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    Orange Blossoms in December
    Orange Blossoms in December
    Orange Blossoms in December
    Ebook72 pages59 minutes

    Orange Blossoms in December

    By Paula Freda

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    About this ebook

    A clean, light-hearted, inspirational contemporary romance novella for hearts of all ages.

    Excerpt 1:

    Attie looked at the clock. Too late, she thought. Way too late. Spinsterhood might have its good points; it might not be so bad, she thought with a deep sigh.
    If truth be told, she was not unattractive. Dark brown hair that she parted at the crown so it bobbed softly above the tips of her shoulders. Dark eyes nicely spaced over a nose a tad bit larger than she preferred. And a finely shaped mouth to frame a set of good teeth when she smiled. All in all, a pleasant faced woman, whose smiles men returned affably, respected, and quickly forgot about. Conversation-wise, she tried, really tried, but soon they grew bored, or she did. Whatever impassioned her, left them disinterested, and vice versa.
    This past spring, her mom and dad gifted her an orange plant to keep in the corner of her small patio. She tended it carefully, making sure it received lots of sunshine and water, and whispered to it daily. But as was her fate with plant life, not unsimilar to her lovelife, the leaves stayed green and fresh, but no blossoms, and no oranges.

    Brendan looked at the clock. Too late, he thought. Way too late. Bachelorhood might have its good points; it might not be so bad, he thought with a deep sigh.
    If truth be told, he was not unattractive. Dark brown hair somewhat on the curly side. Dark eyes nicely spaced over an average greek nose and a well-defined mouth to frame a set of good teeth when he smiled. All in all, a pleasant faced man, whose smiles women returned affably, respected, and quickly forgot about. Conversation-wise, he tried, really tried, but soon they grew bored, or he did. Whatever impassioned hm, left them disinterested, and vice versa.
    This past spring, his parents gifted him an orange plant to keep in the corner of his small patio. He tended it carefully, making sure it received lots of sunshine and water, and whispered to it daily. But as was his fate with plant life, not unsimilar to his lovelife, the leaves stayed green and fresh, but no blossoms, and no oranges.

    Can Attie's and Brendan's guardian angels put their wings together and solve the problem?

    Excerpt 2:

    Beneficus whispered to Adelais, "We have sparked their interest. But they don't know who they are."
    "Not to worry," Adelais said. "I have discussed the matter with two of the Archangels. They have told me Mary is on our side. Attie is devoted to her. And the Lord is rooting for them as well."
    "It goes that high?" Beneficus remarked, in awe.
    "They are part of the domino effect that holy souls create — they and their offspring, all through time and eternity."
    "If they are this important in the chain of events—"
    "No less important than any soul to the Blessed Trinity," Adelais said.
    Beneficus nodded. "It will not be easy. The opposition has already tampered with their self-confidence."
    Adelais turned her eyes heavenward. "I went to Mary and she gave me her Son's advice. As He often says, Never underestimate the power of love."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPaula Freda
    Release dateSep 21, 2013
    ISBN9781301996162
    Orange Blossoms in December
    Author

    Paula Freda

    About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

    Read more from Paula Freda

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      Book preview

      Orange Blossoms in December - Paula Freda

      ORANGE BLOSSOMS

      IN DECEMBER

      by

      Paula Freda

      Orange Blossoms in December

      Novella by Paula Freda

      Copyright September 2013

      by Dorothy Paula Freda

      (Pseudonym - Paula Freda)

      Smashwords Edition

      Bookcover Insert Photos & Angels photo

      Licensed by Dorothy Paula Freda

      from iStockphoto.com

      All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

      Dedication

      With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 42 years have kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

      And in addition, I dedicate this book to my friend and fellow-writer, Ruth Ann Nordin, whose encouragement and inspiration have kept me creating and writing my stories. Ruth is a prolific writer in all genres, especially Historical Western, Contemporary, Regency and Fantasy Romances, from young adult to mature adult. Her stories uplift, entertain and inspire.

      Thank you, dear Ruth.

      Paula Freda

      CHAPTER ONE

      Attie looked at the clock. Too late, she thought. Way too late. Spinsterhood might have its good points; it might not be so bad. At age 38, Attie was blessed with a face that swore she was in her mid twenties. She kept herself trim, and that helped the illusion.

      If truth be told, she was not unattractive. Dark brown hair that she parted at the crown so it bobbed softly above the tips of her shoulders. Dark eyes nicely spaced over a nose a tad bit larger than she preferred. And a finely shaped mouth to frame a set of good teeth when she smiled. All in all, a pleasant faced young woman, whose smiles young men returned affably, respected, and quickly forgot about. Conversation-wise, she tried, really tried, but soon they grew bored, or she did. Whatever impassioned her, left them disinterested, and vice versa, much like her violet plants that never flowered for her, past their first bloom, no matter how carefully she nurtured them. Much like her love life, non-existent.

      Where was he? The man who would find her interesting enough to enjoy listening to her; admire her. Where was he? The man whose gentle spirit and integrity she yearned for. Over the years, she had met several young men who fit the latter description, but they never felt the same about her. This was always the case — blind dates, Meet Your Soul-mate Services, so and so's cousin, or brother, or widowed father.

      This past spring, her mom and dad gifted her an orange plant to keep in the corner of her small patio. She tended it carefully, making sure it received lots of sunshine and water, and whispered to it daily. But as was her fate with plant life, not dissimilar to her love life, the leaves stayed green and fresh, but no blossoms, and no oranges. When the cold weather set in, she moved the foot-wide plant into her kitchen where at seven in the morning, on clear days, sunlight filled the room.

      The newly repainted walls reflected the sunbeams streaming through the casement window over her sink. The eggshell peach pastel color proved a good choice for her kitchen and her living area, as the soft pink for her bedroom and the seascape blue for her bathroom.

      The phone on the kitchen counter rang and the answering machine announced her mother's name, Grace. Attie's parents preferred landlines and only used her cell number if unable to reach her otherwise.

      Attie lifted the receiver. Hi, Mom.

      Hi, dearest. Checking to see if you are still coming for lunch?

      Yes, of course.

      On her mother's line, in the background, her father's voice resounded, Grace, ask her to pick up some anisette toast cookies, the soft ones.

      I heard. I'll get them.

      You're a sweetheart, dear. We did go shopping earlier this week, but the store was out of them.

      I'll find them, don't worry. Her parents ought to let her do their shopping, she thought, shaking her head. They were both in their mid-seventies. Mom didn't drive, and of late, Dad kept to the nearby Church and local shopping area. She didn't mind at all helping them. They had been the kindest, most generous parents raising her in a home filled with deep respect and love of the Lord and His Blessed Mother. Before entering Kindergarten, Attie knew and understood the Our Father,

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