I know, I know, it’s barely November.
And I am a huge proponent of Thanksgiving (and not skipping over it), but also? I love the Christmas season.
I love the decorations (Nativity sets are a favorite). I love the joyful anticipation that fills the air. I love the music.
And honestly, I don’t even mind that for many people all of those things are based in presents and Santa and that sort of thing. Because I know the truth. I know Who we are waiting for with joyful anticipation.
I know Who brings the best gifts that are without price.
And I’m guessing you know, too.
And yet, for all of that? I haven’t written very many Christmas books.
I have a handful of reasons — mostly I don’t necessarily think about the season when I’m writing. The series has its calendar and sometimes we hit December and Christmas, but that doesn’t make it a “Christmas story.”
It’s something I plan to try and rectify in the coming years.
In the meantime, I do still love the Christmas books that I have written. And one of them–maybe the one I love most–is currently free! (Although I say that and then start coming up with mental caveats, because I don’t want any of my Christmas books to feel left out. Yes, I know books don’t have feelings. Yes, I know the people in them are made up. But also? Shhh.)
Hope for Christmas is the first book in my Hope Ranch series, but it’s not the first time you meet the Hewitt siblings. Even so, Cyan Hewitt (they all have blue names – it sounded like a good idea at the time), is someone I just love. He’s nerdy and a little unfocused. And he absolutely doesn’t believe in Jesus or love at first sight.
Until he makes his way to Hope Ranch.
There he meets Maria, a single mom who runs his grandparents’ home, and it’s all the lightning strikes and Cupid bolts. And her son Calvin? He’s a massive bonus.
But even better? His grandparents water and tend the seed his sister Azure planted and it grows into a real relationship with Jesus.
What better way to celebrate Christmas than falling in love with Him and turning over your life?
Here’s a little excerpt:
Cyan dragged his thoughts together—he’d seen beautiful women before, so there was no rational reason for this one to be affecting him—and cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Betsy. Or Wayne. Hewitt.”
She lifted a single eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Cyan. Also Hewitt. Their grandson?”
The woman blinked and the tiniest hint of a frown formed on her lips. “I’ll see if Betsy’s available for you.”
The door shut in his face. Cyan blew out a breath. He hadn’t missed the implication that Betsy might not be willing to see him. There was no reason for that. At least, not that he knew of. Did they have people claiming to be their grandchild show up every day?
The door was flung open, and a woman who bore a much closer resemblance to what he’d pictured flew through it, her arms extended. “Cyan? You’re here! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
He chuckled and returned her hug, patting her shoulders and trying to ease back. “I wasn’t sure I was until this morning.”
“Still, you could’ve called. Or texted.” Her eyes danced. “I’m getting better at texting. Where’d you come from today?”
“Durango. It’s not a bad drive.”
“You must be famished. It’s nearly lunch anyway. Let’s go see if Maria has something you can eat. Come in. Wayne’s going to be so excited you’re here. He’s in town this morning.” She looped her arm through his and dragged him into the house while she spoke.
“It’s okay that I came?” Cyan took in the warm, wood floors and southwestern art on the walls as they crossed the entry hall and a huge open living room before taking two steps up to a tiled kitchen.
“It’s more than okay. It’s a delight. You sit here.” Betsy patted a stool at the counter and frowned. “Now, where did Maria get to?”
“I’m right here.” The woman who’d answered the door at first stepped out of an alcove. Pantry? She flicked a glance at Cyan and her mouth turned down. “He’s really your grandson?”
“Don’t let her manner fool you, Maria’s as sweet as they come once she gets to know you. She just doesn’t like being interrupted when she’s fixing lunch.” Betsy patted Cyan’s hand and beamed at Maria. “Of course he is. He’s the spitting image of his father, too.”
Now it was Cyan’s turn to frown. People who knew his dad said that. A lot. But it wasn’t something he focused on. He loved his dad, but he didn’t want anyone thinking he was a cookie cutter replica. “There’s some of my mom in me as well.”
“Oh honey, of course there is.” Betsy studied his face. “I meant it as a compliment. Anyway, Maria, meet my grandson Cyan. Cyan, this is Maria Sanchez. She keeps us running, fed, and organized.”
“I’m the housekeeper. That’s what she’s trying to say.” Maria offered a tight smile. “One more for lunch?”
“If you made enough, otherwise I can fix him a sandwich.”
“I have a big pot of posole on, there’s plenty. Hope you like green chiles.” Maria took a wooden spoon and stirred the enormous stewpot that steamed on the stove.
“I don’t know whether I do or not, but I guess I’ll find out. I appreciate you feeding me.”
You can read all about Cyan and Maria for free if you grab your copy today!
And if you like audiobooks better – you can get that on my website for a deal. (If you want an even bigger deal, grab the audio for the whole series!)
What’s your favorite part of the Christmas season?