Spotlight & Giveaway: Christmas from the Heart by Sheila Roberts

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Sheila Roberts to HJ!

Hi Sheila and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Christmas from the Heart!

 
Thanks so much for hosting me. And an early happy holidays to all my fellow Harlequin junkies.
 

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

I had such fun with this book. It’s a Scrooge in disguise tale and one I really enjoyed writing. Everyone hates those hard-hearted businessmen, don’t they? But what if the businessman has worked hard to get where he is, is determined to save his business, and is simply cutting corners? Can he justify that to the woman who’s non-profit is one of the corners that just got cut? Hmm.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

“… sometimes, in spite of her satisfying work and her good friends, her life seemed small. Like she was waiting for something big, Someone big. Someone who would make her pulse race when she looked at him.”

What inspired this book?

I got to thinking how important all those charitable organizations and non-profits are. We assume they will always be around to help when we need it. But they depend on donations. If nobody donates nobody gets helped. And sometimes we think when it comes to money that businesses should carry the load. But it’s not fair to dump everything on them either. (Having organized events I’ve seen how often businesses are asked to donate goodies and funds.) Business owners have families depending on them. They offer sick leave, and usually contribute to some sort of retirement plan for their employees as well as kicking in a portion of money to Social Security right along with those employees. I guess the point I wanted to make is helping others is no one person’s or corporation’s responsibility. We all need to pitch in and help those in need. And this time of year, when we celebrate God’s greatest gift, is the perfect time to open our hearts and our wallets. If we all do a little we can accomplish a lot.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

Olivia was easy. She’s everything I want to be. Guy was a little harder. I did want to get his viewpoint across but I also wanted him to learn to see beyond the bottom line. In the end, I was happy with the choice he made.

What was your favorite scene to write?

It has to be the scene where my poor heroine, Livi, is dreaming about, well, not sugarplums. She’s worried about her non-profit, Christmas from the Heart, failing the people who depend on them to make their holidays bright. It’s not looking good and she’s not feeling good. Oh, the things we dream when we’re worried:

December twenty-fifth already? How had that happened? When Livi had gone to bed it had only been December eighth. Now here she was at the teller window in Pine River First National, wearing red footie pajamas with panty hose pulled over her head and a Santa hat, pointing a squirt gun at Mrs. Whittier the teller.
“Give me everything you’ve got,” she snarled.
But instead of giving her money, Mrs. Whittier leaned over and bopped her on the head with a giant candy cane. “I certainly will not,” Mrs. Whittier snapped. “Shame on you, Olivia.”
“I need money,” Livi wailed, rubbing her head.
“You have no one to blame but yourself. You haven’t managed well and now you’re paying the price. And I’m calling the police!”
Livi sped from the bank, losing her Santa hat in the process. Out she ran, slipping and sliding in the snow, to her getaway car, a vintage mustang painted chartreuse. There stood her driver, the Grinch, leaning against the passenger side.
“Did you get the money?” he asked.
“No,” she said and began to cry.
“I knew you wouldn’t. You’re such a loser,” he said and marched around to the driver’s side.
“Never mind. We’ll go rob the candy store.” She grabbed the door handle only to find it locked.
The Grinch got in behind the wheel.
“Open the door,” she commanded.
“No can do,” came his muffled voice from inside the car. “You’re a loser and I don’t hang out with losers.” Then he gunned the car and drove away, dousing her with a rooster tail of snow.
She tried to chase him down the street but she slipped fell, landing face first. Now here came the police in red cars decorated with colored lights and jingle bells. The cops turned out to be Santa and his elves.
They jumped out of their patrol cars and surrounded her, pointing candy canes at her even bigger than the one Mrs. Whittier had wielded. A crowd was gathering.
She knelt there in the snow in front of everyone, covering her panty hose-contorted face with her hands and crying, “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” said someone in the crowd. “You’re ruining Christmas for us.”
“Get her,” yelled someone else.
Then, suddenly, something cold and hard whacked her in the shoulder. It was followed by another something cold and hard. And wet. Splat. Right on her head. Snowballs. The crowd was pelting her with snowballs.
“Somebody help me,” she cried.
And there came the chartreuse mustang, pulling up next to her. The Grinch leaned over and opened the door. “Get in!”
She dove in and they fishtailed off down the street, then bolted for the mountains, racing up the highway deep into the Cascades.
“You redeemed yourself back there,” the Grinch told her. He turned on the car radio and his “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” theme song began to play.
“Everyone hates me.”
“Yeah, aint it great?”
Next thing she knew they were in front of a giant, dowdy-looking gray castle. The sky had turned dark.
“You’ll be safe here,” the Grinch said, and got out of the car.
Still wearing the panty hose on her head, she slouched behind him up the dark, snowy walk and into the castle. Its giant hallway was lit by one single candle standing on a small table. Several portraits hung on the wall: Ebeneezer Scrooge, Lord Voldemort, the Grinch himself and … her?
Her host turned to her and smiled his green, Grinchy smile. “You let down a lot of people.”
“I know,” she said, and hung her head.
“You made a lot of people mad.”
She sniffled and wiped away a tear.
“You’re my kind of girl.”
“What?” She looked up to see him reaching a green hairy hand toward her cheek. She swatted it away. “Stop that! And what are you so happy about?”
“What do you mean what am I so happy about? You wrecked Christmas for a lot of people. You’ve got potential.”
“Wait a minute. What’s going on here? This is all wrong. You’re supposed to be a changed … whatever you are. You didn’t steal Christmas after all.”
“Urban legend, baby,” he said with a smirk. “Come on, now, don’t be coy. You and I are soul mates. I’m the man you’ve been waiting for all your life.”
“You so are not!” she said, taking a step back.
“Sure I am. We failures have to stick together.”
“I’m not a failure!” she cried. “I’m not!”
Livi was still crying, “I’m not a failure!” when she woke up. She pushed her hair out of her face and took several deep breaths. What a horrible dream. So this was what her subconscious thought of her.
It was no more than her conscious thought.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

I didn’t really have a difficult scene, so how about instead I share another favorite scene, where my hero first finds himself in deep doo-doo. 🙂

Three miles past Gold Bar his steering lost power, turning the car from a smooth driving, purring tiger to a rhino. He checked the dash and saw his alternator light was on. What was this? He pulled over, got out and opened the hood and looked under it to discover that his serpentine belt had broken. No notice, sudden as a heart attack.
Except for that squeal. He’d heard it earlier, too, but hadn’t paid attention.
He had no choice but to pay attention now. Guy may not have been an expert on cars but he did know that without that belt, he was going nowhere.
Frowning, he pulled his cell phone out of his North Face jacket. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long for his towing service to get to him. Who knew where they could tow him. Would he find a garage anywhere that would have a belt for an Italian sports car?
No cell reception. Oh, yeah, it just got better and better.
“Great,” he muttered. He’d just had this baby tuned up a couple months back. He shouldn’t be stuck here in the middle of nowhere. Why had he paid extra at the foreign car dealership for all those maintenance checks if they weren’t going to check and maintain everything?
There was nothing for it. He’d have to walk back to town and find a phone.
He slammed the hood shut, pulled his boots out of the trunk and put them on, still frowning. He liked snow, he was fit enough to walk ten miles if he had to. He just didn’t want to. He wanted to reach his destination. Thanks to whatever Gremlins had hopped in his engine along the way that probably wasn’t happening today.
He was just starting his trudge to town when an older model Honda Civic passed him and then stopped. It backed up and the passenger side window slid down. “Looks like you’ve got car troubles. Would you like a lift?” offered the driver.
Hadn’t this woman’s dad ever told her never to pick up strangers? If she was his sister he’d sure rip her a new one for stopping to let some man in her car, even in a blizzard. She had green eyes, curly hair the color of honey and plump, little kiss-me lips. Any crazy would climb right in and do who knew what to her.
Guy wasn’t crazy, but he was pissed, and in no mood to make polite conversation.
“That’s okay, I’m fine,” he said, and continued to trudge on.
Freezing his ass off. Okay, maybe he was crazy.
Except, pissed as he was, he’d generate more than enough steam to keep warm.
She sure was cute though.
She coasted along beside him, backwards. “Not that you don’t look fit enough to walk, but it’s a ways in either direction. Cell phone reception can be spotty.”
He’d already discovered that.
“Maybe you’re afraid of girls?” she teased.
Not this girl. She had a smile like a magnet. Did he really want to walk back to Gold Bar?
He got in. “Thanks. I appreciate the lift.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Idaho. Christmas with the family.” Step-family.
“Oh, my. You took the long way.”
“I had to stop in Arlington and pick up something for my mom.”
She nodded and smiled, obviously impressed by what a good son he was. Was this woman always so trusting?
He felt compelled to ask, “You don’t always go around picking up strangers, do you?”
“Oh, no.” She smiled. Man, those lips.
“That’s good. Cause you never know what kind of crazies are out there.”
“You didn’t look like one.”
“Ted Bundy probably didn’t either. Ever hear of him?” Okay, that sounded creepy.
Her smile faltered momentarily.
“I promise I’m not a serial killer,” he said in an effort to uncreep himself.
The smile returned full force. “I didn’t think so. I’m a good judge of character.”
“Yeah?” Suddenly he was feeling a little less pissed.
“Oh, yes,” she said with a nod that made the curls bounce.
He was a sucker for curly hair. You hardly ever saw women with real curly hair anymore. Why was that?
“And what makes you such a good judge of character?” he teased. She smelled like peppermint. He wondered if this little cutie was taken. Hard to tell since she was wearing gloves. There had to be a ring on that left hand. She looked about thirty, and by their thirties hotties like this one were never single. Or if they were they came with baggage.
“I deal with a lot of people. You get so you know.”
“Yeah? What do you do?” Coffee shop waitress, perhaps? Judging by the car she was driving, nothing that paid much.
“I run a non-profit.”
Oh, no. One of those. A person out to help others … using someone else’s money, of course. The memory of his unpleasant encounter with Olivia Berg arrived on the scene, irritating as jock itch. He could feel his jaw tightening.
This woman isn’t Olivia Berg. Don’t take your irritation out on her. “What’s the name of your organization?” he asked, the very image of diplomatic courtesy.
“Christmas from the Heart.”
“Christmas from…?” Oh, no. This wasn’t happening. This was some sick dream.
“Have you heard of it?”
“Uh, yeah.” The last thing he wanted was to be captive in a car with this woman. “Hey, any place you can drop me where there’s a phone will be great.” In fact, let me get out of this car right here, right now.
“I can do better than that. We’re not far from Pine River where I live,” she said. “We’ve got a garage there and Morris Bentley is an excellent mechanic. They can tow your car and have it fixed in no time.”
The sooner the better.
“My name’s Olivia Berg. My friends call me Livi.”
He would not qualify for friendship once she learned who he was. As far as this woman was concerned he was the devil incarnate.
She gave him an encouraging glance. And your name is?
Oh, boy. He could feel the sweat sneaking out of his pores. He’d been perfectly justified in cutting loose her little charity. He had no cause to feel guilty. None. But there she was smiling at him like they were on the road to friendship. Little Olivia Berg, the great judge of character. And here he was, feeling like Scrooge in front of a firing squad. With no blindfold.
Even though he had nothing to be ashamed of he couldn’t seem to spit out his name. Lie.
“Joe.” Yeah, Joe. Good, old everyman Joe.
Her expression asked, “Joe What?”
Joe…Joe… Why was this woman so pushy?
A truck rolled past, sending up a rooster tail of snow. “Ford,” he added. “Joe Ford.”
“Nice to meet you, Joe.”

She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew who he was.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

I think this book is pretty much a Sheila Roberts fun holiday read. Who doesn’t like a good Christmas story, right? 🙂 I think I can promise readers a happy ending and a good dose of encouragement. Oh, and some great recipes, too.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I want my readers to come away with a smile, and, hopefully, inspired to give to their favorite good cause. Christmas is a time for sharing and kindness. Let’s bring extra joy to the world to this year and help those worthy causes that are always in need of financial assistance.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’m very excited about my spring release, Beachside Beginnings, the next book in my Moonlight Harbor series. I am tackling a touch subject in that one but I can promise a happy ending.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: 1 Finished copy of CHRISTMAS FROM THE HEART, US entrants only.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: What do you do every year to put heart into the holidays?

 
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Excerpt from Christmas from the Heart:

1

From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 2-14-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Holiday Joy

Dear Ms. Thompson,
Happy Valentine’s Day to you! I’m following up our January newsletter with a special greeting as this is, of course, the month for love. Love for our sweethearts, our family and friends, and for those in need. As you could see from the newsletter, we put the money our loyal supporters donated to us to good use. So many families benefited from your generous donation to Christmas from the Heart last year and I just wanted to remind you that, even though the holidays seem far away they will be here before we know it. I hope we can count on Hightower Enterprises again this year. We have such a history together. Let’s keep up the good work!
Warmly,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date: 2-14-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Subject: Holiday Joy

Dear Ms. Berg,

Thanks for reaching out. Our fiscal year is just ending and I haven’t yet received word as to how our charitable donations will be dispersed this year. I will keep you apprised.

Best, Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises

From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 2-14-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Holiday Joy

Thank you so much. Looking forward to hearing from you!

Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-1-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Happy May Day!

Dear Ms. Thompson, just wanted to wish you a happy May Day. The flowers here in Pine River are now in full bloom, and our organization has been busy helping people make their dreams bloom, as well. As you know, while our focus is primarily the holidays, Christmas from the Heart tries to help people all year round when needs arise. Of course, Christmas is our big thrust, and as there is no other organization working in this area, we are much needed. As are your kind contributions. I still haven’t heard and I do hope we can count on you.

Warmly,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson
Subject: Just checking

Reaching out again in case my last email went astray. I’m wondering if you have any news for me regarding Hightower’s involvement with our cause for this coming year.
Thanks!

Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg
Subject: Just checking

Ms. Berg, sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you sooner. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. It appears that the company is going to be scaling back on their charitable giving this year and funds have already been budgeted for other causes. I’m aware of the fact that in the past we’ve donated to your organization and I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you. I do wish you all the best in your search for other funding.

Best,
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises

From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson
Subject: Just checking

There must be some sort of misunderstanding! Hightower has always donated to Christmas from the Heart. The company’s founder, Elias Hightower, was my great-grandmother’s first contributor, and he promised her that Hightower would always be there for this organization. This is a company tradition! Please speak to your director.

Hopefully,
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg
Subject: Just checking

I’m sorry. The decision is out of my hands.
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises

From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Marla Thompson
Subject: Just checking

Then please tell me who I need to talk to. Who’s your CFO?
Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

From: Marla Thompson, CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
Date: 5-5-19
To: Ms. Olivia Berg
Subject: Just checking

Our CFO is Guy Hightower, and his email is [email protected]
Good luck!
Marla Thompson
CSR Director, Hightower Enterprises
From: Olivia Berg, Director, Christmas from the Heart
Date: 5-5-19
To: Guy Hightower, CFO, Hightower Enterprises
Subject: Please reconsider

Dear Mr. Hightower, I understand from your corporate social resources director that Hightower isn’t planning on making any donation to Christmas from the Heart this year. There must be some mistake! Surely you’re aware of the long-standing relationship between your company and our organization. I’m sure I can count on you for some small amount.
Best, Olivia Berg
Christmas from the Heart
Giving from the heart makes all the difference

Guy Hightower frowned when he saw the email from Olivia Berg in his in-box. Marla Thompson had been forwarding her emails to him, keeping him abreast of Olivia Berg’s varied begging tactics, and had finally even come into his office, trying to dump the load of guilt the woman had laid on her from her shoulders to his.
“Don’t open it,” he told himself. He opened it anyway. Then he read it and swore.
Actually, he’d been swearing ever since meeting with his brothers to discuss the budget back in December. If either of them had listened to him three years ago, they wouldn’t be having to pull the company belt so tight now. This was the problem with being the youngest. It didn’t matter how many degrees you had, how smart you were or what your job title was. Big brothers never listened.
Hard to listen when you were going through your third divorce.
That was Mike’s excuse. What was Bryan’s? Oh yeah. He was a wuss. He always agreed with Mike, no matter what. And Mike hadn’t wanted to change directions. Never mind that the company was struggling, keep on doing the same thing. The definition of insanity.
Sorry, Little Miss Christmas. Times were tough all over. Hightower had kept its commitment to the more visible causes and turned the little fish loose. And that was how it worked in the corporate world.
He typed his reply.

Dear Ms. Berg, I regret that Hightower can’t help you this year. We’ve had to reassess our commitments to various causes. I’m sure you’ll understand.

Then he signed off with the time-honored adios: Respectfully, Guy Hightower.
And if she didn’t understand, well, not his problem. He had his hands full trying to keep the family company afloat. Maybe now Mike would be ready to take his advice and diversify.

Olivia Berg—Livi to her family and friends—read the email from Guy Hightower a second time. Yes, the message was the same. Really? Really? Who was this man, Ebenezer Scrooge the Second?
She plowed her fingers through her hair, the birthstone ring Morris had given her for her birthday catching in the curls. She was so angry she barely noticed.
With a snarl, she began to type.

You should be ashamed. Your great-grandfather is probably turning in his grave right now. What’s the matter with you, anyway, you selfish bastard?

She pulled her fingers off the keyboard with a gasp. What was she thinking? Was this any way to get someone to contribute to her cause? And what kind of language was this? Her great-grandmother would be turning in her grave right now, along with Elias. Adelaide Brimwell had been a lady through and through. So had Livi’s grandmother, Olivia, as well as Livi’s mom.
The thought of her mother made her tear up. How she wished Mom was still around to advise her. They’d always planned that Livi would take over running the organization one day, but neither had dreamed that day would come so soon. Her mother’s heart attack had struck like lightning. Livi’s brother had left town, moving to Seattle, which was just far enough south to keep the memories at bay. Livi had stayed put, holding on to every single one, weaving them together into a lifeline to cling to as she kept Christmas from the Heart afloat.
Oh, Mom. What should I do?
Try again came the answer.
Yes, her mother never gave up. She’d chased one potential donor for two years before he finally came through. Livi still remembered the day her mom left the house, clad in a Mrs. Santa costume she’d created—requisite white wig along with a frilly white blouse and a red skirt topped with a red-striped apron. She’d taken with her a batch of home-baked cookies nestled in a red basket and returned home with a check for five hundred dollars. The man had been a loyal contributor ever since. Livi still took him cookies every year.
“Persistence pays,” she told herself as she deleted what she’d typed.
She started over.

I’m asking you to reconsider. Your company is our major donor, and without you so many people will have little joy this Christmas. Any amount you can give will be greatly appreciated.

There. He’d have to be a heartless monster not to respond to that.
Guy trashed the guilt-inflicting email. What was he, Santa Claus? He had his hands full keeping his company solvent.
But then, people like Olivia Berg never considered the fact that a company might have needs of its own. What made them feel so entitled to sit at the edge of the salt mine while a man slaved away and then greet him with their hands out when he emerged broken and bruised? Maybe some of those people always begging for money should get out there and actually earn a living. Let them work their tails off, putting in seventy-hour weeks. Sheesh.
Anyway, the company had already met their good deed quota for the year. The only cause Guy was interested in now was Hightower Enterprises.

By the end of the workday, Guy Hightower still hadn’t responded to Livi’s last email. “You are a heartless monster,” she grumbled, glaring at her empty email in-box.
“No word yet?” her part-time assistant, Bettina Thomas, asked as she shut down her computer.
Livi sighed and shook her head.
“That is so wrong,” Bettina said in disgust.
It sure was. “They’ve been our major donor ever since my great-grandmother founded Christmas from the Heart. Without their contribution how will we put on the Christmas dinner at the community center? How many families won’t have presents under the tree or Christmas stockings or a Christmas turkey?” There was no Salvation Army in Pine River, no Toys for Tots— none of the usual organizations serviced this area. There had been no need. Christmas from the Heart had it under control.
Until now.
“We’ve had to reassess our commitments,” Livi quoted. The words left a bad taste in her mouth and she frowned. “It sounds like something your boyfriend says when he’s dumping you.”
“They are dumping us,” Bettina pointed out. “But don’t worry. We have time. We’ll find someone else to come through.”
“Not like Hightower. There must be something I can do,” Livi mused.
“There is. Go home and eat chocolate.”
And try not to think bad thoughts about Guy Hightower.
In all fairness, he probably didn’t grasp the situation. She’d call him the next day and invite him to come to Pine River for a visit so she could let him see the need, show him a little of what Christmas from the Heart did for the community. She could take him to lunch, introduce him to some of the people in town, put a face—or better yet, several—to Christmas from the Heart. She’d top it all off by following in her mother’s footsteps and baking him cookies. Then how could he help but catch the vision his great-grandfather and her great-grandmother had shared?
Yes, that would do it. Sometimes you had to be a little patient, give people a second chance.

Excerpted from Christmas From the Heart by Sheila Roberts. Copyright © 2019 by Roberts Ink LLC. Published by MIRA Books.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Sometimes you need to look beyond the big picture to see what really matters

Olivia Berg’s charity, Christmas from the Heart, has helped generations of families in need in Pine River, Washington, but this year might be the end of the road. Hightower Enterprises, one of their biggest donors since way back when Olivia’s grandmother ran the charity, has been taken over by Ebenezer Scrooge the Second, aka CFO Guy Hightower, and he’s declared there will be no more money coming to Christmas from the Heart.

Guy is simply being practical. Hightower Enterprises needs to tighten its belt, and when you don’t have money to spare, you don’t have money to share. You’d think even the pushy Olivia Berg could understand that.

With charitable donations dwindling, Olivia’s Christmas budget depends on Hightower’s contribution. She’s focused her whole life on helping this small town, even putting her love life on hold to support her mission.

When Guy’s Maserati breaks down at the edge of the Cascade foothills, he’s relieved to be rescued by a pretty young woman who drives him to the nearby town of Pine River. Until he realizes his rescuer is none other than Olivia Berg. What’s a Scrooge to do? Plug his nose and eat fruitcake and hope she doesn’t learn his true identity before he can get out of town. What could go wrong?

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Meet the Author:

Sheila Roberts lives on a lake in the Pacific Northwest. Her novels have been published in several languages. Her book, Angel Lane, was an Amazon Top Ten Romance pick for 2009. Her holiday perennial, On Strike for Christmas, was made into a movie for the Lifetime Movie Network and her novel, The Nine Lives of Christmas, was made into a movie for Hallmark . You can visit Sheila on Twitter and Facebook or at her website (http://www.sheilasplace.com).
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