Chirp and Chatter Pages

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Christian Fiction—Love at Christmas Inn (Collection I)

About the Collection


Nestled into five beautiful acres just outside Hope Creek, Tennessee, Christmas Inn is an unforgettable place known for its joyful atmosphere and festive setting. Holiday decorations adorn each room. Trees glittering with ribbons and ornaments, gorgeous wreaths, velvet stockings and pine-scented candles brighten visitors’ stay at this vacation spot dedicated to Christmas all year, every year. The resort offers all the usual enticements plus one unique amenity…love. The little white chapel behind the inn, built by the Christmas family in the 1890s, boasts bell tower bells that toll when couples fall in love.
But Christmas Inn has fallen on hard times. The chapel bells haven’t rang for many years, and this Christmas may be the final celebration at the resort…unless love finds its way home.



The Books

CHRISTMAS BELLS ARE RINGING


Heiress Ariana Christmas is in trouble. Fed up with her wastrel life full of parties, hot spot appearances and Internet scandals, her parents cut her allowance, her cell phone access and her car. Then they send her to the back of beyond…Hope Springs, Tennessee. Her aunt has suffered a mild heart attack and needs help restoring Christmas Inn to its past glory. All Ariana wants is to get the job done and get back to her life. What she doesn’t count on is the famous old inn weaving its way into her soul…not to mention the handsome young contractor who sees the Inn as it could be, not what it is. Can he do the same for Ariana?
Taylor Knox is a man with a plan. After years of handling the family’s construction business everything is set for his brother to take over. Taylor is determined to finish his education and complete his dream to become an architect. But first, Knox Construction has to complete renovations of Christmas Inn…a task made more difficult by the arrival of Little Miss Entitled. Ariana Christmas throws Taylor’s plans and schedule into complete disarray, threatening the completion of the work and his future. That doesn’t even begin to cover what she does to his heart.

BELLS AT MIDNIGHT


Stranded at Christmas. For food critic and TV personality Graham Forrester, that is definitely not part of the game plan. He’s on his way to North Carolina to celebrate the holidays with his family and take a hard look at his life. A sense of discontent is hot on his tail. The last thing he needs is to be trapped by a record-breaking snow storm in the backwater town of Hope Springs, Tennessee. To add insult to injury, he’s stuck at a B&B so steeped in Christmas cheer it leaves his teeth to ache.
IT expert Lydia Cutler is transplanting from Nashville to…wherever God chooses. Free spirited but searching for meaning, she has agreed to help her surrogate family reestablish Christmas Inn as a go-to resort for year-round Christmas joy. Bumping up the spirits of Graham-eneezer Scrooge becomes a captivating perk to her life at the Inn, however temporary.
From the moment they meet, the unexpected becomes the norm. An emergency at the Inn. A midnight kiss. The tolling of long-silent bells in a nearby chapel. Everything comes together to seal Graham and Lydia’s destiny, but will they find life answers that lead to love, happiness and God’s perfect plan?

WITH BELLS ON


When Emilee Lancaster’s aunt calls her home to Hope Creek for the holidays, Emmy readily agrees to assist with a charity event at the family theater—until she finds herself front-and-center stage with her high-school-flame, Jayson Taylor. She’s not thrilled about the pairing, but she’s made a promise to her aunt, and unlike Jayson, she keeps her promises.
Jayson Taylor makes his living building sets for Dahlia Brewster's Family Theater. When the Christmas show's emcee falls ill, Dahlia asks Jayson to step from the backstage and into the limelight. He's more comfortable working behind the scenes, but the country-singing superstar has always treated him like a favorite son, so Jayson reluctantly agrees. Center-stage at Christmas—especially beside dream-chasing Emmy Lancaster, who once ran off and broke his heart—is not where he planned to be.
But God has other plans, and what happens when the curtain falls and the stage lights dim truly reflects the heart of this holiday season.

BELLS ON HER TOES


As part of an elaborate birthday gift from her sister, Karynn Michaels gets a pedicure that includes a pretty bell on each toe and a promidiction—part promise, part prediction—for each of the next ten days. Quiet, sensible Karynn finds the whole thing ridiculous. But it’s just for fun and she is, after all, on vacation at Christmas Inn, where bells are legendary.
The same day, she comes face to face with Daniel Sheridan—the male standard by which she’s measured, and found lacking, every man she’s dated since he moved away during their senior year of high school. Is it mere coincidence that her first promidiction hints at a reunion with someone from her past?
A widower, Daniel is at the Hope Creek, Tennessee resort with his adorable little girl and her less-than-agreeable nanny, who’s unpleasant to everyone—except her handsome boss. Karynn refuses to hope for a rekindled romance, but her old flame has lost none of his irresistible high school charm. She should have stayed at home in Quillpoint. She was doing just fine without bells on her toes, a jealous nanny, and a sapphire-eyed airline pilot who might fly away with her heart…again. 

Monday, December 11, 2017

Christmas Fiction: The Chain You Forge (Kathryn J. Bain)

About The Chain You Forge

by Kathryn Bain
Inspired by Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
Benita Holden has more money than she’ll ever spend. As a personal injury attorney, her bank account grows in large sums. What does she spend her money on? Nothing. What does she do for fun? Work. Her life is one of routine, from the moment she wakes until she goes to bed at night.
That all changes one night when she gets a visit from her father, a man who’s been dead seven years now…

“I love the traditional things when it comes to the holidays and The Chain You Forge is going to become one of my traditions.”
—Nancy Lopez
“The writing was fresh and the story re-told with a backdrop of current events and images that should grab anyone's attention.”
—M Brown
About the Author
Kathryn J. Bain is an award-winning author of Christian, mystery, and suspense, including the Lincolnville Mystery series and KT Morgan short suspense series.
Ms. Bain has garnered several awards, including First Place for Short Suspense in the IDA (Independent Digital Awards), two Heart of Excellence Readers’ Choice Awards and a First Place Royal Palm Literary Award for Inspirational Fiction.
A past President of Florida Sisters in Crime and Public Relations Director for Ancient City Romance Authors, Kathryn enjoys doing talks and teaching about writing.
Kathryn has also been a paralegal for over twenty years and works for an attorney who specializes in elder law.
You can connect with her at her website, on Twitter, and on Facebook. See her available books including The Chain You Forge on her Amazon Author page.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

PBG Christmas Titles: A Texas Christmas Mystery (Anne Greene) AND Candle for a Corpse (Marilyn Leach)

About A Texas Christmas Mystery

by Anne Green


A lady Coastguardsman searches for a killer. An oil rig troubleshooter accused of murder races to clear his name. The murderer strives to silence them both.
As Amber seeks to arrest Derrick, sparks fly.
Amber Meredith needs to solve her first case. But the handsome Cajun suspect makes her heart race and her toes tingle.

Derrick Darbonne worked all his life for his high-paying, adventurous job. When his past threatens his future, will he endanger the woman he loves?

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Excerpt


Galveston, Texas
Only one thing scared Derrick Darbonne. He had no fear of fire, hurricane, sabotage, high seas, drunken roughnecks, reckless roustabouts, brawls, or hard work. But losing the job he’d slaved all his life to obtain terrified him.
He’d worked himself up from oaks draped with Spanish moss, murky alligator-filled water, and a tiny cabin on the banks of the bayou with no running water or electricity. He’d finally gotten to where he wanted to be. And now someone was trying to pin a murder on him. Some Christmas present.
Derrick crushed the schematics he’d been scanning and jammed them into his pocket. He braced his legs wide on the steel floor of the oil rig and raised the powerful navigational binoculars. A Coast Guard cutter slashed a white wedge through the sparkling Gulf waters straight toward his oil platform.
His jaw tightened, his spine stiffened, and he swallowed.
Standing beside him, Joe Bridges, the MIC, Man in Charge, swore.
If Derrick had been a swearing man, he would have joined Joe. Instead, he gripped the navigational binoculars tighter. “Third time this week. If I had anything to hide, I’d jump ship.” He smacked his hard hat so thoroughly his ears rang. “Thought so! That guardsman is a female.” Here was a Coastie bearing down on him with the authority to shut down the operation. The men would be out of work just in time for Christmas. What pretense to investigate the murder was the Coast Guard using this time?
Derrick lowered the binoculars and frowned. “She looks familiar.”
“Ever since you arrived for the routine inspection, Cajun, the Coast Guard’s been on our backs.” Scowling, Joe thrust out a hand for the glasses. “Then there was the murder. That’s the reason the big boss’s keeping you out here again, so long.”
“Don’t I know it! I’m looking for a saboteur as well. Probably the same guy.” Derrick slapped the binoculars into Joe’s hand and tried to lighten his foreboding with a jabbing tease. “Now I’ve got to get the Coast Guard environmental crew out of your hair.”
“Rib me, will ya?” Joe repositioned his yellow hard hat over his bald head and shook a work-hardened finger. “I’ll bet you I can get that Coastie to go for me and my shiny head before she goes for you and that Cajun accent of yours. Loser pays a hundred bucks.”
“You want us to distract her with our masculine charm so she won’t sniff out any violations that could shut us down?” Derrick surveyed the rig’s two-hundred-foot deck looking for any OSHA or EPA trouble the Coast Guard might use to give a citation. Sunlight slanted off the metal plates causing enough glare to hurt his eyes. He didn’t like Joe’s plan.
“You got it.” Joe grinned.
Derrick gave a tight smile. He slid his gaze to the roughneck inside the glass-enclosed room, jiggling the joy sticks and pushing the buttons that worked the rig’s floor. The big man hooking a new drill in place beneath the five-hundred-foot drilling tower wore his safety equipment. No problem there.
Derrick flicked his gaze over the new hire, the eighteen year old from Galveston. The kid’s long blond hair straggled from beneath his yellow hard hat. He was bent over washing sludge and mineral oil through sand to clean out the last drop of hydrocarbon before reusing the sand. Kid was a hard worker, already adept at his job. No laws broken. No environmental procedures shortcut.
The rest of the roughnecks and roustabouts worked steadily. None violated safety measures. No oil spills or pipe breaks had occurred. The hole drilled through the sea bottom was clean and not yet exceptionally deep. They should hit oil soon. Joe Bridges had a salty vocabulary, but the boss man ran a tight rig. So why suddenly all the anonymous phone calls about regulation problems? Had to be the murder.
Derrick needed to come up with answers.
“Alamo Oil pays you a hefty salary to make sure things run smooth on all two hundred of its rigs.” Joe’s voice sounded more than a little jealous.
“Don’t I know it.” Derrick ran a hand over the stubble already growing after his close morning shave.
“Alamo doesn’t want to fork out any stiff fines or lose any drill time because of environmental pollution, safety violations, mismanagement, or accidents. So make sure that Coastie’s distracted.” Joe winked. “And don’t mention the murder. We’ve trampled that ground too many times with the Coast Guard already.”
“Right.” Derrick rubbed the back of his neck. An uneasy feeling kept nagging him about the murder. Nothing he could put a handle to, but—too many clues led directly to him. Once the Coast Guard put the puzzle together, they’d come looking for him. He grunted. How had his personal helmet wound up grasped in the dead kid’s hand?
Joe swore loud enough that the crew cleaning sand looked up. He lowered his voice. “That Coastie’s gonna cause trouble. I feel it in my bones.” His eyes, shadowed under his hard hat, looked wary. “We gotta keep her thinking about us, not her job.” He handed the binoculars back.
Derrick frowned. “I think you’re just hard up for a date. You want a girl friend to share Christmas with.”
“Whatever!”
As the Coast Guard cutter pulled alongside their offshore rig, Derrick focused the binoculars on the trim figure in her blue uniform. He’d not seen many women in the Guard, and none that looked so curvy…wow, hotter than a Louisiana mudbug boil. He loved that spicy crawfish dish.
Dread inside his gut heightened. Sweat beaded his forehead. He got tongue-tied around women. “This can’t be good!”
“Yeah. The broad’s probably a—”
“It’s Amber Meredith!” Derrick fumbled the expensive binoculars, made a grab for them, and caught them just before they hit the deck.

About the Author

My home is in the quaint antiquing town of McKinney, Texas, just a few miles north of Dallas. My dear husband is a retired Colonel, Army Special Forces. My little brown and white Shih Tzu, Lily Valentine, shares my writing space, curled at my feet. I have four beautiful, talented children, and eight grandchildren who keep me running.

I’ve traveled in every location of each book I’ve written, and each book is a book of my heart. Besides my first love, writing, I enjoy travel, art, sports, reading, sailing, snorkeling, movies, and way too many other things to mention. Life is good. Jesus said, “I am come that you might have life and that you might have it more abundantly.” Whether writing contemporary or historical, my books celebrate the abundant life Jesus gives.    


About Candle for a Corpse

by Marilyn Leach


Candle for a Corpse: A Berdie Elliott Advent Mystery by Marilyn Leach is a Christmas whodunit with plot twists, shifty suspects, and loving villagers.  All of it’s sprinkled with English grace and humor.  Who would believe an advent wreath could solve a murder?  It can when Berdie Elliott’s at hand, a vicar’s wife and sleuth extraordinaire.  Fresh brewed tea, and high adventure with a spoonful of romance make the season bright.
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Endorsement

Are you an Agatha Christie fan?  Does the thought of an English village make you long to grab your passport and head across the pond?  Are cozy mysteries your cup of tea?  If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, you won’t want to miss Marilyn Leach’s, Candle for a Corpse.
--Amanda Cabot, CBA best-selling, award winning author



About the Author


At the age of nine, Marilyn wrote her first play with a childhood neighbor, “The Ghost and Mr. Giltwallet”.  It was a mystery.  And she’s been writing in one form or another, hobby or livelihood, since.  As well as teaching art, she’s had the opportunity to co-author several plays that have been performed on both church and secular stages, as well as two screenplays.  Marilyn has had the good fortune of “discovering her roots” while visiting England where she developed lasting relationships with wonderful people there.  It has greatly impacted her writing.  A great fan of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple and David Cook’s Hetty Wainthropp series, Marilyn was inspired to write her series: Berdie Elliott Mysteries.  She lives lakeside on the Colorado front range.                                                            

Friday, December 8, 2017

PBG Christmas Titles: A Christmas Homecoming (MaryAnn Diorio) AND Plundered Christmas (Susan Lyttek)

About A Christmas Homecoming


by MaryAnnDiorio


Seven Christmases have passed since Sonia Pettit last heard from her daughter Jody. Since Jody's departure, Sonia's world has been turned upside down. Her husband has died of a broken heart, and her son, bitter over his sister's destructive actions, has become rebellious. Her greatest desire is to have her family together at Christmas, but after what Jody has put them all through, can Sonia truly forgive her daughter? Jody Pettit O'Dair ran away to experience a life of adventure and excitement, but since her departure, her world has been turned upside down. She's been abandoned by the man she met and married, lost her job, and is unable to care for her two children. With nowhere else to turn, this prodigal daughter begins the long journey home and prays she will be welcomed after walking away so long ago. Will Jody find forgiveness in the arms of her family as easily as she received it from God?

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About the Author



Dr. MaryAnn Diorio is a widely published, award-winning author of compelling, riveting fiction that deals with the deepest issues of the human heart. She is also an author of picture books for children. Her latest novel, Return to Bella Terra, is Book 3 in The Italian Chronicles Trilogy. MaryAnn resides in New Jersey with her husband of 48 years, Dominic, a retired ER physician. They are the blessed parents of two amazing daughters and the grandparents of five rambunctious grandchildren. When not writing, MaryAnn enjoys reading, painting, and making up silly songs with her grandchildren. You may learn more about MaryAnn and her writing at www.maryandiorio.comA Christmas Homecoming is available in both e-book and audio-book formats at Pelican Book Group and on Amazon.






About Plundered Christmas


by Susan Lyttek





Compelled to spend Christmas on a private island with her father’s future bride and family, Jeanine learns that Margo Banet is descended from a pirate queen.
Relatives and friends all have their reasons for attending the festivities—including the legendary treasure. But when Margo’s nephew winds up dead and a violent storm cuts them off mainland, Jeanine has to wonder if they will solve the mystery before someone else dies trying.

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About the Author
Susan A. J. Lyttek, author of four novels, award-winning writer, blogger, wife and mother to two homeschool graduates, writes in time snippets and in colorful notebooks. She also enjoys training up the next generation of writers by coaching 6th to 12th grade homeschool students. You can find her at Pelican Book Group, Amazon, or at www.sajlyttek.com.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

PBG Christmas Titles: White Christmas (Tanya Stowe) and The First Noelle (Delia Latham)


White Christmas by Tanya Stowe


About White Christmas


After his very public break-up from his fiancee, Chad Fletcher is convinced that a healthy marriage and his rising political career won't mix, and Christmas at his Aunt Nell's home in White, Arizona is a great way to start fresh. Political watch dog, Tessa Conway, plans to spend her vacation enjoying her grandparents' ranch before they must sell it, so she is not pleased with Grandma Sophie and Aunt Nell's efforts to throw her and Chad together. Chad begins to believe Tessa may be the perfect antidote to his unhealthy relationships of the past, but when he decides to take support from a company with questionable ethics, his perfect bubble is burst. Fearing Chad is not the godly man she believed him to be, Tessa ends their budding romance. Will Chad find the strength and courage to do what's right even if it costs him his career?

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Excerpt

As he left the crowd behind and ran into the quieter, cooler part of the street, he shivered. He’d forgotten about the cold. During the summer months, the cooler temperatures of the White Mountains were a welcome break from the blistering heat of Phoenix. In the winter, however, those same higher elevations could lead to snow. As he thought about it, not such a bad image. White, Arizona covered in snow.
It felt good to stretch his legs out. He’d missed his daily run and the short trip back to the car actually helped work out some of the kinks. He found Nell’s red gloves on the front seat and jogged back in less than five minutes. Nell had not yet returned to Pioneer Square so he waited, watching the people gathered around the tree.
One young woman was surrounded by four or five children. Something about her struck Chad as familiar. She had long, strawberry blonde hair and it curled, uncontrolled beneath her purple knit cap.
Naturally curly. He smiled, seeing the way it tried to frizz around her face in the cold damp air. It gave her an uninhibited quality he liked. She turned at that moment and caught him staring. Though she was a red-head, he could only see a sprinkling of freckles across her heart-shaped face. Even from a distance of ten feet, a pair of the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen sparkled back at him.
He returned the smile before lowering his gaze. Now that was exactly the kind of small-town girl Aunt Nell wanted him to meet. Glancing back at her laughing face and bright eyes, the idea didn’t seem half bad.
She chose that moment to glance his way again and they caught each other’s gaze. Another half-smile and Chad turned away, feeling his momentary pleasure slip away. The last thing he needed was to give this young woman any ideas. Besides the two- or three-year-old standing next to her had the same curly, strawberry-blonde hair. Probably her daughter.
He looked around, hoping to see his aunt, but she was nowhere in sight. His gaze drifted back to the young woman and once again, she looked at him, this time with a slight frown between her eyebrows.
Great. She’d recognized him. Sooner or later, she’d work her way to his side and casually introduce herself. He looked around again. Where was Nell?
With his back to them, he heard the children around the woman say “Santa.” One little girl squealed and clapped her hands. Fortunately for Chad, he turned just at that moment, because the little girl spun and charged right into him. She bounced off his legs and landed flat on her bottom.
Sitting splayed out with her hands behind her, she stared up at him with her blue eyes wide. Her hair curled rebelliously around her navy-blue knit cap. She looked so adorable, Chad bent to pick her up before he remembered her mother had recognized him.
“Emma!” The other children came running up. “Say you’re sorry,” said the oldest girl, who looked to be about ten.
“Sorry,” mumbled little Emma who ducked her head and looked up at him through the longest, darkest eyelashes he’d ever seen on a blonde, let alone a red-head. Did her mother have the same eyelashes?
“It’s all right, Emma,” he said. “It was an accident.”
She nodded and strawberry curls bounced. “We’re going to see Santa,” she exclaimed and flashed a smile that captured Chad’s heart. “He’s going to be so glad to see me!”
Chad almost laughed out loud, but thought better of it. “Well, than I guess you need to get over there.”
He looked up in time to see the woman joining them.
“It looks like the Santa line is finally moving,” she said to the oldest girl. “Why don’t you take the kids back?”
“OK.” The girl started toward the road.
“And hold Emma’s hand while you cross the street. I don’t want any accidents on my watch.”
Chad couldn’t help noticing that her eyelashes were as long as Emma’s. Even with the dark mascara covering them, they looked luxurious. He was so amazed by them, he spoke without thinking. “Your watch?” he said.
She smiled. “I love my oldest sister to death but she’s a safety Nazi. I always feel like I’m on duty when I’m watching her kids. Frankly though, I don’t blame her. Emma can be a handful.”
“She looks so much like you I thought she was yours.” Again he spoke without thinking, something he’d learned as a politician never to do.
“No, poor baby,” she replied. “She just inherited her aunt’s willful hair and pasty complexion.”
There was nothing pasty about the peaches and cream complexion he saw in front of him. In fact, it was so creamy, it tempted him to run his fingers along it just to see if it was real. But he didn’t and he didn’t say anything out loud. He was beginning to get his wayward thoughts under control and he certainly wasn’t going to give her anymore openings for conversation. He just nodded and looked up at the trees.
“I’m sorry--”
He groaned inwardly. Here it comes. The questions. The comments good and bad…usually bad…about the job he was or wasn’t doing as an assemblyman. Or the fawning attention, the one he found the most annoying, because his face had been in the gossip columns so much.
“But aren’t you Assemblyman Fletcher?”
He clenched his teeth and pulled the brim of the cap down lower. “Yes, I am, but promise me you won’t tell. I’m trying to escape notice.”
The sound of her soft laughter caught him off guard. He glanced up and she leaned forward. “It’s not working,” she said in a near whisper, “every single girl on the street has already noticed you. And frankly it wasn’t working in Phoenix, either.”


About the Author


Tanya Stowe is an author of Christian Fiction with an unexpected edge. She fills her stories with the unusual…gifts of the spirit and miracles, mysteries and exotic travel, even an angel or two. No matter where Tanya takes you…on a journey to the Old West or to contemporary adventures in foreign lands…be prepared for the extraordinary.

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The First Noelle by Delia Latham


About The First Noelle

Noelle Joy stopped celebrating Christmas ten years ago, when Trevor Holden skipped out on their long-planned Christmas Eve wedding. He destroyed her trust in men, crushed her belief in God, and left her cynical about love. Gone is the bright, cheery spirit of the girl she thinks of now as “the first Noelle.” Stronger and savvier, the new Noelle would never be found waiting at the altar for a groom who didn’t show.
When a famous-but-mysterious architect commissions her to decorate his mansion for a holiday event, Noelle finally returns to her hometown. Even as she finds an unexpected peace in facing ghosts from the past, her fiercely private client disturbs her. Michael Holliday is kind and considerate, but far too handsome…and hauntingly familiar.
Holliday didn’t choose Noelle to make his home a Christmas wonderland by accident. She’s the only one who can do the job he has in mind—and once she’s in his mansion, he never wants to let her go. But he’s hiding a secret that could destroy any chance of a relationship with the beautiful decorator.
A false persona. A shattering secret. Can love break down these insurmountable walls?

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Excerpt


She pulled to a stop at a pair of imposing gates fronted by a guard shack. To her surprise, her heart pounded with expectation. Her mind wouldn’t be quiet either, tossing out a horde of unanswered questions.
Was Holliday an older man, or was he young for his accomplishments? Was he handsome? Maybe he was hideous, like the fairy tale beast, and that’s why he maintained such a fiercely private existence. Was he kind, as seemed to be indicated by the media-inspired title? Or was that all hype? Perhaps the whole Phantom Philanthropist thing was a ruse to hide his real personality, which might be anything from a mouse to a monster.
A man’s voice crackled across the air. “Identification, please.”
Holliday should be expecting her. Why all the cloak-and-dagger? Well, his house, his rules. She dug out her driver’s license and the guard took it, his alert gaze darting back and forth, side to side, as if expecting an attack.
Noelle bit back a giggle when he broke from his fastidious survey of the surrounding countryside to peruse her license, seemingly line by line. What did he expect to find there?
At last, he returned her ID and gave a single, terse nod. “When I open the gates, follow the drive and park by the front steps. A valet will take your car.”
Sure enough, a uniformed valet met her at the base of a series of steps leading to massive oak doors that would have served well in any medieval castle. The man actually smiled as he took her keys. Having passed the intense scrutiny of the portly guard, it seemed she’d earned a bit more friendliness.
“Mr. Holliday will meet you at the door, Miss Joy.”
Potted plants lined each side of the wide steps— gorgeous bursts of azalea, bonsai-shaped miniature wisteria, hoya, plumeria, fuchsia, and a number of plants Noelle didn’t recognize and was almost certain shouldn’t survive the cold of the Northern California mountains. Holliday must have a sizeable greenhouse.
The door opened as she reached the top step. A man stepped outside but seemed reluctant to venture beyond the shade of the overhang. He towered well over Noelle’s five feet, nine inches. Muscles strained at the cloth of his sleeves and across his chest.
“Good afternoon, Miss Joy.”
Something caught in Noelle’s heart, and she swallowed repeatedly. Had she heard that voice before? Why did it make her want to cry…or maybe scream and throw rocks through the beautiful stained glass windows that fronted the huge estate?
She allowed her gaze to travel beyond the broad chest to a firm, square chin, and upward. Nicely shaped lips curved into a smile that seemed a little shaky around the edges and revealed perfect white teeth. A straight nose, not too long, or too short. High cheekbones.
For some reason, she avoided his eyes, instead moving on to take in slightly longish, golden-brown hair with a smidgen of gray at the temples.
“Miss Joy?” A hint of concern tinged the oddly familiar voice.
Noelle swallowed again and forced her cowardly gaze to his, only to be caught in a dizzying vortex of confusion and familiarity. I know this man. I’ve met him before. Where? She stood up straighter, hiked her chin, and mentally donned the ice cloak that had stood her in good stead over the course of her career. Holliday wasn’t the only one with a media-dubbed moniker. She had one of her own, and the Ice Princess of Design wouldn’t be put off by a furrowed brow and a tense expression. “Mr. Holliday. I’d like to get started right away, if you don’t mind.”
Forced to meet his gaze—his eyes were hazel, but somehow she’d known they would be—she saw a flicker of something that made her breath a little shallow. She was way off her game. Was it because those eyes held a strange familiarity?
“Of course. Come in, please.”
He indicated she should precede him into the house…no, the mansion. “House” didn’t even begin to describe the residence. Noelle had seen a great number of multi-million-dollar homes in her line of work but nothing that compared to the one in which she now stood.
“This is…quite lovely.” She was careful to maintain the chill in her tone. “Professional distance at all times” was the mantra by which she’d lived for the past decade. It had served her well. No need to change it now, just because something about Michael Holliday made her skin tingle and sky-rocketed her heartbeat. “If anything needs improvement, it’s well hidden.”
His low laughter sent something almost unbearably electric skittering up her spine. “It isn’t improvement I’m looking for, Miss Joy. It’s a mood, a certain look…an ambiance, if you will. And since my event will be held on Christmas Eve, it must be themed very specifically around that holiday.”
She nodded, despite the rock of dread that landed in her stomach with a thump. Up until now, the only Christmas event she’d ever created had been her doomed wedding a decade earlier. After that, she never again celebrated the holiday she’d once loved most. She refused to have a tree in her home and never sent a Merry Christmas card to a single soul. Stockings, mistletoe, and hot apple cider—things she’d once loved—were now just unavoidable traditions she muddled through every year while counting down the hours until the bells stopped jingling, the carolers’ songs died away, and her favorite radio station started playing real music again.
Joy Designs absolutely never, ever, ever accepted a design job with a Christmas theme.

About the Author


Delia Latham lives in East Texas with her husband and a spoiled Pomeranian named Kona. She writes inspirational romance and devotions.
A former newspaper Staff Writer, Delia is now blessed to have twenty-three published novels/novellas. She designs cover art and marketing materials; is a former acquiring editor; and offers editing/proofreading services. Connect with Delia: WebsiteAmazon Author pageFacebook Author Page, or Twitter.