by Nichole Rose
His Christmas Miracle
An Older Man/Younger Curvy Girl Holiday Romance
Nichole Rose
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2020 by Nichole Rose
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover by: FNG Designs
Dedication
This is for those who believe in the magic of Christmas so fiercely you make everyone around you believe too.
Table of Contents
About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Kissing Kennedy Excerpt
Also Available
About the Author
About the Book
To mend her boss's heart, this teacher will risk her own.
Sawyer
A football game and a cold one was my Christmas plan.
Until Lana Winters swept in and took over.
Spending the holiday with this cheery little elf is all too appealing.
She's the only person alive who makes the guilt lie quietly.
I swore I would never forgive myself for what I caused.
But when she turns those bright eyes on me…all I feel is peace.
She's my miracle, and I'm not letting her go.
Lana
Sawyer Greenway's family is broken. I think he might be too.
Letting him spend Christmas alone would be cruel.
Falling for him would be insane.
But my heart never listens to my head.
When he smiles at me, all I feel is love.
I can't heal his family, but I will heal his heart.
Even if doing so means risking my own.
Warning
When this older man meets his curvy younger woman, he has no idea what sort of healing magic is in store for him. If holiday romance, determined heroines, and over-the-top men make your heart happy, you will love Lana and Sawyer's story. This sweet, steamy romance from Nichole Rose comes complete with a sticky sweet and guaranteed HEA.
Chapter One
Sawyer
"I wish you would come home for Christmas, Sawyer."
The pout in my baby sister's voice makes my heart twist as regret rushes through me. Savannah is seventeen and sweet as can be. Christmas is magical to her, the one time of year she can get away with spoiling everyone she knows with all the love and affection in her heart.
God knows, she has a lot of it. She's never met a person she couldn't win over with her wide eyes and innocent laughter. I was nineteen when she was born, and she's had me wrapped around her finger ever since. I miss her like crazy and I hate letting her down but going home for the holidays this year isn't an option.
I just accepted a position in San Francisco as the new principal at Commodore Elementary. Finding a house and moving across the state has been a time-consuming venture…and I don't have a whole lot of that available at the moment. Unpacking is going to take me weeks.
The new term starts right after the New Year and I need to hit the ground running. The last principal here was a complete dick from what I understand. He terrorized the staff and the students. Building trust is going to take a lot of work.
I'm more than willing to put in the effort. The Superintendent and his wife—Sebastian and Rowan Thorne—sold me on Commodore as soon as I met them. I want to do right by the teachers and students here and fix what Richard Johnson broke. They deserve a principal who cares about their well-being. I think I'm the man for the job. I just need to prove it to them.
Even if I had time to fly home to San Bernardino, I can't. Saint, my younger brother, is home for the holidays. Last time we were home at the same time, things didn't end well. Saint is difficult. He's half a decade younger than I am, and reckless as hell. He's a big deal in the music industry, a certified rock god. Somewhere along the way, he bought into all the hype.
The night before Thanksgiving last year, he almost killed Savannah after rolling his car with her inside. It was storming and he was speeding. He'd also been drinking. Our father kept him out of prison, instead working out a deal to send him to rehab. Even though he was released from treatment six months ago, I haven't seen him.
It's better for everyone if we keep it that way.
He swore to me that she'd be safe with him that night and she wasn't. I should have known that he was messed up. I should have driven her to dinner like I'd promised.
Instead, I let her leave with Saint, and he nearly killed her and himself. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to forgive him—or myself. The nightmares of pulling them from the burning wreckage still wake me in a cold sweat most nights. Guilt rides me hard. Going home won't make it better.
Savannah has been through enough without having to deal with my shit too. Seeing how messed up I am would break her heart into tiny pieces. She deserves a peaceful Christmas with Saint.
"I've got to get moved in and settled," I tell her, my voice gentle. Even though it's the right thing to do, I still hate to do it. "And the School Board has a couple of events planned that I'm required to attend."
"But I miss you," she sighs, breaking my heart.
"I miss you too, brat." I run my hand across the books I just unpacked in my office. Like my house, it's in a state of carefully ordered chaos, with packing boxes stacked in the corners and furniture waiting to be put in place. "What if I come home for your birthday next month? I'll let you drag me out to SB Raceway."
SB Raceway may be her favorite place in San Bernardino. Savannah is competitive as hell, especially when you put her behind the wheel of a go-cart. Saint will just have to keep his distance while I'm in town next month since he's refusing to return to Los Angeles where he lives. If I miss her eighteenth birthday and Christmas, she'll never forgive me. Especially since I already missed Thanksgiving, my birthday, and Mom's birthday.
"Promise?"
"Pinky promise," I swear, smiling. Pinky promises are sacrosanct to my sister. Once made, they're an unbreakable bond she will hold you to no matter what.
"Okay." She falls silent for a moment. "You know you have to forgive him eventually, right?"
"Savannah," I warn her, not willing to discuss the subject with her.
"It was an accident and I'm fine now."
"You nearly died," I growl, pissed off just remembering how close it came. It took two surgeries and weeks in the hospital to save her life. It took months for all the broken bones to heal. And Saint wasn't there for any of it. He was tucked away in a private rehab facility, kicking an addiction he swore he had under control.
"I know that," Savannah huffs at me. "So does he, Sawyer. He's changed so much because of what happened. I wish you would give him a chance to prove it."
I snort, unconvinced.
Saint has always been reckless and wild, with no real direction or plans for his life beyond chasing his next big hit. Savannah's accident is just the latest in a long line of bad behavior from him. We've kept most of it from her because she's so young. She idolizes Saint. If she knew half the shit he's done, it would break her heart.
"You're so stubborn!" she complains, which makes me smile. She's the most tenacious person I've ever met. When she wants something, she won't quit until she gets it. With her big doe eyes and hopeful expression, telling
her no is next to impossible. Thank God she uses her powers for good or the world would be in serious trouble.
"Did you get my present?" I ask, changing the subject before she gets all riled up.
"Yes, but Mom won't let me open it until Christmas morning," she says, pouting again. "What is it? The box is huge!"
"It's a surprise." She hates secrets, which means I surprise her as often as possible just to see her squirm. She drives herself crazy trying to figure out what it is.
"You're no fun."
"I'm old," I remind her. "I'm not supposed to be fun."
"You're thirty-six." I can practically hear her eyes roll. "You only act like you're ninety."
I open my mouth to respond and then snap it closed when I hear a woman's voice outside my office.
"Oh, son of a nutcracker!" she cries. Even frustrated, her voice is dulcet and silvery, almost melodious.
Something that sounds curiously like a cymbal crashes to the floor, followed by a series of smaller crashes and inventive, Christmas themed curses from the woman.
What in the world is going on?
"I've gotta go, Savannah." I head toward the door to find out who the woman is and why it sounds like she's destroying the school.
"Fine, but you better not be spending Christmas alone or I'm going to be mad at you."
"Scout's Honor," I lie, crossing my fingers. My sister doesn't need to know that my only plans for Christmas involve a cold beer and the football game on TV. I'll never hear the end of it. And truthfully, it will be lonely enough without her being sad about it too. I've always been home for Christmas, surrounded by our family and friends. Spending the holiday alone isn't any more appealing to me than it is to her.
The clatter outside my office grows louder.
Jesus. What is she carrying out there? An entire drum set?
"Love you, Sawyer," Savannah says.
"Love you too, brat. Behave."
"Never!" She laughs and hangs up on me.
I shove my phone in my pocket and pull the door open, stepping out into the hall.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, staring in shock at the mess of musical instruments scattered around the hall. And then I gape at the tiny blonde—elf?—standing in the middle of the mess, trying to juggle a box that's damn near bigger than she is. One side of it is destroyed, allowing equipment to spill out.
The little elf stares in dismay at the mess surrounding her, seemingly oblivious to my presence. Which is a good thing because I can't seem to take my eyes off her. She's devastatingly beautiful, even dressed in a green and red elf dress with accessories to match.
Wild blonde curls peek from beneath the jaunty hat sitting askew on her head. Her eyes are the darkest forest green I've ever seen. Pink tints her cheeks and her Cupid's Bow lips. Even though she's frowning, I can see the little dimples in her cheeks. She's maybe five-three, with curves sweet enough to make my teeth ache. Her elf dress ends a little above midthigh, with red and white stockings covering her thick thighs and calves.
How she manages to make an elf costume sexy, I don't know, but she pulls it off with frightful ease. My dick stirs, stiffening as I gape at her.
A maraca falls out of the box, landing on one small foot encased in a knee-length boot. The pointy toes make them look like elf shoes.
"Jack Frost!" she shouts, almost dropping the box.
A surprised bark of laughter leaves my lips.
She squeaks, spinning to face me. The box in her arms wobbles dangerously. The bottom is a few strands of meager tape from collapsing into nothing. The rest of it isn't far behind. The box is probably older than she is, and she's maybe twenty-two or twenty-three.
I stride forward to grab it before she manages to upend the rest of her equipment on the floor. I'm not a musician, but my parents bought enough equipment for Saint over the years for me to know it doesn't come cheap.
"I have mace," she blurts out when I stop in front of her.
"Good to know, little elf," I murmur, fighting not to laugh. Call me crazy, but I don't think she'd be happy to know the threat of being pepper-sprayed by a pint-sized woman dressed as an elf isn't particularly intimidating to a guy my size. How she'd even reach her mace with the box in her arms, I don't know. "Maybe wait to use it on me until after we take care of your equipment, hmm?"
Her cheeks turn pink, her gaze bouncing from my face to my outstretched arms. For a minute, I think she's going to refuse to hand over the box, but she quickly changes her mind when another maraca tumbles out, landing between us with a clatter.
"I'm sorry, that was rude," she says, her dulcet voice full of regret as she passes the box to me. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be here. It's late."
"You're here," I point out, amused by the quiet accusation that turns her statement into a question.
"I live here."
"You live in an elementary school?" I hold the box close to my chest to prevent anything else from falling out of it. It's somehow still full of equipment, which shouldn't be possible considering how much of it is on the floor. Good grief, how the hell did she manage to carry it this far? The nearest entrance is a good fifty yards away, and she's little bitty.
"No." Her curls bob as she shakes her head. The tint to her cheeks deepens. She's flustered, which shouldn't be nearly as attractive as it is, but it is. Flustered looks good on her. "Of course I don't live here. I live in a house. I meant to say I work here." Her eyes meet mine again, full of curiosity. "Why are you here?"
"I work here too."
"No, you don't. I know everyone who works here."
"How nice," I murmur politely, unable to resist teasing her. She's cute as hell, dancing around asking who the hell I am and why I'm here two days before Christmas. "Should I take this to the music room, or would you like it somewhere else?"
"You know where the music room is located?" She plants her hands on her generous hips, looking at me with patent disbelief.
There she goes, being fucking cute again. Her sass is doing a number on my cock. Which is new. My cock hasn't noticed anyone in years, especially not a staff member and subordinate. Jesus and St. Nick will just have to forgive me for this one though, because this little elf is all too appealing.
If Christmas morning were a person, it would be her. There's a wide-eyed innocence and warmth about her that makes me want to keep her close. Everything seems lighter with her standing in front of me, as if she really is a magical little elf. She even smells like Christmas morning and happy memories.
I bet the kids here love her.
"I do," I say, my lips twitching.
Finally, she gives up waiting for me to volunteer my identity and asks the question she's been dying to ask for the last three minutes.
"Who are you? And please don't say you're robbing the place because I really need help cleaning all this up," she says, flinging her arms out to indicate the mess she's made of the hallway.
"You did a good job of it," I agree. "How did you manage to make it this far with all of this?"
"I'm very coordinated." She scowls at the box. "At least I was until my box decided to betray me."
"I think your box should have been retired two decades ago, little elf."
"It was the only one I could find."
"Sawyer Greenway."
"What?"
"You asked who I am. My name is Sawyer Greenway."
Her eyes go comically wide and her face pales. "You're Sawyer Greenway?"
"I am."
"As in our new principal Sawyer Greenway?"
Christ, I'm definitely going to hell because her opened mouth is giving me filthy thoughts about filling it.
"Guilty as charged, little elf."
"Oh fudge," she whispers like Charlie in A Christmas Story.
Right then and there, without me even knowing her name, she steals a piece of my heart and claims it as her own.
Chapter Two
Lana
I stare in dismay at my ridiculously hot new boss. Sawyer Gr
eenway is nothing like our former principal, Richard Johnson. He was a short, balding dictator on a personal crusade to suck all the joy out of this place. Sawyer Greenway is a six foot five—at least—monster of a man, with the most beautiful, saddest brown eyes I've ever seen. Although he's clearly American, his flawless olive skin and wicked sharp jawline give him a distinctly Mediterranean appearance. His blue Henley stretches over his broad shoulders and clings to the muscles in his chest. His jeans hug his thighs and firm ass.
His deep laugh rolls over me like thunder in the distance. It's oddly inviting, making me want to laugh with him. Except his laugh is rusty, as if he doesn't use it often. And I'm pretty sure I swallowed my tongue when he said his name.
I threatened to mace my new boss. Awesome.
"What's your name, little elf?" he asks, still laughing at me. Unlike with Mr. Johnson, however, there's no malice in his voice and no judgement in his gaze. He isn't scowling at me either. His full lips are lifted into a half-smile that does strange things to my insides.
I briefly consider giving him a fake name and then moving to somewhere like Bolivia. But my adopted aunt, Leslie Holland, is on the school board here, so disappearing into the great beyond probably wouldn't work out. Besides, I like California. And I love Commodore.
"Lana Winters," I mumble, giving in to the inevitable. "I teach music here."
"So I gathered," he says, flashing that smile at me. Good lord! He has to be close to forty, but when he smiles, he looks like a little boy who is up to no good. It's wickedly hot. "I would shake your hand, but…" He hefts the box in his arms, silently pointing out that his hands are full.
"Jack Frost!" I curse. I forgot all about the ruined box and borrowed equipment all over the floor. He probably thinks I'm a total loon. "I'm so sorry. Um, the music room is this way." I bend to scoop up an armload of equipment and then hurry down the hall.
