Showing posts with label xmas july 2024. Show all posts
Showing posts with label xmas july 2024. Show all posts
Sunday, August 4, 2024
🎅🎆🎄Christmas in July 2024 At A Glance🎄🎆🎅
🎅💕🎅🎆🎄🎇🎄🎆🎅💕🎅
7/11/24: Too Hot for Santa by Helena Stone
🎅🎆🎄Sunday's Short Stack-Xmas in July🎄🎆🎅: The Christmas Curse by Ruby Moone
Summary:
It’s almost Christmas 1806, and government agent Jared Templeton finds himself adopted by a beautiful stray dog as he walks his customary route each night to his Mayfair home. Having never owned a dog before, Jared is surprised to find himself talking to the beast. It’s wonderfully easy and lifts some of the heavy burdens he carries.
Eventually Jared confides in the dog, not only secrets about his work as an agent, but also the biggest secret about himself. About his innermost desires and needs, safe in the knowledge his companion will never betray him.
But at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, Jared discovers things are not quite what they seem ...
I am going to jump right out of the gate and say this needs more. Now I'm not saying the story is lacking or that it would be better if it was longer(okay maybe it would be but that's not what I'm referring to), no what I am saying is that you just know that Jared and Wesley have further adventures ahead of them and I for one would love to read them. As for The Christmas Curse, well shifter curse tales are more common for October and Halloween reading but this one is perfect for the Christmas holiday. Throw in the historical aspect and Ruby Moone gives us a wonderful tale of hope and love. Once Jared recovers from his total gobsmacked feeling will he let himself open up to love? I'm not giving anything away when I say yes because this short isn't about what awaits the reader at the end but how the pair arrive. Just a lovely read that makes you smile.
RATING:
"This is not how I expected to spend Christmas, you know. I thought I was going to spend it in bed being thoroughly pleasured by a handsome man." He smoothed the dog's ear. "Does that shock you?" He looked down at the dog who was leaning heavily. It nosed his hand, so Jared continued petting him. He stared into the fire again. "I thought he loved me. I'll wager that shocks you even more."
The dog shifted until he could lay his head on Jared's chest and look up at him. His eyes were a deep, mossy green and seemed to be filled with adoration. It was welcome. "I don't know why you picked me to follow, but I am terribly glad that you did," he admitted, stroking the dog's head again. "Do you know, I hadn't realised how lonely I've been?" He scratched the dog's ears thinking how true that was. He naturally kept himself to himself. Large groups exhausted him, but sometimes he yearned for someone to share his life with. Hence his attempt with Matthew.
"Thank you for coming to me." Jared found he felt curiously emotional. The gratitude that he felt in the companionship the dog had offered him was deep and profound.
"I've never got on with people," he told him. "I've come to the conclusion that I don't like them very much." He rubbed his cheek against the top of the dog's head and ran his fingers through his deep coat. "Nanny always said I was a difficult boy. She certainly slapped me often enough, and my father…well. The less said about him the better. He caught me kissing one of the stable boys. Didn't like that at all."
The dog shuffled closer and licked Jared's face.
"I think that's why I get on well with working in the Alien Office. No-one to spill secrets to. Would you like to stay?" he said, looking at the dog and scratching his ears. "For good?"
The dog shuffled even closer and closed his eyes.
"I'll take that as a yes. I'll get you a leash tomorrow and we can go for long walks."
The dog leaned heavily, and Jared shifted until his arms were around him, stroking and petting. They sat like that for a while, until the church bells chimed midnight.
"Midnight," Jared whispered as the bells pealed. As the last bell faded, he bent and kissed to dog on the head, then rubbed his face against the spot. "Happy Christmas," he said.
My name is Ruby Moone and I love books. All kinds of books. My weakness is for romance, and that can be any kind, but I am particularly fond of historical and paranormal. I decided to write gay romance after reading some fantastic books and falling in love with the genre, so am really thrilled to have my work published here. The day job takes up a lot of my time, but every other spare moment finds me writing or reading. I live in the north west of England with my husband who thinks that I live in two worlds. The real world and in the world in my head...he probably has a point!
B&N / GOOGLE PLAY / FB GROUP
EMAIL: rubymoone@gmail.com
Saturday, August 3, 2024
🎅🎆🎄Saturday's Series Spotlight-Xmas in July🎄🎆🎅: Engagement - Vow Duology by Ellie Thomas
A Christmas Engagement #1
Summary:
In 1805, Charles Denham’s comfortable life in Regency London with his long-term partner Avery Mallory is disrupted by the sudden death of his father. As the heir to a modest country estate in Gloucestershire, Charles returns home to care for his bereaved family and take up his new responsibilities.
Overwhelmed with grief, rather than leaning on Avery, Charles becomes fixed on the idea of taking a wife for reasons of family duty alone. With this plan in mind, he travels the short distance to Bath only to find that Avery and his family have already arrived at the resort.
Will Charles follow through with his ill-conceived plan for a hasty betrothal by Christmas? Or will he come to his senses and resume his relationship with the nicest man in England?
A Lasting Vow #2
Summary:Sequel to A Christmas Engagement
By the spring of 1806 in rural England, Charles Denham's happiness should be complete. He has reconciled with his best friend and long-term lover Avery after a breach caused by Charles’ grief at the sudden death of his father, which left Charles shouldering family responsibilities.
Avery has made allowances for Charles’ misguided actions, and their relationship is back on an even keel. But Charles can’t forgive himself for his past behaviour towards the man he loves so dearly. He feels that some grand gesture is required to assure Avery he will never take him for granted again. Yet the more Charles considers this, his good intentions become increasingly confused.
Might Avery find a way to secure their future together?
Original Review January 2024:
I discovered Ellie Thomas' writing in the second half of 2023, I'm so glad I did. There is a lot of stories I have yet to read, many of which have already found a home on my Kindle but when I was looking for holiday stories and found A Christmas Engagement, how could I not jump in? Christmas ✅
Historical ✅
Second Chances ✅
Subtle(or not so subtle) Helpful Family ✅
Regency Era ✅
Friendship ✅
Heart ✅
Charles steps up to do what he thinks he has to when his father dies but is it really what is best for him? I think you can guess the answer to that but as I'm all about the spoiler-free zone I'll just reiterate my go-to line: you have to read for yourself to find out. There's always a fine line between duty and self, many can stand on the outside and not understand choosing duty over self but unless you lived that choice you can't completely get it. I can't imagine the heartache Charles faces when that line is before him and I can't say I would have Avery's willingness to accept that choice with such support but I do understand and commend it.
Ellie Thomas has once again painted a picture with words so deliciously that you can see it play out in front of you. If I wasn't already a fan, A Christmas Engagement would make me one. There's just the right amount of humor mixed into this heartbreaking yet oddly heartwarming tale of friendship, romance, and deciding if doing what society deems right is really what is best.
So many wonderful boxes ticked. My reading wants tend to favor the longer full-length novels but when a novella is well written it can pack quite a punch, A Christmas Engagement packs just that punch. I have already pre-ordered(2/10/24 release day) the follow-up novella, A Lasting Vow to see where the next leg of their journey finds Charles and Avery.
A Lasting Vow #2
I'll admit, when I decided to read Lasting Vow now I had forgotten that it wasn't set at Christmas as the first one, Christmas Engagement was but as soon as I realized my "mistake" it was already too late to set it aside until Xmas in July was over, I was invested.
Charles and Avery are just as lovely and in love now or even more so as they were a few months prior. Charles however is dealing with a heavy layer of guilt and grief, both from his father passing and how he treated Avery after said loss. Avery tries to soften the guilt but Charles' inner thoughts won't be tamed. On one hand I loved seeing the author "complete" Charles' grief and the choices it led him to make but on the other hand my heart aches for him and wishes he would truly listen to Avery. I guess it's just one of those journeys a character must follow through in his own time. It's a journey the author does beautifully.
Charles' younger brother taking his own journey in the "social scene" adds a wonderful layer of fun for the reader as well as Avery and a bit of a headache for Charles. I'm an only child but despite the historical, social standing, and foreign country setting, I could see many of my friends & their siblings chemistry in this little side story. Who says a story where one of the MCs is dealing with a heavy weight of emotion can't be fun and humorous?😉
Riding along on the men's journey is a true delight, heart-hurting at times but very much heartwarming. If this is where their story ends it is an amazing uplifting experience and if they decide to let the author in on more of their adventure I'll be first in line to read.
A Christmas Engagement #1
Charles paused before saying clearly and deliberately. “With Papa’s passing, it seemed expedient to start to look out for a wife.”
He heard Avery’s sharp intake of breath as Aunt Clarissa looked at him shrewdly. Her bright, old eyes, darker and sharper than Avery’s, seemed to pierce his soul. “You have come to the right place,” she remarked. “Far better to make your selection at your convenience in Bath than to be bothered with the fancy folderols of the London Season. I might be biased as I have fond memories of the place. The town will never be the same as in the heyday of Beau Nash, but it still passes muster, although I say it myself. And you should find a wide array of suitable ladies now you are resolved on matrimony.”
Charles had the sneaking suspicion that Aunt Clarissa was laughing at him and was spared further embarrassment by the timely approach of Mr. King.
“Ladies,” Mr. King uttered, addressing the group. “Might I interest you in a game of Cribbage at the Card Room tonight? The tables are filling up quickly, and I’d be glad to put your names down. From experience, these events prove very popular and can be over-subscribed.”
That popularity was confirmed by eager fluttering from the group of ladies, mercifully distracting Aunt Clarissa’s attention away from Charles.
Charles’ dearest hope was for Avery to have melted away into the surrounding throng during the conversation. Having only begun to establish himself in the confines of Bath’s society, Charles could not afford to cause gossip or general disgust by delivering a cut direct. And in truth, he flinched from being unnecessarily and publicly cruel. None of this was Avery’s doing. He must simply accept that Charles’ priorities had altered with his father’s death.
But when Charles glanced around, Avery was still standing there. He looked a trifle pale at Charles’ announcement but managed a smile as he said conversationally, “You must wonder why we are here. I’m sure you remember all those letters from my aunts pressing Aunt Clarissa for suggestions for her seventieth birthday celebrations?”
Charles nodded as he remembered their shared London rooms in Rupert Street, Avery’s face alight with laughter as he passed Aunt Clarissa’s typically scathing letter over the breakfast table for Charles’ amusement, in a gesture of everyday intimacy.
“Well, Aunt Clarissa refused to be contained by any sedate or convenient notions and decided to drag us all to Bath for the occasion, complete with a hired house on The Circus. According to her, since she’s in her dotage, she won’t get another opportunity to relive her past successes or criticise the current fashions and assembled company at the top of her voice. As you can imagine, both my aunts are thrilled.” Avery’s mobile mouth quirked with humour, and Charles was almost tempted to smile with him until Avery asked, “What does your mother think of your resolution to marry?”
Avery was still smiling, but his eyes seemed almost as shrewd and watchful as Great Aunt Clarissa’s. Charles was only glad that the necessarily loud interchange between the Master of Ceremonies and a lady of the party who was hard of hearing masked the personal turn of the conversation.
“She is delighted I’m assuming my obligations in seeking to establish our family connections.”
“Is she?” Avery sounded mildly surprised. “I’d have thought she would be far more concerned about your happiness and state of mind.”
“I am happy,” Charles retorted.
“If you say so,” Avery smiled agreeably before asking casually, “and since when have you been attracted to women?”
Charles bristled, “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything, I’d say if you seek marital accord.” Avery had the gall to look faintly amused as Charles cast around for a suitable retort, stumbling over half-remembered phrases he had recited to his mama. As Charles reeled off homilies on duty and family responsibility, Avery’s smile faded. But rather than displaying the outrage or bitterness of a repulsed lover, Avery’s expression was full of compassion, tinged with sadness.
Charles completed his speech, sounding pompous and prematurely middle-aged even to his own ears. Avery opened his mouth to impart an urgent observation before hesitating. Instead, he patted Charles on the arm, saying, “I’m sure you know best, Charles,” in a manner that implied no confidence whatsoever in his former lover’s judgement.
A Lasting Vow #2
Charles spent the next ten days reacquainting himself with London and their circle of regular companions. These friends dated from their university days, consisting of permanent city dwellers and visiting country gentlemen like themselves.
The resumption of long-term connections required no intensive maintenance. A few more thoughtful fellows sympathetically asked after Charles’ mother or clapped him on the shoulder saying, “It’s good to see you back in town.”
Charles accepted invitations to dine out or other kinds of organised entertainment as though the climactic events of the past several months fell outside his London existence. Reality could only be kept at bay for so long, but it was still a soothing cocoon.
At home in Rupert Street, Charles fell into similar settled habits with Avery, both intimately and domestically. It’s like I’ve never been away, he mused. He became re-accustomed to waking to see Avery’s head on the pillow, or his smiling face across the breakfast table. On both occasions, he did not hesitate to offer a kiss. Although, if they were both still abed, kisses led to a rousing start to the day.
Occasionally, Charles remembered they hadn’t yet embarked on the discussion that he had judged so all-important when in Gloucestershire. That reminder pricked his conscience occasionally, but there never seemed to be a suitable time. When Charles readied himself to speak, they were expected elsewhere, or a friend dropped by on the off chance they were at home.
As always, Charles was lulled into contentment in Avery’s proximity. Whether they rose early to be on horseback with hired steeds on Rotten Row to blow off the cobwebs long before the fashionable hour or lingered over a sociable glass of wine at a tavern, having Avery at his side propped up Charles’ battered self-belief.
The longer he hesitated, the more he questioned whether discretion might be the better course. Charles didn’t want to misstep and raise the issue of their past disharmony and disrupt their newfound happiness. It’ll happen when it happens, he reassured himself.
His mother wrote frequently to assure Charles that the farm had not gone to rack and ruin. Her letters were full of news of Charles’ siblings together with a few trifling requests found in London shops as if that justified Charles’ leave of absence.
She enlarged upon the odd point of concern in household organisation that Charles could easily solve by letter. That his mother was at pains to emphasise his usefulness caused Charles some heart-searching. He resolved to be of better cheer when he returned home, or at least give the appearance of equilibrium. These bouts of self-doubt were all the more difficult to come to terms with as they were a recent occurrence. Charles had never recognised he was prone to melancholy while his father was alive.
At breakfast one morning, he even received a scrawl from Albie, as caretaker of the estate business in Charles’ absence. Unlike Mrs. Denham’s careful reassurance, Albie was far more interested in listing his expectations for his upcoming stay in London. The breadth of his scope made Charles’ eyebrows rise. He passed the letter over to Avery, who exclaimed, “Good grief! Does he want to pack this into less than a week? Or is he expecting to stay for an entire year?”
Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical romance.
Ellie also writes historical erotic romance under the pen name L. E. Thomas.
SMASHWORDS / JMS BOOKS / B&N
A Christmas Engagement
A Lasting Vow
Friday, August 2, 2024
🎅🎆📘🎥Friday's Film Adaptation-Xmas in July🎥📘🎆🎅: A Bramble House Christmas by CJ Carmichael
Carrigans of the Circle C #6
All he wants for Christmas...is an answer
Finn Knightly a.k.a. Finn Conrad wants to know why his recently deceased father left his nurse fifty thousand dollars after knowing her a mere six weeks. So he travels to Bramble House B&B in Marietta, Montana to find answers.
But Willa Fairchild is not the conniving woman he expects to find. Before he knows it, Willa-and her six-year-old son Scout-are stealing his heart. And that’s before he finds out Scout’s secret and the real reason this Christmas is so important.
Willa Fairchild hadn’t counted on driving through a blizzard on her first night in Montana, but given the way her life had gone the past two-and-a-half years, maybe she should have.
“Are we almost there?”
Her six-year-old son’s eyes looked huge reflected in the rearview mirror. Scout, strapped into a booster seat in the back of the rented Ford Escape, obviously found the big storm intimidating, too.
“Fifteen more minutes. I think.” Quickly she returned her focus to the road, her shoulders tight, her eyes straining. It was dark and snowy and she had to fight the wind to keep a steady path.
Traveling from Arizona to Montana for Christmas hadn’t been Willa’s idea. But a very special patient who’d recently passed away had gifted her a three week stay at Bramble House B&B in Marietta, Montana. And when she’d mentioned the idea to Scout, he’d been excited to travel somewhere new and have a white Christmas for a change.
They were both open to fresh experiences these days, now that Scout had finally—thank you God—been declared cancer-free.
A gust of wind rattled the car as a semi-truck blasted by her, sending up a cloud of snow as well. For two full seconds she was completely blind. And then she spotted the yellow-dotted line again.
Whew.
Their flight from Phoenix to Bozeman had been smooth enough. They were in the rental car line-up when the snow started. By the time they were on the highway, the wind had begun to howl.
Just her luck.
The windshield wipers flapped against the steady onslaught of snow, yet despite the terrible road conditions, Willa knew she was driving too slowly. A steady stream of vehicles had been passing her since she’d merged onto the Interstate. But she’d never driven in a snowstorm before and didn’t have the nerve to go faster.
She hunched over the steering wheel, her head aching with tension as another semi overtook her, spewing clouds of snow over her car, causing the Escape—and her—to shudder again.
Thwap, thwap. Seconds later she could see again, and her panic subsided. Blurry florescent white letters on a green background appeared like a beacon on the right hand side of the highway. “Marietta 8.”
Scout had seen the sign, too. “Only eight more miles, Mom.”
“Yup. We’ll be there before you know it.” Willa was a master at sounding optimistic and cheerful when she felt the exact opposite.
It was a necessary skill to acquire when your son was diagnosed with acute lymphoid leukemia at the age of three-and-a-half years.
Willa snatched another glance at the rearview mirror, this time to check if another vehicle was about to pass. But all she saw was the same pair of large headlights that had been traveling behind her since she’d left the airport. Another chicken driver, like her, who was terrified of the snow, ice and wind?
At least the driver had the good sense to keep a large buffer between them. Willa didn’t think she could handle a tailgater tonight.
Another green sign loomed ahead—this one signaling the right hand exit, which would lead them to Marietta. A moment after Willa turned on her indicator light, the vehicle behind her did the same.
It was an interesting coincidence, but one Willa forgot all about as she focused on slowing cautiously, taking the turn safely, then gradually easing back to her cruising speed of forty-five miles an hour.
Thank God they were almost at Marietta, because if anything, the snow seemed to coming down harder now. Gobs of it were collecting at the base of the wipers. She ought to stop and clear it off—but she could hardly see the lane she was driving in now, let alone the shoulder. It seemed safer to continue with reduced visibility than risk a stop.
Before long they came to the one-mile marker.
Willa could sense her son’s anticipation as he leaned forward in his booster seat until his head was almost in line with hers.
“Remember Mom,” Scout cautioned. “Don’t tell anyone about the cancer.”
Her son was tired of being “the boy with leukemia,” the kid other boys and girls were scared to play with in case they gave him germs, or hurt him in some other, incalculable way.
“I won’t forget.” How could she? It was the first and last thought she had every day. My son is cured. Thank you, God.
The oncologist had assured her there were no more cancer cells in her son’s body. And yet…she couldn’t stop studying Scout’s face every day, worrying when he looked too pale, or seemed too tired.
She’d thought she would feel so happy the day their ordeal was over.
Instead, she felt drained. Old beyond her years. And very alone.
“I see lights! Look, Mom, through the snow! Isn’t it awesome?”
"Sure is." Her muscles relaxed as she spotted the festive reds, greens and golds glowing in the distance.
Marietta. The Bramble House Bed and Breakfast. Christmas.
The drive—heck the past two-and-a-half years—may have been a nightmare.
But good things awaited them now, surely.
* * *
Finn Conrad parked on a side street, killed his lights, and then waited while the woman and her son gathered their luggage and entered the bed and breakfast. From the outside, the three-story Victorian—the largest home on the block and quite possibly in all of Marietta—looked both stately and welcoming.
Fairy lights were strung along the eaves and porch railings and in the large front window, a Christmas tree glittered red, green and gold.
Presumably the Brambles had once been a family of some importance in this town. That they no longer held this position seemed self-evident, given that they had opened their doors to the hospitality trade.
Once the Fairchilds were inside and out of sight, Finn pulled his rented GMC truck into the guest parking lot, snagging an empty spot opposite from where Willa had parked her small SUV. Back here he could see a large garage with what looked like living quarters above.
Lights glowed behind the pulled curtains.
He sagged into his headrest, glad the drive was over.
Willa Fairchild’s snail-like pace had almost been the death of him. She was either a very nervous driver or she didn’t have much experience with winter road conditions. Since he knew where she was heading, he could have passed her. But what if she hit a patch of black ice or something?
It was far from his place to worry about Willa Fairchild. Knowing she had a kid in the car with her, though, changed things.
So he’d followed a safe distance behind them to make sure they didn’t run into trouble.
He had so many questions about this woman. After today he added another to the list.
What was she doing in Marietta, Montana?
It seemed to be a nice enough town. And Bramble House B&B had made the National spotlight last year when country music star John Urban announced on the Jane and Ty Show that he planned to go there for Christmas.
But there were lots of nice towns in this country, with plenty of charming bed and breakfasts. Most of them a hell of a lot easier to get to.
Maybe she had family here. Friends. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
The clock on his dash clicked forward to eight p.m. He pulled out his phone and found four text messages from his mother. He texted to let her know he’d arrived okay, but didn’t answer any of her other questions.
He loved his mother, but she was an exhausting woman, especially since her divorce from his father two years ago. Every time a light bulb burnt out in her house, she was on the phone to him, wondering what to do. The fact that he lived in Colorado and she in Seattle made no difference.
His mother leaned on his three younger sisters, too, albeit in different ways. Molly, married with two children of her own, bore the brunt of their mother’s emotional distress. To her fell the role of listening to their mother’s litany of complaints about their dad’s desertion, his lack of loyalty to her and the family, his selfishness.
From an early age Molly’s twin, Keelin, had used academics as a buffer from their family issues. Now a genetics counselor Keelin was a veritable workaholic. It was interesting how often the dates of her out-of-town conferences conflicted with family birthdays and holidays. Not that Finn blamed her. Their family could be exhausting.
The baby of the family, Berneen, was still living at home and attending the University of Washington. She was twenty-five years old and still hadn’t managed to complete a degree because she kept dropping out. One year it was to start her own jewelry-making business. When that didn’t pan out she tried writing and self-publishing a cookbook that netted her all of thirty-five dollars.
Finn suspected his mother enabled Berneen’s lack of focus because she didn’t want her youngest moving out and leaving her alone.
He glanced at his phone again. Fifteen minutes had passed. That ought to be enough. He grabbed his duffel bag from the passenger seat, then the bag containing his laptop, camera and sketch pad.
Not for the first time since he’d booked his ticket and accommodation he wondered if he was making a mistake. Any plan hatched by his mother and Berneen was bound to be suspect. But then he thought about his father, and knew he had to have answers. Shaking his head, he braced for the cold.
Wind slashed snow pellets at his face and he had to shield his eyes in order to see as he dashed along the shoveled walkway to the front entry. Outdoor carpet ran up the stairs, all the way to the massive wood door. A small sign in the window invited him to come inside.
He was greeted with a waft of warm, gingerbread-scented air. Another sign, this one on a table next to an umbrella stand, asked him to remove his boots and leave them on the rack by the door.
The foyer was large, with dark wooden floors and papered walls in a tastefully muted floral pattern. Straight ahead was a gracious, curved staircase, and next to that a Christmas tree that looked about fourteen or fifteen feet tall. Not the red, green and gold lit tree he’d seen from the street, this one had blue and gold lights. A closer look revealed ornaments that all had something to do with cowboys, ranching or mountains.
As he reached out to examine a beautiful wooden carving of a black quarter horse, a man in a hunter green parka, hands encased in thick gloves, emerged from the back of the house.
“Hi there. That’s our Montana tree. Eliza has a tree in every room, each one decorated in a unique theme.”
“Impressive.”
“Hell of a night, isn’t it? I’m Marshall McKenzie. My wife Eliza and I manage this place, along with her great aunt Mable.”
Finn had never stayed in a bed and breakfast before, but it seemed the staff was a lot more informal and friendly than at a hotel. He shook the man’s proffered hand. “Finn—" he paused only slightly before adding, “Knightly.”
“You’re the book illustrator from Colorado?”
Finn nodded. This Marshall guy was tall, and even with his big coat, he had the look of being trim and in good shape. From his tanned skin, Finn guessed he was into outdoor sports. Given the location, he probably liked to ski.
“Well, this blizzard will be nothing new for you,” Marshall said. “We just had a woman and her son check in from Phoenix. Poor lady was pretty frazzled after her drive from the Bozeman airport.”
I know. “The roads weren’t that bad. No ice, at least. And the fresh snow will be good for the ski hills.”
The answering gleam in Marshall’s eyes told Finn he’d guessed correctly. “You ski?”
“Sure do. Eliza and I enjoy snowshoeing too. Wish I didn’t have to work tomorrow. Did you bring your equipment with you?” Marshall glanced at Finn’s bags, which he’d left next to the shoe rack.
“No, my skis are in rough shape. I’ve been meaning to buy new ones, boots, too. Anyway, I plan to spend most of my time taking photos and sketching for my next book.”
“Working through Christmas?”
Finn shrugged. “Tight deadline. But I’ve got three weeks so I hope to do a little skiing eventually.”
“Cool. I also work at Montana Wilds Adventure Company. We’ve got a sweet pre-Christmas sale going on at our store on Main Street. Pop in sometime and I’ll show you your options. You can rent or buy. Whatever you prefer.”
“I might just do that.”
“Okay. Well, I should get out there and do some more shoveling. Eliza will be here shortly to show you to your room.”
He no sooner said that, than a tall blonde wearing skinny jeans and a baggy red sweater decorated with a Santa face, emerged carrying a tray of cookies, clearly the source of the delicious aroma that filled this house.
“Hi! Finn Knightly?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “I’m Eliza Bramble. Here, try a cookie. Santa’s been experimenting with his recipe and I think he’s finally got it exactly right.”
Speechless, Finn stared from her pretty, bright-eyed face, to the over-the-top tacky sweater, to the plate of sugar-dusted, ginger-scented cookies.
He took a cookie. Bit into it. Wow. Flavors exploded, then melted into his mouth. Brown sugar, molasses, cinnamon, cloves, butter…lots of creamy butter. And ginger.
He glanced behind himself, expecting Marshall to reach for a cookie, too, but the other man had gone outside, presumably to deal with the still-falling snow.
“Did you say Santa baked these?”
Eliza laughed. “Yes. He’s staying with us over the holidays. Aren’t we lucky?”
Finn decided to roll with it. “What about Mrs. Claus?”
“Unfortunately her flight out of the North Pole was cancelled.”
Of course it was. Finn smiled. “Is my room ready?”
“It is. Let me give you a quick tour and then I’ll take you up.”
She led him through open French doors to a large room with comfortable looking brown leather furniture arranged around a massive fireplace where several logs burned merrily.
“This is the sitting room. You’ll usually find refreshments here, as well as a bit of company, if you’re in the mood for a visit, though it’s quiet now.” She set the tray of cookies next to a bowl of apples on the sideboard.
On the opposite wall, by the window, was a tree decorated with gold, green and red lights. It was the tree he’d spotted from the street. What he hadn’t been able to see from a distance were the dozens of tiny, silver picture frames hanging from the branches.
He touched one of them. It was a black and white photograph of a woman in her twenties or thirties, taken around the turn of the century. On the back was engraved, Elizabeth Bramble – 1877 to 1954.
“I’m the Bramble family historian,” Eliza explained. “I’ve got miniature portraits here dating back to Henry and May Bell—who were the first Brambles to settle in Marietta.”
“So they built this house?”
“They did.” She indicated that he should follow her for the rest of the tour.
On the other side of the foyer was the library with a literary-themed Christmas tree. “This is the perfect place to read or play games in the afternoon. My great-aunt Mable likes to sit here in the morning and early evening, so it’s restricted to family at those times.”
Finn wondered what this great-aunt thought about her home being opened to guests and other strangers. “Has this house been operated as a bed and breakfast for long?”
“Just a few years.” Eliza’s pale skin colored and abruptly she turned and led the way to the room at the back corner of the house, behind the sitting room.
“This is where we serve our breakfast, from seven to nine. In between times, if you’re hungry, we usually have a pot of soup on the stove in the kitchen.”
He peeked into the darkened room, where a large wooden table was already set with linens, old-fashioned china and gleaming silver. The tree here was somewhat smaller than the others. “Does it have a theme?”
“It’s our copper tree, celebrating Marietta’s mining history.”
“So a total of four trees. Cool.”
“Actually, there are five. We have a tree decorated with a baking theme in the kitchen, but unfortunately, due to health code restrictions, that room is off limits to our guests.”
“Except for Santa.”
“Indeed. But even he has to wear a hair net and wash his hands.”
She pointed out the restrooms next, then her great-aunt’s suite on the other side of the kitchen, which was another off-limits area. Finally Finn grabbed his bags and they headed up the grand staircase to the second level, where Finn knew from the website were four large guest suites.
“You’re in the Brown room,” Eliza opened the door to a room with a four poster bed. A cozy armchair with a footstool sat in one corner. A desk in the other.
“This looks perfect.”
Just as he was about to step inside, the door to the room opposite his opened, and out stepped Willa Fairchild, wearing a thick, cream-colored robe, her long, chestnut-colored hair piled high on her head.
This was the closest he’d been to her, and he was surprised by how young she looked. She had very pale skin, generous lips, and an off center small mole on her chin. Her dark-lashed, brown eyes had a vulnerable quality that also caught him off guard.
He supposed he’d expected them to have a calculating, if not mercenary, gleam.
But she was, in fact, perfectly lovely.
“Hi Willa,” Eliza said. “Is everything okay?”
“The room is so comfy. Thanks so much for setting up the extra rollaway bed, but my son is hungry. I thought I’d grab him an apple…?” Her gaze slipped from Eliza, to Finn.
He thought her eyes widened slightly. Did she recognize him from the airport? But he’d been so careful to keep his distance. He proffered his hand.
“Hi, I’m Finn Knightly, from Colorado. Just got in myself. Quite a storm out there.”
“I’ll say. I’m Willa Fairchild from Phoenix. The worst I have to deal with at home is a heavy downpour.”
“And I’m Scout.” Willa’s son came to the door, already dressed in pajamas. He, too, had pale skin and thick, short hair, same color as his mother.
“Hey, Scout. How do you like Montana so far?” Finn asked.
“I’ve never seen snow before. I took some up to my room but it’s melted already.
Tomorrow we’re going to make a snowman, right Mom?”
She put a hand on his head and smiled. “You bet. But first, we need to sleep. You pick out a book and I’ll be right back with that apple.”
“Okay.” Obediently he slipped back into the room.
“Good kid,” Finn commented. He couldn’t remember his own niece or nephew ever saying “okay” to anything Molly requested them to do. At least not the first time she asked.
“Grab a few cookies while you’re down there,” Eliza suggested to Willa. “Fresh from the oven about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Santa’s secret recipe,” Finn added, earning a smile from Eliza and a puzzled, over-the- shoulder glance from Willa.
“I hope you like the room,” Eliza said, opening the door wider. “There’s a full bathroom, including a jetted spa tub, through that door.”
“I’m sure it will be great.” Finn was still watching Willa, though, who’d just disappeared around the curve in the stairwell.
She wasn’t anything like he’d imagined.
At least now Finn understood why his father had fallen under her spell.
Release Date: November 19, 2017
Release Time: 84 minutes
Director: Steven R Monroe
Cast:
Autumn Reeser as Willa Fairchild
David Haydn-Jones as Finn Conrad
Liam Hughes as Scout Fairchild
Teryl Rothery as Mable Bramble
Andrew Airlie as Ken
Hilary Jardine as Sage
Julia Benson as Molly
Lyla Marlow as Savannah
With more than 3 million books in print, USA Today Bestselling and RITA award nominated author C. J. Carmichael still can't decide which she enjoys more, writing small-town romance or page-turning mysteries. So she does both. She is currently working on the last book in the multi-author series, Love At The Chocolate Shop, as well as her new Bitter Root Mysteries. Her 2015 release, A Bramble House Christmas, is scheduled for release as a Hallmark Movie in 2017. Reader favorites, including her Carrigans of the Circle C ranch stories, as well as her Twisted Cedar Mysteries are available in both ebook and trade paperback formats. The Carrigans of the Circle C novels are also available as audio books.
When she isn’t writing, C.J. loves to be out hiking, cross-country skiing or biking, either in the Rocky Mountains near Calgary, or around Flathead Lake, Montana where she and her husband, and their four adult daughters, have a cottage. To be kept current on her upcoming titles and reader giveaways please visit her website and sign up for her newsletter.
AUDIOBOOKS / TANTOR / CHIRP / B&N
iTUNES / SMASHWORDS / IMDB / KOBO
AUDIBLE / AUDIOBOOKS / CHIRP
KOBO / SMASHWORDS / WEBSITE
Film
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)