Seven Christmas trees–excessive in some people’s minds, but for Wendy Nabity, they aren’t excessive but essential. One tree for each of her cats. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Cupid, Blitzen, and Vixen each need their own trees, you see. And what “mommy” wouldn’t have stockings hung on her chimney “with care”–one for each of her fur babies? But something isn’t right at the Nabity house. Wendy keeps finding things where they shouldn’t be, and the local police–well, they think she’s half-crazed and blind to the obvious. The cats are playing with the trees in her absence. Neighbors on each side of her do little to help. Shy Peter will hardly look her in the eye as he blushes his way through conversations and rushes away–the besotted darling. Neal, well the whole town knows just what a rude curmudgeon Neal Kirkpatrick is! But if he makes one more rude demand of her, she might just start dumping the litter box on his front porch! But even Fairbury’s police can’t ignore a threatening note left in one of the stockings, and one officer takes it upon himself to do something. Nothing could have prepared Wendy for the danger to her and her cats. She’s confident she knows who is responsible, but why won’t anyone believe her? What can she do to prove it? Christmas Stalkings–who knew Christmastime could feel so sinister? And don't miss the prequel/sequel.. New Year's Revolutions
Author
**fingers skittle across the keyboard. Stop. Eyelids blink over the top** Oh, was this bio day? Oops! I forgot. I was lost in my latest manuscript. Umm... bio. Yeah. Hi! I’m Chautona Havig. (for those who care, that’s Shuh-TONE-uh HAVE-ig). Yeah. Just work with me here. I should have used a pseudonym, but when you grow up with a name like Chautona, it kind of sticks. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near. ~ Hebrews 10: 23–25 Those aren’t just words on a page for me–they’re why I write. I write to encourage my brothers and sisters in Christ. The stories I create are to make people laugh, cry, question, consider. They’re for you. When the world screams for hope, I try to point you to the true Source of hope–Jesus. Sometimes life in the church no longer seems a refuge from the pain of a self-serving world around us, but through my stories, I try to point you to the only Refuge that can truly help–the Father’s Everlasting Arms. And sometimes we just need an escape from the monotony, the emptiness we see around us. We need joy, laughter–what I like to call “just the write escape.” Christian fiction without apology or pretense–lived, not preached. What does that even mean? It means I care–about you. About your walk with Jesus. I care about the words you put before your eyes, the mental pictures those words conjure. It’s difficult to express just how much I love my brothers and sisters in Christ. It’s difficult to share just how much I love you. But I do. And I write for you. I sit in my little house in California’s Mojave Desert and I write to show you why one sister believes one thing, why a brother believes another. I write to show you how some Christians handle trials or triumphs–for you. So when you’re faced with something–good or bad, it doesn’t matter–maybe it’ll spark a memory. Maybe that memory will smolder until you pull out your Bible and see what the Lord said about it–about His great love for you. For YOU! And maybe, just maybe, you’ll share that love with another hurting, confused, or blessed-with-more-than-she-knows-what-to-do-with soul. I just happen to think that’s the most blessed giving anyone could hope to receive.
