In Mistletoe
By: Tammy L. Bailey
Releasing December
2, 2016
The Wild Rose Press
The Wild Rose Press
Blurb
At twenty-five, Grace Evans is steadily picking up the pieces of everyone else’s life. So, when her younger sister decides to turn into a runaway bride just four weeks before the wedding, Grace, drops everything to chase after her and bring her back home. Only, when the trail leads to Mistletoe, Washington, she finds herself at the mercy of the town’s most handsome and emotionally unavailable bachelor.
At twenty-five, Grace Evans is steadily picking up the pieces of everyone else’s life. So, when her younger sister decides to turn into a runaway bride just four weeks before the wedding, Grace, drops everything to chase after her and bring her back home. Only, when the trail leads to Mistletoe, Washington, she finds herself at the mercy of the town’s most handsome and emotionally unavailable bachelor.
Ex-Army officer,
Ayden McCabe, has three creeds in life: never make the first move, never fall
in love, and never take anyone to Mistletoe’s Christmas Dance. Wanting nothing
more than to keep his matchmaking sister from meddling in his personal life, he
agrees to help Grace if she agrees to play his girlfriend. Too brunette and
meek for his taste, Ayden believes Grace can’t tempt him enough to break any of
his creeds. He could not be more wrong.
“Do you like rum cake?” he asked to keep
himself from having to reevaluate all the reasons again. He admitted Wilhelmina
Hawthorne’s dessert was more alcohol than flour, but anything to keep Grace
from leaving him to go check her text messages in case the damn wish somehow
made it through…not that he believed in the folklore in the first place.
“Sure, but I’m not very good with liquor.”
She tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear.
He chuckled, imagining her getting wild and
disrobing on top of his antique coffee table.
“So, what happens with you and alcohol?”
She smiled. “I don’t take off my clothes, if
that what you’re asking.”
“Damn.”
She laughed but lifted a dainty finger as if
to give him a warning. “I fall asleep, so I can have some cake, but keep in
mind there’s a very good chance my face will fall flat into the plate after my
third bite.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“It’s your call.” She shrugged. He left her
to retrieve Wilhelmina’s prized rum cake, deciding to
bring the entire Bundt-shaped dessert with
two forks resting on each side. When he entered the room, he found Grace
sitting in quiet contemplation, her attention focused on the dormant redbrick
fireplace. Since he’d installed the gas furnace several years before, he’d not
had any desire to light the fireplace up
again, even when his dates hinted several times of how romantic it would be to
cuddle before a crackling fire.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She peered up, startled. “No, I’m fine.” She
tried to stifle a shiver, and he sat the plate down and ambled away to retrieve
some logs from his deck. Despite not using the fireplace, he understood the
importance of keeping it ready for emergencies. It took several minutes, but he
managed to build a popping fire, the sweet aroma of sizzling sap filling the
space with a comforting fragrance. She moved to sit beside him, bringing the
blanket his mother made with
her.
“This feels wonderful.” Grace closed her
eyes and let the flickering light kiss her cheeks.
“Yes.” He sat captivated by her entranced
features, realizing how he’d reminisced about kissing her, every glorious inch
of her. “Are you ready for some football…and cake?” He projected his voice
above the tone of his own thoughts. Her lids flew open, and he wondered where
she’d
been these last few moments, and with whom.
The thought unsettled him.
“Are you ready to carry me up a flight of
stairs?”
He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Only if you’re fully naked.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?”
She sighed and maneuvered around so the cake sat between them on the short
coffee table. As he flipped the game on and muted the volume, she lifted a
small bite to her lips when he reached out to stop her.
She gave him a quizzical look. “What’s the
matter?”
“How about we make this interesting?”
She drew back, and he knew she didn’t trust
his motives. “How…interesting?”
Author
Info
When she's not writing contemporary or historical romance, she enjoys Star Wars movie night with her 10-year-old son and going to drumming practice with her 13-year-old son. Fall is her favorite season, the B-17 is her favorite plane, and Hawkeye is her favorite Avenger.
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