“Charming, heartwarming...whimsical and pleasingly old-fashioned throughout.” —Kirkus 

Christmastime 1939 introduces the reader to the Christmastime series. Set in Brooklyn, we meet the young widow Lillian Hapsey and her two sons, Tommy and Gabriel. Even though the Christmas season is just around the corner, Lillian has no Christmas spirit. Alone, unhappy with her job, and plagued by financial concerns, Christmas has become a burden to her.

Overshadowing everything is the war in Europe. Despite the setbacks, Lillian is determined to give her sons a happy Christmas. Can she rekindle her girlhood love for the holiday season? Rediscovering her touchstone just might be the key to unlocking the excitement and magic of Christmas.  

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Author Bio: 

Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.

Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.

Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.

Book Excerpt:

Home. Almost a week since Lillian Hapsey returned from her sister’s house upstate, and things were exactly the same. The inspiration or revelation or solution she had hoped for hadn’t happened. She hadn’t thought her plans through. Instead, she had trusted that everything would fall into place, and now here it was—Christmas was almost upon her, and she had no Christmas spirit at all.

She let Tommy and Gabriel splash in the bathtub a little longer than usual. It gave her a chance to sort her thoughts, and to enjoy the hot water bottle on her lower back without the boys asking too many questions. She rested her feet on the small embroidered footstool and rubbed her legs.

A pile of clothing to be mended sat next to her, but she had no desire to get started on it. She frowned at her fatigue—it can’t have anything to do with age, surely, she told herself. Thirty-four isn’t exactly old. It must be the extra hours I’ve been putting in at work.

The small sketchbook she carried with her everywhere lay open on her lap. She paged through the drawings she had made from the visit to her sister’s—rows of trees in the orchard with a few old apples and leaves clinging to the branches, her sister Annette knitting by the fireplace, a swing that hung from an old oak tree, another of Annette kissing her sleeping baby. Lillian’s face softened at the memories. It had been a good trip.

She moved the hot water bottle to her lap and savored the stillness of the moment—a contrast to the busy week. It had begun with the train ride home from upstate, then back to her routine of scheduling babysitters for Tommy and Gabriel, and keeping up with her work at the department store. Now that Thanksgiving was behind them, the Christmas season had begun in earnest.

She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, wondering how she would muster up the energy and enthusiasm to get her through the season. The radiator rattled and whistled with coming steam. A soothing warmth began to fill the living room, chasing the cold away. She sank deeper into the couch, giving in to her weariness. The hissing and shshing of the radiator grew louder and louder, accompanied by the gurgling in the pipes. A peaceful oblivion overtook her.

After several minutes, the radiator sounds lowered to a sputter. Then a whisper. Then a soft, warm silence filled the small room. Broken by sounds of laughter and splashing from the boys.

Lillian opened her eyes and realized that she had dozed off. That won’t do, she thought.

She sat up straight and looked about her. She couldn’t help but compare her tiny Brooklyn apartment to her sister’s rambling old house on the orchard with a lovely view out of every window—the flower beds and vegetable garden in the back that still showed a bit of color, the charming old cider house, the country road leading into town. From the upstairs bedroom window, the view was like stepping into a painting—softly undulating farmland dotted with red barns and white farmhouses, the orchard stretching out to the west, and in the distance, patches of woods and a small stream that sparkled in the sunlight.

And the sunsets! The golden light over the orchard swelled her heart each time she saw it. She often ran upstairs as the day was fading in order to catch it, making excuses as she suddenly left the room. “Just getting something from upstairs,” or “I think I’ll fetch my sweater.” Not that she had to hide anything, she simply wanted those few minutes all to herself, to better take in the powerful stirring of beauty and longing. It was a reminder of girlhood dreams and all the things she was going to do with her life. She and Annette were raised in a town not far from the orchard and being upstate always plunged her into the past when she was young and full of dreams, before she and Annette had married and moved away.

Lillian shook away her thoughts and lifted a few items from the pile of clothes—three pairs of trousers, a few dresses, and a skirt.

“Tommy, Gabriel! Time to finish up!” 

She threaded a needle and draped the first pair of trousers over her lap. Mrs. Harrison from the dry cleaner down the street was kind enough to throw a little business her way. It wasn’t much, but it helped to supplement her earnings from the department store.

She pushed the needle through the woolen hem, trying to recapture the glimmer of Christmas excitement she had felt up at her sister’s. A few days after Thanksgiving, Annette had begun to unpack some of her decorations. The children had caught her enthusiasm as they pulled out garlands and the crèche set and red ribbons.

Lillian smiled in memory of the afternoon they sat at the kitchen table with the children and prepared sliced oranges to dry for ornaments, and made clove and orange pomander balls. The scent of fresh citrus and cloves filled the kitchen while the kids sang Christmas songs and laughed when they made up the words they couldn’t remember. And the evening when they sat in front of the fire, the kids sprawled on the floor, cutting pictures out of the catalogs—until Annette’s husband, Bernie, sent them all running and squealing when he crawled into the room growling and pawing like a bear.

Her smile deepened at the memory of rocking Annette’s youngest, five-month-old Abigail. Was there any greater sweetness than holding a baby as it smiled up at you and kicked its legs and shook its tiny fists in joy?

She set her sewing down. Is that what was making her sad? Knowing that she would never have another child? Or was it the nostalgia of being at Annette’s? Or was she just tired?

Spending Thanksgiving this year with Annette and Bernie, rather than Christmas as she usually did, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now Lillian felt a stab of dread at the mere thought of facing the Christmas holiday alone.

No need to fear Christmas, she thought, picking up her sewing again. She would simply follow Annette’s advice, and start with their mother’s Christmas recipes. That would put her in the holiday spirit. And then hang the stockings, and get a tree, and…

She glanced over at the time.

“Hurry up boys! Your show will be on soon.”

The bathtub was soon gurgling as the plug was pulled and the water drained. She heard Tommy and Gabriel opening and shutting drawers as they pulled out their pajamas.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

Lillian cast another glance at the living room. There wasn’t a single sign of Christmas. She would have to get started.

Oddly enough, it would be their first Christmas together in Brooklyn. They had always celebrated the holiday upstate. Especially after Tom died, Annette had insisted that Lillian and the boys spend Christmas with her and Bernie and their growing family. With Tommy eight years old now, and Gabriel five, all their Christmas memories were from the orchard.

Lillian set her sewing down and brought the hot water bottle to the kitchen. This would be an important Christmas, and instead of preparing for it, she had spent these past few days filled with worry—missing Annette, hoping the landlord wouldn’t raise the rent, and fretting about the new manager at work, Mr. Hinkley. He had never liked her, and when Mrs. Klein finally retired and he was promoted, he made his feelings abundantly clear. He still resented the older manager’s preference for Lillian.

No need to ruin her evening thinking about him, she thought, sitting back down. The trip to Annette’s was supposed to be a prelude to Christmas. But Lillian felt no surge of excitement. She wasn’t in the mood for Christmas and would be glad when it was over. Everything felt wrong.

And of course, underlying everything, was the dark shadow cast by the war in Europe. The news reports grew more frightening with each passing day. She had believed that war would be averted. That Hitler would be appeased. But when he invaded Poland in the fall, England and France had declared war. Where would it all end?

She stared out and worried about a world controlled by Nazis and Fascists. Worried that the U.S. would be pulled into the war—or worse, that they would be attacked by Nazis. First bombed, then invaded, then…

Three Women. Two Sides. One War to End all Wars.When a war like no one has even seen rages through Europe in 1914, three women are set on a collision course with history, and one of them will pay the ultimate price.
As one of the first female pilots, Alouette Richer is determined to join the war effort. She gets her chance when she is recruited by Captain Ladoux, head of France's Secret Service. But is she willing to sacrifice everything for her country?

Marthe Cnockaert's day job as a nurse requires her to help anyone in need, including the enemy. But at night she wanders the darkened streets of Belgium as a courier for Allied Intelligence. Can she keep up her dual roles without anyone finding out her secret?

The famed Mata Hari cares nothing for the war effort. If maintaining her lavish lifestyle means spying for whatever side pays her the most, then so be it. But the naive dancer is being set up for the most dangerous performance of her life.
If you like Kate Quinn's The Alice Network, Martha Hall Kelly's Lost Roses, and Aimie K. Runyan's Girls on the Line you won't be able to put down this meticulously researched tale of love, honor, and deception. Pick it up today!

1588. When Rafael de Silva's ship is smashed on the rocks off the coast of Ireland, he must find a way to get by without access to any resources or help from the locals, since being apprehended will result in certain death for a soldier of the ill-fated Spanish Armada. Terrified and half-starved, Rafael gets help from an unexpected source, but safety is just an illusion, and love is a liability when Rafael's very survival depends on keeping the secret of his birth from being discovered by those closest to him.2015. Called upon to unearth the remains of a brutal crucifixion, Quinn must delve into the aftermath of the Spanish Armada's fateful defeat, but as she tries to decipher the secret the victim took to his grave, she discovers that there are secrets much closer to home, and that the twin sister she couldn't wait to be reunited with is not quite what she expected.

A gentleman's impulsive wager to marry a stranger. A young woman's determination not to marry the man she wants.

When Isabel Cosgrove is informed by her father that he lost her hand in marriage while playing cards with Charles Galbraith-the gentleman she's been admiring from a distance for years-she is filled with dismay. How can she agree to wed a man whose reason for marriage is part-revenge, part-indifference? Intent on avoiding a painful union where her regard cannot be returned, she concocts a plan.

Charles Galbraith didn't intend to become engaged as a result of a drunken wager at cards, but after the woman he loves spurns him, what does it matter whom he marries? But even Miss Cosgrove, the fianc e he won by wager, seems intent not to marry him-a fact that both relieves and piques him. She instead suggests a plan that has the potential to temporarily appease her father's demand of marriage while also winning back the love of the woman Charles truly wants.

But when Charles and Isabel are thrown into the midst of a brewing scandal and another man's potential disinheritance, their plan begins to unravel thread by thread, challenging what Galbraith thinks he wants-and just how much more time with him Isabel's heart can stand.

Wrested back to Cabarita Beach by her grandmother's sudden death, Kate Summer discovers a mystery buried in the past that changes everything.

Kate returns home to the sleepy hamlet of Cabarita Beach and the run-down Waratah Inn for her grandmother's funeral. She spent many happy childhood years at the inn, but all she wants to do now is sell the dilapidated boutique inn and head back to the city and her busy, professional life. But she and her two estranged sisters discover they've inherited the inn together. To sell, they need all three sisters to agree to the sale.

Soon, her carefully constructed life begins to unravel and Kate decides to stay in Cabarita Beach to renovate the elegant, old building. Despite her misgivings about reviving the crumbling structure, she quickly becomes consumed with crown moulding, history and an attractive horse wrangler she can't seem to ignore.

When she discovers a clue to a mystery from the past in her grandmother's things, she'll be drawn down a path that raises more questions than answers. Piece-by-piece she and her sisters will uncover the secret former life of their beloved grandmother. A life of love, intrigue, and loss. A life they never knew she had.

An opportunity to sell the Inn pushes them to make a choice: commit to the Waratah Inn and family, or walk away from the Inn and each other, back to their separate and isolated lives.

A poltergeist guilty of murder?

Ginger Gold receives a letter from her sister-in-law, Felicia, requesting Ginger come straightaway to her late husband's family home, Bray Manor. Dowager Lady Gold, Ginger's nervous grandmother through marriage, believes the old manor is haunted.

Ginger doesn't believe in ghosts, but is haunted nevertheless by memories of her husband and the lure of his gravesite she just can't bring herself to visit.

In order to keep Bray Manor afloat financially, Felicia and Ambrosia have opened the estate to the public for club meetings and special events. Knitters, stamp collectors and gardeners converge weekly--targets for the poltergeist that seems to find amusement in hiding small things from their owners.

Bray Manor hosts a dance to raise money for maimed soldiers who struggle with peacetime after the Great War. Felicia invites her flapper friends and her new beau, Captain Smithwick, a man Ginger has met before and definitely doesn't like.

When the dance ends with the discovery of a body, Ambrosia is certain the poltergeist is to blame, but Ginger is quite sure the murderer is made of flesh and blood.

Espionage, intrigue . . . murder . . .

It's 1924 and war widow fashionista Ginger Gold's new Regent Street dress shop, Feathers & Flair, is the talk of the London fashion district attracting aristocrats from Paris to Berlin to Moscow.

Ginger is offered her first job as a private detective when her sister-in-law's stage actor friend goes missing, and though the dress shop takes most of her time, Ginger takes the case.

But when a Russian grand duchess dies at the shop's official grand opening event, Ginger ignores the missing person to chase a killer. It's a decision she will live to regret.

Book 3 in the Heathcliff Lennox series

Halloween 1921. A castle on a rock in a lonely Scottish loch, Braeburn has been crumbling for centuries. Someone tries to remedy the rot but uncovers a skeleton behind a wall. It wears a crown upon its skull and hides a curse within its bones. Is it the ancient King of the Isles? Or is it Black Dougal? And why is it surrounded by mystery?

As ghosts are heard and treasure seekers arrive, the Braeburn's call Major Heathcliff Lennox. He travels to the Highlands to help his old friends, taking his dog, his butler and his small cat. 
Major Heathcliff Lennox, ex-WW1 war pilot, 6 feet 3 inches, tousled, dark blond hair, age around 30 - named after the hero of Wuthering Heights by his romantically minded mother - much to his great annoyance.

Death returns to the country ...

A quite country life continues to elude Helen Lightholder, as she wrestles with her recent bereavement. When the grisly murder of a nameless vagabond shocks the local community, Helen sets out to unearth the truth behind the inexplicable killing.

But Bookminster hides secrets almost as old as it's 14th century market place, and the village's inhabitants will do anything to thwart a prying outsider. Helen's snooping at a convalescent home for wounded soldiers leads to an apparent dead end, even as other obstacles loom in her path. With Inspector Graves blocking her investigation at every turn and a mysterious, shadowy figure continuing to dog her steps, can Helen unmask the most dangerous killer she has ever faced?

Murder. Spies. Treason. Shadowy secrets lurk beneath the surface of an idyllic country village...

When Helen Lightholder's world is shattered by the death of her husband during the London Blitz, she escapes to the countryside, hoping to leave the war behind her. But managing an inherited property in a quaint Gloucestershire village turns out to be more perilous than she expects.

Cozy little Brookminster isn't the peaceful haven Helen dreamed of, and it isn't long before she discovers that, even here, dark threats and dangerous secrets await. As family duty compels her to meddle in a police investigation into the suspicious death of a relative, she finds herself at odds with the local inspector.

Can Helen bring justice to her little corner of the country, while war rages on in the greater world outside? Or will her investigation make her the next target of a fiendish killer who has everything to lose?

Dr. Waycross knows bleeding and blistering, the best scientific medicine of 1822. He arrives in the Georgia mountains to bring his modern methods to the superstitious masses. But the local healers, the Winter sisters, claim to treat yellow fever, consumption, and the hell-roarin' trots just as well as he can. Some folks call the sisters herb women; some call them witches. Waycross calls them quacks. But when the threat of rabies--incurable and fatal--comes to town, Dr. Waycross and the Winter sisters must combine their science and superstition in a desperate search for a remedy. Can they find a miracle cure, or has the age of miracles passed?

Praise for "Auraria" by Tim Westover:

"Weaves tall tales and legends, Carrollian surrealism, and a fascinating cast of characters into a genuinely inventive novel that reads like steampunk via Mark Twain. Fact and fancy are intertwined cleverly and seamlessly in a top-notch, thoroughly American fantasy." Publishers Weekly, starred review