Amanda McIntyre-My gift to you-Have a Hopeful Holiday Season!

 

If you're like me, we're all looking forward to waving goodbye to

 2020 in the rearview mirror!

I wrote this book about HOPE to inspire the HOPE that I felt draining from our hearts with all that's happened directly and indirectly from the challenges of 2020.

Whatever your challenge. Let your heart take courage.

There is HOPE.

As the song says,

 "A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices!"

Click here for free book

HERE'S WISHING YOU A HAPPY, HOPE-FILLED 

HOLIDAY SEASON!

Published internationally in print, eBook, and Audio, bestselling author Amanda McIntyre finds inspiration from the American Heartland that she calls home. Best known for her Kinnison Legacy cowboys and Last Hope Ranch series, her passion is writing emotional, character-driven small town contemporary western, historical, and dabbling in mixing genres! No matter what the genre, Amanda truly believes that no matter what, love will always find a way.

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Blast to the Past-All I Want for Christmas! Free Read!

 I loved the characters, the setting and the spirit of the holidays. Amanda McIntyre has the magic touch."-Rosemary, Amazon Reviews

FREE SEPT. 29- OCT. 3

The legacy continues....

Rein and Liberty MacKenzie are starting a family…make that trying to. In this sexy, heart-warming holiday tale, the Kinnison Legacy returns to End of the Line, Montana where this persistent couple face more on the road to parenthood than they bargained for.

Excerpt~

“This is Cody Ross.” The kind woman placed her arm around his tiny shoulders. “Cody, you remember Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie from the house?”

The young boy ducked beneath Ellie’s arm, shielding his face in her shoulder.

She smiled and hugged the boy. “It’s okay, Cody. They are some of my best friends and I know they’d like to be yours, too. Why, I bet if you wanted, Mr. Mackenzie might even take you to see his horses at the Last Hope Ranch.”

The boy peeked at Rein.

“It’s true,”. Rein said with a nod. “We have a lot of horses and one of our dogs just had a litter of puppies. Do you like puppies?”

The boy glanced at Liberty, then back to Rein and nodded. He cautiously extracted himself from Ellie’s embrace.

Liberty’s eyes stung from unshed tears. She wanted nothing more than to scoop up the little boy and hug him. Her fear of whether she could love a child not her own was immediately replaced with that of whether she’d be able to let go of this one when the time came. “Do you like Christmas trees, Cody?” Liberty asked. “We’ve been waiting to put ours up.” She didn’t add that the reason had been her melancholy about the holidays in general. Liberty hadn’t been able to muster much Christmas spirit, despite being very happy for friends and family in the throes of having children—starting their families.

“I never had one,” he said softly. He rubbed his small fist down his cheek and glanced at Ellie, seemingly unsure if that was the appropriate answer.

Liberty smiled encouragingly. “Then this will be a very special tree indeed. One that you can pick out. How about that?”

His eyes narrowed briefly, followed by a barely noticeable nod before his gaze fell on the giant gooey cinnamon roll that Liberty had ordered.

“Would you like to try a bite? Betty makes the best cinnamon rolls on the planet.”

“It’s true,” Betty said with a grin for the boy. “At least, that’s what they tell me.” She placed a cup of coffee on the table for Ellie. In front of Cody she put a small mug of hot cocoa. “You looked like a marshmallow kind of guy. Here,” she said, “you’ll probably need a spoon.”

Cody accepted the spoon, then tentatively reached for the pastry.

“Oh, here. Let me help you with that.” Liberty sliced off a piece and placed it on the small plate Betty had brought.

Cody picked up the bite with tiny fingers and took a nibble.

Liberty held her breath, awaiting the little boy’s reaction.

“Do you like that?” Ellie asked, finally cutting the tension.

He thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

Rein leaned back with a grin as Cody quickly devoured the rest and reached for more.

“How about we get some bacon to go with that? Then maybe Mrs. Mackenzie will share a bit more with you,” Ellie offered. “Would you like that?”

The little boy nodded. For the next thirty minutes Liberty watched entranced by how the young boy’s demeanor changed from sullen to seemingly content. She wondered what kind of things those soulful little eyes had seen. Images of her childhood drifted into her thoughts, remembering things that no child should have to experience.

Ellie caught her gaze and smiled as though understanding the sum of Liberty’s thoughts. She turned to the boy. “Cody, how would you like to go with Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie to see their house, and stay for a short visit? Maybe you could help with the new puppies?”

“They’re only a few weeks old and you’d have to be very gentle. Could you do that?” Liberty took his tiny hand in hers. The mere touch produced a strange lump in her throat.

Cody drew his hand away and, pushing to his knees, whispered in Ellie’s ear.

She smiled and glanced at Rein and Liberty. “Mr. Mackenzie isn’t your father, no, but he and Mrs. Mackenzie have offered to let you stay with them for a while. But I’ll be up to visit you in a day or two.”

“We’ve got a special room ready for you, buddy,” Rein said. “You’ll have your own bed. Your own toys.”

“Tractors?”

Rein blinked, then grinned. “Sure, absolutely. John Deere. And when the weather clears we’ll go down to my brother’s ranch and see the horses.”

“I like horses,” Cody piped up without reservation.

“Then we’ll need to get you a pair of real cowboy boots, I’m thinking. What do you say?”

“And a hat… like yours?” He pointed to Rein’s perched on the hook by the booth.

Liberty caught Rein’s eye and grinned. The little guy wasn’t the least bit shy once he felt comfortable.

“Well, then, Cody, I guess let’s go get your things out of the car,” Ellie said.

Rein stood. “I’ll go take care of the bill. Liberty can go with you. I’ll be right out.”

Ellie handed the boy’s coat to her. “Into the deep end, girlfriend.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. She knelt in front of the little boy. A million questions and concerns spun in her brain. Only one kept swirling to the forefront. Can I do this? She glanced up at Ellie as she stood.

Ellie smiled. “It’s going to be fine.”

Liberty looked down at the little boy who stood holding his mitten-clad hand out to take hers and her heart took a tumble. 

I LOVE THE HOLIDAYS, ESPECIALLY CHRISTMAS MUSIC AND MOVIES (ANYONE ELSE BINGE HALLMARK MOVIES?)

What's Your Favorite Holiday Movie?

So here's my GIFT this season for readers to sample my writing!

FREE September 29- October 3 

PICK UP YOUR DIGITAL COPY 

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS 

May your holidays be filled with many blessings!

Amanda hosts #storiesoftheheart-Graduation Days

Growing Up Is Like Learning to Swim (A metaphor on Graduation)

by Amanda McIntyre

“You know, his mom says, “this reminds me of when you took swimming lessons.”

Really. Mom? Another story?” He shakes his head, but hides his smile.

“Hey, we might not have many more times like this. Just hear me out,” I said, sitting beside him on the park swings, away from the graduation reception. The same park where he’d once taken his first swimming lessons.

I looked at the now empty pool. “You began at the shallow end--scared, unsure, not wanting to let the water touch your face. You were afraid at first of the water. But slowly, with each visit to the pool, you got a little bit braver, taking timid steps until you immersed your body whole to dive for those pennies at the bottom.”

I smiled softly, then continued. “As you got older, you found the shallow end boring, it didn’t hold quite the challenge. You wanted to see if you could do more, so you ventured out into the deep end.” There you learned to float—sometimes to tread water. But you challenged the unknown and realized it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was freeing somehow, to know that you’d conquered the fear inside you. And you're content for a while, swimming in the deep end.

I glanced at my son; his gaze focused on the worn dirt path at his feet. “Until, the day you discovered the diving board. And once more you faced another challenge. I suggested it might be fun.” She smiled, studying his face. “I remember you saying that it looked kind of scary and I just waited, letting you think it through.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try,” you said.

“I could see you mustering your courage.” I smiled when he looked at me. “You’ve come a long way since overcoming those first challenges, huh?” In that moment, time seemed to stand still and I wondered when he had gone from that little boy to a young man.

“Mom, are you gonna cry? Here?” He looked around, hoping no one was watching.

“No, I wouldn’t think of it,” I waved off his concern. “But I am going to finish.” I searched his eyes, remembering a million moments—his first scrape, first scout badge, first loose tooth, first home run in Little League, first heartbreak. I took a deep breath, reining myself in, willing myself not to get weepy. There’d be time for that-later.

“You were in your early teens, I think when you decided to climb the tall ladder to make that first dive. I remember you peered around the side of the ladder and found me at the fence. You made it to the top and stood there, debating, I suspect, how far away the shallow end looked. Then you looked down to where the other kids—younger than you—were about to embark on their first lesson. I’m guessing you understood how it felt--the challenge of something new.”

My son shrugged and nodded. He squinted me a glance, a grin curving one side of his mouth. “Mom, does this story have a point?”

“Every now and again, one of those little kids would stop to watch you climb the ladder," I said. "You’d reached the top. And while you looked down, pondering your fate, I’m sure you felt uncertain. You may have even felt like climbing back down. Some do come down.” 

She held his gaze. “But as you stood there, I could see you wanted to step out and accomplish something you’d never done before. Maybe in part, to impress the young person watching you-saying to themselves—if he can do it, so can I.”

He chuckled under his breath. “It might have been the cute lifeguard, too, mom.”

I rose one brow. “My point is that you learned uncertainty is not an option. You conquered the shallow end; you mastered the deep end. You knew what it felt like to touch the bottom--sometimes finding the treasure, sometimes not. You learned to float and tread water. It was all inside you--sure as the concrete structure of the pool before you.”

He laughed, the deepness of his chuckle signaling that he was getting the picture.

I turned to him. “Do you remember how scared you were? How you faced those fears and crushed them? You finally just dove in and came up with your fist in the air and yelled, yesss!”

He smiled. “Crushed it, mom? Really?”

“So, here’s the metaphor,” I said. “In life, there'll be other dives you'll learn,” I said. “The jack-knife….”

“The belly-flop?” he chuckled.

I nodded. “And maybe with lots of practice, the swan dive.” I shrugged. “And there may be times when you just want to sit on the side and bask in the sun, knowing that when you choose, you can hop back in.”

 I pointed my finger at him. “But each time you teeter on the edge of that diving board, pondering the uncertainty—you'll remember this story and remember what already lies within you.”

He was quiet a moment, then smiled. " Thanks for the story. I get it." He stood and pulled me into a bear hug. “Love you, mom.”

My chin quivered. I, too, had faced my hearts greatest challenge of accepting that my son was no longer a little boy. I’d dived in. Done my best. Faced every challenge. Relished every victory. 

“Love you more,” I said.

Amanda McIntyre writes stories of small-town humor, hope and warmth-where love always finds a way. Also a veteran of several high school and college graduations which include her four adult kids and daughter-in-law.