The Christmas Bliss Romance Collection

by Jennifer Youngblood

  Kinsley scooted back her chair, a humorless laugh rattling her throat. “I love you, Mama, but you’re way off track on this one. There’s nothing left to write. End of story.”

  “As you say,” her mama cooed in a placating voice. The one she used when she knew she was right, but didn’t want to argue. She pulled the laptop to her, looking at the screen.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Kinsley grumbled, feeling like she was ten again. She put her dishes in the sink and ran water over them.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you. Jolene, Hollis, and the girls are coming over for dinner tonight at six. I’m making meatloaf, mashed potatoes, country green beans, and biscuits.”

  Kinsley was grateful for a change of subject. “Awesome! It’ll be great to see them. It’ll be wonderful to have some of your home cooking.” Nobody could cook meatloaf and mashed potatoes like her mama. Kinsley’s mouth watered just thinking about it.

  “Thanks,” she smiled. “Good luck with your meeting. I hope it goes well.”

  “Thank you.” She went over and kissed her mama on the cheek. She touched her arm, staring into the large, chocolate-brown eyes identical to her own. They were framed by thick, dark lashes. The lines around her mama’s eyes and mouth were more prominent than Kinsley remembered, but she was still a beautiful woman with her patrician features and faint dusting of freckles over her cheekbones. Kinsley had been told often that she and her mama looked alike. Kinsley could only hope she looked as good as her mama when she got older. “Despite what you think, I’m happy to be home for Christmas. Truly.”

  Sue Ellen’s eyes softened around the edges, erasing the years, as a smile overtook her features. “I’m glad you’re home too. It’s an answer to many prayers.”

  4

  When the Magnolia Blossom Inn came into view, Kinsley’s pulse shot up about ten notches. She clutched the strap on her computer bag. Remain calm and don’t blow it! Even when it wasn’t Christmas, the Inn was something to behold, but with the fresh wreaths adorned with festive red ribbons on the windows, it looked like something out of a Hallmark movie—the embodiment of a quaint Christmas. The sprawling Victorian style mansion was gleaming white with richly detailed trim, reminding Kinsley of a gingerbread house. As she went up the walkway to the front door, she mentally ran through her introduction. “Hello, Mrs. Wells.” No, she might not be married. “Ms. Wells.” Yes, that sounded better. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today. Please give me the opportunity of adapting your book into a play.”

  Briefly, Kinsley thought about approaching it from the angle of the play bringing notoriety to the book, but A. G. Wells was already at the top of her game. Sure, a Broadway play would be a feather in her cap, but the woman was already mega successful. Kinsley was the one who stood to benefit the most from the arrangement.

  Her phone rang the instant before she opened the door. She pulled it out of her purse to answer, thinking it might be Cassidy. It was Fleming. She never had gotten around to calling him back last night. Truthfully, she’d been so conflicted about Gunner that she didn’t want to talk to Fleming. She had a few minutes to spare before the meeting. Now was as good a time as any to talk to him.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, doll, how ya doing?”

  She cringed at the nickname. Fleming had called her doll several times. She didn’t like it because it made her feel like a bimbo. She’d planned to tell him that … over Christmas. Now, the conversation would have to wait until she got back to NYC. “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Lonely,” he lamented.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry.”

  “Please spend Christmas with me,” he urged. “We’ll have a blast together. My parents are dying to meet you.” His voice tingled with enthusiasm. “And, I have a surprise for you.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  He laughed. “I can’t tell you over the phone. You need to hear this in person. How about I stop by and pick you up in an hour? We’ll grab lattes at Gibson’s.”

  Gibson’s was a cozy, chic coffee shop where they often hung out. She let out a long sigh. “I wish I could, but I’m out of town.”

  His voice dropped. “What? Where are you?”

  “Remember.”

  “Huh, remember what? You didn’t tell me you were going out of town.”

  She laughed. “No, Remember, North Carolina.”

  “Where in the heck is that?”

  “My hometown.” It irked her a little that Fleming didn’t know that. She’d mentioned it to him several times.

  “Oh. How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure. At least through Christmas.”

  He groaned. “You’re killing me, Kins. I want you here … with me.” His tone was beseeching, intimate.

  “Trust me. I wish I was there with you too.” Back in NYC, things were ordered and routine. She didn’t feel as conflicted about Gunner—hating him one minute and longing for him the next. Geez! What was happening to her? She’d been home for less than twenty-four hours and already things were getting muddled.

  “Good. Leave now then. How long will it take for you to get back here?”

  Fleming was a superbly talented director, and he was charming and fun to be around. His one downfall was thinking the world revolved around him. “I can’t leave. I have some things I need to take care of. Also, my family is counting on me to spend Christmas with them.”

  “I’ve been counting on you to spend Christmas with me,” he said dejectedly.

  She needed to get inside. No way could she be late for this meeting. “Gunner, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go.”

  “Who’s Gunner?”

  Kinsley jerked, blood rushing to her face. “Uh, no one.” Crap! She couldn’t believe she’d called Fleming that. She was losing it! Not thinking straight because she was worried about the meeting.

  Suspicion sounded in Fleming’s voice. “Are you with another guy? I thought we were working things out.”

  “We are,” she said quickly. “No, I’m not here with anyone else.”

  “Who’s Gunner?” he asked again, his voice hard.

  “A friend of my daddy’s.”

  “Oh.” Fleming chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a jealous maniac. I just miss you.”

  The longing in his voice was touching. “I miss you too.” Time was trickling away. “Hey, can I call you back later? I’m headed into an appointment.”

  “Uh, sure.” He paused. “Kinsley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  She swallowed hard, not sure how to respond. Sure, she cared about Fleming and was willing to give their relationship another shot, but love? It was way too soon for that. “Bye,” she quipped, ending the call.

  Putting her phone back into her purse, she sucked in a breath, touching her hair. It freaked her out to hear Fleming say he loved her. She shook her head. She couldn’t think about that right now. She had to remain focused. Too much was riding on this to blow it.

  A couple seconds later, she opened the door and went inside, trying to appear poised. The wood floor creaked underneath her feet. The scent of cranberry and oranges filled the air, unleashing a trove of memories. She’d spent many a day here playing while her mama worked. When she became a teenager and started dating Gunner, they came here together often. It was at the Inn under a large oak tree with stars twinkling overhead that she and Gunner first kissed. She pushed aside the memories, reminding herself again to focus on the present.

  Sam was standing behind the front desk. When he saw her his eyes lit with recognition, a large smile coming over his face. He strode around the desk and gave her a hug. “It’s great to see you! I didn’t realize you were coming home for Christmas,” he said.

  Like Kinsley’s mama, Sam was a longtime employee at the Inn. Thin and wiry, Sam’s resting expression was solemn. However, once you got to know him, he was lively and funny.

  �
�What brings you to the Inn this morning?” Sam asked.

  She moistened her dry lips. “I’m meeting someone.”

  His dark eyes twinkled. “Ah, is this a romantic endeavor, by chance?”

  She made a face. “No, I’m meeting an author, A. G. Wells. Has she arrived yet?” A thought occurred to her. “She may be staying at the Inn.”

  “Hmm …” he pursed his lips “… A. G. Wells. That name doesn’t ring a bell.” He chuckled out a self-deprecating laugh. “But that doesn’t mean anything.” He pointed to his head. “The old brain’s not as sharp as it used to be, and it’s been nonstop here. Let me check the computer.”

  He walked around to the back of his desk and began typing on the keyboard. A minute later, his lips drew together in a thin line. “I don’t have anyone listed by that name.”

  “Well, she may just be meeting me here.”

  Sam gave her a funny look. “You don’t know which it is? She’s staying here or just meeting you?”

  “No, I only know that we’re supposed to meet here at ten.”

  A smile curled his lips. “Ah, got ya.” He looked down at his wrist watch. “You’ve got about seven minutes. What does the author look like? Maybe I can help you find her.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, that’s just it. We haven’t met and I don’t have a description.” She could tell from the confused expression on Sam’s face that he thought it odd that she knew so little about the person she was meeting. It wasn’t worth launching into an explanation. She glanced at the sitting room to their left. “If it’s okay, I’ll just wait there.” There were two couples already in the room, sitting by a crackling fire. The mantle was festooned with garland, red holly berries, and pine cones. Hanging stockings completed the picture. Kinsley recognized the patchwork stockings as ones her mama had ordered for the Inn. There was a large Christmas tree in the corner of the room, decorated with old-fashioned, bulb-style colored lights. White boxes decorated with red bows were under the tree. The boxes contained gourmet chocolates from the local bakery—presents for the guests staying at the Inn. The chocolates had been her mama’s idea, an extra touch to make the guests feel at home.

  “Sure, you can go anywhere you’d like. This place is your second home. Breakfast is wrapping up in the dining room. You’re welcome to get some spiced apple cider or hot chocolate while you wait.” He shrugged. “Who knows? A. G. Wells might already be in the dining room, waiting for you.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Sam.”

  “You bet,” he responded heartily. “It really is great to see you. I’m sure your mom’s thrilled to have you home for Christmas.”

  “Yes, she is. How’s Melissa?” Melissa was Sam’s wife.

  “She’s doing great. She’s been baking up a storm. Our oldest son and his family are flying in from Baltimore tomorrow. Melinda wants to make sure and have plenty of treats on hand for the grandkids.”

  “I’m sure you’re both excited.”

  “We are.” He grinned proudly. “There’s nothing in this world as great as grandkids. It’s the pay-off for raising kids.” The phone at his desk rang. “I need to get this.”

  “Sure,” she said as he answered the call. She went down the hall and into the dining room, which was packed with people eating and talking. Kinsley scoped the room, looking for a person sitting or standing alone. Most everyone was with someone, except for a woman in her mid-thirties. She was sitting alone, eating breakfast. Her blonde hair was expertly styled, rounding on her shoulders. She looked classy, the kind of woman who fit the image of a successful author.

  Her heart pounding against her ribcage, Kinsley approached her with a friendly smile. “Hello.”

  The woman looked up. “Hello,” she responded.

  “Would you by any chance happen to be A. G. Wells?”

  She looked surprised. “No, I’m Lisa.”

  Kinsley swallowed her disappointment. “Oh, sorry to bother you.”

  “No worries,” she said, offering a polite nod.

  Kinsley stepped away. A second later, she went over to the antique buffet table and poured a glass of spiced apple cider. She took a sip, the tanginess of it tickling her throat. It was really good. She took another sip. Was this her mama’s recipe? It tasted similar, but this one had more orange and cinnamon. She glanced around the room, making sure she’d not missed anyone. Nope, just couples of all ages. She’d go back into the front room and wait for A. G. Wells there. It was just now ten o’clock. Maybe A. G. Wells was one of those people who liked being fashionably late.

  As she stepped back into the hall, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see Lillian Yates shuffling towards her, using her walker. There was a large smile on her ruby red lips. “Kinsley Preston,” she said a few volumes too loud, “just the person I was looking for.”

  Kinsley cringed inwardly. There were no short conversations with Lillian Yates. She didn’t have time for this today. She forced a smile. “Hi, Lillian.” Lillian was wearing a tomato red Christmas sweater with embroidered ornaments of various colors, topped off with large bows. Her curled hair was so flaming red that it reminded Kinsley of a Raggedy Ann Doll. She had on earrings shaped like Christmas presents. Her silver glasses were encrusted with small diamonds.

  “How’ve ya been?” Lillian asked breezily.

  “Fine.” Maybe if she kept her answers short and sweet Lillian would get the hint.

  “I hear you’re making quite a name for yourself in the playwriting world.”

  “Thanks.” She wondered how much Lillian knew about her, particularly if she knew Kinsley’s most recent plays hadn’t done so well. Probably. Lillian was privy to just about everything that went on in Remember, and that included the lives of former residents.

  “Do you have a minute? I was hoping to have a word with you in my office.”

  Kinsley tensed. “Sorry, but I’m meeting someone. Maybe some other time.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can spare a couple minutes,” Lillian said pleasantly.

  She straightened her spine. “No, I can’t,” she said more forcibly. “The person I’m supposed to meet is probably waiting for me in the foyer right now.”

  Lillian chuckled. “That’s the Kinsley Preston I remember, so serious and driven.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?” What was Lillian’s angle? “I’m not trying to be rude, but I have an important meeting to—”

  Lillian cut her off. “With A. G. Wells?”

  Kinsley’s breath froze in her throat as she flinched, a wave of dizziness rolling over her. She managed to find her voice. “Do you know A. G. Wells?”

  “Oh, yes, very well. We go way back.”

  “Did she tell you she was meeting me here today?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your affiliation with A. G. Wells?”

  “Close friends.”

  “Good, maybe you can point her out to me. I’ve never met her before.” She chuckled. “I’ve been wandering around the Inn, trying to figure out who she is.”

  “Let’s go back to my office.” Lillian looked down. “I can’t stand on my feet for long periods of time.”

  “But, I don’t want to keep A. G. waiting,” Kinsley protested.

  “You won’t.”

  “Huh?”

  Lillian turned around, facing the direction she’d come. When she trudged down the hall, Kinsley had no other choice but to follow. A few minutes later, they entered Lillian’s office. Kinsley had only been in the office a couple times. It was beautifully decorated in vivid reds and browns with gold accents.

  “Have a seat,” Lillian said as she went behind her desk and practically fell into the plush leather office chair.

  Kinsley clasped her hands scooting forward. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Is A. G. Wells coming to meet with me today?” She held her breath, awaiting the answer.

  Lillian gave her a compassionate look. “No, I’m afraid something has come up. A. G. won’t be able to m
ake it today.”

  Kinsley’s heart sank. Her throat grew thick as she swallowed. “I don’t understand. Her agent called my agent. She said we were meeting today.” Kinsley’s chest squeezed. “I came all this way to meet with her.”

  Lillian tipped her head, looking puzzled. “Aren’t you here visiting your family for Christmas?”

  The reproof in Lillian’s voice came at Kinsley like a slap in the face. The last thing she needed was for Lillian Yates to butt into her personal business. “Yes, of course,” she snapped. Desperation clawed at her. She needed this opportunity, had thought she would at least get a chance to talk to A. G. “Did A. G. say when she would be available to meet with me?”

  “No, but I suspect it’ll be within the next several days.”

  A heady relief swept through Kinsley as she laughed. “So, she’s still willing to meet with me?”

  Lillian sat back in her seat, propping her elbows on the arms of her chair, her fingers making a triangle. “Things can be tricky with A. G.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, A. G. is very private. Has gone to great lengths to stay out of the limelight.”

  Kinsley wet her lips, the words rushing out. “I assure you, I’ll respect her privacy. I just want to talk to her.”

  “About turning Stolen Moments into a play.”

  “Yes.” She shouldn’t have been surprised that Lillian knew her intent. A. G. Wells had obviously discussed it with her. That meant that the two of them were close. Geez. What a strange turn of events. NYC and Broadway were worlds apart from Remember. Never would Kinsley have dreamt that A. G. Wells would be connected to Lillian. Interesting.

  Lillian scratched her head. Several long beats of silence passed. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about you and your plays.”

  Kinsley swallowed. “You have? Why?”

  Lillian laughed lightly. “This impending meeting.”

  “Oh.” Kinsley’s shoulders were so tense they were aching. She needed this badly, couldn’t believe that, of all people, Lillian Yates was the gatekeeper. Fate was surely laughing at this one. The last thing Kinsley wanted to be was at this woman’s mercy, yet here she was.