DID YOU HEAR THAT?

from Catherine Castle 

The other morning while having breakfast my husband said, “Listen. Do you hear that?” 

"What?” I asked. 

“That whoosha whoosha sound.” 

I listened intently. “Nope. All I hear is the ticka ticka ticka of the refrigerator in its thaw cycle.” 

“No,” he replied. “It’s definitely a whoosha whoosha.” 

I cocked my head toward the fridge. “No it’s ticka ticka.” 

“Wait,” he said. “It’s changed. It’s now zzz zzz zzz, like the vibrating sound my toy football players used to make on their metal field. 

“That’s more of a rooma rooma rooma noise.” I replied. 

“No. It’s zzz zzz zzz,” he insisted. 

Breakfast was on hold and the cereal got soggy in our bowls as we argued back and forth while the sounds of the thawing cycle of the fridge changed every few minutes. Neither of us heard what the other heard. Finally, the debate ended with a ka-thunk at the end of the defrost cycle. Silence filled the kitchen. 

“I don’t hear anything now.” I spooned up a serving of mushy bran cereal, anxious to get back to my breakfast before it dissolved any more. 

“Tick tock tick tock,” hubby said as the Mickey Mouse clock second hand rounded the clock face. 

“I hear that,” I said. It was the only sound we agreed on, and it’s one that is universally known to represent a clock. 

Now, I know men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and we are different in sooooo many ways. But I always thought hearing was hearing. After all, our ears, male or female, are built the same way. We have the same little ear canals connected to the same parts of the brain. I knew, even when I couldn’t hear the sounds, what the writers meant when Batman and Robin fought the bad guys and cartoon balloons appeared on the television screen screaming BAM! POW! SOCKO! 

 But that morning in the kitchen I had a revelation: I wasn’t to blame when I couldn’t get a mechanic to understand me! All those years I failed to fully communicate with male mechanics wasn’t because I lacked something. 

When my husband describes a funny sound in our car, the mechanics all nod their heads knowingly. But when I describe the odd sounds, the male mechanics look at me like I have two heads. I always wondered why I could never get my point across to them, no matter how many times I repeated the explanation of the sounds. 

Now, I know why. Apparently, men lack the finite hearing of a woman. They don’t hear things right. A rattle rattle, clatter clatter, boom boom boom probably sounds like chicka chicka, sissa sissa, thunk thunk thunk to them. And anyone with a pair of ears can hear that there’s a world of difference between the two sounds. 

Hummm. Maybe I need a female mechanic. She’ll get it. Unlike a guy. 

What about you? Does your man hear the same things you do? And I don’t mean when someone speaks to you. That’s a whole ’nother blog post. 

All my best,

Catherine

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

Do You Have This Human Weakness?

by Catherine Castle

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?-

-Henry Ward Beecher

 When I read this quote I said, “Oh, that is soooo me.”

As a kid going into the library, I could never choose just one library book. Three was the minimum, and I’ve been known to go as high as seven, or ten, if I was checking out non-fiction for research or skimming.  I always returned before the two-week borrowing limit was over and checked out another armload of books. Of course, back then I had the luxury of time on my side. No housework, cooking, gardening, or other jobs to do. I don’t read books as fast as I did as a teen, but I still collect them. I haven’t lost my love of books, or my weakness for the written word.

That love of books bled into bookstores, and my pocketbook, as I grew older. My kindle is filled with books: books I’ve bought, free books I’ve downloaded, and books given to me by other authors to review. In fact, I’ve even got books on my phone—a place I never thought I’d read books on. I have a stack of snail mail advertising books that I think I might like to buy someday. And we won’t even mention the home bookshelves. Or maybe we will, since this post is about my human weakness when it comes to books, and bookstores. They, too, are crammed full and spilling onto the floor with fiction of all genres, non-fiction of all sorts, cookbooks, crafting books, research books, writing books and even dictionaries. A quick glance around the shelves in my office and I can find at least 5 different dictionaries.  Really, who needs that many dictionaries?

I am without doubt a confirmed bibliophile, a disease that apparently even Henry Ward Beecher had, as well as many of America’s wealthy homeowners, as witnessed by some of their great libraries.

   

Pictured above are the bookshelves in the living room of poet CARL SANDBURG. Every room, including the bathroom, and every hallway had shelves like these. All I wanted to do was stop and peruse them, but the docent wouldn’t let me. Sigh.

I’ve always thought it would be fun to work in a library or a bookstore. Being surrounded by all the tomes filled with historical knowledge, poetry, facts and tips about anything you were interested in, and stories that could carry you away to foreign lands, imaginary lands, and let you live vicariously through the characters’ lives has a great appeal. But as I grew older and the desire to own those volumes began to overtake me, I realized I wouldn’t make any money working at a bookstore, because I’d spend my entire pay on the store’s merchandise.

In fact, the disease, and the accompanying human weakness, is so bad that while signing my books at a bookstore, the author next to me mentioned a book that sounded interesting, and I popped onto my phone and downloaded it using my Kindle app. It was the only book bought at my signing table that day. LOL. When I attended the Lori Foster RAGT event and couldn’t find a book that interested me (which is a wonder in itself), I ended up buying books for my niece!

Here are just a few titles to which I’ve succumbed most recently. I’m in the process of reading some, some have been read, and others are on the TBR list.

• Alienated by Melissa Landers
• Gateway to Gannah series by Yvonne Anderson
• Iced Chiffon by Duffy Brown (a cozy mystery)
• Mama, I am Yet Still Alive: a composite diary of 1863 in the Confederacy, Jeff Toalson, Editor
• Best of the Covered Wagon Women, editor Kenneth L. Holmes
• Desperate Deeds by Patricia Gligor
• Confederato de Norte by Linda Bennett Pennell
• Hog Insane, by Carole Brown
• Dating Cary Grant by Emelle Gamble
• The Marital Bargain: Wife for Five Months by Eris Field
• Recipes to Create Holidays by Sloane Taylor
• Hair Calamities and Hot Cash by Gail Pallotta
• My Fair Guardian  by Suzanne G. Rogers
• A Season for Killing Blondes by Joanne Guidoccio
• A Musket in My Hands by Sandra Merville Hart

This is only a sample of my 50 Kindle pages of books, plus a few print books from my shelves. I have many more on my wanta-buy-list.

What about you? Do you have the Bibliophile disease and the weak human nature that Henry Ward Beecher speaks of? Be honest and let me know how it has manifested itself in your reading life.

Catherine hopes you’d like to add her books to your list of  wanta-read-books. Here’s a teaser from her multi-award-winning inspirational romantic suspense The Nun and the Narc.

Where novice Sister Margaret Mary goes, trouble follows. When she barges into a drug deal the local Mexican drug lord captures her. To escape she must depend on undercover DEA agent Jed Bond. Jed’s attitude toward her is exasperating, but when she finds herself inexplicable attracted to him, he becomes more dangerous than the men who have captured them, because he is making her doubt her decision to take her final vows. Escape back to the nunnery is imperative, but life at the convent, if she can still take her final vows, will never be the same.

Nuns shouldn’t look, talk, act, or kiss like Sister Margaret Mary O’Connor—at least that’s what Jed Bond thinks. She hampers his escape plans with her compulsiveness and compassion and in the process makes Jed question his own beliefs. After years of walling up his emotions in an attempt to become the best agent possible, Sister Margaret is crumbling Jed’s defenses and opening his heart. To lure her away from the church would be unforgivable—to lose her unbearable.

  

EXCERPT

A drug deal! Of all the things Rafael could do, this was the worst.

Esperanza had fought so hard to keep her son away from bad influences. Now he appeared to be involved in the very thing she’d hated most. Margaret imagined Esperanza banging on the gates of purgatory, trying to get out and rescue her son.

She hesitated for a moment, hearing Mother Superior’s admonishment. Stay out of trouble while you are in Mexico, Sister.         

Silencing the nagging voice in her head, Margaret charged forward, protective instincts in full swing.

Stopping Rafael and talking to him about the dangers of drugs surely wouldn’t qualify as trouble. Bluntness, maybe, but not trouble. It was more like saving. Yes, that’s it. I’m saving him.

Margaret grabbed Rafael by the shirt. “I’ve been searching for you, young man.” She faced the stranger, giving him her best withering stare. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The man stuffed the plastic bag into his jacket pocket. “Who is this?”

“Some crazy gringa.” Rafael shrugged, hard, trying to escape her grasp.

The plastic bag contained something white. Heroin? Cocaine? Margaret tightened her hold and drew Rafael closer. She would save him whether he wanted to be saved or not.

“Get out of here,” Rafael snarled.

“What would your mother say if she saw this?”

Rafael’s expression darkened. “Leave my mother out of this!” He wrenched out of Margaret’s grip and spun around to face her. His expression morphed from anger to fear. “¡Madre de Dios!”

The man’s head jerked around. “Get down!” he shouted.

Rafael took off running down the street as the top row of pottery in the stand exploded like popcorn.

Margaret jumped at the loud noise and whirled around searching for the source. The man removed a gun from his jacket, swung around, and scanned the area.

Margaret’s knees buckled at the sight of the handgun. Her body tensed, her gaze frozen on his weapon. He fired off a couple of shots. Heart thumping like a jackhammer, she ran for cover behind the open car door. The window glass shattered as bullets whizzed over her head. She scrambled into the car and crouched on the floorboard. Another row of pottery shattered, sending fragments into the car like tiny projectile rockets. Sending up a quick prayer, she covered her head.

Slamming the door shut as he passed, the man leapt over the trunk. He jerked open the driver’s door then jumped behind the wheel. Jamming the car into gear, he roared out into the market street. Shoppers and vendors screamed, leaping out of the car’s path.

Margaret scrambled into the passenger seat. “Stop this car immediately!”

“Keep down,” he ordered, “unless you want to get shot.”

The rear window glass erupted into the car’s interior, punctuating his words. The man fired at the attackers through the shattered back window.

“Shot?” Her voice rose an octave. “Oh, dear Lord in Heaven, what have I gotten into?”

“Trouble, Lady.” He fired off another round. “Big trouble.

BUY LINK

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer, she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing, she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. 

You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Follow her on Twitter, FB or her blog.

Two's Company and Three's a Crowd

by Catherine Castle 

Today's writers guest is me, Catherine Castle. I thought I'd give readers a peek at my award-winning romantic comedy, with a touch of drama  A Groom for Mama. One look at the quirky cover and you know you're in for some laughs. I mean, who puts Mama on their wedding cake? Can you find her?

So, take few moments and enjoy the excerpt.

You’ve heard the old axiom, “Two’s company and three’s a crowd,” haven’t you? Well, imagine you’ve made a deal with your mother to find a husband—a deal you don’t really want to keep. A deal you hope will keep her going to clinics to find a cure for her cancer. A deal that will force you to have a date for every test she takes. A deal that lands you a bunch of disastrous dates. And here’s the kicker, your ex-boyfriend is arranging and tagging along on those dates, at your request. Yep. Two’s company and three is definitely a crowd for Allison Walters and her ex-beau Jack Somerset as they travel across the county to find a cure and A Groom for Mama.  

A Groom for Mama

 Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes, she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend. 

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness. 

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.  

Excerpt:

Allison snapped her suitcase shut and shoved it under the bed. “I don’t want to talk about the one who got away, or any other man, Mama. They grab your heart and break it—just like Daddy did to you . . . to us.”

“Not all men are like your daddy,” Mama said. “There are good ones out there, too.”

“Not in my experience.” Allison gave her mother a hug. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” 

Mama’s silence told her she hadn’t heard the last of this subject. Her mother’s stomach growled, easing the way to a subject change. 

Laughing, she asked, “Are you hungry, because I’m starving. Come on, I’ll fix you some lunch. How does your favorite—tuna salad—sound?” 

“Lunch,” Mama echoed. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—Jack’s bringing something over.” The doorbell rang and Mama smiled sweetly. “You’d better run and answer the door, dear. I’m not taking the stairs too good, what with my arthritis and—” 

Allison cut her off. “Please don’t say it, Mama.”

With a nod, Mama said, “Hurry then, before whoever it is thinks we’re not coming.” “Do you need me to return and help you downstairs?”

“No thank you, dear. I can manage.”

Allison didn’t doubt that for a minute. Her already-stubborn mother grew more stubborn every day, if that was possible.

It’s just the situation. I won’t lose my temper when we’re both so stressed, she promised herself. Time is too precious to waste on arguing. 

Bounding down the stairwell as the bell rang, she shouted, “I’m coming! I’m coming. Keep your pants on!” She threw the deadbolt off and jerked open the door. 

Jack Somerset stood in front of her, his chin perched on top of a stack of Chinese take-out cartons. Shoving down her tingling gut reaction, she commanded her heart to stop jumping like an overexcited puppy. 

Except for a few more laugh wrinkles around his eyes, Jack hadn’t changed a bit since college. His brown hair still dipped over his forehead in a shaggy mane. A lopsided smile spread across his face when he saw her. He winked at her, his green eyes twinkling.

“Well, if it isn’t the bride-to-be. Nice to see you again, Allison.” He jiggled the cartons balanced in his arms. “I brought Chinese. I remember it was your favorite. Moo shu pork, right?” He pushed past her and headed toward the kitchen, apparently as well acquainted with her childhood home as she. 

Grabbing her head between her hands, she squeezed her temples.

Chinese. Of all the things he could have brought, he brought Chinese. 

She’d broken it off with him in a Chinese restaurant . . . over moo shu pork. Very loudly and very violently. The pork and the pot of hot tea had landed in Jack’s lap when he tried to keep her from leaving the table. Did his choice of entrees mean Jack hadn’t forgotten the incident? She hadn’t, and she’d been unable to eat that particular Chinese dish since. 

Trailing behind him into the kitchen, she said, “You can put the boxes on the table.” 

He obliged then started taking plates out of the cabinets. 

A frisson of annoyance crept up her spine at the familiarity he showed in her mother’s kitchen. “Why don’t you just make yourself at home?”

“I will.” He shot a boyish grin at her. “Been doing it for some time now.” He set three plates on the table then turned and dug into the silverware drawer.

Stunned, she watched as he laid the silverware out on the table just the way Mama liked them—the knife, fork, and spoon lined up on the right-hand side of the plate. He hadn’t been joking when he said he been making himself at home.

What in heaven’s name had her old flame been doing in her absence? Courting Mama?  

Want tor read more of this award-winning romantic comedy, with a touch of drama? You can find A Groom for Mama at Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Multi award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer, she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Follow her on Twitter @AuthorCCastle, FB or her blog.    

Blonde Math

from Catherine Castle

I’m a blonde. Always have been a blonde.

Always will be a blonde.

If I had any doubt about that it was reinforced the other day when my husband brought me a new blonde joke.

You have to understand that I love blonde jokes. The dumber the blonde the funnier I think the joke is. That’s because at my core I know blondes are really smart, and we know how to work things to our advantage. That’s why so many women, and men, want to be blondes nowadays.

I have a collection of blonde jokes sent to me by friends and that I have garnered from the internet. One of my favorites is about the blonde driving down the highway knitting.

A highway patrolman pulled alongside a speeding car on the freeway.  Glancing at the car, he was astounded to see that the blonde behind the wheel was knitting!

Realizing that she was oblivious to his flashing lights and siren, the trooper cranked down his window, turned on his bullhorn and yelled, 'PULL OVER!'

'NO!' the blonde yelled back, 'IT'S A SCARF!'

I get that joke. I also get the one about the three construction workers, also one of my favorites.

Three male construction workers—an Italian, a Mexican, and a Swede—are sitting on a high construction beam eating lunch.

The Italian pulls a meatball sandwich from his lunch pail and says, “If I get another meatball sandwich for lunch, I’m going to throw myself off this high beam.”

The Mexican pulls a taco from his lunch pail and says, “If I get another taco for lunch, I’m going to throw myself off this high beam.”

Then the Swede pulls a sardine sandwich from his lunch pail and says, “If I get another sardine sandwich for lunch. I’m going to throw myself off this high beam.”

The next day, the Italian pulls a meatball sandwich from his lunch pail and throws himself off the beam. Then the Mexican pulls a taco from his lunch pail and throws himself off the beam. And finally, the Swede pulls a sardine sandwich from his lunch pail and throws himself off the beam.

At the funeral for the men the wives were commiserating. “If I’d only known he hated meatball sandwiches, I wouldn’t have packed them,” said the Italian’s wife.

“If I’d known he hated tacos, I wouldn’t have packed them, either,” said the Mexican’s wife.

Then the two women looked at the Swede’s wife.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “He packed his own lunch.”

I get this joke. Duh…the Swede could have just packed something different and then he wouldn’t have to throw himself off the construction beam.

But the following joke stumped me, proving I’m a true blonde, even when my roots grew out 3 inches during the COVID-19 shutdown.

“Listen to this,” my husband said as he came into the kitchen and proceeded to tell me a new blonde joke.

A blonde answers the door and sees a census worker who asks her a variety of census questions. Then he says, “How old are you, ma’am?”

“Well,” says the blonde,” I was married when I was eighteen and my husband was thirty. He’s sixty now, which is twice his age, so that makes me … thirty-six.”

There was a pregnant pause in the kitchen, and then I said, “So what’s the punch line?”

My husband started howling with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Her husband was thirty when they married and now he’s sixty.”

“Yeah,” I said, “twice his age.”

“And she’s how old?” he asked.

“Thirty-six. Eighteen plus eighteen is thirty-six, right?” I said.

“He’s thirty years older,” my husband said. “He’s now sixty. Do the math.” When I didn’t answer right away he started laughing even harder. “No wonder you were thirty-seven for so many years. You really are a blonde.” Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

“I didn’t add wrong,” I hollered at his retreating back. “I just forgot how old I was for all those years.”

As soon as he was out of sight, I pulled retrieved my phone calculator and did the math again. Eighteen plus eighteen still came out thirty-six.

Thank heaven for calculators, because I flunked word-problem math in seventh grade. Without my calculator I’d be lost doing higher math problems.

Are you a real blonde, too, or do you know the answer my hubby was after? I'd love to know.

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

Catherine may not be great at higher math, but she sure can write, as is testified to through her multiple book awards. Check out her romantic comedy, with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama, for more funny situations.

A Groom for Mama

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes, she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

AMAZON BUY LINK

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer, she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing, she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter, FB, or her blog.

 

Forget the Autumnal Equinox

 from Catherine Castle

Fall begins with this…

It’s officially fall at my house!

Yes, I know the official date was September 23 this year, and I’m writing this post a little later. The official calendar date occurs on the autumnal equinox when and day and night are almost equal—in most locations. I also know that now it’s officially spring in the Southern Hemisphere. But I digress.

As you might have guessed, I don’t follow the notion that fall begins on September 22, or sometimes on September 21 or September 23, depending on the difference between the Gregorian calendar and the time it actually takes the Earth to complete its orbit around the sun. Because it takes 365 and ¼ days for the Earth’s orbit the September equinoxes shift about 6 hours later each year, eventually moving the date by a day.

So, if I don’t recognize the Equinox as the start of fall, when does it start? Fall begins for me in the grocery store, night or day, and it depends upon when I spot this beauty on the produce stand.

Yep, you see it right. Fall begins for me when I find caramel apples in the grocery. I start watching for them in early September, savoring the thought of a crisp apple covered in caramel and chopped peanuts.  They come in packs of three at my Kroger and when my daughter lived at home it was one apple for each of us.  Then when she moved out, I usually ate the third apple when the hubby was at work and then resisted getting another package and hiding it from the family. Now that Hubby’s retired I have to split the last treat. But that’s okay, because when they’re in season he always picks up an extra pack for us. Last night he brought three caramel and cinnamon streusel crusted apples home. Can you say apple pie on a stick?

I justify this sweet treat because apples and nuts in moderation are good for you. Caramel not so much. Apples are loaded with fiber and quercetin, a natural antihistamine. When eaten on a stick, or off the stick, apples are a raw food. Nuts have good MUFA fats (Mono unsaturated fat) which means the caramel apple has no saturated fats and lots of fiber. A great combo for lowering my high cholesterol. I ignore the sugar for this seasonal treat. It only happens once and year and I just eat more fiber to counter the sugar’s bad affects.

Have I made you hungry for a caramel apple yet?  Just in case, here’s a link to an easy recipe to make your own caramel apples. Enjoy, and welcome to fall!

Where novice Sister Margaret Mary goes, trouble follows. When she barges into a drug deal the local Mexican drug lord captures her. To escape she must depend on undercover DEA agent Jed Bond. Jed’s attitude toward her is exasperating, but when she finds herself inexplicably attracted to him, he becomes more dangerous than the men who have captured them, because he is making her doubt her decision to take her final vows. Escape back to the nunnery is imperative, but life at the convent, if she can still take her final vows, will never be the same.

Nuns shouldn’t look, talk, act, or kiss like Sister Margaret Mary O’Connor—at least that’s what Jed Bond thinks. She hampers his escape plans with her compulsiveness and compassion and in the process makes Jed question his own beliefs. After years of walling up his emotions in an attempt to become the best agent possible, Sister Margaret is crumbling Jed’s defenses and opening his heart. To lure her away from the church would be unforgivable—to lose her unbearable.

Available on Amazon

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

FREE 3 DAYS ONLY!

 A Groom for Mama

is the Romance of the Day on Kindle Daily Nation Today, September 1, 2023

and…

Is free on Amazon September 1-3, 2023

Here is the link 

You have three days to get your FREE

fun, hilarious, award-winning, sweet romance,

from multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle.

 

The 2018 Contemporary Romance Raven Award Winning Book

What readers say about this book:

Castle writes with humor. The author excels at building romantic tension and also touching the hearts of readers with family drama. The novel moved me to tears a few times.

There are many twists that kept me turning pages when I should have been doing other tasks.

Definitely recommend this novel and this author! Sandy Hart

~

I immediately fell in love with these delightful characters and had a hard time putting this book down. From the start, I rooted for Allison and Jack and hoped Mama would live long enough to attend the wedding. But romantic journeys are unpredictable, and in this case, the path is filled with humorous (and disastrous) dates, misfortune, and sentimental moments. Joanne Guidoccio

~

You just know when there’s a loving mother involved everything is going to work out ... not always as planned ... but the end result will be exactly what you wanted. A Groom for Mama by Catherine Castle is no exception.

I fell in love with all the characters in the book, but felt especially close to Mama. This book is filled with a lot of love and heartfelt emotion. Beautifully written, it tugged on every one of my heartstrings and tickled my funny bone at the same time. AuthorLady 8

~

A Groom for Mama is a well written, delightful romantic comedy penned by author Catherine Castle. The story takes the reader for a ride—literally halfway across the country in search of the perfect man for Allison Walters.

Jack Somerset's selfless, loving care toward Allison's dying mother is tender and touched my heart. Catherine's creative word phrases such as she "mined a hole the size of Texas" pulls the reader into the narrative and holds one's interest.

I recommend this story if you're in the mood for a one-of-a-kind story that entertains as well as delivers a refreshing message. Virginia J Foster

Get your copy of this delightful romantic comedy read,

A Groom for Mama

before it’s too late!

Don’t miss your chance to get this

FREE for THREE DAYS ONLY!

September 1-3, 2023

Connect with Inspirational and Sweet Romance Author Catherine Castle on these social media outlets:

Catherine’s website: blog: Amazon author page: Goodreads page: Twitter  @AuthorCCastle:  Facebook

A TASTE OF MEXICO

 from Catherine Castle

The other day I wanted a quick easy meal, so I peeked into the pantry to see what I had on hand. I found cans of chicken, green chiles, corn, black beans and cream of chicken soup, and some tortillas, so I set out to create something. Here's what I came up with. We liked it, and I hope you will too.

Quick Oven Quesadilla

2-12.5-oz canned chicken, drained and broken up

1-4-oz can diced green chilies

1-2.5-oz can sliced black olives, drained

1-15-oz can black beans, drained and rinsed

1-11-oz can whole kernel corn, drained

1 can cream of chicken soup

¼ or less cup water, start with a smaller amount. You only need enough water to mix soup other ingredients.

1 cup finely shredded Mexican style cheese.   

1 to 1½ tsp. taco seasoning, or to taste if you like it spicier.

1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

2 high-fiber large tortillas (or corn tortillas) or enough to fit a straight sided cake pan, or 2 high-fiber street tacos to make individual servings in a smaller pan.

Preheat oven to 350° F

In a skillet over medium high heat brown the tortillas on both sides.

While tortillas are browning, mix chicken, corn, beans, chilies, olives, soup, cheddar cheese and water. Heat the mix in a large saucepan stirring until well mixed and beginning to bubble.

Lightly spray the bottom of a cake pan or baking sheet. Lay one tortilla in the pan, top with about ¼ cup mix (for a large tortilla, less for smaller tortillas) onto top of browned tortilla, spreading mix almost to the edge. Top with ¼ cup of finely shredded Mexican cheese. Repeat with other tortilla and 3/4 cup mix. Save left over mix for another day’s use, or you can double the tortillas and make a bigger meal the first time.

Bake about 10-15 minutes or until cheese on top has melted and you can see filling bubbling. (I’ve also baked this for a shorter time at a higher temp when was in a hurry.) Turn off oven and switch to the high broil setting on the oven and broil until cheese on top begins to brown.

Remove from oven. Cut and serve with shredded lettuce, chopped tomatoes, onions, guacamole, salsa or other Mexican side toppings.

If you want to make several stacks at a time lay the base tortillas on a baking sheet and assemble as many as your ingredients allow. Number will depend on the size of your tortillas.

If you only make one stack, or 2 smaller individual servings, the first time you can use the remainder of the filling for a second quesadilla meal or as filling for enchiladas. It will make about 4-6 enchiladas depending on the size of your tortilla. Warm your ingredients before assembling the stacks or enchiladas to cut down on heating time in oven. Make a cheese sauce, or other Mexican sauce to cover the enchiladas and top with shredded cheese. Heat in a 350° oven until cheese has melted and is beginning to brown.

While your dinner is cooking, check out Catherine’s multi-award-winning Inspirational Romantic Suspense The Nun and the Narc. Partially set in Mexico, the heroine, Sister Margaret Mary, an adventurous novice, dines on some unusual marketplace snacks. 

Where novice Sister Margaret Mary goes, trouble follows. When she barges into a drug deal the local Mexican drug lord captures her. To escape she must depend on undercover DEA agent Jed Bond. Jed’s attitude toward her is exasperating, but when she finds herself inexplicably attracted to him, he becomes more dangerous than the men who have captured them by making her doubt her decision to take her final vows. Escape back to the nunnery is imperative, but life at the convent, if she can still take her final vows, will never be the same.

Nuns shouldn’t look, talk, act, or kiss like Sister Margaret Mary O’Connor—at least that’s what Jed Bond thinks. She hampers his escape plans with her compulsiveness and compassion, and in the process makes Jed question his own beliefs. After years of walling up his emotions in an attempt to become the best agent possible, Sister Margaret is crumbling Jed’s defenses and opening his heart. To lure her away from the church would be unforgivable—to lose her unbearable.

Amazon Buy Link

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

HERE COMES THE BRIDAL CAKE

by Catherine Castle

Today I’m talking about wedding cakes and my book A Groom for Mama. Keep reading to the end for an excerpt from my award-winning romantic comedy with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama.  And thanks for stopping by.

If there’s one thing we know about wedding cakes today, it’s that they come in a wide variety of style, flavors and sizes. If you look on the internet you can find wedding cakes ranging from simple two or three layers to towering monstrosities or multi-flavored cakes connected with plastic bridges and even individual cupcakes. But nowhere have I seen a wedding cake that resembles the one the groom broke over his bride’s head in Roman times. In ancient history, and even up to Victorian times, the wedding cake bore little resemblance to the sweet confections of today.

In ancient Rome, the bridal cake was a simple, unsweetened barley loaf. The groom would eat part of the loaf and break the remainder over the bride’s head. This was a symbolic act thought to bring prosperity and good fortune to the couple. Wedding guests would try to eat the crumbs from the cake so they could also share in the good fortune showered down on the bride’s head.

In medieval England, the bridal cake was composed of buns or small cakes. Stories remain from accounts telling of stacking the cakes as high as they would go. If the bride and groom were able to kiss over the tall stack it was thought they would have a life of prosperity.

By the 1660s the story is told of a French chef who was traveling through England and saw the stacked pile of cakes at a wedding. After returning home he devised a method of constructing rounded cakes or buns into a tower form called a Croquembouch. This tiered pile of cakes became the traditional French wedding cake. Today it’s common to place a Croquembouch on top of a more modern layer cake.

From the mid-1700s a Bride’s Pie was introduced at wedding meals.  The pie, which was a meat pie, not a sweetened concoction, was filled with sweetbread, mincemeat, or mutton. Bride’s cakes, which were more like fruitcake than the typical white batter cakes we associate with today’s weddings, might also be eaten.

Groom’s cakes appeared in the 1880s and were typically darker-colored fruitcakes that were much smaller than the bride’s cake. Bride’s cakes, in Colonial times, were very rich creations, often reserved for the wealthy who could afford the ingredients. Because they were so labor intensive to make, the cakes were made weeks ahead of the wedding and soaked in alcohol to preserve them for the wedding date.

In the 1800s bride fruitcakes were still the norm.  Below is a typical recipe for a wedding cake from an 1833 recipe book, courtesy of http://www.foodtimeline.org/foodcakes.html#weddingcake

Wedding Cake [1833] Good common wedding cake may be made thus: Four pounds of flour, three pounds of butter, three pounds of sugar, four pounds of currants, two pounds of raisins, twenty-four eggs, half a pint of brandy, or lemon-brandy, one ounce of mace, and three nutmegs. A little molasses makes it dark colored, which is desirable. Half a pound of citron improves it; but it is not necessary. To be baked two hours and a half, or three hours. After the oven is cleared, it is well to shut the door for eight or ten minutes, to let the violence of the heat subside, before cake or bread is put in. To make icing for your wedding cake, beat the whites of eggs to an entire froth, and to each egg add five teaspoonfuls of sifted loaf sugar, gradually; beat it a great while. Put it on when your cake is hot, or cold, as is most convenient. It will dry in a warm room, as short distance from a gentle fire, or in a warm oven." ---The American Frugal Housewife, Mrs. Child, Boston [1833] (p. 72)

In 1840, Queen Victoria introduced the white-icing tiered cake that we know today as a “wedding cake.”  The cake was iced in ‘royal icing’, which had been invented specifically for the royal wedding cake. Although the cake looked different on the outside, the batter was still the traditional fruitcake of the bride’s cake. The first tiered cakes, including Queen Victoria’s cake, had layers that were not edible. It wasn’t until 1882 when the first tiered cake with all-edible layers appeared at the wedding of Prince Leopold, Duke of Albany. Even today, our English friends choose the traditional fruitcake batter for their wedding cakes. Prince William and Kate’s wedding cake was made with a fruitcake batter, as was his mother’s and his grandmother’s.

Wedding toppers appeared in the 1940s, and by the 1950s, American brides began moving away from the traditional fruitcake of Colonial America. Today, you’ll find wedding cakes in many styles, themes, and flavors. If you can dream it, there will be someone who can make it.

           

When I was writing the book I hadn’t thought much about what kind of cake my characters would have, but I think it would look a lot like the one on my book cover. And Mama would have been sitting on a layer just as she is in the cover. After all, she was Cupid’s helper.   

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend. The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness. A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

EXCERPT

Bounding down the stairwell as the bell rang, Allison shouted, “I’m coming! I’m coming. Keep your pants on!” She threw the deadbolt off and jerked open the door.

Jack Somerset stood in front of her, his chin perched on top of a stack of Chinese take-out cartons. Shoving down her tingling gut reaction, she commanded her heart to stop jumping like an overexcited puppy.

Except for a few more laugh wrinkles around his eyes, Jack hadn’t changed a bit since college. His brown hair still dipped over his forehead in a shaggy mane. A lopsided smile spread across his face when he saw her. He winked at her, his green eyes twinkling.

“Well, if it isn’t the bride-to-be. Nice to see you again, Allison.” He jiggled the cartons balanced in his arms. “I brought Chinese. I remember it was your favorite. Moo shu pork, right?” He pushed past her and headed toward the kitchen, apparently as well acquainted with her childhood home as she.

Grabbing her head between her hands, she squeezed her temples.

Chinese. Of all the things he could have brought, he brought Chinese. She’d broken it off with him in a Chinese restaurant . . . over moo shu pork. Very loudly and very violently. The pork and the pot of hot tea had landed in Jack’s lap when he tried to keep her from leaving the table. Did his choice of entrees mean Jack hadn’t forgotten the incident? She hadn’t, and she’d been unable to eat that particular Chinese dish since.

Buy link: A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble

 

Multi-award winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Follow her on Twitter @AuthorCCastle, FB or her blog.    

 

National Sing Out Day

 from Catherine Castle

May 25, is National Sing Out Day—an unofficial fun holiday when people are encouraged to break out in song, belt out a tune, sing like a bird welcoming the morning sunrise.

You don’t have to ask me twice to sing. I’ve been singing ever since I was a toddler when my farmer grandpa and my dad taught me to sing “In The Garden”.  The old hymn was Dad’s favorite song. I still remember them going over and over the same phrase I kept missing. Don’t remember that phrase, just the endless repetition of a measure of music when I just wanted to go on singing the rest of the tune. That first performance in a little country church hooked me on singing for the rest of my life.

Singing has always been second nature to me. When I was a teenager all I wanted to do was sing on stage professionally. That never happened, but I spent plenty of time singing anyway.

I passed the time singing while washing dishes as a teenager, and no, we didn’t have a dishwasher—my sister and I were it.  I sang in every choir I could get into: high school chorus, the elite high school singing group Studio choir, and the college women’s chorus. In the high school variety show, I sang “What’s it all about Alfie” as a soloist. I sang in the high school musicals in the chorus. While attending Cincinnati Conservatory of Music I sang in the city’s May Festival chorus, which was not my favorite thing since I had to travel downtown, alone, in a not-too-great-area of town after dark. I’ve sung in church choirs, and as a soloist, at all the churches I’ve attended. I’ve even sung in shopping malls at Christmas and as lunch-time Christmas entertainment at my daughter’s office. One of the most fun summer jobs I had as a teen was singing and playing my guitar for children in a summer school program. Although I never reached my dream of being professional singer, I even recorded a song that was played on the local radio show.

If it involved singing, I was there ready, willing and able. And, yes, I’ve even been known to sing in the shower. So, having found this fun holiday, you can bet I’ll be belting out a tune or two to celebrate.

If you’ve ever turned the radio on full blast to your favorite rock and roll songs, so you could hear it over the vacuum cleaner, and burst into song at the top of your lung capacity while sweeping the carpet, you probably know the uplifting and invigorating stimulus of singing. But singing has more benefits than just being fun. Studies have shown that singing can:

1. relieve stress
2. stimulate the immune response system
3. increase your pain threshold
4. help keep you from snoring
5. increase your lung function
6. enhance your memory (especially in people with dementia)
7. improve mental health and mood
8. help with grief
9. help improve speech among people with speech problems
10. and develop a sense of belonging and connection when you sing in a group  

Data from Benefits of Singing: 10 Ways Singing Boosts Your Health (healthline.com)

I can personally attest to benefits 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 10. Singing praises in church always relieves my stress. I’ve been singing all my life, and I’ve got a high pain threshold that’s strong enough to drop a 16-pound bowling ball on my foot and then bowl three games afterward on a broken big toe.  I don’t snore—or so the hubby says. I’ll have to take his word since I can’t hear myself when I’m asleep. ☺ I’ve had to expel my breath for more than eight counts while singing a note and increasing the volume of the sound, and I haven’t passed out in the process—yet. I can still remember words to songs I learned in my youth, and I’m still memorizing new things rather quickly. Belting out a rock and roll tune from my teen years always puts me in a good mood, and I’ve experienced the camaraderie of singing with others who love to sing as much as I do.  

So, on May 25, join me in celebrating National Sing Out day. Jump on the singing bandwagon and belt out your favorite songs. Don’t worry if you can’t carry a tune. Just have a good time. Make a joyful noise and get ready to revel in the benefits and fun of singing. ♫

After you’ve exhausted your song repertoire, check out Catherine’s romantic comedy, with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama. Available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

Multi-award winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter @AuthorCCastle, FB or her blog.

 

Letters From Home

from Catherine Castle

When was the last time you received a letter in the mail? I mean a real letter, not an advertisement or a request for a donation. It is an old practice most people now ignore. But since April is National Letter Writing Month, perhaps there's someone in your life who might like to know you're thinking of them.

I ran across an old letter from my mother the other day. There was no envelope to tell me who’d written the letter, but the moment I saw the wiggly script and rough grammar, I knew instantly who’d penned the words—or rather who’d penciled them. Mom’s words of congratulations on the birth of my daughter and the regret she felt at her inability to traverse the distance between us to be there to help me at the birth sent me hurtling back 42 years to a time when our main mode of communication was letters. I didn’t realize at the time I’d be writing a post about letters, or I’d have kept the missive from Mom. Instead, I slipped it between the pages of my daughter’s baby book and gave it to her to keep. After all, the letter was about her.

Back in the 70s, when the letter was written, cell phones didn’t exist, at least not for common folk.  Long distance land-line phone calls cost by the minute and could get pricey really quick when you wanted to chat up the family and tell them what was happening in your life across the continent. So, we wrote letters. Lots of letters.

I lived for those weekly letters from home, because even though I’d made friends in a faraway state, I still missed my family. Seeing the familiar scrawl of my mother’s handwriting and the precise, loopy script of my mother-in-law’s hand took me back every week to my hometown, to a place that was comforting.

My mother-in-law, who was a talker in person, was no less gabby in her letters to me. Her letters tended to run at least two pages and sometimes four. Every week I knew what she’d had for their Sunday eat-out dinner after church service, and whether it was better or worse that last week’s meal. I knew what her daily activities had been for the week (sometimes she even included the chores she’d finished), whom she’d seen at church (even if it was someone I didn’t personally know), the songs the vocal groups she directed had practiced or sung at a performance. I knew what new or interesting things my sister-in-law, who was still in high school, had done and where she and her boyfriend had gone on their dates. If something was a part of my mother-in-law’s daily life, she wrote about it. When she began to run out of space, being the frugal person she was, she’d write in the margins going around the page so I had to rotate the letter to read the rest of the note.

My mother, who was less of a talker in person, tended to write about her garden, what was going on with the people I knew at church, and my two sisters’ activities.  Mom’s letters were shorter but enjoyed just as much as my gabby mother-in-law’s dissertations.

These two women kept me connected to home for the four years my husband and I were away and unable to come home regularly.

Recently I ran across an old family letter that I hadn’t read before. In it my husband’s grandma talks about her daily routine. Here are a couple of clips from the letter, which I believe was one of the last she wrote before her death.

In other parts of the letter, she talks about how many tomatoes her garden yielded compared to my father-in-law’s garden, the weather that morning (it snowed and froze the last of the garden), who was sick in the town, and upcoming Christmas visit to her home.

Although technology like telephones, cell phones, texting, and zoom calls and emails are a nice way to connect with our loved ones in the here and now, they disappear when the call is over or we get a new cell phone, or our email server crashes or says we have no more storage room on the server. All those words and conversations can never be reread or shared in their entirety. We can’t see the hand of the person in the email, only typed letters, or, in the case of text messages, a I ♥ U in the signature line. Handwriting is unique to each person and often displays some of a personality, something a typed page will never reveal to the reader.

I feel sorry for those who have no written letters from home. Discovering the letter my mother sent me at the birth of my daughter brought back a flood of memories about that time frame as well as a mental picture of my mother. Rereading Grandma’s words took me back to the time when she was alive and reconnected me to her. And rereading the letters from my husband while we were dating and when he was on business in another city floods my heart with emotions.

April is National Letter Writing Month. Let’s all take some time this month and create new memories with the old-fashioned activity of letter writing. Choose a family member or friend who doesn’t live near you and surprise them with a letter from home, filled with newsy bits of information they might like to tuck away for a future re-read.

Tell them you love them. Tell them you miss them. Tell them about the work-a-day stuff of your life and anything you think might entertain them. You might be surprised at the pleasure putting words to paper gives you. And, you might inspire them to answer with their own letter of reply.

Happy Writing!

Catherine

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing and was writing letters long before she began writing fiction. Before beginning her career as a romance writer she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing, she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter @AuthorCCastle, FB or her blog.

Check out her award-winning book A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes, she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

 

Celebrate Your Name

Even If You Change It

by Catherine Castle

March 7-13 was Celebrate Your Name week. Established in 1997 by American onomatology hobbyist Jerry Hill, Celebrate Your Name Week (CYNW) is a week for embracing and celebrating your name.

Before you say, “Why would I want to celebrate my name?” think about this--your name identifies you. It is the one thing that will be in your life now and forever. It can define your ethnicity, your heritage, how you look at yourself, and sometimes how others look at you. If you hate your name you can change it, but the original moniker will still be on your birth certificate. Your name will be used throughout your life to identify you in a myriad of ways: on your driver’s license, bank accounts, health accounts, mortgage deeds, insurance policies, social media accounts, professionally, and friends and family will say your name hundreds of thousands, or even millions of times, over the course of your life.

Think about your name or names if you have a middle one. Do you know what they mean? Do you know how you got them? Do you know how long it took your parents to decide on what to name you? How important was your name to those who named you? Have you ever wanted to change your name, and if so why? How did that change work out for you?

I know the answers to a few of those questions. My birth names mean pure and peace. I was named after both of my grandmothers, whose names at the time of my birth were very old-fashioned. My aunt Ella, on my father’s side, always addressed me by my first and my middle names. I suppose she didn’t want me to forget my paternal grandmother, whom I never met. I can still recall my aunt’s voice addressing me. She was the only one who ever called me by both names and somehow it became extra special to me.

I don’t know how long it took my parents to decide on my name or whether they had chosen it before I was born or after. Back then you had to have male and female options, since the gender was a surprise until the baby arrived.

I do know that it was very important to my mother that people called me Catherine, not Cathy. While in high school I shortened my name to Cathy and introduced myself that way at school. Catherine was too long to write on homework papers and very old-fashioned at the time. I wanted to be hipper back then. At church, and in front of my mother, I was always Catherine.

That dichotomy caused me a lot of problems. Although I cautioned any boy to whom I gave my home phone number to ask for Catherine—not Cathy, they invariably forgot. When Mom got to the phone before I did, which was often since she had a phone beside her easy chair, I’d hear, “Sorry, there’s no one here by that name.” Then she’d hang up the phone and glare at me. I lost a lot of potential boyfriends and dates that way. One icy answer from my mother and they never called back. I think they thought I’d given them the run-around with a wrong number. As the years went by, I grew out of my Cathy phase and now I have to correct people when they shorten my name. I still answer to Cathy at my high school reunions. Mom’s not around anymore to glare at me in disapproval and it’s just easier for those few hours to answer to the nickname.

My grandmother was called Cat by her brothers. I used to think that was a horrible nickname and cringed whenever I heard her addressed that way. When my nieces and nephews came along, Cat was easier to say than Catherine, so I adopted Grandma’s nickname. It shocked the heck out of my family when I gave those babies the okay to call me Cat.  Now I’m Aunt Cat to all of them. I now eschew the high school nickname I gave myself and love the birth name I once hated. Ain’t life funny?

When I began my fiction-writing career, I changed my name again. I kept my first name, because I like it a lot now. I’ve grown into it. I also thought keeping my first name would be less confusing at writing conferences. If someone called me Nancy, I might think they were talking to another person and unintentionally ignore them. That would be bad.  I did, however, choose a different last name—one that would fit easier on a book cover and had a nice alliteration to my first name. My pen name is Catherine Castle. With that name change I became an author of sweet and inspiration romance.

 I still remember the first time a stranger in a bookstore asked, “Are you Catherine Castle?”

Startled, I looked at her and said, “Yes, I am.” No one had ever recognized my author persona before and I wondered how she knew me.

She must have seen the question in my gaze because she said, “I recognize you from your picture on your website.”

I left the bookstore with a big grin on my face that lasted for several hours. A complete stranger knew who Catherine Castle, the author, was! 

Shakespeare wrote, in Romeo and Juliet, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…" This popular quote is often used to imply that it didn’t matter that Romeo’s name was associated with the house of Juliet’s family’s sworn enemy.

I suggest that your name does matter and that your name affects who you are. A boy named Sue will have a very different life than one named Chauncy. So if you love your name, or are just indifferent to it, embrace it. Take a few minutes this week to celebrate your name. Find out everything you can about your name. Dig into its history. You might be surprised as to why you are named what you are and how your name has made you who you are.

If you need to change your name for some reason, choose wisely. In the Bible, when a name change happened it often reflected some new aspect of one’s life, a thing that changed them and defined their new life paths. Your name can define you, too. So make your new name a good one.

Celebrate name week—Celebrate!

Catherine Castle is very picky about how she chooses the character names for her books. She once wrote an entire book inserting the name Mother 2 into the pages because she couldn’t think of the right name for that antagonist character. Her critique partners thought it was a real hoot, but when she finally came up with Mother 2’s name—Tiberia—they all agreed it fit her perfectly.

In her book A Groom for Mama, she named one of the characters in honor of a dear friend who battled cancer. Here’s a peek at the blurb. 

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes, she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

AMAZON BUY LINK

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer, she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing, she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter, FB, or her blog.