She believes he’s just another cop, working to keep the citizens of Magpie safe.
He believes she’s a clever thief who’s stealing drugs from the police evidence locker.
 
Things aren’t going well for Magpie police officer Georgina Scott. The new police chief hates her, she suffered a concussion while chasing a suspect, and then she has a seizure that forces her to take leave. The only bright spot in her life is Liam, the new cop in town. It’s impossible to ignore his obvious interest and rugged good looks.

Undercover cop, Liam Mason, has a problem. How can he catch Magpie police officer, Georgina Scott, in the act of stealing drugs from the evidence locker when she’s on leave? 
An armored car heist presents him with the perfect opportunity to get close to her. But he’s not prepared to deal with his physical attraction and the fact that she might be one of the good guys.

Chapter One
The naked guy at the wheel of the stolen compact car made a sharp left turn, heading toward the bridge. 
Officer Georgina Scott stomped on the gas. Her new partner, Liam Mackie, had a white-knuckled grip on the seatbelt strapped across his chest. She was pretty sure his right foot was pressed to the floor as he slammed on an imaginary break. 
“Officer Scott—Georgina—could you please—”
“Call me George. You don’t have to worry. I’ve completed several advanced driving courses including pursuit, advanced emergency response, winter skills, and skid control,” she explained as she cranked the steering wheel, following the suspect.
He stared straight ahead, ignoring her.
They’d received a call to apprehend a nude man who had stolen a red Mazda. He’d already crashed into a fence and sideswiped a truck. 
This was not a normal occurrence in the town of Magpie, Alberta, but it wasn’t the strangest thing that had ever happened either. Forty years ago, the town fathers had decided to develop the area into a holiday destination. They’d cleaned up the streets and lined them with Victorian fixtures, like lamp posts, and added floral arrangements, which gave the place an old-world appeal. Then they’d trucked in enough sand to make a beach on the shore of Charm Lake. 
Magpie was just a two-hour drive west of Edmonton, and winter in Northern Alberta could last from October until April. That meant the town was packed with tourists in the warm summer months.
The long, hot days of June, when the sun didn’t set until after eleven, meant more fun, but that fun sometimes led to inappropriate behavior, like stealing a car. 
“Where does he think he’s going? That way only leads to the campground, a few private acreages, and the dump.” Liam seemed to have found his voice.
The car thief slowed on the narrow bridge.
“Thank God.” This was her chance. She gunned the engine, drawing alongside the rear of the vehicle. She waited until they had cleared the bridge deck and rammed her front bumper into the Mazda’s side. The driver lost control, and the stolen car spun across the road and came to a stop in a ditch.
A young male jumped out and ran. 
“Shit.” Liam eyed the short man as though he were a four hundred-pound, machine gun-toting maniac. “Do you think he’ll put up a fight?”
George put the SUV in park and scrambled out. “Yes, he will. We have to make sure he doesn’t go in the river.” She had no idea if the perpetrator could swim or not and didn’t want to find out. At this point, the Charm River flowed out of Charm Lake at a slow, steady rate, but within a few miles, it drained into the North Saskatchewan River. The larger waterway was known for its depth and fast current, especially in the summer.
Naked Guy zigged as she zagged, avoiding her attempt to corral him. Finally, he pivoted on his heel and ran toward the town. 
She raced after him. He skidded to a halt in the middle of the bridge deck and stared at an old-time lamp post, which was integrated into the guardrail. 
She stopped dead six feet behind him, not winded by the short sprint. Liam came to a standstill on her left. He wasn’t gasping or out of breath. Maybe he was as fit as he looked.
In her experience, people who had stripped out of their clothing and were behaving erratically were usually high on angel dust. Which meant they always fought like possessed demons. She could spot a PCP user in lockup because they were bare and wearing two pairs of handcuffs. 
It was hard to gain any information about the suspect from looking at him. He was on the small side with a slight build and short, messy dark hair. He reached out a hand to swat at the lamp but missed because the light was too tall. He tumbled sideways and then straightened.
 George crept closer to the suspect’s right side, being careful not to make any sudden moves. Liam pointed to Naked Guy’s left, signaling his intention to slip behind him.
A young lady with expensive blond highlights ran toward them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” 
Liam held up a hand. “Stay back.”
“Is he a friend of yours?” George took in her pricey high heels and the pink designer purse slung over her shoulder.
The woman obeyed Liam’s command and halted. “Yes. We’re staying in the campground with friends.” 
“And you are?” Liam asked the question but kept his gaze on Naked Guy.
“Veronica.” She swallowed hard as she clamped her arms across her chest. “Veronica Sitwell.”
“What’s his name?” George snapped on a pair of latex gloves and pointed to the perpetrator who reached for the lamp again—and missed again.
“Nicholas Gagnon.” Veronica’s lower lip quivered. “Everyone calls him Nick.”
George kept Nick in her peripheral vision as she questioned Veronica. “Has Nick taken any drugs, is he on any medication, or does he have any conditions we should know about?” 
“No, he had a few beers.”
“Nothing else?” George made sure her demeanor was forceful and tough.
Veronica looked at her feet and then at Nick. “He also had a joint.”
“Don’t go anywhere. We’ll need you to give a statement.” George inched closer to Nick, who was now screaming disjointed words at the lamp.
“This is not a normal reaction to marijuana.” Liam followed her lead, stuffing his hands into a pair of black latex gloves. 
“No, but the nearest cannabis store is over an hour’s drive away.” Although marijuana was legal in Alberta, it could only be legally purchased from a licensed supplier.
“You think he brought his product from a drug dealer?”
“Yes, there’s a dealer in town who laces his weed with fentanyl, or PCP, to get users hooked on his products.” Damn it. It had to be her father, Hank. To the general population, Hank Scott seemed like a charming man who owned a janitorial business, when in reality he was a man who traded in the misery and suffering of others, including his family. 
When she’d joined the Magpie Police Service five years ago, she’d dreamed of seeing Hank behind bars, but it hadn’t happened. No matter how close Chief Hunt got to an arrest, Hank was always one step ahead. 
Two months ago, Chief Hunt had suffered a heart attack and had been forced to retire for health reasons. George knew her mentor’s one regret was leaving the job without seeing Hank brought to justice. 
Liam winced when Nick kicked the bridge wall. “Shit.” 
Nick didn’t seem to notice the cuts on his feet. He must’ve trodden on something sharp because with every step he left a trail of blood.
Liam was new to the Magpie Police Service. This was their first shift together, and she hadn’t had a chance to question him about his experience. He was tall, broad, and powerful. It would be easy for him to overpower a man as slight as Nick, but George saw the uncertainty in his gaze. It took practice to wrestle an individual who was unclothed. There was nothing to grasp except skin, and no one wanted to touch Nick’s junk. 
Liam nodded toward Nick, who grabbed the bridge wall. He looked like he might be preparing to hoist himself over. “We need to act soon before he goes into the water.” 
“Are you ready?” George checked that her security holster was fastened so Nick wouldn’t be able to grab her Sig Sauer. She edged nearer, being sure not to use any sudden moves. 
“Go,” Liam shouted.
George lunged. 
Nick screamed and scrambled onto the bridge wall. 
She grabbed him by the waist and threw him onto the sidewalk. He landed face down. She pounced, pressing down on his back, and tried to grab his wriggling hands so she could cuff him. Nick shrieked again and tried to crawl away. George wrapped her legs around his knees, hoping to immobilize him. Nick tried to turn, but she used her weight to her advantage and held him in place.
With a roar, Nick pushed to all fours and then to a standing position. It was an amazing feat of strength. She clung to Nick’s shoulders as he swung around. He roared again and then charged, heading for the bridge wall. 
“Do something,” George yelled. All she could do was hold on.
Liam charged and tackled them, slamming into Nick from the front. Momentum drove them sideways, away from the guardrail. George’s arms were wrapped around Nick’s neck as he toppled to the left. Everything slowed. She had no control. Her muscles went limp. Her elbow crashed into the pavement. Liam landed on top of them with Nick squashed in the middle. The impact drove the air from her lungs. Her head hit the sidewalk. Pain flashed through her skull, and then nothing.
****
“Officer down, officer down.” Liam Mason sat on the yelping Nick as he shouted into the radio attached to his shoulder. He snagged one of Nick’s arms as the druggie cried and tried to hoist himself up again, but Liam was too heavy to budge. He snapped on the handcuffs. Nick tugged at the restraints, trying to break free.
Two officers, whose names he couldn’t remember, attached a second pair of cuffs to Nick’s wrists and led the howling man away. 
He rushed to Georgina’s side just as the ambulance arrived. Blood oozed onto the pavement from a wound at the back of her head. He checked her breathing and was grateful to see the slight rise and fall of her chest.
Medics elbowed him out of the way. They were professional and efficient, checking her vitals and placing an oxygen mask over her face. 
She was prettier than her photo with long dark hair, luminous green eyes, and the smoothest complexion he’d ever seen. Her lean, fit body looked good, even in her ugly-ass uniform. Not that her attractiveness mattered to his investigation. 
According to her file, she was the daughter of a drug dealer, Hank Scott. Five years ago, she had managed to convince the former Magpie police chief, Aiden Hunt, to hire her. Now the new chief, Grayson Evans, had to deal with the fallout. A large number of drugs, mainly heroin, fentanyl, angel dust, and oxycodone had disappeared from the evidence locker of the Magpie Police Service, in what was believed to be a series of thefts. Most of it had ended up in the hands of her father. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had stolen them. Chief Evans had asked the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, known as the RCMP, to investigate because it was protocol. The RCMP were a national police force and members had jurisdiction as a peace officer in all parts of Canada.
The medics placed Georgina on a stretcher and wheeled her into the ambulance.
Shit. He had knocked out his prime suspect on the first day working the case. 
 

Blurb:
Held captive by violent bank robbers, they must put the betrayals of the past aside and learn to trust each other again.
Sophie Reed is the top criminal defense attorney in Granite City. She champions the wrongly accused and ensures the justice system works for everyone. 
Detective Mateo Ramirez can’t believe he used to love Sophie. Everything she does is a betrayal of his work as a cop, but when she’s near his body reminds him of just how close they used to be.
When they are held hostage in a bank robbery, they realize their attraction for each other has never diminished, but can they overcome their past and work together.
Amazon Five Star Review
"The chemistry between the main characters is out of this freaking world!"
​

​Given how stressful everything has been lately, I thought it would be fun to take part in a multi-author giveaway.
By entering the Black Friday Giveaway one lucky reader will be awarded a $500 Amazon shopping spree just in time for Black Friday, the biggest shopping day of the year.
Scroll through the book covers to find your next favorite author, and enter the Rafflecopter for your chance to win. You can enter every day to increase your chance of winning. There is no purchase necessary to enter or win.
 

Julia Hepburn crouched in the snow, peering over the barrel of a modified rifle. Where had she gone wrong? She was a nice, middle-class accountant from Toronto, not a hunter. Maybe, she hadn’t made the best choices lately, and those choices resulted with her kneeling in a snowdrift on the outskirts of Churchill, Manitoba, waiting for a polar bear.
The move to Churchill was the latest in a long list of bad decisions. The people were great, but she was a city girl at heart. She enjoyed wearing her favorite black, patent, high-heel shoes on a daily basis, and reveled in starting each day with a skinny latte from a trendy coffee shop. Those things did not fit in with the remote lifestyle of Northern Canada.
She’d only agreed to relocate to the North because of her husband, Mike’s persistence. He’d received a promotion with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, which was contingent on him moving to Churchill. He’d used every piece of ammunition at his disposal to persuade her to join him. First he pouted, and then he charmed. When that failed, he talked about the babies he knew she wanted. Eventually, he wore her down. So she packed her designer clothes into boxes, put them in storage, and then purchased a warm, practical, down-filled coat.
Her ankles cramped. She stood, and stretched her legs. This polar bear hunt was another of Mike’s bright ideas. Every autumn, between August, and November the omnivores migrated to the Churchill area while they waited for the sea to freeze. Some of them scavenged for food too close to town and had to be sedated and relocated.
When Mike asked her to help with the hunt she had refused. What did she know about tranquilizer darts, guns and hunting? But, once again, he’d worn her down.
Jake, the hunt coordinator strode toward her. A conservation officer, he was tall with broad shoulders, and no hint of a middle-aged spread, which was a surprise given he was nearing fifty. 
“Are you ready for this?” His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her.
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip, and then patted her mouth, hoping the damp skin wouldn’t freeze. The nervous habit always irritated Mike.
“You don’t have to take part. You can wait in my truck if you want.” 
She glanced at her husband a hundred yards away. His striking features animated as he talked to the other hunters. He was so eager for them to fit in, and helping to rid the community of a nuisance bear would go a long way toward their acceptance. “No, I’ll do it.”
“It’s okay to be scared.” His grey hair lifted in the frigid breeze.
She sucked in a breath and straightened her spine. “I’m not scared, really. I’ve just been a little accident-prone lately.” 
“I heard you almost burned the house down.” His brow wrinkled.
“I don’t understand how it happened. I wasn’t using the space heater, and I never put it near the curtains.”
“Was anything damaged?”
“Everything. By the time I woke up the whole house was full of smoke. All our stuff reeks.” She turned her gaze to the snowy landscape, and winced, wishing she had sunglasses to guard against the glare.
“Where was Mike when all this happened?” 
“He was at work.”
“It was lucky you woke when you did.” 
“Yes, the neighbors were banging on the door. That’s what saved me.” She gave a little shiver as she remembered her close call. 
“But one incident doesn’t make you accident-prone.”
“Yesterday, I nearly electrocuted myself.”
“How?” His eyes widened.
“When I plugged in my hairdryer I got a zap that threw me across the room.”
“Are you okay?” 
“Yes, but I swear my heart stopped, then started again.” Her hand went to her chest, as she remembered the all-consuming pain of the electric shock.
“I can see why you’re a little nervous.”
“I’m probably being silly.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll only be twenty-five yards from you. Have you loaded the tranquilizers into the rifle?” 
“I don’t know much about that kind of thing so Mike did it for me.”
Jake’s radio crackled. He held it to his ear, and then said, “It’s time. Are you sure you’re ready?” 
She nodded, and he strode away.
Once again, she crouched behind the snow bank, and stared out over the Arctic Tundra. 
At last, the bear appeared, a white, shifting outline. Her skin tingled with a mixture of fear and excitement as he came into view. He walked with a steady gait, his enormous paws spreading as he moved, giving the impression of a large, overgrown puppy, instead of the dangerous beast she knew him to be. He sniffed the air, and then as if catching a scent, changed direction, and headed straight for her. She steadied her firearm, preparing to shoot.
The sound of helicopter blades cut through the frozen sky. The bear panicked, and charged. She took aim, and shot. The tranquilizer dart hit his neck. He did not stop, did not slow. Terror surged through her as she lifted the rifle to her shoulder and fired again. The second dart had less effect than the first.
Her mind flashed to Mike loading her rifle, and in her heart she knew it was useless. He had used the bear to murder her. Her recent accidents were attempts on her life.
It was too late to run. Too late to do anything but pray. In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of a figure aiming a gun, another dart struck the bear. The beast went limp midstride. His body smacked the ground, forcing the air out of his lungs with a hiss. 
She stood frozen to the spot, watching as the helicopter landed, and men surrounded the huge animal. They checked its vitals, and then rolled it onto a net. 
 “Are you okay?” Jake stood beside her. 
She hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t noticed anything but the bear. “Three darts, it took three darts.”
“Yes, it did. You were great. You didn’t lose your nerve and start running.”
“Three darts,” she repeated.
“I’m really surprised the first two didn’t work. There must be something wrong with your tranquilizers.”
Julia glared at Mike, who stood on the other side of the net watching her. Hate flickered in his dark brown eyes. Then he turned his back to her, and struck up a conversation with the man standing next to him. At that moment she knew beyond a doubt, he had tried to kill her. She put her nose to her jacket, and sniffed. Had he laced her clothes with scent to attract the bear? Probably. Meticulous by nature, he wouldn’t have left anything to chance. She had no idea why he wanted her dead, but she couldn’t go home with him.  
She raced to catch Jake as he boarded the helicopter.
“What are you going to do with the bear now?” she shouted above the roar of the blades.
“We’re going to airlift him to a bay that’s about twenty-five kilometers up the coast.” 
“Can I come, and watch? I won’t get in the way.”
He shrugged. “Why not? You’ve earned it.”
She climbed into the back seat not bothering to say goodbye to her husband. 
Once airborne, she looked down to see Mike standing below, watching her leave. Did he have another plot to end her life? Was he going home now to put his plan into action? She hoped so.
Once home, he would open the front door, and before he had a chance to smell the gas, he would turn on the light. Hopefully, the explosion would kill him. The small wrench she had used to tamper with the gas line lay deep in her pocket. She would dispose of it while the others were busy dropping off the bear.
When he had urged her to go on the bear hunt she’d suspected he was going to make another attempt on her life. If her suspicions had proved unfounded she would have gone home with him, and saved him.
Marrying Mike was the worst decision she had ever made, but it was a bad decision she wouldn’t have to live with anymore.

​I was unsure whether I should release Wind Storm because having a new release seems somewhat shallow when measure against a global pandemic. Then I realized that all I have to offer is escapism, and if ever there was a time to escape reality, it’s now.
So, today I’m releasing Wind Storm at a special price 99¢. This price will remain in effect until Monday 27th April. You can also read Wind Storm Free through KindleUnlimited.

Available at
Amazon for 99¢
Read FREE with KindleUnlimited​​

Blurb:
​
A woman who fights to protect the vulnerable
A genius white hat hacker
A group of billionaires, intent on chaos
And an FBI agent trying to make sense of it all 
When Sinclair Quinn is jumped in a back alley, her assailants only want to know one thing, the whereabouts of Native American, Michael Papin, the man she’s been in love with since they were street kids together. 
Nine months ago, Michael was hit by a car while trying to prevent a group of billionaires, known as the Syndicate, from framing Sinclair’s brother. Now they are back, and they want him dead. When the Syndicate attacks his family, Michael will do anything to ensure their safety, including hiding out with Sinclair. 
Sinclair has devoted her life to rescuing stolen children and saving the victims of human trafficking. She knows who she is and is comfortable with the woman she’s become, although she’s never forgotten the man who broke her heart when she was eighteen. Going underground with Michael and his family is not part of her plan. She trusts him with her life, but can she trust him with her heart?

Excerpt:
​
Sinclair Quinn twisted her hips to the side, trying to absorb the punch with her pelvic bone instead of taking a blow to the stomach. She groaned, doubling over as pain ricocheted through her right hip and down her leg. It hurt, but it wasn’t debilitating. 
The initial hit to her face had stunned her and allowed the two men to drag her into a nearby alley. The smell of stale urine burned her nostrils. A chewing gum wrapper lay on the ground at her feet. Her heartbeat hard in her ears, and she gasped for breath. Blood dripped from her cut lip; big drops landed on the ground and splattered. She concentrated on them, using them to focus her thoughts and slow her mind. She had her collapsible baton in her jeans pocket. Don’t overthink. Create an opportunity to escape. 
“Tell us where the Indian is.” Her assailant grabbed her ponytail and yanked on it, pulling her up and forcing her head back so her throat was exposed. 
Michael? What did they want with him? 
The thugs had attacked her after she’d left the grocery store. Foolishly, she’d felt secure once she was home in Granite City in northwestern Montana. That was her first mistake. Her Glock 19 handgun was in the glove compartment of her car where it did her no good at all. Mistake number two. Her final error was not noticing she was being tailed. By the time she’d become aware of them following her, it was too late. 
The shorter of the two, a man who wore a cheap suit, stood behind her attacker. His hand rested on the pistol in his shoulder holster. “Tell her it’ll only get worse for her the longer this goes on. We need to know where she hid Papin.”
“She’s got ears. She can hear,” the larger one snapped. He had the broken nose and muscle-bound physique of a fighter. He let go of her hair and turned to his partner. “You should do some of the work instead of standing back there, yapping. I hit bone with that last punch and hurt my hand.”
Sinclair grabbed her telescopic baton and flicked it open. She whacked the big guy’s knee, throwing him off balance. Then she struck Cheap Suit’s hand so he couldn’t go for his weapon. 
Big Guy regained his equilibrium and pulled his arm back, ready to punch her. 
She took advantage of his wide stance and smashed his ribs. He doubled over. Cheap Suit backed up, holding his injured appendage to his chest, protecting it. 
She ran. Her groceries—eggs, flour, sugar, and milk—were scattered over the sidewalk at the entrance to the alley. She jumped over them. She’d just returned from a hellacious trip to Ukraine and had been looking forward to a couple of weeks downtime, starting with a day of baking. That wasn’t going to happen now. 

Not many people know this but I like to draw pencil sketches. An actual artist might describe my pictures as amateurish…if they were being kind. Occasionally, I draw subjects from my books. 
Okay, ‘subjects’ is too strong a word. I mean a building, flower, tree or any other article I’m picturing. I can’t draw people because I’m not that good. 
This picture is from Wind Storm. My character, Sinclair Quinn, has a she-shed.

​I thought it would be fun to give this sketch to one of my newsletter subscribers. Everyone who opened and read my March newsletter was automatically entered to win. 
And the winner was...
The amazing Debra, who lives near Atlanta and is waiting patiently with Sam and Momma Kitty (pictured below)
Your sketch is in the mail and will get there eventually.

If you would like the opportunity to win one of my sketches or get a free copy of The Wily Witness and The Wedding Deception you can sign up for my newsletter here

These are hard times. COVID 19 had meant the closing of many libraries and bookstores and I know many of you are home with nothing to do and feeling the loss of income
 
Here are some ideas that might help. If you don’t have an e-reader, and can’t afford one, Amazon has a free app that allows you to read books on your smartphone or tablet.

Another alternative is Overdrive.
I use this app in conjunction with my library membership. You can download ebooks and audiobooks from your local library onto your device. This service has always been free for me, and I highly recommend it.

It's Valentines Day, a time when we celebrate all things romantic. I thought it would be cool to do another free promotion so from today until the 16th February Sun Storm with be free at Amazon.

"Sun Storm is a fast-paced and exciting read that was impossible to put down." Readers' Favorite.
Hunted by a gunman and a corrupt police force... in a blizzard.

In Montana to prove her portable solar panel can solve the world's energy problems, naïve scientist, Dr. Marie Wilson must first fight to survive and then expose the powerful businessman intent on destroying her life's work.

Ex-special forces soldier, David Quinn is haunted by the horrors of combat, and yearns to be left alone with his beehives, but agrees to do one last job for his old mentor.

When the scariest man she's ever met becomes her savior, Marie discovers a heart of gold beats beneath his surly demeanor.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
​
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads. And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. 

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash. 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of midday to objects below, when, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name: 

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen! 

To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 

and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 
​
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight, 
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"