So dark that Lane often had to pop an Ativan before entering. Anything horror or occult, skull or scary, bloody or creepshow-worthy, sent her right back to the woods as a child.
Alone.
Yet, she was proud of Zeph.
Nowhere else in the country would a store like his make enough money to survive. One more good luck draw of the Snowdrop Valley deck. Then again, he had his grandparent’s inherited dough.
“I’m here to take your order,” she said enticingly.
He provided a pen with a rat bobblehead. “I’ll have a ham and Swiss on rye.”
“For apple goods. We were at the farm all morning.”
“So, why the grim face?”
“It’s a grim place; like the bridal hall for The Walking Dead.”
“It’s that time of year. You like?”
About as much as she liked being traumatized and horrified as a kid also around Halloween. It still made no logical sense that she bonded with a best friend who owned a horror shop and sat in the dark for fun.
“What’s with the new gargoyles?” she inquired.
“Getting ready for Halloween. Wait ‘till you see what I’ve got in store.”
Tapping the pen to glass, she sighed. “You won’t believe what happened.”
The phone rang again.
“Don’t you move,” he warned, answering it. “Broomstick Books?”
Lane scanned the store some more.
It flickered a gaslight replica that cast dim shadows but still made it possible to see book titles. It was the kind of place that made you feel like you had to whisper or your head would get lopped off.
It was then she noticed a man.
He was crouched into his loafers with his head cranked to see a low shelf. When he stretched to grip a higher shelf for support, she noticed an arm rippled with muscle. It barely peeked out from a checkered flannel shirt only half tucked into jeans that had passed their prime.
Zeph hung up. “Well, he found it on eBay. Guess I was wrong.”
“You need to buy those out before customers see them.”
“The world’s getting more modern.”
Zeph Davis, black-haired, gothy, geeky, tattooed, was more like her brother than Benjamin who felt more like her special-needs child. She was grateful for him every minute of the day.
Lane turned again.
The crouching man stood not much taller than her own six feet. Fit but lanky, he arched his back as if to release a spasm. Yawned wide, pinched his eyes, and then looked up where they landed right on Lane.
Holy graveyards.
Someday maybe she’d describe the moment as one that could have been blamed on her heightened senses of being in a horror shop. A gushing sensation coursed through her body and made her tongue go limp. His eyes were the same blue as a Caribbean sea under a dome light. So blue that she knew they were blue even across the shadowy room. They dazzled her like turquoise diamonds.
And, stared.
“Uh…I uh…”
She twisted back to Zeph. Counted apples in her head.
“You all right?” he asked, smirking through his dimples. “Or do you need a cold dip?”
“What I need is your order for my dang apples or we’ll have fifteen pounds of rotting mush in our garage come Thanksgiving. Did you decide?”
“About?”
“Hawaii.”
“Huh?”
“Cabo, I mean Jamaica. I mean, the stupid donuts. Or, well, apples.”
Why did her face feel like it ate hot asphalt? Her brain was the mush now.
Zeph plunked down onto a vintage bar stool. “Apple bran muffins, the big ones. I’ll freeze them and take one with me to class each morning.”
She tried to write it down, but her vision blurred. “Right, pancakes.”
“Muffins.”
“Same thing.”
“Not quite.”
“What about pie?”
“What about it?”
“I can make a few.”
“Boring.”
“Right, so three apple pies. Crumb top?”
He chuckled warmly. “Make it twelve.”
“No pies, got it. What about sauce for your meat?”
She detected a strange laugh not far behind her. Knew the question came off as perverse and the man with a sharp blonde haircut overheard. No way was she making a fool of herself in a horror shop of all places.
“Apple gravy for your roasts,” she explained.
“But, I don’t cook.”
“For your sandwiches then.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“Right, apple gravy mayo for your turkey.”
“How about this,” Zeph said, taking the pen from her. “This is what I want.”
She took the pad back when he finished writing. Spun it around and read his secret note. It’s time you got a boyfriend. Quit being a spaz; turn around and say hello.
Apple pie it is.
A Sleepy Hollow Kiss
Lane Sharp, director of the gothic literature program at the Snowdrop Valley College for the Literary Arts, wants nothing more than to keep her gifted little brother from the clutches of society despite evidence that he needs to go away to a special school. When the wicked school administrator puts her in charge of gothic preview week for potential new students leading up to Halloween, Lane didn’t expect to be saddled with a gorgeous horror-literature consultant from Georgia with conflicting ideas, an adorable and lonely daughter, and a twangy southern drawl. When Lane discovers that his real purpose in town is to compete in a contest for her job depending on who can write the best horror curriculum for a new program, she is forced to make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of love.
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Wedding at Walden Pond
New to Snowdrop Valley and struggling, sweet Mirabelle Martine may be about to lose her beloved French bakery and fairy tale book shop due to unpaid building rent to the atrocious William Loxley. The problem is that a turbulent family history in France taught her to rely on her own wit and depend on no one. Yet when Zeph Davis, the reclusive horror bookshop owner with a starry-eyed crush across the street tells his visiting mother that they’re engaged to be married, she decides to go along with the ruse in exchange for his help with the harvest festival to earn enough money to save her business. As events spin out of control and the hoax backfires all the way to the metaphorical altar, what she didn’t expect was that money means very little when it comes to long-term happiness, and love can exist in the most unlikely match.
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Once Upon a Thanksgiving
Recruited from Boston by Snowdrop Valley’s town council to start the first private children’s school, Prunella Peabody is abhorred to see it is nothing more than a dilapidated 1800’s schoolhouse. Determined to outshine her acclaimed twin sister favored by the family who can do no wrong, she has every intention of transforming the building into a reputable venue by following every legal step in the book. When the town council assigns her a callous and flippant new principle with a background in children’s literature to help her restore the school, she learns that they are also expected to share the same free housing despite his sloppy ways, annoying habits, and ridiculous ideas. Through his eyes, will she discover there is more to life than family competition, structure and policy and competition?
Dreams of Mistletoe
Noelle Dash hasn’t been back to Snowdrop Valley in five years since her father first opened his used bookshop and everything went wrong. Estranged ever since, she learns that her father passed away and left the bookshop to her. Determined to restore the failing shop by remodeling it to attract a buyer, she hires big-city marketing consultant Jack Wade to assist with the project. What she hadn’t banked on was that his outlandish out-of-the-box ideas would not only challenge her out of her comfort zone, but convince her to leave her city career behind by honoring her father and turning his old store into a quintessential Christmas bookshop with him at her side.
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uest from the Author
Writing romance for the enjoyment of others is my life’s purpose. Please help me to continue creating sweet, heartwarming, and uplifting romance by spreading the word about my books. Reviews are everything to an author, and yours is wholeheartedly requested. Please take a moment to visit your purchase site where you found this book, and share with other readers what you loved about it. Sharing on your social media or with friends and family, is equally appreciated. Let’s support one another’s dreams and help independent authors grow in their craft.
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With Love, Vivien
About the Author
Vivien Mayfair always dreamed of being a writer. After graduating with an MA in English, she wrote homeschool curriculum and magazine articles while teaching college. One day, nearly twenty years after an obsession with Zebra historical romance, she picked up a novel with an enticing cover. She became hooked on the genre once again and never looked back. She now creates heartfelt romance that leaves readers feeling warmed up on the inside and smiling on the outside.
VISIT VIVEN’S WEBSITE
www.VivienMayfair.com
My Christmas Darling Page 27
