. Here is a picture of a print representing Gone With the Wind.
Soon pattern makers were creating patterns, even evening wear, specifically for feed sacks.
The Woman - August 1953 Cover: Olga Nicholas, photographed by Dirone Studios, wears a feed-bag formal and matching stole., McCall's pattern #9121. Jewelry by Trifari.
Women often gathered to trade pieces so they’d have enough for a dress or the quilt they were piecing. Imagine how valuable they were to homemakers during the depression. It was hard enough to manage to provide food, fabric was an extravagance.
My cousins and I loved the feed sack dresses our Aunt Jewell made for us. Grandma Riley saved the sacks until there was enough for a dress. There was one in particular I’ll never forget. It was a floral pattern with muted oranges and yellow, like a watercolor. The skirt was full and of course I wore a petticoat or two underneath. I have a picture but it isn’t in color and not sharp enough to post.
How about you? Did you ever wear feed sack dresses? If so, tell us about your favorite one. Feed sacks are in vogue again. Maybe you’re a crafter and enjoy making items to show off their unique characteristics.
A Marshal of Her Own – Blurb and Excerpt
Despite rumors of “strange doings” at a cabin in Fredericksburg, investigative reporter Dessa Wade books the cottage from which lawyer, Charity Dawson, disappeared in 2008. Dessa is intent on solving the mystery. Instead, she is caught in the mystery that surrounds the cabin and finds herself in 1890 in a shootout between the Faraday Gang and a US Marshal.
Marshal Cole Jeffers doesn’t believe Miss Wade is a time traveler. He admits she’s innocent of being an outlaw, but thinks she knows more about the gang than she’s telling. When she’s kidnapped by Zeke Faraday, Cole is determined to rescue her. He’s longed for a woman of his own, and Dessa Wade just might be the one—if she’ll commit to the past.
Dessa stood still and watched as they conversed. Something stank to high heaven about this entire situation. Why were the cops chasing robbers on horseback? It’s not like Fredericksburg was that isolated. She glanced at the captured men. The boy moaned, and she made a step to go over and help him. The Marshal spun, and the expression in his eye froze her in place.

 “He needs first aid.”

 “He’s fine. The Doc will tend to him when we get to the jail.”

 “You could at least call 911 and let them patch him up for you.” She nodded to the man lying so still with his eyes closed. “Your other prisoner doesn’t look so good. He’s going to die on you if you don’t start CPR or get him some help.”

“Lady, no one is going to hear a yell from out here. Never heard of any 911 or CPR.” He propped the hand not holding the shotgun on his hip and threw her a disgusted look. “Are you blind? That man is dead, shot through the heart.”

Her head swam for a moment, and she struggled not to give in to the sensation and faint. She drew in deep gulps of air. “Well...well..., what about the coroner and the meat wagon, not to mention the CSI folks? If you don’t get them to record the scene, how are you going to cover your butt? The authorities might say you shot him in cold blood.”

He looked at her like she’d sprouted an extra head. “I don’t know what the hell you are talking about woman. No one will question my authority. I’m the law in this county. Now, be quiet, or I’m going to gag you.”~*~*~*~

A Marshal of Her Own is now available at The Wild Rose Press,, Barnes and and other online book stores. It is the sequel to A Law of Her Own available at The Wild Rose Press,, and Barnes and and other online book stores. I’m awaiting a release date for A Love of His Own, the third story in the Prairie, Texas series.
  For my release contest for A Marshal of Her Own, I’ll be giving away this vintage typewriter pin.

To enter the drawing, go to my website or blog and sign up for my newsletter. If you already receive it, email me at with A Law of Her Own contest in the subject line.
Linda LaRoque is a Texas girl, but the first time she got on a horse, it tossed her in the road dislocating her right shoulder. Forty years passed before she got on another, but it was older, slower, and she was wiser. Plus, her students looked on and it was important to save face.
A retired teacher who loves West Texas, its flora and fauna, and its people, Linda’s stories paint pictures of life, love, and learning set against the raw landscape of ranches and rural communities in Texas and the Midwest. She is a member of RWA, her local chapter of HOTRWA, NTRWA and Texas Mountain Trail Writers. ~*~*~*
Thank you, Linda! Visitors, please leave a comment.
Today, Linda will be giving away an ecopy of A Law of Her Own.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Have a Happy Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day 2011

Let's give Thanks for the Blessings bestowed upon us,
Undeserved, yes, but those with open hearts and kind souls
will gratefully understand what great gifts we have.
For me and my house, we Thank the Lord for loving us,
His mortal creations, His weak and often sorrowful creatures.
Let's be thankful for our time on earth,
Our health, even though possibly failing and weak,
We still breathe and therefore can love and laugh.
Let's be thankful for this great nation in which we so
fortunately live.
Let's give thanks for our loved ones, those gone before us,
and those in our midst.
Let's be thankful for the simple things in life--
Trees and grass, the bright blue sky, the life-giving rain
that falls on the parched earth, the wind in our face
and at our back, the beauty of newborn creatures,
Both great and small, for the Lord Jesus Christ
Has made them all.
I'm grateful for my many friends, both in my personal life,
and those on-line whom I'll probably never meet,
and for the special one who is my mentor and soundboard.
Thanks for my family, my husband, our daughter and her family,
our son and his family,
our three grandsons, our sisters and brothers,
aunts and uncles.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

First Things First...and that would be Thanksgiving

Why do we love both Thanksgiving and Christmas? Both holidays are about giving, receiving, and being thankful. Right?
So why don't we take time to savor them one at a time? Stores are geared up for Christmas, and we haven't even had Thanksgiving yet. I'm tired already. But it happens every year.

We walked into WalMart Wednesday, and right there in the wide walkway between McDonald's on the left and the beginning of the checkers' stations on the right was a gigantic display of pumpkin pies--almost as tall as I. I suppose this is because the bakery is next to McDonald's--close to the front entrance. The pies were on a three-tiered temporary structure, and I hoped no one bumped the corner, because all those cardboard props would not hold up, and WalMart would have about fifty pies on the floor.

We got a cart but had to skirt all those pumpkin pies, to the right or to the left. The pie display took up more room than was left for shoppers to pass by. They were almost daring me to walk past without picking one up. Not to denigrate WalMart--I actually call it Utopia--but the pies did not look appetizing. First, they were in aluminum pie plates. Do not serve a pumpkin pie in such a dish. Very tacky. Second, the pies were dark and thin and had depressions in the middle. Ewww. Not the kind of pumpkin pie I like.
Keep reading to the end, and I'll tell you how to make a gourmet pumpkin pie.
When we did successfully maneuver around the display, we almost ran into a decorated Christmas tree! All the fruit and vegetable bins had Christmas trims around the edges, too. Don't they realize that shoppers might be completely befuddled? I was, I can assure you. Orange vs. Red. Pies vs. Candy. Turkey vs. Ham. Stuffing vs. Potatoes.

Celia's Pumpkin Pie--baked and served in a heavy white ceramic fluted 9" pie plate:
Line the plate with Pillsbury refrigerated unbaked pie dough. This comes two rolls to a box in the refrigerated section of the supermarket. Don't use a store brand. Be sure to flute the edges as artistically as you can.

Beat together with an electric mixer:
1 3/4 cups canned pumpkin
One 15 oz. can of sweetened condensed milk
1 egg
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1 cup of hot water--not boiling...just very hot.
Pour into pastry-lined pie pan.
Bake at 375 degrees
Time: 50-55 minutes  
To serve: top with a dollop of real whipped cream sweetened with a little sugar.

Disclaimer:  This recipe is from a 1956 Second Edition of a hardback ringbinder Betty Crocker Cookbook, held together now with duct tape and hole reinforcements.


Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas           

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Jane Richardson-my UK Theatrical Friend

I have a list of on-line friends I'd love to meet in person. Jane is on that list. Anyone who has a Twitter account called "Gimmeahugyou" is sure to be very special, and she definitely is. She is a unique individual, and from my perspective, funny, emotional, very more ways than one...and loyal. What more could one ask? I call her my "UK theatrical friend." Now why do I use that term? Because she has worked as a deputy stage manager in the world of opera. How can you top that? Jane is Scots-born but lives in England--perhaps near Edinburgh?

Jane, do I have your place of residence correct? If not, where do you reside?

Hi Celia! I’m not sure I deserve that amazing introduction, but it’s just so lovely of you – and so typical of you – to be so kind.  So, you were asking about where I live, and while you’re a few miles out, I’m sure that’s nothing in Texas terms! I’m about 500 miles away from Edinburgh now.  I live just outside the wonderful, historical town of Hastings in East Sussex – I’m sure you’ve heard of the famous battle of 1066, one of the most significant dates in English history.  It’s a beautiful – quite bohemian and arty but in a great ‘let’s get on with it’ sort of way.  I’m very fond of my adopted home town.

If the area is "bohemian and arty," then I see why you love it so! But why is Edinburgh special enough to place your characters?

You’re referring to a story I wrote called ‘Edinburgh Fog,’ I would think, which is set in a city bar-bistro.  Well, Edinburgh is and always was a very special place.  You’ll know it’s steeped in history, from the days of the ancient Scottish kings, through to the seventeenth-century flowering of art, philosophy and literature in what was called The Age of Enlightenment, right up to its present day incarnation as the home of the Scottish Parliament and a truly European centre of business, finance, fashion and culture.  On top of all that, the people are some of the funniest, kindest and most down-to-earth I’ve ever met – hopefully that’s reflected in the way I’ve written about them and the city itself.  I lived there for about ten years or so, and while I don’t get back as much as I’d like these days, I have so many great memories of my life and work there. 
I'd love to visit that city! See? Your creative writing makes Edinburgh immensely appealing.
You also worked as a "holistic therapist." What in the world is that? Remember, I'm from Texas...I don't know about such things.

Right, holistic therapy….well, anything that’s ‘holistic’ is looking at a person as a whole entity and not just a collection of symptoms.  So for example, a person might be suffering from recurrent headaches.  The holistic approach would take into account everything about that person’s life, from their living and working environments, their medical and psychological history, things that are worrying them or causing them anxiety, anything in their present and their past which might still be affecting them, and so on.  Holistic therapies can work in isolation to help someone, or as something that works in a complimentary way to conventional medicine – for example, many people with long-term medical conditions which are being treated conventionally also find enormous benefit in, say, a regular massage with some deeply soothing aromatherapy oils.  The therapies I’m trained to use are aromatherapy, foot reflexology, Indian head massage and classical Swedish massage.

The process sounds tailor-made for me. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a Swedish massage or a Indian head massage right now. I believe I am now a convert.
Back on question.
What are some of your favorite things in the whole world?

Just some?  Okay!  Roses – big, blousy, old-fashioned roses with incredible scent.  Food!  Cooking it and eating it with family and friends. Oh, and some great wine to go with it.  Walking the dog on our cliff-top country park, and I don’t mind what the weather’s like – wind and rain can be as much fun as sunshine!  Tea and chats with my best girlfriends.  A really good movie or great drama series with an involved and exciting plot, watched with my hubbie, sitting on the edge of our seats.  A Mozart opera aria sung perfectly and full of emotion – bring tissues.  My kids laughing - they have the most contagious laughter!  Comfy sofa, dog on one side, cat on the other and me in the middle. Browsing the antique shops and junk shops in town. Crossing a bridge over the Thames in the sunshine, drinking in the view and watching the people.  The cure for Type 1 diabetes which I know is just around the corner. Early nights with a good book.  Brown paper packages tied up with string…..just a few of my favourite things!

Ahhh, what wonderful favorite things. Makes life an adventure, doesn't it? Since I've known you, I remember you love one particular country in Europe, and travel there often with your family. What is that country and why is it so special?

You’re right.  The country is Italy, and where do I begin to say what’s so special about it….?  The people, the food, the weather, the way of life, the language, the architecture - I love everything about it.  Though I have no Italian blood in me at all, there’s always a sense of something like ‘coming home’ when I visit there.  Why this should be so, I have no idea – but I’ve heard other people from many other countries say the same thing, so there must be something in it.  We’ve experienced so much kindness when we’re there, and of course the children are treated so well, too, by everyone they meet, so it’s the ideal place to visit with young family.  My favourite places are the hilltop towns of the central and northern regions, particularly in Umbria which is called ‘the green heart of Italy,’ and I would live in Assisi tomorrow if I could!  I’m also really fond of the little town of Deruta and have lots of pieces of Deruta ceramics in my home – just looking around now, I can see a plate, a coffee cup, a mirror and my pencil-pot all come from there!  I would urge anyone who’s been thinking about it but never gone yet to just book that flight as soon as you can and go – you wouldn’t regret it, I’m sure.

The sense of "coming home" when you're in Italy is intriguing. I don't recall experiencing such a thing...but who knows?  Maybe you lived there in a previous life.
Within your varied background, when did writing enter the picture?

I remember writing stories as a child, and I know that before I could physically write the words, I would make them up in my head and draw them out in pictures. At school, I loved creative writing, and also writing about the things I loved – an essay about a Shakespeare play was my idea of heaven! In my teens, it dropped away a lot – I had lots of other things to discover in my teens, I think! Then in later years, I worked some very busy jobs – while free-style creative writing wasn’t such a part of them, I did write training materials and video scripts, so I suppose the writing urge was satisfied that way. Then working in the theatre, well, you work such very long hours - especially if you’re working fixed-term contracts, as I did – and I don’t think I gave writing another thought in all those years. It wasn’t until after the birth of both of my children that I started to even think about writing again, for sheer fun at first, and then the way the publishing world has opened up in the last few years made me realize I could take it more seriously and learn as much as I could about it.  As you know, Celia, my kids are both home-educated, so a lot of my time is spent on that, but while I may be a slow writer, I still love it and can’t imagine ever not doing it in some shape or form.

And now, your novella--Edinburgh Fog. I loved this story about Greg Morton who owns and runs a smart bar-bistro in Edinburgh. Even though he has succeeded in making Teller's successful, something is missing from his life. I'd like you to tell us who is missing and why.
Ah, who is missing?  It’s the love of Greg’s life, Julia Brady.  They had a passionate summer romance some years before, then both went their separate ways – Julia remaining in London to pursue her career as an interior designer, and Greg back to Edinburgh to develop what eventually became Tellers’, as you say. Well, silly boy – he’d been apart from Julia just a short while before he realized just how much he really loved her, but he heard on the grapevine that she’d moved on.  He did then what I suppose a lot of us would do, and just let it be, putting it all down to experience and immersing himself in work.  But one day, Julia appears out of the blue in Tellers’ in Edinburgh, and she’s just as beautiful and lovely as Greg remembers her.  It takes him a while to get over the shock of seeing her, and then once he does, it looks like someone else has set their sights on her!  So the question is – will Greg be a major dork for the second time in his life and let her slip away, or is a second chance with her at all possible?

 The chance meeting with his lost love, Julia, in his own bar sets up a series of events that carry the reader along a fast, breathless journey. I read this story in two evenings...faster readers could finish it in one..and I'd love for you, the readers to consider adding this one to your TBR stack. I highly recommend it. You can find it on Amazon for the nice, affordable price of $2.50. Sorry...I don't know the price in the UK.

Jane, where else can we find Edinburgh Fog? 

You can find all the other e-formats at the MuseItUp Bookstore, here’s the link for that:

Where can we find YOU?

At my blog/website Home Is Where The Heart Is  and I’m on Twitter as @Gimmeahugyou.

Here's the blurb for Edinburgh Fog:
When Greg Morton returned to Edinburgh, it was to follow his dream of opening the smartest bar-bistro in town. Now Tellers’ is a huge success—but the truth is, deep inside, it means little without the love of his life.

Four years ago, he left Julia Brady behind in London to realize his business ambitions in his Scottish home town. By the time he’d recognized his mistake and admitted to himself he wanted her back, the grapevine told him Julia had moved on—and Greg had to face the fact that he’d been a fool.

When Julia appears out of the blue in Tellers’, he knows the only thing he should do is walk right up to her and say hello. But it looks like someone else has their sights set on her, and he’s a quick worker.

Is Julia about to disappear from Greg's life a second time - this time, for good?
Thank you, Jane, for visiting "A Little Bit of Texas." Come back anytime...we'll leave the gate open. Love you.  

Thanks so much, Celia! Love you too, and can’t wait to have you visit my blog on December 9!

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas