The Broody Brit: For Christmas ( A Hot Single Father Second Chance Romance) (A Holiday Springs novel)

by MJ Fields

  Contents

  Synopsis

  The Long Fall

  Rule Number One

  Rule Number Two

  Rule Number Three

  Rule Number Four

  Rule Number Five

  Rule Number Six

  Rule Number Seven

  Rule Number Eight

  Rule Number Nine

  Rule Number Ten

  Rule Number Eleven

  Rule Number Twelve

  Rule Number Thirteen

  Rule Number Fourteen

  Rule Number Fifteen

  Rule Number Sixteen

  Rule Number Seventeen

  Rule Number Eighteen

  Rule Number Nineteen

  Rule Number Twenty

  Rule Number Twenty- One

  Rule Number Twenty-Two

  Rule Number Twenty-Three

  Rule Number Twenty-Four

  Rule Number Twenty - Five

  Rule Number Twenty-Six

  Rule Number Twenty-Seven

  Rule Number Twenty-Eight

  Rule Number Twenty-Nine

  Rule Number Thirty

  Want to spend more time in Holiday Springs?

  More Books By

  More Books By

  About Jessica

  About MJ

  Copyright © 2020 by MJ Fields and Jessica Ruben

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Kari March Designs

  Edited by Donna Cooksley Sanderson

  Proofread by Julie Deaton

  Synopsis

  The snowy road salted, the coast was cleared, and everything was turning up tinsel.

  Hard earned Ivy League education? Check.

  Dream career in New York City? Check.

  Swoon worthy fiancé, who is heir to billions? Also, check.

  Until my life collapsed like a clapboard house in a blizzard.

  I retreat to my small hometown of Holiday Springs, where life is like a snow globe, my failings on full display.

  Once I get my bearings straight, I’ll trade my old snow boots for brand new stilettos and strut back to New York City.

  Nothing seems to go right until I meet a hot, British, single father with an adorable son.

  He may be too good to be true.

  As Holiday Springs transforms into a winter wonderland, so does my belief that this Christmas I may receive the greatest gift of all,

  Love.

  The Long Fall

  Nikki

  Someone knocks on the door. I groan, nudging Townes. “Babe, someone is here. Did the doorman call up?”

  “No,” he rasps. “Did you order bagels or something?” He opens his eyes, his glazed blue-green trained on me.

  I turn away, lifting my phone from the bedside table. It’s 7:23 a.m. “No.”

  “Well, are you going to get it?”

  I throw an arm over my forehead, praying that whomever it is just goes away. The knocking doesn’t stop. In fact, it gets louder. I exhale, rising. Putting on a white terry-cloth robe Townes recently bought me from The Peninsula Hotel spa; I make my way out of the bedroom and into the spacious living area. I bite my lip and pause, noticing mounds of Townes’ files from work splayed across the kitchen counter. Even though he easily makes a mess, he hates seeing his world anything but spotless. As his assistant, it’s my job to organize his life. Naturally wanting to straighten it all up, I step toward the piles. But the knocking continues, and I walk away.

  “I’m coming!” I yell.

  I open the front door to Tinsley Norming, Townes’ mother, who is smiling tightly. Behind her is her driver, who doubles as her bodyguard, clad head-to-toe in black with his hands filled with brown paper bags.

  “Well, move over,” she snips bossily, straightening out her cream tweed Chanel jacket and stepping forward before I even have the chance to step back. “I brought breakfast.”

  With my jaw practically unhinged, I step aside. She struts through the door, her high heels clapping against the wooden floor like she owns the place. Okay, fine, maybe she does technically own this apartment. But I’m the one who actually lives here. Townes and I have been engaged for three months with no wedding date in sight. But we’ve been busy, and life has been good. At least... it’s been good when it’s just the two of us. When his family is involved, it’s another story entirely.

  Tinsley makes herself comfortable in the apartment, brewing herself a cup of coffee in the Miele built-in coffee maker before eyeing the mess of files. I should go back to the bedroom and let her do whatever it is she came to do, but instead, I’m standing here, waiting for the drama to unfold. I can feel the tension from her body, and it isn’t the pleasurable kind.

  “Isn’t it your job to take care of this?” She points a French manicured nail at the scattered papers.

  “Well, I was going to. Last night Townes worked late, and I fell asleep—”

  She inhales a sharp breath. “Fell asleep? You fell asleep before cleaning up?”

  Normally, I would smile. Say something to pacify her. I mean, I always assumed that in time we’d find a way to get used to each other. ‘Kill her with kindness,’ as my mom used to say. But it’s been five years I’ve been with Townes, and her disrespect is becoming impossible to manage. Maybe it’s just the early morning. Or maybe it’s her expensive suit and perfectly blown-out blonde hair at too-early o’clock. But I can’t take it anymore. I take a deep breath, telling myself to remain calm. Nothing good can come out of an argument.

  “Listen.” I clear my throat, tightening my robe. “It is a bit early. Why don’t I just give you a few moments in my kitchen while I wash up—”

  “Your kitchen?” She laughs haughtily, as though this whole thing is a big joke. “This is my apartment.”

  I squint my eyes. “Excuse me?” My voice comes out in a barely audible whisper.

  “You heard me. This apartment,” she points to the darkly stained oak floors, “belongs to Morris and me. Townes lives in it currently, as he has a right to. You, however, are a guest.”

  “Well, I will be family.” I lift my finger, the shining three-carat Tiffany diamond sparkling.

  She laughs, moving her hand in front of her face as though swatting a fly. “Oh, no. That’s just a consolation prize. You can take that with you when you go. You think we would ever actually let him go through with it? A small-town Colorado girl, with my son? We both know that Townes is a prince of New York City. And you? You’re a penniless nothing.”

  Her words burn like acid on my skin. I once told Townes that I felt embarrassed beside him—because she is right, he is a prince, and I am penniless. But it’s the fact that she is quoting, verbatim, an intimate conversation I had with my fiancé that has me seeing red—years of taking her abuse bubbles up my throat. The sweet girl I’ve always been to her suddenly has had enough, actually, I’m infuriated. Clearly, my kindnes
s isn’t working. If anything, Tinsley feeds off it, and it only makes her resolve stronger. I graduated top of my class from Cornell University for the love of God. An Ivy. I am not a ‘nothing.'

  “Go?” My voice is loud. Too loud, but I can’t help it. “Don’t you speak to me that way! I am about to become his wife, and you should show some respect! Otherwise, I may not take so kindly to your visits. Once we are married, you won’t be able to behave this way toward me. Not if you want to keep Townes in your life. I may be penniless now, but soon, I’ll be a princess.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize they were the wrong ones.

  She raises one eyebrow, her gaze moving to the doorway. For the first time since I’ve known her, a bright and honest smile fills her face. She’s happy. Oh, shit. I follow her eyes to see Townes, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad, chiseled bare chest. He’s mad. Really mad. Finally crossing the room, he stands beside his mother. I always thought he took her side during arguments, but he denied it. It seems that finally, he’s admitting the truth—she will always come before me.

  “Townes,” I practically beg, my heart crumbling on the floor. “Y-you don’t get it. You must not have heard the whole conversation. I just meant—”

  “No, Nikki. You’re the one who doesn’t get it. I never listened to them when they called you a gold digger, but it seems that is exactly what you are.”

  “Gold digger? Townes, no.” I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “You know me. The real me. I didn’t mean to say that. She just doesn’t stop goading me. Telling me I’m less than. For years I was always kind, but it only made it easier for her to kick me. And you know that I’m not used to this type of life. How long do you expect me to let her talk down to me? Your future wife and one day, I’ll be the mother of your—”

  “How can we get married if you can’t be decent to my mother and my family? I’ve been pinging between you and them for years. I just,” he exhales, putting his hands behind his head and pressing his lips together in that way he always does when thinking something bad, “I just can’t handle this anymore.”

  “Are you joking?” My voice trembles. I want to step closer to him, touch him, remind him that I’m me—just Nikki. But my legs feel so heavy, they are almost paralyzed. It’s like my body knows what’s coming, even though my heart is in denial. “You know that I have tried every single thing in the book. I have literally done anything I could to try to make them like me. I’ve cooked countless Sunday meals. Gone on all the trips. Wore all the clothes. I stopped seeing my own family on Christmas because you insisted on the Swiss Alps. And I did it all because I love you. But it’s no use! And did you hear what she—”

  “I heard enough.” He shakes his head again and his lips turned downward. “Look, this isn’t going to work. You did your best, but clearly, the drama runs too deep with you.”

  Silence ensues. I think I am literally struck dumb.

  “She can stay in one of our apartments on Bleecker Street until she saves up enough to leave the city. You can help her get a job in Jersey, maybe. Anyhow, there is a vacant studio on the fifth-floor . It’s a walk-up.” She rubs Townes’ arm, holding back a smile. The white pearls around her neck gleam as she looks up at her son. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, darling.”

  Rule Number One

  Don’t date a rich prick

  Nikki

  Four months later...

  After shutting down the cash register and turning off the lights, I pull on my camel-colored coat and wrap my pink cashmere scarf around my neck. The day was pleasant and calm, except for the regular post-elementary school rush. I’ve avoided it since returning to work here, but Nellie asked me to cover. I bet she won’t do that again until the holiday rush begins. I laugh to myself, or maybe in spite of myself, remembering the day’s highlight.

  I unwrap my tenth orange-foiled wrapper and pop the creamy caramel coated in our homemade dark chocolate—with a hint of pumpkin flavor mixed in to add a seasonal flair—into my mouth as I imagine myself all but screaming at the kid in the pale blue Polo shirt for stealing a Jolly Rancher from the bulk candy bins in the back.

  He reeked of family money, and his actions proved that he felt as entitled as all the others I had left behind. From his perfect wavy chocolate brown hair, that looked like silk, to his leather loafers that did not even a scuff mark on them. Well, I decided that maybe this kid needed to be put in his place. I decided that perhaps I could teach him a lesson that his absent parents clearly hadn't thought to teach him. You know, kind of scare him straight, because he certainly wouldn't be getting away with it, not in my family's store and definitely not on my watch.

  “Hey! Did you just steal a candy?”

  He jumped, startled as I hopped off the stool behind the register and made my way to the entitled little prince who was hiding behind the bulk section, my arms crossed over my chest. To think that the place I once grew up in, filled with hard-working people, is now becoming infested by millionaires. I left New York City to free myself of that nonsense only to find it now spreading here.

  He pressed his lips together. “Nnnnn.” He shook his head, waves flopping in front of his eyes. God, but his mom must be a model. His picture-perfect face only infuriated me more.

  “No?” I questioned; my voice full of New York City attitude. I may not have been able to convince Townes’ mother that I could be just as tough and manipulative as she was, but I was sure I could pull something off now. “Open your mouth.”

  His brown eyes bulged out, and I leaned in closer to him. “Now.”

  Before opening his mouth, revealing the evidence to his guilt—a blue-stained mouth—he told me, “My dad will pay for it. I swear! I just needed a snack before meeting my aunt. And I forgot to take money when I—”

  I stomped my foot on the floor, silencing him. “Enough.” Inhaling and exhaling for effect, I let my eyes glower. “How old are you?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Eleven? By the time I was your age, I had already worked in this same candy store for $5.00 an hour.” I pointed to the battered wooden floor beneath our feet. “And do you know why?” Before he could say a word, I continued— “I’ll tell you why! Because life is about hard work and dedication. Life is about growing something and taking care of it. Life is not about running behind your mommy to pay your debts or getting rid of your fiancée because she wasn’t born to wealth and fame!”

  He looked at me with confusion. “It was just a small piece—”

  I laughed loudly, shutting him up. “It’s not some small piece of candy! This is life we’re talking about. And that candy was bought and paid for by me. Each piece gets sold so that I can eat. Are you trying to starve me?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  I stepped closer.

  He stuttered, “I mean, y-yes, ma’am. N-no, ma’am. I swear. I’ll be back to pay for it.”

  “You better. Five cents, kid.”

  He left the shop, and I had to hold myself from laughing out loud.

  Did I ever think I’d be a twenty-seven-year-old woman, getting her kicks by scaring rich kids? No. But, man, did it feel good. Better than good. Not that I have any residual anger issues...okay, fine. I realize I have a shit ton of them. But after what I’ve been through, who could blame me?

  The moment my relationship with Townes blew up, I packed my bags. He insisted I take the apartment on Bleecker Street, but I do happen to have some pride. I threw my clothes and toiletries in the back of the white Jeep Wrangler he bought me for my twenty-fifth birthday and decided to get the hell out of New York City.

  I had called my aunt Gloria the moment I took to the road, crying my heart out to her. She told me that I could help her in the shop and sleep in my old room for as long as I needed. Luckily for me, Townes had been paying for all of our living expenses, which meant that I could save every penny from my job. Unluckily for me, he never paid me much. He had said, “We share everything, so what difference do
es a salary make?” What an idiot I was. The relationship is done, and where the hell is everything, we “shared” in? It certainly wasn't in the back of my Jeep as I drove twenty-seven hours straight, only stopping for gasoline, caffeine, and shitty gas station chocolate, while talking to my best friend since birth, Jenny Stewart, now Jenny Baker.

  Every hour on the hour, Jenny called to check in on me and offer pearls of wisdom and encouragement the entire time. Our friendship was first born by circumstance—our mothers were best friends—and then by choice.

  My first breakdown with Jenny happened when she asked me if I wanted her to secure a storage unit to store all the fabulous belongings she’d seen when we FaceTimed, or saw in posts on my Instagram account; so that I wouldn’t have to look at them, until I decided to sell, burn, or save them for when I was ready to take over The City again. When I told her the reality of the situation, that the only things I took with me were my clothes and personal belongings that I packed myself, under the watchful eye of none other than Tinsley Norming—because Townes left without so much as a goodbye for a ‘very important meeting,’—she went into a full-out description of how she wanted to dismember both of them, and where she would bury the bodies.

  I love her. She has been, and always will be, my person.