birthdays |

I’ve been following the Hostess news closely. Some are saying there are more important things to discuss and we should get over it, some are sad.

I fall into the sad category because I feel as if Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Ho Ho’s and their famous chocolate cupcakes with the white swirls are an American Icon.

And because the chocolate cupcakes hold a special meaning to me.

Every year since my 18th birthday my husband buys me a Hostess chocolate cupcake, puts a candle in it and sings me happy birthday. It’s a tradition. Now we’re not sure what we’re going to do. It seems wrong to use a different brand’s cupcake and yet we don’t want to do away with the tradition. Even back in the day he was a romantic at heart and I treasure those memories. Now my kids look forward to my cupcake birthday celebration.

What fond memories do you have of Hostess treats? What’s your favorite?

Happy Saturday! Since today is my daughter’s birthday I thought I’d post a snippet of one of my heroine’s birthdays. This is from Wherever You Are, a historical time-travel. Enjoy! And if you want to visit other authors’ samples click here.

“I brought you a present.” He indicated a wrapped package on a side table.

“A present? What for?”

“Have you forgotten, Juliana? Today is your birthday.”

She’d completely forgotten. In fact, she hadn’t been keeping track of the days at all. There seemed to be no reason when there wasn’t anywhere she needed to be.

Morgan placed the package in her hand and stepped back, putting his hands behind him again. “Open it.”

There hadn’t been many presents in her life. More often than not her parents forgot her birthday and Christmas was always hit or miss in her house depending on her mother’s mood. Daniel told her to buy whatever she wanted for her birthday and the one Christmas they spent together, they decided to fore go gifts and work in a soup kitchen.

Morgan’s gift wasn’t wrapped prettily. The paper was coarse and brown, the whole thing held together by twine. She blinked her tears away because it was perfect.

Slowly she pulled the twine and pushed the paper away. Inside lay a book bound in red leather, her initials in gold leaf very discreet in the bottom right corner. When she opened it the pages were blank. She looked up at Morgan in question.

He shrugged as if he were uncomfortable. “You kept pestering my crew for paper and pen. I thought you might like your own journal. To write.”

The tears she’d been holding back leaked out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She hugged the book to her chest and cried.

Morgan’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Juliana. Please don’t cry.”

“It’s p-perfect.” She sniffed. “Thank you.” She cried harder, not for the journal, but for everything that happened. Everything she lost.