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I love our Christmas tree! I’m sure you love yours just as much as I love mine, but it’s covered in ornaments that are filled with memories, and it makes me happy.


I love this time of year–the coziness, the goodwill, the time with family. I look forward to Christmas all year.

I hope all of you are making sweet Christmas memories this month, too. It doesn’t have to be lavish–some cookies, a favourite movie, hot drinks, and some cold weather outside never hurts, either!

But this is our chance–let’s make the most of it!

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be too busy to really enjoy these last weeks before Christmas.


In the meantime, have you read my Christmas story in AN AMISH SECOND CHRISTMAS?

It’s on the shelves now! 



For the Amish, the day after Christmas is for family, feasting, and exchanging simple gifts. And for three different couples, it will bring another precious chance for love . . .
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Shelley Shepard Gray
Amish nanny Hannah Eicher never thought she’d ever see Rob Prince again. There was no way a relationship between her and the handsome English fireman could overcome her family’s objections—and their personal differences. But when he saves her from a sudden blaze, Hannah longs to see if they can turn holiday hope into a lifetime of happiness . . .
HIS AMISH ANGEL * Patricia Johns
She’s too outspoken to be a proper Amish wife. So as advice columnist “Miss Amish,” Maggie Lapp helps Amish and English with their romantic problems. But when her tradition-minded former fiancé accidentally reveals her secret, Maggie will need more than a miracle to make things right—and find a perfect love for all the Christmases to come . . .
Rachel Miller won’t let her disability keep her from selling heirloom plants and proving she can be independent. She certainly doesn’t need reckless Joseph Webber working at her greenhouse to pay off a disastrous Rumspringa stunt. But she and Joseph have more in common than they think—and their surprising holiday partnership might just blossom into forever joy . . .