12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart

by Anthology

  She laughed softly again, leaning forward to kiss him. “Deal.”

  “I swear to you, I won’t stop working until we’re on our feet. I’ll give you a good life. I promise if you take a chance on me, you won’t regret it.”

  “But what about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She leaned back a little to gaze up at him, her smile fading, her fingers clasping his wrist.

  “What about the money? How can you do this? How can you turn it down for me?”

  “I want you more.”

  “Won’t you resent me?”

  “No, sunshine,” he said softly, threading his fingers through her hair and kissing her tenderly. “And besides, maybe he’ll come around one day. Once he knows you. Once he sees that he was right all along.”

  “Right?” she demanded, jerking back from him, her eyes wide and insulted. “What exactly was he right about?”

  He ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek, soothing her. “‘A good woman makes a man honest, makes him work harder, makes him true.’ His words. That’s why he wanted me to get married. His goal all along was for me to find a woman who made me honest and true, who made me want to work hard for her comfort, for her happiness.” He pressed a sweet, swift kiss to her warmed-honey lips. “And he was right. A good woman can change the entire course of your life . . . if you want her badly enough . . . if you let her.”

  She was staring up at him, her eyes searching and fraught, determining if his words were true. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before letting it go. And that was the moment—he watched it happen before his very eyes—that was the moment Eleanora Watters became Eleanora English.

  “I’m going to fall in love with you,” she whispered. “I’m going to give you the big family you want. I’m going to be sure you never, ever regret choosing me. I promise, Tom. That’s my promise to you: I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy too.”

  “A dream and a miracle,” he murmured, drawing her back against him and closing the distance between their lips.

  Epilogue

  “. . . and he whispered, ‘A dream and a miracle.’” Eleanora English sighed as her daughter-in-law Emily Edwards English handed her another ornament, which she fastened onto a sturdy pine branch. “The end.”

  The room was so silent, you could have heard a pin drop, and then . . .

  “Wait! What?” exclaimed Jessica Winslow English, the wife of Eleanora’s third son, Alex. “What do you mean ‘the end’?”

  Eleanora turned around to find six younger women—her husband’s niece, Kate, plus her sons’ wives and significant others—staring at her with their mouths gaping open, in various states of disbelief and indignation. She had invited the girls over for a tree-trimming party at Haverford Park this year, and was enjoying every moment with these smart, funny, wonderful women. When Molly, the brand-new fiancée of her fifth son, Weston, had asked to hear the story of how her future in-laws had met, Eleanora couldn’t help indulging them and had been spinning the tale for over an hour.

  “The end,” said Eleanora again, gesturing uselessly with one hand. “Um . . . the end of the story.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Valeria with a little bit attitude. She was the girlfriend of Eleanora’s fourth son, Stratton, and the most outspoken of the girls. Eleanora absolutely adored her for it because she’d pulled shy Stratton out of his shell and loved him for exactly who he was. “You can’t just end it like that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Molly cocked her head to the side. “You’re really leaving us hanging, Eleanora. Did they move to New York? Did he find a job? Were they happy? What about Evie and Van?”

  “Good question,” said Daisy Edwards English, her second son Fitz’s wife, who had just been upstairs to check on her daughter—Eleanora’s first grandchild—baby Caroline. Daisy picked up a plate of homemade cookies from the coffee table and handed them to her cousin, Emily. “We have to know what happened to ditzy, darling Evie! Did they end up together?”

  Jessica pursed her lips, turning to Eleanora’s niece by marriage. “Kate, did you know your great-grandfather?”

  “He sounds like a real piece of work,” added Valeria.

  “Thankfully, no,” said Kate English-almost-Rousseau, looking disgusted. “He died before I was born. But my dad is much younger than Uncle Tom, and they had different mothers.”

  “Did Tom ever get the money?” asked Jessica, turning back to Eleanora.

  Eleanora grinned at her, and Jessica turned her sharp green eyes to Emily. “Susannah’s your mother, Emily. Did you ever meet Evie? Do you know how the story ends?”

  Emily shrugged, shaking her head. “I can’t ever remember meeting someone named Evie. Ad even though I’ve lived at Haverford Park for most of my life, I promise, I’ve never even heard this story. Please, Eleanora, you’ve got to tell us the rest!”

  Valeria leaned an elbow on Jessica’s shoulder. “No more ornaments until we get the rest of the story, Eleanora.”

  Molly tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear, looking hopeful. Her enormous engagement ring caught the firelight and glistened merrily. “There’s a fresh thermos of hot cocoa here. We could take a break from decorating, and you could tell us the rest?”

  Emily and Daisy had already cuddled up together on the overstuffed couch, and Molly squeezed in beside Daisy. Kate poured them all steaming mugs of cocoa, and Valeria sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire. Jessica, still standing beside the tree with her hands on her hips, shrugged at her mother-in-law with a saucy grin as she gestured to the armchair by the fire.

  “Fine! You girls win,” said Eleanora, laughing as she sat down and accepted a steaming cup of chocolate from Kate. “But I warn you, ‘the course of true love—’”

  “‘—never did run smooth,’” finished Valeria gently. “That’s okay. We still want to know.”

  Jessica sat down on the love seat next to Kate, and Eleanora took a deep breath, thinking back, remembering what came next. Her eyes teared for just a moment, but she took another deep breath.

  “We were falling in love. We were . . . full of hope,” she started, letting her memories carry her away.

  * * *

  MARRYING MR. ENGLISH

  Part 2

  will be available on 12.18.15!

  About the Author

  Did you love Tom and Eleanora’s story? Now it’s time to read about their five sexy sons: Barrett, Fitz, Alex, Stratton, and Weston, and their lovely niece, Kate!

  THE BLUEBERRY LANE SERIES

  THE ENGLISH BROTHERS

  (Blueberry Lane Books #1-6 & 11)

  Breaking Up with Barrett

  Falling for Fitz

  Anyone but Alex

  Seduced by Stratton

  Wild about Weston

  Kiss Me Kate

  Marrying Mr. English, Parts 1 & 2

  Thank you for reading!

  THE WINSLOW BROTHERS

  (Blueberry Lane Books #7-10)

  Bidding on Brooks

  Proposing to Preston

  Crazy about Cameron

  Campaigning for Christopher

  Katy Regnery, award-winning and Amazon bestselling author, claims authorship of the Blueberry Lane Series, which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story, and Ambler families of Philadelphia; the four-book, bestselling a modern fairytale series; the stand-alone novel Playing for Love at Deep Haven; and a stand-alone novella, Frosted.

  Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015, and four of her books—The Vixen and the Vet (a modern fairytale), Never Let You Go (a modern fairytale), Falling for Fitz (The English Brothers #2), and By Proxy (Heart of Montana #1)—have been #1 genre bestsellers on Amazon.

  Sign up for Katy’s newsletter today: http://www.katyregnery.com!

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  As We Dream By The Fire ~ Line Of Fire Series

  by Becca Boyd

  Copyright © R.L. Syme, 2015

  Published by Hummingbird Books

  All Rights Reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Somewhere, TX – December, 2015

  Hudson Peters tried to ignore the forty-fifth repeat of the Sugar-Plum-something-or-other and checked his watch. The jagweeds across the street from his parking spot were the Hollywood Christmas types. Not only did their house sparkle, but it sparkled in freaking time to the Christmas music being broadcast from the loudspeaker attached to the garage. Loud Christmas music.

  If only he could have parked on a different street. But no. The dark end of Old Taylor Road was the only place a guy could get a good vantage point on the whole neighborhood. That was the upside of Snob Knob. The downside being, it was full of keepers-up and all their Joneses.

  At least it was almost Christmas Eve, then it would be over. The whole scene was a little too Home Alone for his tastes.

  The song started over, creepy bells dinging sharply in the empty street. Hudson glanced at his watch. 9:38. It was almost time, and thank God, he’d had about all the waiting he could take.

  His phone buzzed. Will Johnson.

  “Hello?” Hudson kept his voice quiet, as though anyone could hear him over the choreographed light ballet.

  “Anything yet?” Will asked.

  “Not over here. What about you?”

  Will clucked his tongue. “Nada. And Aidan just called from the next street, too.”

  “It’s not quite time yet.”

  “Maybe it was a fluke.”

  Hudson gave his head a short shake. “Two fires in three days is not a fluke, man. Trust me, I Googled it.”

  “You Googled the frequency of Christmas tree fires in small towns in Texas?” His friend laughed and covered the receiver.

  “Hey, who’s with you? Did you talk Gray into coming along?”

  A nervous pause told Hudson everything he needed to know.

  “It’s Audrey, isn’t it?”

  Will still didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. He and his new girlfriend might as well have been glued together. Other than at the firehouse, Hudson hadn’t seen much of his friend over the past few weeks.

  “She wanted to look at the Christmas lights up here. Gimme a break.” After sundown, anytime after Thanksgiving, the whole hillside was lit up like wildfire.

  Grateful that Will couldn’t see him, Hudson allowed himself a nice, long eye roll. His friends had been dropping like flies this last year. First Aidan, then Eli, now Will. Was nothing sacred? A man needed his freedom.

  The frenzied end of the carol shook Hudson out of his moody bullshit thinking. He checked his watch again. 9:42.

  “This is the right time-window,” he said. “I should go so I can watch for fires.”

  “Sure.”

  “And you, too. You should watch for fires.”

  “Right.”

  “Don’t just sit in your dark truck and make out with—”

  Will cut him off. “Don’t judge me, dude.”

  The connection cut off and his phone went dark. What was with guys in relationships? Did they completely forget about the rest of the world?

  They had a job to do, dammit.

  Hudson dropped his phone onto the bench seat of his truck and the creepy sound of the stupid bells started up again outside. Between the Small World Christmas experience outside and his friend ignoring his job, Hudson was just about done with all of it.

  He scanned the dark street and tried to ignore the flashing lights in his peripheral vision. Other than the shit show to his left, there were a few other houses decked out, and then nothing. No cars, no carolers, no strolling, nothing.

  It was almost ten on a school night, so it made sense for the neighborhood to be quiet, but this was eerie.

  His watch read 9:44.

  The previous two calls had come in at exactly 9:45 at night. It had been Hudson’s idea to stalk the neighborhood where both of the fires had happened. Christmas tree fires were normal, but two in a row was unusual, especially in a town of only thirty thousand people. Even more suspicious was the fact that both fires had happened in the same neighborhood and the 911 calls had come at the same time.

  A serial Christmas tree arsonist. Who knew such a thing existed.

  A flash down the street set his heartbeat careening and his hand was on his door before he even realized it. But by the time he stopped on the pavement to reorient himself to the situation, the flash was gone. Headlights.

  The Christmas carol was louder, the air colder, and Hudson’s nerves rawer, but it was only a car. He sighed and put his hand on his door handle. No fire on Snob Knob tonight, it would appear.

  But across the street, next to the crazy Christmas house, Hudson saw another flash. This time, it wasn’t a momentary glimpse of headlights. The house itself was dark, except for a dim glow upstairs. Probably a TV or a night-light. But through the gauzy, white curtains, he could just make out the glow of flames.

  Open flames. Open fire.

  All his firefighter instincts kicked in and Hudson found himself running at top speed, crossing the street, crossing the lawn, crossing the porch, and kicking in the door.

  A scream tore through the previously silent air and Hudson stopped in the middle of a very dark living room. Instead of a blazing Christmas tree, he was shocked to find a wide-eyed woman in a white nightgown, standing in front of a giant pot-belly stove. High flames licked up through the holes.

  His instincts drove him toward the fire. It was dangerous for her to have open flames in the house.

  Without a word, she hauled back the long, pan-like apparatus in her hand and swung. It smacked Hudson on the side of the head and he went down in a shower of sparks.

  Chapter 2

  Sadie Capshaw stomped at the embers around the guy’s head and tried to collect her wits. She put the chestnuts down on the potbelly stove and swept her sweater coat off the back of the couch to cover herself. Her hands grasped at the empty pockets in panic.

  911. She needed to call 911.

  The intruder groaned, rolling on the floor. Should she go get a knife? Or try to find one of her uncle’s guns? No. She should call 911.

  Did they even have 911 in a tiny town like Somewhere?

  Sadie couldn’t make out much in the dark. But she did see the chestnut pan still lying there. The stranger groaned again and attempted to get up.

  She grabbed the chestnuts and held them out like a weapon. “Don’t you get up. I’ve called the police.”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t understand and Sadie backed up another step.

  “I said don’t get up. I mean it, the police are on their way.”

  The man rolled onto his back and enunciated carefully. “I’m here to save you.”

  Sadie looked around the living room. Was there another intruder here somewhere? She swung the chestnuts around. “You’re the one who broke into my house.”

  “To save you.” He pointed to his t-shirt, as though it explained something, but she couldn’t read it in the mostly-dark.

  “This is a little extreme for neighborhood watch.”

  He pulled the logo toward her: Long Rock County Fire and Rescue. “Firefighter,” he said.

  “Well, there’s no fire here, jackass.” She levered the roaster open and moved it down toward the firefighter.

  He jumped out of the way. Jittery one.

  “I’m just showing you the chestnuts,” Sadie said.

  “Chestnuts?” His brows drew together. “What the hell are the chestnuts on fire for?”

/>   “They’re not on fire.” She dropped the roaster beside him, so low, it was almost too heavy to keep steady. He reached out his hand, as though he planned to catch the thing, but she hoisted it back up. “Don’t. You’ll burn yourself,” she warned. “I’m just showing you.”

  “I’ve seen chestnuts before, thanks.”

  “Then it shouldn’t surprise you to see them being roasted.”

  He shook his head and pulled himself into a sitting position. She couldn’t help noticing how nicely flat his stomach was, and how his shoulders filled out that t-shirt.

  Stop it, Sadie. The whole point of the stupid list was to replace these thoughts. Although if following the list was going to get her a firefighter in her living room, maybe it was a flawed concept.

  She glanced at the potbelly stove and the firefighter’s eyes followed hers. “I had the flames up a little high, maybe, on the stove, so I could actually roast them on an open fire.”

  “You’re roasting chestnuts on an open fire?” He leaned an elbow on his knee. “Isn’t that a Christmas cliché?”

  Sadie crossed her arms. “You’re a Christmas cliché.”

  “What was that?” A smirk rolled across his face. For the first time, she noticed a hint of dimples in his smile.

  “Nothing.”

  He pushed himself up and kept coming until he was standing. Sadie had to back up before he popped her bubble.

  “I’m sorry for busting in on your…” He gestured to the roaster and around the room. “I’m not quite sure what I busted up, to be honest.”

  “I was just trying to roast some chestnuts.” Sadie put the roaster on top of the stove, over the lid that had housed the higher flames until she’d closed it.