When I Was A Kid

Hello Everyone. Please join me in welcoming Pepper Goodrich to the blog today. Sit back, grab a candy cane, and enjoy!

Hi, Shawn. Thanks for this opportunity to blog with you.

When I was a kid, as far back as I can remember, on Christmas morning we ate breakfast before opening presents. My mother started the tradition when I was three or four because I got sick the year before from eating candy before breakfast, or at least that was the story. Because of where the Christmas tree was located, we could see it from the kitchen table. Therefore, the night before, Mum and Dad moved the table to the center of the room. This denied even a glimpse of the tree, necessary because, at least at our house, Santa didn’t wrap presents and he brought most of the gifts.

After I crawled into their bed and woke them up, my dad carried me through the living room with my head buried on his shoulder so I couldn’t peek. As I got older, he carried my younger brother and held my hand. Eyes squeezed shut, I made the trip to the kitchen—even as a teenager.

Phooey, you may say. What’s a couple of spoonfuls of cereal before opening presents? Except we traditionally had either pancakes or waffles for breakfast. Which my mother made from scratch. Pancakes. Not so bad. Waffles were the worst. You may know from experience that they take MUCH longer to cook than pancakes. And then she heated the homemade maple syrup. And brewed coffee for Dad. Who always teased us with asking for another cup when we had all finished eating. The groans from my brother and I were loud and long.

Then, that magic moment when Dad relented and said he would drink his coffee in the living room. Even then, we didn’t run. Although we did walk fast.

I think the greatest gift I received from starting Christmas this way was the delightful torture and delicious anticipation I experienced. To this day, I look forward to the smallest and biggest events. And even if something doesn’t always live up to my expectations, I have lots of fun thinking about what’s ahead.


Now, let’s shift gears. I would like to share with you my hot little Christmas story for grown-ups, written by Pepper Goodrich (my spicy side).

Can the Love Genie work his magic on a widow looking for a cuddle-buddy and a bitter divorced man in search of a hot Christmas? A lonely widow looking for a nice man to spend Christmas with and a bitter divorced man in search of hot holiday cheer meet up at the Love Genie's motel in a Victorian fantasy.

The Love Genie continues the sexual fantasies with a touch of magic in Christmas Cheer.

Irene Landin, fifty-something and widowed for two years, doesn't want to spend Christmas alone. When she comes across an ad from The Love Genie, she decides this might be a solution. Snuggling, even with a stranger, was better than being by herself. Especially in a romantic Victorian setting.
Mitch McDonald, out of town on an extended assignment, is alone after a failed marriage and bitter divorce. A friend e-mails him about the Love Genie, and he decides this is the year he can have a hot Christmas.
Between interruptions by the Genie delivering a Victorian dinner and opening well-chosen presents, Irene decides she wants more than snuggling and Mitch realizes he wants more than just hot sex. Once again, The Love Genie has worked his magic.