Jenny Knipfer–Author

Writing to inspire, encourage, and enjoy

I have been rather quiet on the blogging front these last months, but I am dealing with a lot of fatigue and back pain and don’t often feel well enough to sit at my computer. What energy I have goes to taking care of my basic self-care, and what is left over filters through my social media posts and my iPad, as I slowly continue to write my fairy tale story entitled, The Regal Pink. 

During this joyous Christmas season, I wanted to make the effort to let you know how blessed I am that you are interested in my work and have chosen to follow me. Thank you! I’m praying all the best for you and yours and wishing you a very Merry Christmas. 


I have written a few Christmas scenes into my books. Here is one of my favorites from Silver Moon


The aroma beguiled and tempted Mauve’s tummy to rumble. She hoped her parents would come soon.

Her wish was granted and soon the Murrays arrived in a bobsled pulled by a team of horses, outfitted with a strap of bells, which jingled crisply.

“Come in, come in. Happy Christmas!” Jenay held the door open and gave Ellie a brief hug and a kiss in the cheek.

“’Appy Christmas!” Ellie countered with enthusiasm.

Mauve felt like since her marm’s surgery she bubbled chipper and cheerier than ever, as if her marm’s old self was reborn and given a second chance at life.

Patrice, Barbara, and Alex shouted a “Happy Christmas!” back and slid past the women and into the house, looking eager to play.

The ladies moved to the kitchen to help finish preparations. When all was ready, the families sat down. They paused over the meal for a prayer, which Jacque pronounced over them, of thanks to God for his gift of Emmanuel.

Suddenly, Silvy started yapping and wouldn’t shush up. Mauve had brought her for she couldn’t bear to leave her dog alone on Christmas Day. The pup had become her family too.

“Silvy! Mind your manners. Why are you barking?”

The more Mauve protested, however, the more the little dog barked. Finally, Mauve threw up her arms in frustration. “Well, you’ll have to go out in the barn if you keep this up.”

Mauve moved to catch her, but Silvy raced to the door, her toenails clicking as she went. She recommenced barking and growling with renewed strength.

“What has gotten into you?” Mauve raised her voice in annoyance.

Her usually good-natured dog had turned ill-mannered all of a sudden, and she hadn’t a clue why.

“Maybe it has something to do with me.”
Mauve froze. Silvy’s yapping was drowned out by a realization. I know that voice. But, no, it can’t be.

Mauve turned slowly towards the back kitchen door and nearly fainted, for before her stood her husband.


It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t an apparition.

“But how . . .? When?” Her mouth hung open like a loosened hinge. She was too stunned to cry.

“Quit asking me things and get over here.” Oshki stepped forward and pulled Mauve to him with one arm. He gazed into her eyes and scrolled over her face. “I want to take in every detail.”

His eyes locked on hers before focusing on her lips. Carefully, slowly, he met them with his. They hesitantly exchanged kisses at first and then with more ardor. Mauve’s heart beat in her ears, and her knees felt wobbly.

She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be so close to the man she loved. She felt whole again. Her eyes were closed, but her hands roved over his body. The empty space she found made her pull back and question him.

“What . . . what happened?” She placed her palm on his stump of an arm.

“Shot in the arm.” Oshki gave her a sideways smile. “I’ll spare you the gory details.”

She touched the end of his stump. “Does it hurt?”

“Not too much anymore. I sometimes still feel it there.” Oshki lowered his head but then looked her in the eye. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think, or if you . . .”

“You’re home safe and back with us. That’s what matters.”
Mauve clung to him again. I can’t believe he’s really here!
The thought held possession of her mind. She half expected

someone to yell, “Gotcha!” and for Oshki to disappear. But, no. He was very much present.

“My folks are here too. Everyone’s going to be so surprised,” Mauve said with a breathless joy. “And . . . Pearl, you’ll get to meet Pearl.”

It was then, at the mention of their daughter’s name, that Mauve started to cry.

Oshki didn’t tell her to shush. He just wrapped his arm around her and nestled his head on top of hers.


I hope you enjoyed this excerpt! Read more about Silver Moon, my WWI novel, by clicking on the button below. Merry Christmas!!! J

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