Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
If the wishing well sends you a six-foot-tall miracle, don't be surprised when all you want for the holidays is his "stocking stuffer."I am officially in a funk. I’m almost thirty, newly single, and my carefully constructed life plan has completely gone off the rails. My only birthday wish? Just a little clarity.
Instead, I get Brock.
He’s a gorgeous, loaded, grey-eyed stranger who seems to have been placed in my path for the sole purpose of tempting me like a slice of pumpkin pie.
And in a town as small as Holiday Grove, he’s absolutely everywhere.
One minute we’re sharing pastries, the next he’s saving me from my obnoxious ex!
I know I should keep my distance. I have a life to figure out, and a devastatingly charming newcomer is a distraction.
But with every pie-eating contest and carnival ride, his pursuit makes me forget why I was so determined to stay away.
I’m trying to protect my heart, but I have a sinking feeling that losing to Brock might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me this season
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Chapter 1
Sela
Just let me find my path in life. And for once, let me have a good birthday before I turn thirty. Please.
My eyes were shut tight, and I clasped the quarter in my fist, pressing it to my chest as I sent my wish, or maybe it was a prayer, out into the world. The cool November breeze sharpened, a reminder that autumn was in full swing and my choice to skip a jacket was yet another questionable decision. I opened my eyes and shook off the thought, staring at the newly erected fountain in the park, built especially for the weeklong Thanksgiving celebration.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. I balanced the quarter on my thumbnail, flicked it, and watched as it arched high before landing with an almost anticlimactic splash in the water. The wish was sent, but instead of feeling hopeful, I felt nothing.
I knew part of it was the holiday blues. My birthday falling on Thanksgiving always made it a little melancholy. I had to share my day with the entire world, which usually meant I was forgotten in the mix of turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. This year, I would turn thirty, which gave the week even more significance. Okay, and maybe it had a little something to do with being dumped recently for no good reason. Not because I was a prude in bed, not because I was too clingy or too aloof. No, it was all because I was a hometown girl and content with it.
Maybe it was shortsighted to build all my hopes and dreams in Holiday Grove, the very definition of a small town with few opportunities for those who didn’t know what they wanted to be when they grew up. But I liked it here. I was comfortable here. I knew I couldn’t be a waitress forever, I knew that. Right now, though, I liked working at Ol’ St. Nick’s Pub. The tips were good most of the year, and I was good at it. The only other thing I’d ever really been good at was being hot.
Another thing, like waitressing, that wouldn’t last forever.
No more sadness. I couldn’t be sad forever, and I wasn’t the type of girl to sit around wallowing. I wasn’t a wallower, but it felt like I’d been doing nothing but wallowing for the past couple of weeks. Not in the sad, listening-to-emo-music-on-repeat way, not even blasting girl rock and singing along at the top of my lungs. No, it was far less dramatic than that, which was how I ended up at the fountain early on a chilly Sunday morning. I’d just felt off.
Not my usual bubbly self. My smiles didn’t come as easily, and I faked them more than ever. It was an insidious bleakness, the kind that wrapped its bony arms around me and held tight, leaving me cold, hard, and off-kilter.
I didn’t do off-kilter.
Not ever, and I didn’t like it.
“What a gorgeous fountain.” The voice was deep and smooth, and more importantly, unfamiliar. It wasn’t shocking to hear an unfamiliar voice. After all, Holiday Grove was one of Colorado’s tourist destinations, after the big cities, of course. Our nonstop holiday celebrations had put us on the map, and tourists came through to enjoy the Silver Bells mountains, the holiday-themed businesses, outdoor activities, and thanks to Lee Lancaster, a luxury spa and resort.
I looked up from the quarter that sank to the bottom of the fountain and into the most alluring gray eyes I’d ever seen. He was beautiful. No, "beautiful" was too smooth a word for what I saw: his sharp jaw, the faint scruff highlighting his high cheekbones. They drew my gaze to his thick, pink lips, the kind that promised long, dream-worthy kisses. His wavy black hair was a little long and brushed against the long gray wool jacket he wore. I couldn’t see his body beneath the jacket except for broad shoulders, and his height, which I estimated to be well over six feet based on my own five-and-a-half-foot frame.
Shake it off, woman. I did just that, shaking off the effect this handsome man had on me, and probably every woman with a beating heart, and found my smile. “It really is stunning, isn’t it? It’s a new addition for the Week of Giving Thanks.” There, that sounded normal, right?
He smiled in return, and I really wished he hadn’t. The dark and brooding thing was hot, but the smile? Panty-melting.
Breathe, I reminded myself just before I let out a long, slow breath.
“Did you make a wish?” His tone wasn’t mocking, so I didn’t take offence.
“I did. Do you need a coin to make your own wish?”
The gorgeous man pulled his lips into his mouth as if biting back a smile. “No, I have my own coin. Thanks.” His gaze flicked down to the water and then back up at me. “What did you wish for?”