Dedication
To Judi, because Santa Claus doesn’t always wear a bright red suit and sport a long white beard.
Acknowledgments
I WANT TO thank my wonderful editor, Amanda Bergeron, for all of her hard work and her enthusiasm. It’s book #5, and I am still pinching myself that she chose my books. I’d also like to thank my terrific agent, Sarah Younger of Nancy Yost Literary Agency, who chose my books too. Sarah works hard on my behalf. We bonded over our shared love of football, and I am so lucky to have her.
I’d like to thank the Avon Books art department for a cover I fell in love with, among other things. I’d also like to thank the copyediting group, especially Beverly, who keeps all of my grammar and punctuation issues on the down-low.
I’d like to thank my husband, Eric, for a million reasons, but most of all because he made sure I could pursue the thing I wanted most in life. I love you, honey.
Amy Raby and Jessi Gage (the Cupcake Crew!) are my critique partners, my Friday standing dates, and my biggest cheerleaders. I wuv you both too.
Thank you to Greater Seattle RWA. Thank you so much for your friendship, your encouragement, and for all the chocolate. I owe all of you more than I could ever say.
I’d like to thank Tiffany’s. I hope to be able to afford to shop there in the near future.
As always, thank you to former and current Seattle Seahawks for interviews they’ve given in various forms of media that were a huge help in my research. I named my hero after one of the most inspiring players in the NFL, Derrick Coleman. I hope he won’t mind.
Would you like to “adopt” a local letter to Santa Claus and brighten a child’s holiday? It’s as easy as appearing at your local post office and presenting a photo ID. The procedure is outlined here: https://about.usps.com/corporate-social-responsibility/letters-to-santa.htm#p=1.
Here’s to the happiest of holidays for all my readers, and a wonderful and prosperous New Year for you and all those you love.
Go Sharks!
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
An Excerpt from Blitzing Emily
An Excerpt from Rushing Amy
An Excerpt from Catching Cameron
An Excerpt from Covering Kendall
About the Author
Also by Julie Brannagh
An Excerpt from An Heiress for All Seasons by Sophie Jordan
An Excerpt from Intrusion by Charlotte Stein
An Excerpt from Can’t Wait by Jennifer Ryan
An Excerpt from The Laws of Seduction by Gwen Jones
An Excerpt from Sinful Rewards 1 by Cynthia Sax
An Excerpt from Sweet Cowboy Christmas by Candis Terry
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
DERRICK COLLINS HAD two jobs today: to smile, and to sign the credit card receipts.
Derrick’s mama and grandma had been asking—well, nagging—him to join them for a trip to Noel, Washington, for the past couple of years. If they went on his Tuesday off from the Sharks, they might have fun, and he might not have to sign a hundred autographs before they left the parking lot. Hopefully he’d have the element of surprise; nobody expected a six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound male in a place he imagined was dominated by females 365 days a year.
The first week of December was prime time to spend a few hours in a snow-dusted holiday paradise. Noel was a little town a hundred miles east of Seattle that had arisen from the ruins of a former logging town. The city fathers believed that “all Christmas, all the time” might be a way to bring tourism and the resulting jobs to the area. Surprisingly enough, their idea paid off in a big way.
People came from around the world to visit Noel’s charming little shops, restaurants, and the town square, which boasted live holiday music year-round. The post office hand-cancelled hundreds of thousands of holiday cards with their distinctive postmark each year. The town’s location also helped with the wintry weather theme: Noel featured ice and snow from October until April each year. When it wasn’t snowing, there was a countdown-to-Christmas clock in the square, and Santa made an appearance on a raft in the river during the Christmas in July festival. It was fun for kids of all ages, including a defensive tackle for the Sharks and the two women who had made sure that he’d gotten his ass through college and who still kept him out of trouble.
Derrick’s mama and grandma were currently in the quilt shop, which appeared to be every crafter’s fantasy. He didn’t understand why they took a perfectly nice piece of fabric, cut it up, and sewed it together again, but they’d gotten involved in a program which provided “baby” quilts to low-income new mothers through one of the local hospitals. Mama and Grandma’s sewing machines were going day and night as a result, whenever they weren’t at church or watching his grandma’s beloved mixed martial arts broadcasts. He couldn’t figure out why a woman who identified as a pacifist couldn’t wait to watch some guy beat the crap out of another guy.
He strolled through the front door of the quilt shop and up to the counter. The woman behind the cash register looked a little scared, he thought. He towered over her. Maybe she was startled by his sheer bulk and his long dreadlocks.
“Hi. I’m Derrick Collins.” He nodded toward his mama and grandma. “They’re with me. Please make sure they buy whatever they want. Here’s my card for their tab.”
He handed her his platinum American Express card. She took it with shaking fingers. He noticed she was wearing a wedding set on the third finger of her left hand. Maybe he should encourage the cashier to call her husband and ask him if he knew who Derrick Collins was; a couple thousand bucks was walking-around money for him.
“May I . . . may I please see your ID?” she asked. She must not have been a football fan, Derrick thought.
“Sure,” he said. He held out his driver’s license to her.
She looked at the photo, glanced at the card once more, flipped it over to look at his signature, and said, “Thank you very much.”
“Thank you. And I meant it: whatever my mama and grandma want.”
She nodded. At the rate the women cutting fabric and gathering notions a few feet away were going, they were already up to four figures.
“Is there a place close by I could get something to drink?” he asked.
“There’s a coffee shop across the hall that also sells wine and beer,” she said.
“Mama,” he called out. “I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”
“Okay, honey. We won’t be long,” she said.
Sure, they wouldn’t. He grinned to himself. They were going to shop until they dropped, and they’d fall asleep in the back of his Escalade as he drove them home. He’d get a pizza and play some video games with a few of his teammates tonight. Mama and Grandma would eat a light dinner at his place and spend some time excitedly planning their next projects.
He pretended like they drove him nuts, but nothing could be further from the truth. He should buy them a little house somewhere peaceful in the Seattle area where they could have some privacy when they were in town, but he had to admit that he enjoyed their fussing over him. They spent most of football season in Seattle, staying in his downtown Bellevue condo. The rest of their year they spent in his tiny hometown in Alabama. They’d started visiting him a lot more often after his last relationship came to a disastrous
end.
He’d dated Jada for three years. It wasn’t working, but he didn’t want to be alone. She started hinting around about a ring, and he finally summoned the guts to break it off. He should never have asked her for a second date. She didn’t like his mama or his grandma, and the feeling was mutual. She thought his money was hers to spend. She was more interested in the fact that she was welcomed into the most exclusive nightclubs with him than she was in actually being with him.
She was the latest in a long line of women who had no interest in who he was. All they wanted was what he—and his money—could do for them. He realized he was not alone with this problem; it happened to most professional athletes. He seemed to be having trouble figuring out how to fix it, however.
“Your picker’s broken, honey,” his grandma had said to him more than once. “You need a nice girl. You’re not going to meet your future wife and the mama of your children in a nightclub.”
“But, Grandma, it’s hard to meet women.” The second the words left his lips, he realized he’d really stepped in it. It wasn’t hard to meet women. It was hard to meet the right woman.
“Come to church with us. There’s plenty of nice girls there,” his mama said. “My friend Mavis’s granddaughter is such a sweet girl. She’s about to graduate from the University of Washington, and she already owns a business. If you don’t like her, there are several more young women you might enjoy spending time with there.”
“Oh, yes, Derrick. We’ll also ask the pastor to pray that you’ll find the right young lady,” his grandma said. He was cooked now. The information would hit the church’s prayer chain, someone would call or e-mail one of the local media, and he’d be the laughing stock of the Sharks’ locker room.
“Grandma, you don’t have to do that—”
“We want you to find the perfect young lady to join our family,” his grandma said. “We can’t wait to meet her.”
He couldn’t wait to meet her, either. If she existed at all.
HOLLY REYNOLDS PLUNKED herself down on a bar stool behind the counter of Caffeine Addiction, Noel’s coffee shop. Baristas started their day before the sun came up, and her shift didn’t end for another two hours. The business was typically crowded with tourists and locals. The owners had introduced wine, beer, and small bites last year, which drove profits even higher. Today, things were surprisingly quiet. Even the people who hid out in the back of the shop to work on their laptops had something else to do this afternoon. She was caught up on the cleaning and the million-and-one things to do while working in a coffee shop, so she had a few minutes to herself as a result.
Holly was in her last year of nursing school and on holiday break from the UW. She worked at least two jobs year-round to pay her tuition. She was trying to get out of school with the minimum to repay in student loans; she was also living with her grandma in Noel for the next couple of months. The owner of Caffeine Addiction was happy to hire an experienced barista for Noel’s ultra-busy holiday season. Holly wasn’t thrilled about wearing an elf costume to work every morning, but money was money.
She reached into the backpack she stowed under the counter and pulled a small stack of letters out of it. Maybe she could read a few of them while the shop was slow and make a few notes about what she’d like to say to each letter writer in response. She opened the first letter with care, pulling out a folded sheet of notebook paper with crayoned drawings of Santa Claus, an animal the child probably thought looked like a reindeer but actually resembled a moose, and Santa’s sleigh.
Every November 1, the Noel Merchants’ Association erected a mailbox in the town square so local children could drop their letters to Santa Claus inside. Holly’s grandmother had been secretly answering those letters by hand for thirty years now. When the merchants’ association urged her grandma to join the twenty-first century and establish a website to answer the letters by e-mail, Holly’s grandmother refused.
“Kids wait for mail,” she’d said. “I can’t disappoint them.”
Unfortunately, Grandma was recovering from carpal tunnel surgery this year. She was unable to handwrite the letters, so she’d asked Holly to help her with Noel’s beloved holiday tradition.
Handwriting a hundred or so letters was an additional time commitment Holly didn’t have, but she’d make it work. She’d stuck some of the letters in her backpack earlier, hoping maybe she could read a few of them while the shop was slow and make a few notes about what to say to each letter writer in response.
The letter featuring the crayon drawings was sweet. A little girl wanted a new bike from Santa and assured him that she’d been “very good.” That would be an easy one to write. The next letter was from a little boy who wanted a baseball mitt, a new bat, and some cleats. He promised to make sure he left some carrots for the reindeer, as well as cookies for Santa: another fun letter to write.
Holly grinned to herself. This would be more fun than work. She slid her finger under the flap of the third letter and drew out a piece of unadorned notebook paper.
This one wasn’t quite so cute and funny.
Dear Santa Claus,
I realize I’m too old to still believe in you, but I really need your help.
My mom told my little brother and sister that you might not be coming to our house this year. Our dad left us, and my mom lost her job. Would you please bring my brother and sister some presents? They don’t know our mom doesn’t have a lot of money right now. Also, I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you please bring my mom a job?
Thank you so much. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.
Michael
Holly reread the letter, and her vision blurred with tears. She grabbed up the envelope. No return address. No last name. She wondered what she could do to help Michael and his family. But first, she’d have to find them. Noel wasn’t a large town, but someone in this kind of trouble wouldn’t be advertising it to their neighbors and friends.
Her grandma had always told her that the letters were cheerful. Noel didn’t have underprivileged children—or so most people thought. Not everyone who worked in Noel was wealthy. Maybe Michael’s family fell through the cracks of a town that was unrelentingly cheerful and upbeat. People came to Noel to forget their problems, not to encounter more of them.
She brushed tears off of her face with impatient fingertips and looked at the letter one more time. Michael had left no other identifying information.
“Where can I find you, Michael?” she murmured.
A few seconds later a shadow fell across the counter in front of her, and she looked up into a familiar face. Her heart skipped a beat. One of her many jobs was serving in the cafeteria at the Seattle Sharks’ training camp each summer, and Derrick Collins, the guy she’d had a highly secret and raging crush on for the past two years, was standing less than a foot away from her.
If she didn’t already know he was as shy as she was, she would have been scared of him. He was over a foot taller than she was, and he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. He wore dreadlocks, multicarat diamond stud earrings, and the latest designer denim. He got paid to manhandle other big guys six months a year. When he came through the food line at the Sharks’ training facility, however, he spoke to her in a soft tone of voice and she’d seen him blush more than once.
She was wearing an elf costume. Her eyes were probably red. She felt her face getting hot. He probably thought she was a dork, and she glanced down in embarrassment.
“You look like my Holly from the food line,” he said. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“Yes, it’s me,” she said and swallowed hard. His Holly. Maybe she was hearing things.
“What’s the matter, Holly? How can I help?”
His bleached white smile was dazzling against his smooth ebony skin. He reached out to tip her chin up with gentle fingers.
“I’m okay.” She grabbed the letters and shoved them back into her backpack. “I’m surprised to see you,” she said.
“I
t’s nice to see you too. I usually have to get up pretty early to see your smiling face.” He sat down on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. “I didn’t know you lived in Noel.” She saw color rising in his cheeks. “I’d come here more often.”
He couldn’t really be flirting with her. Maybe he was just trying to get her to not cry in front of him anymore or something.
“My grandma lives here. She had surgery and she needed some help, so here I am.”
“That’s pretty nice of you,” he said. “How is she doing?”
“She’ll be fine in a few weeks.” She gave him a nod. He was still grinning at her.
“Will you be here until school starts again?”
“Yes,” she said. She wanted to ask him what he was doing in Noel, but maybe she should try to remember she was at work first. “Would you like some coffee or a snack? We have these really great cinnamon rolls . . .”
He stood and moved to the barstool directly across from her. “If you have a to-go container, I’ll take three. I heard y’all have beer.”
“We do. We have bottles, or two local microbrews on tap.” She slid off of her barstool and got him a glass of ice water. “There’s Noel IPA or Black Bear Stout. Which would you like?”
“I’ll take the IPA, please.” He took a sip of the ice water she’d put in front of him. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
“You could be shopping for gifts or getting your holiday cards hand-cancelled,” she teased.
“I hate shopping. My mama and my grandma love it, though. They’re currently buying out the quilt shop.” He shook his head a little. “I told them to leave some stuff for everyone else in the candy shop earlier.”
“That candy shop’s a tough one to walk away from,” Holly said. “They must be stocking up for the holidays.” She poured his beer and put it down on a bar napkin in front of him.
“They bought some candy for me, too,” he said, and she watched a faint wash of pink move over his cheeks again. “I might have a sweet tooth.”
This was officially the longest conversation she’d ever had with Derrick. It was hard to imagine how such a big, tough man could exude boyish charm. He took a sip of his beer and glanced around the coffee shop. “I must have scared everyone else off.”
Holding Holly (Love and Football Series) Page 1
