Tag Archives: Sunday morning

#SundaySnippet 5.31.2020

This is from my upcoming release ( no date yet) for BAKED WITH LOVE, book 3 in my Match Made in Heaven Series. This one tells the love story of inn owner Maureen and the Chief of Police Lucas Alexander:

“Oh. My. God. Honestly, Maureen, you should have your own cooking show. This is insane.”

“Everything she makes is insane,” a male voice said from the doorway.

It was a voice I knew well, since its owner was a frequent inhabitant of my dreams. Husky and deep, with a dash of just woken gravel, it could cajole a lover into seduction or cut off a criminal at the knees.

Fortunately, I’d never been the later. But I’d fantasized about being the former for years.

“Truth,” Colleen said around a mouthful of salad. “Why are you here?” she asked Heaven’s Chief of Police, Lucas Alexander before I could. “Somebody call a cop?”

Lucas flicked his moss green, heavily hooded eyes from my sister to me, one corner of his mouth tilting up. I actually had to contract my pelvic floor muscles whenever he looked at me so I wouldn’t melt to the floor in a pool of want. My ninety-three year old grandmother, Nanny Fee, calls this girding your loins. As far as a descriptive phrase for the maneuver, it’s a good one.

“You got a minute?” he asked me.

The book has just been contracted and is in the editing phase right now. I do hope to have it out in 2020. This is a mock up of the cover – not the ral thing!!

You can read books 1 and 2 here:

DEARLY BELOVED 

TODAY, TOMORROW, ALWAYS

 

Enjoy your week.

Until next time ~ Peg

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#SundaySnippet 5.17.2020

With just 3 more days until VANILLA WITH A TWIST releases, I would be remiss not to push the book a little more today on my Sunday Snippet! 

“For the record, Tandy, I don’t do favors in order to get something in return. I do them because I want to, because it gives me pleasure, and simply because I can.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she dropped her chin.

“Now, it would be a lie to say I’m not attracted to you.”

Her head shot up again, and the surprise crossing her face was almost comical.

“And I don’t lie. Ever. You’re a beautiful, warm, and fascinating woman, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. But I would never ask or expect a woman, no matter how attracted I was to her, to have sex with me because I helped her in some way. I’m not that kind of guy, and I’m sorry if you think I am.”

In truth, he was hurt more than sorry.

Her shoulders sagged. She shook her head, the copper strands slipping from her messy topknot and swaying against her cheeks.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said when she lifted her gaze back to his. “I’m sorry for doubting your…intentions and suspecting there was more behind them than there was.”

With his head cocked, he regarded her as he tried valiantly not to smile. She looked about twelve years old right now, like a kid being chastised for wrongdoing.

“Thank you for saying that.” It didn’t escape his notice she hadn’t commented on his statement about being attracted to her.

Intrigued? Here’s where you can preorder your own copy so you have it when 5.20.2020 rolls around:

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0868XXYQC

Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/vanilla-with-a-twist-peggy-jaeger/1136710329?ean=2940162687870

Applebooks https://books.apple.com/us/book/vanilla-with-a-twist/id1505095515

 

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A Mother’s Day tribute….

In 2005 I was honored to have a piece I’d written about motherhood included in one of the fabulous Chicken Soul for the soul books – EVERY MOM’S SOUL

The essay was called MOTHERHOOD: A TRANSFORMATION and it seems fitting I reprint it here today for all the Mom’s who read this blog.

“Once upon a time I was a nurse, a writers, and a wife.

Then one day, I had a child. I became a mother.

Added to the list of things I previously was, I became: a chauffeur, a cook, a dresser, a wiper of dirty faces, a cleaner of soiled diapers, a retriever of thrown socks, a finder of lost shoes, a doer of homework, an insomniac. I was a referee in toy wars, a slayer of nighttime dragons, a soother of nervous school jitters. I was a room mother, a den mother, a leader of Girl Scouts, and one day, mother of the bride. I calmed tantrums and bolstered fragile egos.

With each passing day my talents grew.

I became a baker of cookies, a sewer of Halloween costumes extraordinaire. I could braid hair in the time most people wash their faces. And I could smile even when I didn’t want to.

Where once my body had been my own to do with as I pleased, it now belonged to someone else. It became : a breast to nourish at, a shoulder to cry on, a lap to sit and cuddle upon. My lips became kissers of boo-boos, my hips the transporters of small, squirmy bundles. My feet were now used to walk the floor at all hours of the night, my arms became a cradle. I grew eyes in the back of my head and my hearing went supersonic.

Once upon a time my name was Peggy.

Then I became a mother and had as many aliases as a con man. I was, at various times, Mm, Ma-ma, Ma, Mommie, Mom, Mother, MOTHER! and for a brief period of mental vexation, Peg.

My mind, which used to flourish with egocentric thoughts now became filled with irrational ideations. What if she falls out of the crib? What if he chokes on his food? What if I do or say the wrong things? How will I know I’m a good parent? How will I know I’m a bad one?

My house, once so orderly and tidy became a disorderly jumble of toys and stuffed animals, dried peas and empty, strew formula bottles; a carpet of clutter and chaos; a dwelling of disarray.

My heart, once only given to another, was now taken from me and filled to the brim, bursting with devotions and love.

I was a MOTHER. I was an icon. I’d done something no man had ever done, accomplished a feat so death defying and magical that many wouldn’t attempt it.

I became a MOTHER.

And, in so doing, I became all that I was, all that I ever wished to be.

 

~ Happy Mother’s Day

Peg

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#SundaySnippet 4.26.2020

In a little less than a month, my new romance novella VANILLA WITH A TWIST releases from The Wild Rose Press. It’s a sweet romance set in a seacoast town in New Hampshire and takes place in summer, after July 4th.

Here’s the set up:

Tandy Blakemore spends her days running her New England ice cream parlor, single-parenting her teenaged son, and trying to keep her head above financial water. No easy feat when the shop’s machinery is aging and her son is thinking about college. Tandy hasn’t had a day off in a decade and wonders if she’ll ever be able to live a worry-free life.

Engineer Deacon Withers is on an enforced vacation in the tiny seaside town of Beacher’s Cove. Overworked, stressed, and lonely, he walks into Tandy’s shop for a midday ice cream cone and gets embroiled in helping her fix a broken piece of equipment.

Can the budding friendship that follows help fix their broken spirits and lead to love?

And here’s a little something from Deacon’s viewpoint after he meets Tandy for the first time:

Deacon slept through the night for the first time in months. After glancing at the analogue clock next to his bed and realizing he’d been down for over ten hours, he stretched and couldn’t help the smile drifting across his face.

Yesterday had been…fun. His stroll along the boardwalk, the hour he’d sat in the sand watching kids playing in the water and teens tossing a Frisbee around, even the unexpected repair job he’d done at Vanilla with a Twist had all blended into one of the most enjoyable afternoons he’d had in years.

Thinking of the ice cream parlor had him conjuring the face of its enchanting owner.

Tandy Blakemore was an interesting mix of died-in-the-wool Yankee, old-world New Englander, and modern-day siren. Although she probably wouldn’t consider herself the latter. That thick tangle of coppery red hair bundled on top of her head had his fingers itching to yank it all down and see it drift about her face from the ocean breeze. His mother’s antique emerald necklace didn’t sparkle and shine as much as the green in Tandy’s eyes did. The little knock of awareness that hit him square in the stomach when she focused on him was surprising. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything akin to desire. Another consequence of working too hard and not enjoying the life he’d built.

From sharing a meal with her and listening to her views, she seemed the sort of woman who didn’t suffer fools, called a spade a spade, and understood the concept of a good day’s work. Her striking looks and coloring added to his desire to know her better.

A quick check of his barren cupboards and near- empty refrigerator told him breakfast would have to wait until he went into town and bought some provisions. While the lobster roll he’d had for dinner had been mouthwatering, the leftovers wouldn’t be as appealing for a morning meal. The memory of the shocked look on Tandy’s face when she’d spotted the amount of food he’d brought made him smile. He’d taken the remaining garlic knots into the shop before heading home and left them with one of Tandy’s servers to give to her. From the way she’d sighed and closed her eyes when she’d popped one, hot from the container, into her mouth, Deacon knew they were a favorite and he’d wanted her to have them.

Available for preorder now at the sale price of just #99cents here:VANILLA WITH A TWIST

Looking for me? Here I am:Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// Book Me

Until next time ~ Peg

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#SundaySnippet 4.12.2020

I’m working on a few projects right now, one of which I hope to release in the summer, a contemporary romance titled WOKE.

Here’s something I wrote yesterday for it: it’s still fresh and unedited, so don’t judge!

“Almost everyone has checked in,” I told Gillian Spring hours later. “I just have one reservation left. A”—I glanced down at the sheet of names—“Kincade Enright.”

“That would be me.”

I looked up and found a deep pair of green colored eyes that looked hauntingly familiar.

The guy from the rehab center. The one I’d almost fallen flat on my ass from barreling into.

“Well.” A smile danced on his lips. “We meet again. Talk about coincidence.”

Gillian looked from me to him, a tiny smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

“I see someone I need to talk to,” she told me. “I’ll see you inside.”

Before walking again she mouthed Oh my God to me.

She wasn’t kidding.

Goodness. The man had been appealing in workout clothes, all hard muscle and lean mass on display, but wearing a perfectly fitted, midnight colored, double breasted suit that I knew sold for over five thousand dollars, he was absolutely…mouthwatering.

And there was a phrase I hadn’t used, nor thought of as a description, in almost two decades.

I returned his smile and handed him an auction brochure along with his table number.

“It never ceases to amaze me how small a city with eight million people can actually be,” I said.

His smile grew.

“The silent auction has already started,” I said. “It’ll close when dinner is served in about,” I checked my watch, “twenty minutes, so you have some time to look around. The live auction takes place during dinner.”

He flipped through the brochure and stopped at one of the pages. “The Charles Dickerson painting is on the live auction, yes?”

I nodded. “Are you a fan?”

“I am. I’m not bidding on it for myself, though, but for a client.”

“A client? Are you an art dealer?”

He reached into his pocket and handed me a business card.

Enright Investments/Management

Kincade Enright, MBA, PFS

“So, you’re a… stock broker?”
“No, I’m in personal finance. I manage online investments and portfolios for my clients, one of whom wants an original Dickerson. So,” He lifted his hands in the air.

Talk about serendipity. Just yesterday I’d been toying with the idea of searching for a financial planner as a way to help grow some of the center’s donations. While my mother’s lawyer could point me in the right direction, I didn’t want someone conservative, which is where I knew he’d direct me. I wanted someone with a foresight and courage to help grow our coffers. Investing seemed like a good way to offset the times when the funds grew tight. Fingering the embossed card I tucked his name into the back of my mind.

“Well, I hope you can make your client happy tonight, Mr. Enright, and in doing so, you’ll both be benefiting the women’s center, so I’ll thank you in advance.”

“You’re welcome, and it’s Cade.” He stuck out his hand to shake mine. “And you are?”

My gaze took a quick dip from his grinning face to his outstretched hand. Manners had been ingrained in me from birth, both by my mother and Maeve, so I slid mine into his, ready to give it a perfunctory shake. The moment his fingers wrapped around mine, though, a bolt of lightning flashed between us and paralyzed me to my spot.

A tiny jolt of…something, flared across his eyes, telling me he’d noticed it, too.

Warmth steeped from him through to me and flowed all the way to my core, heating it like a nuclear coil. His skin was soft and smooth, like he wasn’t used to manual labor, but by no means was he weak. Strength and power surged from his grip. Instinct told me this was a man for whom character, depth, and a strong sense of self were integral parts of his makeup.

All intriguing qualities in a man.

Intriguing, and wildly alluring.

While he stood in front of me, still holding me hand, I realized I was supposed to answer him.

I blinked a few times to try and refocus myself and said, “A.J. Callahan. Sorry, I’ve got a lot going on up here”—I pointed to my head with my free hand—“and I’m thinking of fifty things at the same time.”

Lame, I know, but I was really caught off guard by his touch.

He pumped my hand once, then let it go. For a hot second I fantasized about pulling it back and maybe even wrapping it around my waist.

“Well, I’ll leave you to them, then. It was nice seeing you. Again.” He grinned.

“Enjoy the auction and the dinner. Bid often and bid high,” I added. “It’s for a worthy cause.”

Looking for me while I’m writing? I’m usually here: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// Book Me

Until next time ~ Peg

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#SundaySnippet 4.5.2020 Today, Tomorrow, Always

I simply had to pull today’s snippet from one of my favorite books of 2019 – TODAY, TOMORROW, ALWAYS – becauseI wanted to share with you an unbelievable 5 star review I received from Long and Short reviews on Friday. After I stopped crying I knew this week I should re-promo this  book again.

In this scene, Cathy starts to realize there’s more than just a sad spirit floating about in Mac Frayne. Much more…..

Before leaving, I pulled my cellphone from my purse and slipped it into my jacket pocket. Life with Nanny has taught me never to be more than an Instagran call away.

I led the way down the cast-iron circular staircase to the subbasement. I hadn’t been in the personal archives since taking over my keeper-of-the-keys duties—I was going to call it that forever, now—and I’d forgotten how deathly quiet it could be. And creepy. What amounted to two stories below ground level, the staircase was lit only by the electric sconces on the wall guiding us downward. The sound of our shoes bounced and echoed off the metal gratings under our feet.

“It’s wicked spooky down here,” I said when we came to the bottom. “No outside noise. No windows. No people. It’s like a perfect tomb. If I ever got stuck down here, the silence alone would scare me into an early grave.”

“If I was a suspense or a horror writer, this would be a great setting to kill someone and then stash the body,” Frayne said, looking around the space.

“With limited, keyed access and no foot traffic, it wouldn’t be discovered for a while. You could make as much noise or as much of a mess as you wanted and no one would know. The walls would absorb all the sounds of torture and screaming. We’re far enough underground the stench of decomp wouldn’t be noticeable. By the time the body was found, you’d be long gone. It’s kind of a perfect setup, actually.” He perused the area intensely, assessing the possibilities.

A shudder zipped up my spine. Who knew the mild-mannered and reserved writer had such a macabre side?

And why, for the love of God, did I find it so…arousing?

He turned to me, and then cupped the back of his neck with one palm, a half grin lining his mouth. “Sorry. I tend to think out loud without filtering. Side effect of being in a solitary profession. I don’t usually have an audience when thoughts are running around in here”—he tapped his temple—“so I tend to say them out loud.”

“I think you might have missed your calling in the horror-writing department. The scene you set was a little too realistic and probable for comfort. The next time we come down here, I’m hauling a baseball bat along in case you want to try out any of your ideas.”

A heart-stopping grin shot across his face like a bolt of lightning: rapid, blinding, and powerful.

“I’m harmless.” To underscore his point, he drew an X over his heart.

I didn’t know about that. Those dimples were about as harmless as a heart attack.

With a shake of my head and my own grin slipping across my lips, I slid the key into the locked door and opened it. A second door, this one passcode protected, stood a few feet in front of us.

“Double security. Impressive.”

“The museum’s insurance adjustor insisted on it. Some of the papers and items in here could be considered historically priceless.” I typed the seven- digit code I’d had to memorize when I was inducted into the historical society onto the keypad located on the wall abutting the door.

“You know, if I was writing my horror book, I’d make you the sole individual with access to the admittance code,” he said, his voice soft and hushed now around us. “I’d worm my way into your trust, then lure you down here to gain access to some treasure sealed behind the door.”

He was standing close behind me, so close I could feel his breath trail across the back of my neck. The shiver sliding down my spine this time wasn’t from the creep factor associated with the locale. No, this time it was pure excitement fraying my nerve endings. Excitement, want, and…need.

I turned back to face him. A day or two’s thatch of black and white stubble grazed his cheeks and jaw, and if I were to scratch my fingers across it, it would be prickly and incredibly alluring. His eyes had gone to half-mast as he regarded me from under thick lashes, and his lips were parted a fraction.

“Worm your way into my trust, how?”

His shrug appeared noncommittal. After a moment, he tugged his bottom lip under his top teeth and slanted me a gauging squint. “Well, since my purpose would be some shade of evil, malicious intent—”

“Good description for a horror story.”

He grinned. “I’d have to make sure you trusted me. Maybe I’d write a plot point where you took pity on me for some reason.” He stopped, his gaze shooting down to my mouth and then back up again. “Maybe even attempt a simple seduction to ensure my hold over you.”

The subbasement was kept at a comfortable, controlled seventy degrees year round. But you would never have known it by me. With each word from Frayne’s lips, my inner temperature climbed higher, like a nuclear coil overreacting and heating to dangerous levels.

“A-a simple…seduction?”

Good Lord. I was relegated to repeating things now because I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not with the heat blazing like a firestorm in his eyes.

“Maybe not so…simple.” His voice lowered even more. “The need to be careful with you, with your feelings, would war within me. I’d have to decide what

I wanted more: the hidden treasure…” His gaze flicked to my mouth. “Or you.”

I swallowed.

“And after you decide? Then what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even and not give him a clue what he was doing to my nervous system. “You’d chop me into tiny bits and leave me for the docents to find in six months’ time while you escaped scot-free?”

I’d meant it to be a playful rejoinder, following his horror theme, and a ridiculous attempt to lighten the mood. The joke was on me, though.

Frayne took a step closer, stretched out an arm and placed his palm flat against the wall, imprisoning me on one side. I lifted my chin to keep my gaze connected with his.

“No.” His voice was as soft as a curl of smoke. “No, I wouldn’t hurt you. Never. I couldn’t.” He shook his head. “I think I’d write it so I stole the treasure…and you along with it. I’d take you both with me.” With a tiny crook to his elbow, he leaned in closer and bent his head.

“Where…where would we go?” I asked. While waiting for his reply, I swallowed again—hard—the sound of my throat working loud and rough between us.

With his free hand, Frayne reached up and idly coiled a strand of my hair around his finger. Lovingly, he rubbed it between his thumb and his first two fingers, then lifted it to his mouth. When he dragged it across his lips, I swear on my oath as an officer of the court, I was in danger of losing my ability to stand.

“Someplace no one would ever find us.” His voice had gone whisper-soft. “Someplace…far away from”— he sighed—“everything and everyone.”

How wonderful that sounded. To go someplace far away from court cases and demanding clients. Loneliness and heartache. Responsibilities and sad memories.

“We’d spend the rest of our lives on a beach somewhere, lying in the warm sun. Drinking champagne, eating lobsters. Sleeping.” He let loose my hair. “Making love. No outside concerns. No thoughts about anything except what time the sun set. Sounds pretty perfect, doesn’t it?”

That ability to keep standing upright? Yeah, well, I lost it right then and there.

I fell backward against the security door, shoving it open with my body. I stumbled across the threshold and would have fallen flat on my butt if Frayne’s reflexes weren’t laser swift. His strong hands went around my upper arms and held fast. Even through the layers of my blouse and the warm wool jacket, heat blasted from his fingers, branding my flesh as if he held it, bare, in his hands.

When the door opened, the automatic light shot to the on position and the glare from the overhead fluorescents was blinding.

Frayne held me close in front of him, even after I was sure-footed, his fingers slowly kneading my upper arms as he continued to stare down at me. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat for the third time—and then tried to take a step back and out of his hold.

His grip tightened. “Cathy? Are you all right?”

“You can let me go,” I said, my voice shaking. “I won’t fall. Promise.”

Intrigued? I hope so. If you are, you can get your copy across any of these platforms.

Amazon // B&N // Applebooks   // Rakuten-Kobo // google play // Books-a-million //

Also available at the TOADSTOOL BOOKSHOP in Keene, NH

Until next time, peeps ~Peg

Looking for me? Here I am: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// Book Me

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Filed under Today Tomorrow Always

#sundaySnippet 3.15.2020

This week, a few lines from TODAY, TOMORROW, ALWAYS, in which Nanny Fee speaks the plain truth to Cathy.

After getting her settled back into her room, I bent and kissed her cheek telling her I’d call her later on.

With an impatient wave of her hand, she said, “Don’t be worrying about me, lass. It’s fine, I am. Get along to work now. I’m sure you’re as busy as your dear father always was.”

“More,” I said, leaning in for a hug. “But never too busy for you.”
A soft and bewitching grin bloomed on her face. It was easy to see the beauty she’d been in her youth when she smiled this way.

“There’s a darlin’ girl, you are.” She lifted up on her toes to kiss my cheek. “Oh, now, before I forget. Olivia Joyner stopped by the other day.”

“Olivia? What was she doing here?”

“Her grandmother was admitted after breaking a hip in a fall last week. She’s down the hall, and Olivia spotted me name outside the door and came in for a chat. She’s always been such a delightful girl.”

Olivia was the same age as me, and we’d gone from kindergarten through Heaven High together. I wondered if my grandmother referred to me as a girl when she spoke to others.

“Is her grandmother okay?”

Nanny waved a hand and grinned. “Right as rain, she is, but the doctor wanted her looked after until he’s certain she can get up and about by herself again. Olivia wanted to care for her at home, but it was too much with her business and her daughter finishin’ graduate school and movin’ out, and all.”

“I didn’t realize Freya was old enough to have finished college, let alone grad school.” I should have, because Olivia gave birth to her when we were seniors in high school. Time, as I’ve often thought, goes by ridiculously fast.

“Aye. She’s leaving the nest, but Olivia says she’s ready.”

The corners of Nanny’s eyes slitted a bit as she regarded me. Uh-oh. Whenever Nanny tossed you a slanty-eyed glare, it meant you were gonna have a come-to-Jesus lecture. She opened her purse and pulled something out of it. “Before she left, she asked me to give ya this when I saw ya again.”

“What is it?”

“Her business card.” She handed it to me. “Said to give her a jingle when ya got the chance.”

Olivia’s name was written in beautiful calligraphy, her occupation listed below it, and her business phone number in the bottom corner of the card.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry as day-old burnt toast. “Why does she want me to call?” I asked, even though I had a sneaking suspicion about the reason.

I hoped I was wrong, and she merely wanted a little legal advice.

“Well, lass, why do you think she wants to speak to ya? Wants to set you up, doesn’t she, being a matchmaker and all?”

Nope. It seems I wasn’t wrong at all.

Olivia Joyner was a fourth-generation matchmaker, and the fact she wanted me to call her about a possible set up was…uncomfortable to say the least. There were a few other words—like embarrassed and pitiful—I could add.

“It’s time, lass,” Nanny told me, her eyes softening as she stared up at me. “Time to move on. You’re still a young, beautiful, desirable woman. It’s time a man came into your life and brought some happiness along with him into it. Gave you babies to love. A fulfilling life. Olivia can help ya with that.”

I tucked the card into my coat pocket. “I have a full life, Nanny. Believe me.”

“Aye, lass, it’s busy you are with your career. But wouldn’t it be nice to come home to someone who loved ya? Who warmed your bed at night? You’re a healthy, vibrant woman. Ya’ve normal needs, you do, I’m sure.”

My earlobes burned with heat. There was no way I was having this conversation with my grandmother, a women old enough to have forgotten everything about needs, desires, and anything else sex related. Unfortunately, because this was Fiona, the four times married woman who’d been able to fit in love affairs with royalty between her marriages, there was no way she’d forgotten anything need or desire laden.

Intrigued? If so, thanks! And you can get your own copy at these fine online retailers in Ecopy or Print: Amazon // B&N // Applebooks   // Rakuten-Kobo // google play // Books-a-million //

Also available at the TOADSTOOL BOOKSHOP in Keene, NH

If you’re looking for me, I’m usually here: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// Book Me

Until next time, peeps  ~Peg

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Filed under A Match Made in Heaven, Today Tomorrow Always