Thursday, December 13, 2018

12 Days of clean Romance Author Hayley wescott


  A Snow Globe Christmas by Hayley Wescott
 Kelsey Patrick is homesick for the snow and family Christmas tree from her childhood in Connecticut. The holidays are coming and South Florida weather is lovely, but it's not what she wants for Christmas. She's making the best of it, but she expects her Christmas to be un-snowy and lonely. When she receives a lovely and thoughtful last minute Secret Santa gift from Mrs. Claus, Kelsey's Christmas spirit is revived. When she tries to find the one who gave her the gift under the guise of Mrs. Claus, she makes an assumption that leads her down the wrong path. Brett Taylor is firmly seated in the friend zone and knows Kelsey is making a mistake, but he's in no position to try to change her mind. Just when both Brett and Kelsey are set to spend their holidays working and alone, a chain of events just might change all that. And maybe Mrs. Claus will see her sweet work behind the scenes bring two love birds together at last.
 
“Oh, you are still going to be able to make it to my supper party after the gift giving, aren’t you?” Kelsey asked. “I mean, it’s nothing special, just a big tray of lasagna and some appetizers and dessert, of course. And being cramped into my tiny apartment will be an adventure. But, it’s Christmas, and you guys are my Florida family. We’re all working over the festive period, so we need to let our hair down a little, don’t you think?” “Hey, I’m coming back with you after the gifts to help you get ready. Wouldn’t miss the Patrick festive Christmas lasagna,” Annie said giggling. “Tell me what you need me to bring and I’ll get it while I’m out now. It was the best night of the year, last year.” “Thank you, that means a lot, Kelsey said, touched at Annie’s compliment. “I think I’m good, though.” She paused. “No, hang on a minute. They didn’t have any heavy cream when I went to the store earlier. Could you see if Nielsen’s has any, if you’re going to be next door at Caspar’s.” “I can do that. Ooh, I do hope you’re gonna use that cream in your famous cherry trifle. I just love that stuff,” Annie said, not disguising the desire in her voice. Kelsey couldn’t help wondering if she was actually drooling. It made her smile to think her food was so appreciated. “I might, I might not. It’ll all depend on whether you get me the cream,” she teased. “Oh, I’ll get you that cream,” Annie vowed. The two women laughed and made their good byes, assuring each other that they’d meet up at work the next day. Hanging up, Kelsey wondered what it must be like, to be one of those people who left everything to the very last minute. To not have even thought about what you were going to buy someone, the night before that gift was to be given, that would never sit well with Kelsey. Normally her tree would have been up on the very first day of December, and her presents and cards wrapped and delivered across the country a week ago. She absolutely hated that her tree had only gone up today when it was just a week and a half from Christmas. But, because of all the shifts she’d taken at work she didn’t really have much of a choice if she wanted to sleep any. It was done now and her living room sparkled from all the fairy lights as they flashed their bright hues over the glittering tinsel and shiny metallic baubles. Feeling weary, Kelsey stretched and yawned loudly. Winston looked at her with wide eyes. “Bed time?” she asked him. He ran straight through to the bedroom and began to stake his claim at the end of the bed. He kneaded the mattress with his paws, then settled down, curling his body up into a tight ball, though he left his legs out in front of him, making him look a bit like a furry shrimp. Kelsey slipped off her shorts and tee shirt and slipped on an old night shirt. It had a very faded Mickey Mouse on it and was so misshapen from all the years of washings that it was barely holding itself together. But it was comfortable on the warm nights here in Florida, and so Kelsey would never part with it. The sheets were cool as she slipped between them, and it wasn’t long before she had fallen fast asleep. She dreamed of snow falling all around her with fat, heavy flakes landing on her hair and her eyelashes. Wrapped up in a thick coat, with woolen mittens and a hand-knitted scarf and hat she was toasty warm. She twirled around and around, as though she were a ballerina in a music box, turning her face up to the sky and opening her mouth so the snow could land on her tongue, all icy and fresh. It was like Heaven on Earth, and when the alarm sounded Kelsey didn’t want to wake up and face the bright sunshine, or the palm trees, or the sea because there would be no snow again today in Florida.

 



 Wonderful story! The characters are engaging and I love the emphasis on family. Christmas away from home filled with memories takes the reader on a sweet Christmas adventure with friends and surprises to make for a nice evening read. The end is such a sweet surprise, I never saw it coming! Very good clean romance.  

   
 
  Author Hayley Wescott
 Hayley Wescott loves a sweet love story with the emphasis on the sweet. As a Christian author, she's happy and fulfilled to write stories about real life that don't include cringe-worthy moments or details a reader doesn't really want. Some of Hayley's stories are about real life. Contemporary stories about flawed people and people that have issues. But each of these stories is resolved in a positive way and the guy always gets the girl. As part of the Hero Hearts group, Hayley loves writing about heroes who will save the day in big ways and small ones. With Annie Boone, who writes historical romance, and Kate Cambridge who writes both historical and contemporary romance, these three will deliver sweet stories that will capture your heart. Handsome men with big hearts and big jobs and the women who end up falling for them.  



 
 

     Giveaway Details

$25 Amazon Gift Code or $25 in PayPal Cash Ends 1/6/19 Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by Rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner may be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, BookBub, Instagram, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning.
 This giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader & Clean Wholesome Romance and is sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.  

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12 Days of Clean Romance Author Donna Hatch


  Christmas Secrets by Donna Hatch
 A stolen Christmas kiss leaves them bewildered and breathless. A charming rogue-turned-vicar, Will wants to prove that he left his rakish days behind him, but an accidental kiss changes all his plans. His secret could bring them together...or divide them forever. Holly has two Christmas wishes this year; finally earn her mother's approval by gaining the notice of a handsome earl, and learn the identity of the stranger who gave her a heart-shattering kiss...even if that stranger is the resident Christmas ghost.

 

This scene takes place when everyone on Christmas Day takes a turn kissing their spouse or sweetheart underneath the mistletoe ball. Now the group turn to Will and Holly, who have only known each other a few days, and start goading them into sharing a mistletoe kiss...

“Come now, don’t be shy,” her sister called. “It’s tradition.”
The others called out encouragements.
Apology edged into Will’s uncertain expression. “Do you mind?”
Holly’s palms grew sweaty inside her gloves, and her smile probably came out wobbly. “Who are we to go against tradition?” Did she sound desperate in her desire to kiss him?
Will held out a hand. She placed hers in it and walked at his side to the kissing ball. They stood, hand in hand, facing each other. His neck cloth shifted as he swallowed. He leaned in. Her heart stumbled and her knees shook. She closed her eyes. Aching, she lifted her face. His cinnamon-spiced breath warmed her mouth.
He kissed her cheek.
Stunned, she opened her eyes. The watching guests groaned and some chuckled.
“No, no, that won’t do at all,” Joseph’s voice rang out. “Give her a proper kiss.”
Will froze. That intensity she occasionally saw in him returned. “Holly.” He swallowed again but instead of nervousness, a hunger that sent a flurry of shivers through her overtook his expression. “May I?”
She nodded. It didn’t matter if he saw how much she wanted this, wanted him. Let him know. Let the whole world know.
He touched her chin, lifted it, and leaned in. Again, she closed her eyes. This time his lips touched hers, pliant and unbelievably gentle. Heat exploded at the contact and shot through her all the way down to her tingling toes. Different from her mystery kiss, this one sang of affection and respect and a deep longing to be accepted. Sweeter, more chaste, more filled with caring, Will’s kiss brought her a level of joy she’d never known. All the world faded away leaving Will and the power of his affection, his touch, his kiss. Every moment of her life seemed to have been designed to bring her to this single, perfect moment of bliss and wholeness.
“Ahem.” Father cleared his throat conspicuously.
Will pulled away all too quickly. A tiny sound of distress caught in Holly’s throat. It was over too soon. But oh, what a glorious kiss!





"I can always count on Donna Hatch to weave a delightful tale with vivid characters and swoony kisses. Christmas Secrets does not disappoint." ~Reading is my Super Power
 "Filled with delightful holiday traditions, growing attraction between Holly and one of the guests, a mother set on a desirable match for her daughter, and a few heart-melting kisses, this novella is the perfect book to cuddle up with this holiday season." ~Remembrancy Book Reviews
 "It's been some time since an author made me believe their characters like this, but Donna Hatch writes it so beautifully I was quickly drawn into the idyllic past."
 Silver Wood Sketches Book Reviews

 



  
Author Donna Hatch

Donna Hatch is the award-winning author of the best-selling “Rogue Hearts Series” and is published in sweet Regency romance and fantasy. Her professional memberships include Romance Writers of America (RWA)and American Night Writers Association (ANWA). A sought-after workshop presenter, she juggles freelance editing, multiple volunteer positions, not to mention her six children (seven, counting her husband), and still manages to make time to write. A native of Arizona who recently relocated to the Pacific Northwest, she and her husband of over twenty years are living proof that there really is a happily ever after.    

   


    
  Giveaway Details
$25 Amazon Gift Code or $25 in PayPal Cash Ends 1/6/19 Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by Rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner may be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, BookBub, Instagram, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning.
This giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader & Clean Wholesome Romance and is sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Yours By Christmas Deal

 
  Yours by Christmas by Jennifer Youngblood
 A recovering alcoholic turned firefighter, a mysterious woman with a secret, and the Christmas miracle that just might save them both. Beckett Bradshaw knows what it’s like to be on top of the world and then to come crashing down to the lowest form of human existence, living on the streets. It has taken a huge amount of hard work and self control to get where he is today. He’s content with his job as a firefighter and so incredibly grateful for the miraculous recovery of his young daughter. When a mysterious old lady shows up at the fire station and makes a prophecy that Beckett will find love by Christmas, he doesn’t believe it. Beckett doesn’t dare pray for the desires of his heart for fear that he’s used up all of his miracles. Then, Beckett meets the beautiful and vivacious Ava Lawrence and starts to hope that maybe he really can find love. Beckett is hesitant to tell Ava about his checkered past for fear that she won’t want him. However, Ava has a few secrets of her own that could destroy everything Beckett has built. Will a Christmas miracle be enough to bind two lonely hearts together or will the scars of the past prevent Beckett and Ava from finding the lasting love they most desire?
  

  Excerpt:   It was the kind of cold that would freeze a person’s toes and fingers off. In another time and place, Beckett wouldn’t have spent more than thirty minutes outside. Tonight, however, he was grateful for the cold. It sank through the holes of his worn shoes, moving up his legs and torso like morphine, numbing his aching heart. The cold snuffed out the fire raging in his head—the voice that screamed of his failures and how any path to redemption was forever barred. He trudged through the snow, oblivious to the trash littering the sidewalk or the bars covering the windows of the aging buildings. The sights and stench of the streets would’ve horrified him before, when he was donning two-thousand-dollar suits and driving a Lexus to his high-rise office in the center of downtown Salt Lake City. Now, it was as commonplace as breathing. The frigid wind picked up. He pulled his thin coat tighter around him as he tucked his chin into his neck and plodded forward. Normally, Beckett’s senses were dulled to the point where he hardly remembered the life he lived before. Alcohol was the great cure-all. If he drank enough of it, he could hardly remember his own name. Today, however, was different. Today was Jasmine’s birthday. She was turning seven today. Beckett didn’t want to think about Jasmine with her happy, rosy cheeks and cocoa-colored ringlets. The trusting look in her deep brown eyes. The lilt in her voice when she called him daddy. Jasmine wanted a pink Barbie cake with sparkles. Tears pressed against his eyes as he swallowed. Unbidden scenes from the accident flashed before his eyes, the guilt knotting his gut. It had been a normal day. Pressures at the office were increasing. Beckett was always behind. Nothing he did was enough to satisfy his bulldog boss. Before darting out of his office to pick up Jasmine from her dance class, he’d taken a few swigs out of the flask he kept hidden beneath a stack of files in his bottom desk drawer. One minute he was driving, the road a blur, Jasmine chattering about a new dance she’d learned. The next minute, everything changed. Beckett felt the blunt force of the crash the same instant he heard the sickening sound of crunching metal. Then came the worst—Jasmine’s terrified screams that gave way to intermittent whimpers. He’d called 911, screaming into the phone. It seemed to take forever before the wail of the sirens pierced the night air. A few hours later, in a sterile hospital waiting room, a grim-faced doctor would deliver the blow. Jasmine’s ankle had been crushed. It would require multiple surgeries, and there was a chance she’d never walk again. Melinda’s face had crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. As Beckett went to hug her, she pushed him away, condemnation burning in her eyes. “This is all your fault!” she spat. “Please, Melinda.” His voice had cracked with desperation. “I—I’m sorry. I never meant—” He reached for her again. She got up in his face. “I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” For an instant, Beckett saw something in her eyes—a sliver of the love they’d once shared. Before he could blink, however, her eyes went flatter than dull pennies as she turned her back to him and walked away. It was then that he’d known, he was dead to her. He loosened his silk tie and threw it into the garbage on his way out of the hospital. That was six months ago. He wet his dry lips, the thirst for a drink rising in him like a greedy vulture demanding to be satisfied. He paused and leaned against the side of a building, removing the bottle from inside his coat. Beckett took a long swig, appreciating how the liquid burned down his throat. Another couple of drinks helped ease the pain. The snow was falling harder, large blobs coating everything in white. Cars moved along the streets like cautious snails, trying to avoid contact. The world felt still, like he was in one of those snow globes Jasmine loved. Beckett’s breath pushed out a warm mist against the air as he continued to his destination. Fifteen minutes later, he went in through the backdoor of a shelter. A middle-aged, portly man with a tapered salt and pepper beard was sitting behind a metal desk, chewing on a pencil as he stared at the screen of his laptop. When he saw Beckett, he waved in recognition as he stood, pulling his pants over his belly. “Hey, Blanket Man. I wondered what time you’d show up here.” He went to a nearby counter and picked up a stack of blankets, depositing them in Beckett’s arms. “It’s a cold one tonight. The temperature’s falling into the single digits.” “Yes.” “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people who can use these blankets. Some ladies from a local church dropped them off today. It’s mighty kind of you to deliver them. After you get done passing these out, there are plenty more.” Beckett nodded. This was how the conversation always went, with Scotty making small talk and Beckett throwing in a few short answers and nods. Scotty didn’t seem to mind that Beckett didn’t want to talk. He was always pleasant, and he looked Beckett in the eye when he spoke to him. Most people didn’t. The homeless moved through the city like faceless ghosts, scavenging what they could to survive. “Oh, by the way, I reserved you a spot at the shelter tonight. It’s too cold to be outside.” “Thank you.” Beckett’s hands ached from the cold. He’d had a pair of gloves once, but they were long gone. “Tell everyone you see that they need to get indoors.” Scotty’s mouth turned down in a frown as he pulled at his beard. “This is the kind of weather that kills people.” If only Beckett could be so lucky. Death was preferable to his miserable existence. Several times, he’d looked up at the tops of the buildings, thinking how easy it would be to just jump and end it all. He didn’t know what was keeping him here. Maybe it was cowardice. Even now, he craved life and the bottle. Maybe it was Jasmine. His heart clutched as he pushed the thoughts away. He no longer had a wife or daughter. He was a nobody. With the blankets in hand, Beckett went out the door. After the warmth of the shelter, the night felt colder. He suppressed a shiver, forcing himself to embrace the cold as his feet worked through the snow. His first stop was a group of four men at a nearby park. They were sitting on the ground, huddled close together, their backs resting against a waist-high concrete wall. “It’s Blanket Man,” an older man named Beaker exclaimed in a hoarse voice. No one went by their real names on the streets. They used names that fit the person’s personality or features. Beaker had a large, pitted nose. He held up a gnarly hand. “Join the party,” he said glibly. “It’s a little cold, but what can ya do?” He laughed at his own joke. Slim Jim, sitting next to him, barked out a raspy smoker laugh, his thin shoulders shaking. “Yep, we’re having us a party.” He raised a hopeful eye to Beckett. “Got anything to drink?” “Or a cigarette?” a young man with greasy hair and glassy eyes asked. A pang shot through Beckett. The kid was a newcomer. He couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen years old. His face was gaunt, his eyes ringed in hollow circles. It seemed such a shame for him to be here, strung out on drugs. Even as the thought ran through his mind, Beckett laughed inwardly. He, of all people, had no room to judge. No one on the streets would ever imagine that he used to be an executive at one of the most prestigious financial advisory firms in Salt Lake. Out here, he was a scruffy drunk who delivered blankets to those who didn’t have the presence of mind to seek shelter when the temperatures plummeted. He didn’t really know why he felt compelled to go out night after night, delivering blankets. Maybe it was a form of atonement for his past sins. All he knew was that he couldn’t seem to rest until the blankets were handed out. “Nope, sorry. I’m all out of both,” Beckett lied, “but I do come bearing gifts.” No way was he sharing his booze. He’d spent a full day cleaning trash out of a yard to earn the money to buy this bottle. He handed them each a blanket. “It’s supposed to be down in the single digits tonight,” he said, repeating Scotty’s words. “It might be wise to get to a shelter.” The cold seeped into his bones, making him feel sluggish. Beaker waved a hand. “Nah, too crowded. We’ll be all right.” The young man started singing a song about them being all right. “Suit yourselves.” Beckett moved on to the next stop, passing out more blankets. He suspected that a few of the people were so far gone in their minds that they didn’t even realize they were cold. One man was holding an animated conversation with an imaginary person, laughing one second and shouting curses the next. Maybe Beckett would end up that way—not having a clue who he even was. When the blankets were gone he returned to the shelter, intent on making one more round before hunkering down for the night. “Hey,” Scotty said, “you’re back.” Beckett gave a curt nod of acknowledgment and went to the counter, picking up an armful of blankets. Scotty touched his beard. “Uh, Beckett, before you head back out, there’s someone here to see you.” Beckett frowned, hearing his own name. Not once, in all the times he’d come to this shelter to pick up blankets, had Scotty called him by his real name. Up until now, Beckett hadn’t even realized that Scotty knew his name. Suspicion stirred inside him. “Who is it?” he demanded. It had better not be his former boss! Jack Bisson had come lurking around once, about a month after Beckett had thrown in the towel. He urged Beckett to check himself into a rehab center, saying he’d even pay for the treatment. “Think of your wife and daughter,” Jack had said. “With Jasmine’s ankle in such bad shape, she needs you now more than ever.” Beckett laughed in his face, telling the pompous man in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought of him. Had Jack shown him an ounce of compassion when Beckett was working, instead of riding his case 24/7, Beckett might not have turned to alcohol. Then, he never would’ve been drinking the night he picked Jasmine up from her dance class, and he wouldn’t have had the car accident that shattered her ankle. Beckett balled his fist, squeezing the blankets. He’d refrained from punching Jack Bisson in the face the last time he showed up. This time, Bisson wouldn’t be so lucky. “Where’s Bisson?” he growled. Scotty frowned. “I’m not sure who that is.” He scooted back his chair and stood, his eyes resting on the blankets in Beckett’s arms. “Maybe you should put those down and follow me.” Reluctantly, Beckett complied. When they entered the large common room, Beckett scanned the crowd of people, packed like sardines into every available inch of floor space. When he saw them across the room, his breath froze in his throat. He couldn’t do it! His eyes narrowed as he spun around to Scotty. “What is this?” Scotty held up a hand. “Your wife and daughter have gone to great lengths to find you. The least you can do is hear them out.” He lowered his voice. “I know your history, Beckett. That you’re a good man. You had a career, a wonderful family. That man is still in there. You just have to find him.” Beckett let out a harsh laugh. “If I were a good man, my daughter wouldn’t be in a wheelchair.” Tears rose in his eyes as he cleared his throat and swallowed. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d dreamed of seeing Jasmine over the past few months. A hot anger coursed through his veins. Melinda had no right to bring Jasmine here. Maybe she wanted Jasmine to see firsthand how far her dad had fallen. Everything in him wanted to turn around and flee as far from here as he could get. “Daddy!” Jasmine’s face lit up as she waved. Too late to run. Beckett sighed in resignation as he forced his feet to move forward. When he reached them, he stood there awkwardly, at a loss for words. Melinda’s pinched face said it all—that he was an embarrassment. Melinda had always been concerned about social status and the image they portrayed to the world. He could only imagine what she must think of his ragged clothes, scraggly beard, grimy fingernails, his unwashed stench. He was a walking skeleton, a shadow of his former self. Jasmine was beaming. She seemed oblivious to the change in him. “I’ve missed you so much.” She held out her hands for him to hug her. Beckett’s feet stayed rooted to the floor. He wanted to hug her, but life on the streets had hardened him to the point where personal contact seemed foreign. Finally, he patted her hand instead. She was soft, untouched by the ugliness of the streets. “Good to see you, pretty girl.” His eyes settled on the cast, visible beneath her sweat pants. He hated himself in that moment, wished he could disappear into nothing. How dare Melinda bring Jasmine here! He wanted Jasmine to remember him as he was before. Not now, consumed by his vice. He glared at Melinda. “What’re you doing here?” Melinda looked thinner than he remembered, her face drawn and pale. It seemed like it had been another life when he’d loved her. Melinda lifted her chin, a protective hand going over Jasmine’s shoulder. “I came here because of Jazzie,” she said stiffly. “It was her birthday wish.” Jasmine gave him a searching look. “Come home with us, Daddy.” Her voice cracked. “Please.” “For her sake,” Melinda added. “You need help.” Her jaw tightened. “It’s bad enough that Jasmine’s going through all the pain and suffering of her ankle. Must she lose her father too?” The words came out in short, angry bursts. She gave him a hard, resentful look. “You’re being selfish.” Tears bubbled in Jasmine’s eyes, her lower lip trembling. “Please, Daddy, come home. We miss you.” Selfish! Loser! Drunk! Beckett’s head felt like it was splitting in two. Oh, how he wished he could relive that dreadful night of the accident, that he could go back and nip the drinking in the bud before it turned into a hideous monster. He thought of the bottle beneath his coat, the need for a drink overwhelming. He hated this—loathed his weakness. Tears pooled in his eyes. Beckett Bradshaw was an illusion. There was nothing left of that man except pain and regret. “I’m sorry,” he uttered as he fled. The last thing he heard before he darted out the door into the cold was Jazzie’s anguished cry. “Daddy!”


SANTA BABY BY J.C. VALENTINE


Santa Baby, A Christmas Short Story

by J.C. Valentine Publication Date: December 6, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Short Story, Holiday, Steamy, Romance

AVAILABLE NOW!

Universal link: http://bit.ly/2BTCQEh

SYNOPSIS:

Sunny’s outlook on the holidays isn’t so merry, but when she gets roped into playing Mrs. Claus for the local hospital, she discovers Christmas miracles aren’t just reserved for the children.
Note: This is a standalone short story with plenty of heat to chase away that winter chill, an HEA, and NO cliffhangers!
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SANTA BABY EXCERPT

Chapter One

How did I get talked into this? Looking back, I know exactly where things went sideways. I should have skipped that last mimosa.
It started with Roberta’s retirement party. She wasn’t exactly the likable sort—kind of stodgy, rigid. But she was also like everyone’s grandmother, which is why everyone tolerated her. That and she made an amazing pineapple upside-down cake that made everyone look forward to the monthly potluck.
I would miss those cakes, but Roberta was eloping with some Polynesian guy she’d met in one of those outdoor yoga sessions, and apparently, it was love at first downward dog.
So yeah…
Seventy-year-old Roberta found love, and here I am, thirty-four, single as a Pringle, and not a prospect in sight. Hence the drinking. And also why I’m standing here in front of the storage closet while Travis rummages through dusty old boxes to find the Santa outfit I somehow got roped into wearing.
I am severely displeased.
The first thing I did when I arrived at the office this morning while nursing a hangover was tried to get out of it. Travis wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently, every year they get some poor schmuck to agree to dress up and play Santato the kids down at the children’s hospital, and it usually falls to the newest member of the team.
Since I was hired in just after the New Year, that poor, unsuspecting fool happens to be me.
Plus, I’m the only one, supposedly, who doesn’t have out-of-town plans. I’m “it” by default on more than one level.
Lucky me.
“Found it!”
I snap to attention as Travis climbs over boxes on his way over to me, holding a mass of red fabric over his head like a trophy.
I groan, depressed at the thought of having to put that thing on. I can already smell the mothballs. “Just what I need to make it look like I put on an extra fifty pounds instead of ten.” It’s a holiday tradition, eating cookies and fudge and pies. My sweet tooth cannot be denied, so every year I pack on a little extra insulation to get me through the cold winter months.
Travis gives me a flirty smile and wink as he hands over what I now realize is a lot less red than I’d originally thought. “You’ll look anything but fat in this, trust me.”
The way he said that makes me completely distrustful of him. Narrowing my eyes, I reluctantly accept the offering, shaking it out as I say suspiciously, “What is that supposed to me—oh…”
This is not the Santa suit I’d expected. It’s…well… “I think you went to the wrong costume shop, little buddy,” I say sarcastically, because this has to be a joke. “I think you need to go back in there and find the rest of it.”
Travis’s smile is positively wicked now. “That is the rest of it.”
My eyes widen, and I look at it again. “Where did you find this thing, Strippers R Us? I can’t wear this!”
Like the asshole big-brother-type that he is, Travis playfully pokes the end of my nose. “You sure can, hon, and you’ll do it with a smile on your face and merry little laugh, too.” Closing up the closet, he locks it back up and brushes by me. “Make sure you dry-clean that thing before you put it on. It’s been around the block a few times.”
His mockingly jolly laugh makes me want to sprint after him, tackle him to the floor and jab my elbow into his ribs a few times. But as much as we were all family, office violence was just as frowned upon by human resources as workplace romances.
I’d just have to find my revenge another way. Until I did, it looked as though I was cursed to play Mrs. Santa.



A quick read about a love that got away.
It is sweet and sassy and will make you believe in Christmas miracles.


ABOUT J.C. VALENTINE


J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Trilogy. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.
Living in the Northwest, she has three amazing children and far too many pets. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.
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