Mail-Order Brides For Christmas

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Mail-Order Brides For Christmas Page 4

by Frankie Love


  The cold mountain air must have gotten to me because I slept like a baby. Then again, it could’ve just been that having sex—repeatedly—took a lot out of a person. Or maybe it was because my body was gearing up for a possible pregnancy after Christopher had filled me with his come over and over again last night. A super important topic he’d somehow managed to avoid talking about this morning, along with why he’d wanted to consummate a marriage he’d previously been so insistent would be temporary.

  Instead, I found myself bundled up and in Christopher’s truck shortly after I managed to drag my sore body out of his comfy bed. And after he’d taken me one more time in the shower.

  First, he drove me around town to show me the sights. As we passed street signs like Starlight Avenue and Frost Road and stores called Snow Valley Tattoo and Santa’s Workshop Toy Store, I couldn’t help but feel as though my name made me a perfect fit for Snow Valley. After spotting Mistletoe & Sons and then Mistletoe Hardware, I turned to Christopher and said, “With all the stuff named after your family, it really makes sense for you and your brothers to pool your money to buy the town.”

  “There’s been a Mistletoe in Snow Valley for more than a hundred years,” he explained, pulling the truck up into a spot in front of the Garland Diner. Any hope I had of talking to him about what happened last night disappeared when he led me inside. The diner definitely wasn’t the ideal place to have a conversation about our marriage since every single person stared at us from the moment we walked in. Not that Christopher did much more than grunt out his order and play with my fingers until our food came. I’d spent my time taking in the holiday decorations and flashing shy smiles at strangers. Luckily, most of the other customers were women because each time I aimed my smile at a guy, Christopher slid closer to me. As it was, I was practically sitting on his lap by the time our meal was finished.

  As the waitress was dropping off the check, she finally worked up the nerve to say, “You two look awfully cozy.”

  “Of course, we look cozy.” Christopher pushed his plate toward the middle of the table and flung his arm over my shoulder. “Winter is my wife. We just got married yesterday.”

  After a moment of silence, the crowd offered their congratulations, followed by whispered conversations about how the rumors must be true. Christopher didn’t seem bothered by any of the talk as he took some bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. After sliding out of the booth, he ignored everyone around us and held his hand out to me. Shaking my head and mumbling under my breath about how lucky he was there was a crowd, I let him help me out of the booth.

  I was thinking about how I wanted to broach the subject a few minutes later when we turned onto Main Street. But then he surprised me by parking in front of the Holly Jolly Pub instead of heading back toward his house. “It’s a little early for a drink, isn’t it?”

  “We’re not here for a drink.” He chuckled and shook his head, sending butterflies swirling in my belly over how handsome he was when he smiled. “I own the place.”

  “Oh.” I stared at the front of the pub in awe while he climbed out of the truck. Owning a successful business was a big accomplishment. Each new thing I learned about my husband made him that much more attractive to me. And I could easily get used to how he insisted upon opening doors for me, too. Gripping his hand—and blushing at a memory of some of the things those thick fingers had done to me the night before—I whispered, “Thanks.”

  I let out a little squeak when he lifted me over a small mound of snow near the curb before setting me back on my feet. With his hand on my lower back, he guided me to the pub. The closed sign was up, but the door opened when he pushed on it. The guy behind the bar stopped slicing lemons and glanced up when we walked in. “Hey, boss.”

  “Hi, Joe.” Christopher jerked his chin at him, sliding his arm around my back when the bartender’s gaze moved to me. “This is my wife, Winter.”

  “Your wife?” Joe echoed, eyes going wide. “When did that happen?”

  “Yesterday when Winter got into town,” Christopher replied, dropping his arm to lace his fingers through mine.

  “Huh.” Joe’s brows went up, and then he shrugged. “If you’d told any of us you were getting married, we could’ve moved shit around on the schedule so you didn’t have to come in today. I’m sure Steven wouldn’t have minded checking on the batch of Solstice Ale for you. I know it’s almost ready to untap, but I’m sure he could have handled it for you.”

  Glancing up at Christopher, I echoed, “Solstice Ale?”

  “Holly Jolly Brewery is mine, too,” he answered with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

  “It’s in the building behind us,” Joe explained, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “He has quite the setup back there with enough tanks to brew four flavors at a time and a fuck ton of barrels and kegs. He even does ciders, if that’s more your thing.”

  Considering my age, I didn’t have much experience with drinking. “I’m not sure what I’d like.”

  “I’m sure we can find something you’ll like,” he offered, pulling down a stack of shot glasses and lining them up in a row. “Your husband has won more than a few awards for his recipes.”

  “I have plenty of stuff she can try when we get back home.” Christopher tugged on my hand to lead me toward the back. “You need to get shit in order so you’re ready when we open in less than an hour.”

  Joe smiled at the gruff order and nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

  We walked through the kitchen, and Christopher introduced me as his wife to the two men prepping food. When we passed a waitress in the break room, he did it again. We found Steven working in the brewery area, and he offered to keep an eye on the tanks after congratulating us on our marriage.

  The last straw was when we left the brewery to head back into the pub and passed a group of elderly gentlemen walking out the back door of the city center. They called out a greeting to Christopher and were all smiles when he wished them a good morning and added, “This is my wife, Winter.”

  I finally lost my patience with the big silent guy who only seemed talkative when it came to telling everyone I was his wife. Once the men were out of earshot, I planted my hands on my hips and glared up at him. “Why do you insist on calling me your wife in front of everyone? As a man of few words, I’d think you’d want to keep your personal business to yourself. Especially since you’ll get more questions about our annulment later if you keep blabbing about our marriage now. I get that you might need to explain to your employees about us”—I waved my hand in a big circle—“but now you’re literally telling random people on the street that we’re married.”

  “There can’t be an annulment after last night, sugar.” With only nine words, he managed to blow my mind. Somehow, I’d managed to gloss over that important little fact until he pointed it out.

  Chapter Seven

  Christopher

  Winter’s jaw dropped, and she stared up at me, her blue eyes blinking rapidly. “But...um..” She stopped and shook her head as though to clear away the cobwebs. “We’re going to get a divorce?”

  Rage like I’d never experienced before flooded me. “Abso-fucking-lutely not!” I nearly shouted. My anger wasn’t directed at Winter; it was the thought of losing her that had me flipping the fuck out.

  Winter’s gaze bounced around us, and her cheeks turned pink. There was no one around, so her color faded, and she returned her confused eyes to me. “You said this was temporary.”

  I cupped her plump angel cheeks in my hands and lost myself in her clear, blue eyes. “In name only took the train out of town after it dropped you off. I married you, made love to you, and am doing my damnedest to put my kid inside you. There will be no annulment. There will be no divorce.”

  A hopeful gleam entered Winter’s bright eyes, and her red lips curled upward, but she still seemed hesitant. “You want to stay married?”

  “Not want, sugar. You’re not leaving. We are staying married. It’s non
-negotiable.”

  “I—”

  Whatever Winter had been about to say was cut off when the door to the pub swung open, startling us both. Lincoln strolled out, and a shit-eating grin split his face when he spotted us.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Winter and I spoke at the same time. I knew she was trying to be polite, but I didn’t give a damn about being nice to anyone but Winter and my mom. I dropped my hands from her face, and I slipped my arm around her waist, pulling her possessively into my side.

  Lincoln shrugged and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, clearly indicating he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “It’s all over town that you got married last night.”

  I grunted, happy to hear it.

  “I’m sure you can understand my shock at hearing this. I seem to recall expecting a wedding invitation sometime this week,” Lincoln teased, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Considering how fast you tied the knot, I came to meet your blushing bride, Don Juan.”

  Winter frowned and glanced up at me in confusion. I threw my on-thin-ice best friend a glare and bent to kiss Winter’s forehead. “He’s just being an asshole, sugar.”

  Lincoln’s brows shot up at the endearment, but his smile grew even wider. If it got any bigger, he’d rip his face in half. Still, he obviously valued his pretty face because he confirmed that he was teasing. “I’m just giving our boy shit, sweetheart,” I growled, and he snickered. “His silent, grumpy ass is far from suave. I can’t remember the last time he went on a date. So be gentle with him if he’s a bumbling idiot from time to time. He’s got a lot to learn.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled.

  Winter buried her face in my side and giggled.

  “I’m Lincoln,” my friend introduced himself. “Christopher and I grew up together. I’m the ‘best’ part of this best friendship.”

  “Nice to meet you,” my wife replied with another sweet laugh. “I’m Winter Gr—”

  “Mistletoe,” I corrected gruffly. “Winter Mistletoe.”

  Winter glanced up at me, and I smiled when her cheeks flushed prettily, and her eyes sparkled with happiness.

  “Maybe I should try out this mail-order bride thing,” Lincoln mused, winking at Winter. I glowered and tightened my grip on her. “You certainly got yourself a good one.”

  “Why don’t you go check it out?” I suggested dryly. “Now.”

  Lincoln laughed, and Winter blushed, poking me in the side. I winked at her, and she melted into my side. “I can take a hint.” Lincoln pushed away from the door and stood up straight. “Hopefully, your husband will allow me to talk to you more at the Christmas tree lighting. Think he’ll be over his Neanderthal attitude by then?”

  I snorted, knowing that would never happen. It would be fun to see it happen to him one day.

  “I’m sure he’ll have learned a few manners by then,” Winter quipped as she bumped her hip into me playfully.

  Lincoln snickered, then doffed a pretend hat at Winter. “Until next time, sweetheart.” He said the last word with a mischievous smirk. I shook my head and returned his look with a threatening one of my own. He was perilously close to getting his ass kicked, but I refrained from doing anything violent in front of my sweet, gentle wife.

  Lincoln strolled back into the pub, letting the heavy door slam shut behind him.

  “He seems nice,” Winter giggled.

  “He’s a jackass,” I muttered.

  I curled my arm in, bringing her front flush with mine, and closed the circle with my other arm. Lincoln would never, ever poach a woman, but I was still irritated and feeling possessive. I took Winter’s mouth in a deep kiss, reminding both of us who she belonged to.

  When I finally let her up for air, I grinned at the dazed expression on her face. I loved that I could do that to her—make her forget everyone and everything except what I made her feel. She certainly did that to me often enough.

  Winter’s passion-glazed eyes began to clear, and she searched my face as she took a deep breath. “Why?”

  “Why?” I parroted. Was she asking me why I thought Lincoln was a jackass? After I’d just kissed the hell out of her? If that was the case, then I wasn’t doing my job right.

  She cleared her throat and glanced away for a second, but her eyes came right back to meet mine, full of determination. It was sexy as hell to see my sweet wife exhibiting courage and showing that she had an admirable backbone.

  “Why me? Why do you want to stay married? And when did you arbitrarily make that decision for me?”

  I smiled, and she shook her head, pushing against my chest and trying to shove me away. I didn’t budge an inch. “Oh no, don’t go trying to distract me with your beautiful, megawatt smile, mister.”

  Damn, she was adorable. “I knew the second I saw those gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at me that you were mine. I keep and protect what’s mine. That means you aren’t going anywhere. You’re staying. I’m keeping you. Getting married just gave me another way to make sure it happened. Knocking you up helps with that too, but the truth is, I want to see you round with our baby. The idea is sexy as fuck to me, and it makes me want to take you again, right here against the wall, and up our chances.”

  Winter had stopped struggling as soon as I spoke, and her mouth had slowly formed a cute little O.

  When she said nothing for a full minute, my cheeks flushed a little. Had I said too much?

  “You really do only talk to me, don’t you?” she asked suddenly.

  I laughed and hugged her close. “Like I said…”

  Winter chuckled, but something in her expression wasn’t sitting right with me. “Are you unhappy with what I’ve said?”

  She blinked a few times, her eyes filling with confusion. “What? Why would any of the sweet things you’ve said upset me?”

  I shrugged. What the fuck did I know about women?

  A sigh slipped from her lips, and she rested her head on my chest, her ear directly over my heart. “I’m just wondering if you’ll wake up tomorrow and regret tying yourself to someone you don’t love.”

  Well, shit. I really was a bumbling idiot.

  With one finger, I raised Winter’s chin so that our eyes met. “Sugar, when I said I knew you were mine, I meant...what I should have said was, from the very first moment, I knew I loved you.”

  Winter gasped, and I kissed her softly as I held her head to my chest. “It beats for you, Winter. It races at the feel of your touch, it pounds with excitement when you’re near, and it is currently frozen in fear.”

  Her eyes had become glassy, and she sniffed, then frowned when she absorbed the last of my words. “Fear? What do you have to be afraid of?”

  Inhaling slow and deep, I opened myself up to Winter completely, praying that she wouldn’t stomp on my heart. “I’m afraid you don’t feel the same way.”

  Wide blue eyes stared at me in shock, then she threw her arms around me and planted her lips on top of mine. The kiss was unexpected, and I stumbled back a few steps before twisting so I fell against the brick wall. Before I could take it further, she pulled back and smiled so brightly that she made the sun look dim. “I love you, too!”

  “Thank fuck,” I muttered before taking her mouth in another ravishing kiss, one that had me seconds away from tearing off both our clothes and sealing our love with my come in her pussy. There was just enough blood left in my brain to register we were out in the open, and no one got to see my wife naked but me.

  Growling with impatience, I tore my mouth away and hoisted Winter up to throw her over my shoulder. Then I stomped through the back door on a mission.

  Winter laughed and tugged on the back of my shirt. “Where are we going, crazy man?”

  “Somewhere I can take advantage of my wife’s sexy body and make sure I’ve got a bun growing in her oven.”

  I passed the bar as I explained this to Winter, and Joe’s bushy eyebrows got lost in his hairline. Th
en he started laughing and shook his head. “You boys are just like your dad.”

  He had a point. Once I found the right woman, I’d made her mine before she knew what was happening. Of course, my parents hadn’t met because of a crazy scheme. Then again...my mom’s crazy plan turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

  About the Author

  The writing duo of Elle Christensen and Rochelle Paige team up under the Fiona Davenport pen name to bring you sexy, insta-love stories filled with alpha males. If you want a quick & dirty read with a guaranteed happily ever after, then give Fiona Davenport a try!

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  Hartley by Frankie Love

  Chapter One

  Hartley

  It’s been a month since my mother sat us boys down and gave us the news. She ordered us wives. Wives.

  I, twenty-six-year-old Hartley, am going to get hitched?

  Impossible.

  I try to wrap my mind around the idea that there’s a bride coming here. For me. A guy who has never once been in a serious relationship. I feel bad for her, whoever she is.

  I consider getting out of it, the whole thing — buying the town and marrying a stranger — but when I broach the subject with my brothers they give me a look that says, Shut the hell up, Hartley.

  No one wants to cross our mother, especially not at Christmas. And so if all my brothers are agreeing to this, how can I be the odd man out? Can you imagine the way I’d feel at every family gathering for the next fifty years? Like I let her down. Let all of them down.

  I know I’ve given Mom plenty of heartache over the years, so I’m not about to rock the boat and screw this up for everyone. Especially since my father handed his beloved hardware store to me only a year ago. Though when I took over the shop, I didn’t realize I’d have to be such a goddamn people person. I love to build things, and tinker — spent years in the mountains hauling timber for a lumber yard. I could spend entire days without speaking beyond a grunt to a guy on the crew. Spending my nights alone, in my cabin.

 

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