McKenzie's Turn to Fall: A Holiday Romance

by Harlow James

  McKenzie’s Turn to Fall

  A Holiday Romance

  BY HARLOW JAMES

  Copyright © 2020 Harlow James

  McKenzie’s Turn to Fall

  Cover Design: Jamerson at Cover Babes Designs

  All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The eBook may not be re-sold or given away to another person except when loaned out per Amazon’s lending program. If you’re reading this book and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then it was pirated illegally. Please purchase a copy of your own and respect the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To any woman who struggles with insecurities.

  There is a man out there that will love you for exactly who you are—not your pant size or your age.

  But for the person you prove yourself to be.

  And don’t forget: If you want to eat the cookie, eat the fucking cookie.

  “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.”

  Oscar Wilde

  Chapter 1

  McKenzie

  “Come on …” I drag out on a groan while shoving another cookie in my mouth. Damn Keebler and their Pecan Sandies. That little elf and his cookies are my kryptonite.

  “That’s it… you know you both want that same flavor. But please, keep dancing around each other.” The sound of my chewing echoes in my ears as I wait on pins and needles for the moment to occur—that brush of a hand or arm that ignites a flurry of excitement in them.

  The woman finally grabs the freezer handle and opens the door to reach in for her purchase and like any normal man, he’s completely oblivious to the opportunity in front of him. She’s bent over as her eyes bounce across the row of ice cream flavors and he’s looking above her like there’s not an ass just a few feet south of his eyes.

  The woman grabs her selection with a pleased smile on her face—the same one I get when I stare at a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and know it will cease to exist later tonight once I devour the entire thing—and she places it in her cart before steering away from the perfect moment that could have transpired in love.

  “Damn it,” I grate before popping the last bite of my cookie in my mouth and reaching into my purse for my phone.

  “Did it happen?” My best friend, Brooke, exclaims the second she picks up.

  “Nope. I thought maybe it would. It was the perfect moment—she was bent over in front of him reaching into the freezer for the ice cream, but he didn’t even acknowledge her.”

  Brooke sighs in disappointment. “Maybe he’s gay. Any self-respecting straight man would have at least snuck a glance.”

  As soon as she says the words, the man’s partner comes around the corner and kisses him on the lips as he deposits a frozen pizza into their cart.

  “Damn. You’re right. His boyfriend just joined him.”

  “See. Told ya.”

  I huff and then grip the handle of my shopping cart to turn around while holding my phone between my shoulder and ear as I reach for another cookie.

  “What flavor did you decide on today?”

  “Pecan Sandies,” I mumble around my bite as I steer my cart towards the produce section. Lord knows I should be snacking on carrots instead of cookies while I shop, but let’s be real—I didn’t get an ass like this from eating vegetables ‘round the clock.

  I glance at my reflection in the glass doors of the frozen foods section as I pass by. Curvy would be an understatement in describing my jean clad ass. Let’s just say I could give Kim Kardashian a run for her money in the ass department, except I am far more classy than her. As my eyes travel up my mirror image, my softly curled red hair bounces with each step under my crocheted beanie and a few crumbs of cookie dust my fair-skinned chin and maroon sweater.

  “God, I look pathetic, Brooke,” I say as I wipe away the mess on my face and head towards healthier food.

  “I seriously doubt that. You are sexy, Mac, and you’re doing research for your job. Although I’m beginning to wonder if you’re putting all of your eggs in one basket with this meet-cute idea.” Only a few people in my circle can call me Mac and get away with it, and she’s one of them.

  “I know … but once I read that article, I’ve just become infatuated with this idea. There have to be more people that fall in love over food.”

  My mind veers back to the article that started this crazy obsession of mine. As a romance author, I’m constantly looking for the next fresh idea to write a story about. One day, I was scrolling through Facebook and came across an article about a couple who fell in love in Costco while reaching for the same container of their macaroni and cheese that you take home and cook yourself. The man and woman shared a good laugh and by the end of the conversation, he asked her out on a date. The rest was history and when it came time for him to propose, he did it right in front of the mac and cheese at the Costco where they met, and they even did a photo shoot in the establishment in their wedding gear. It was THE cutest thing I had read and as a food connoisseur myself, I became obsessed with the idea that this could happen in real life.

  Even though I write fiction for a living and create happily ever after’s for my characters instead of finding my own, the romantic in me wants to believe that this can happen to anyone anywhere, not just in the magical place that is Costco.

  “It’s easy to fall in love with food …but over food? I don’t know. You’ve been scoping out the grocery store for weeks now and you’ve seen a few close calls, but nothing yet that looks promising. Are you sure you don’t want to go to Costco and try stalking people there?”

  I chuckle and then turn the corner where a rainbow of colors assaults my eyes. The produce section always looks so beautiful—you’d think fruit and vegetables would taste better.

  “No. I don’t want to recreate the exact same story. I need to witness it for myself. Besides, Costco is a thirty minute drive from my house. That’s a lot of gas money when our neighborhood market is just up the street.”

  “True,” she agrees. “But soon I wonder if the manager is going to ask you to leave.”

  I shake my head even though she can’t see me while I choose a bunch of bananas and place them in my cart, the greener the better to give me more time to convince myself that I’ll actually eat them. “No. I spoke with Marsha a few weeks ago when she saw me eating a package of cookies while I strolled through the store. I explained what I was doing and that I intended to pay for the cookies when I checked out. She loved the idea and has been checking in with me steadily each week.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  My eyes veer over to a man and woman choosing zucchini from the produce shelf just as the misters turn on to wet the vegetables. The lady gasps and closes her eyes as the water bathes her face. The man steps back in time to avoid the water, and watches as the woman gets a free shower. Instead of asking if she was okay, he reaches past her, yanks a few stalks of zucchini from the shelf, and then walks away.

  “I swear, I’m just beginning to lose faith in men at this point, Brooke.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  I recall the moment I just witnessed as I hear her cringe on the other end of the phone.<
br />
  “Well, I don’t think falling in love over zucchini is quite romantic anyway.”

  “Why? It’s a phallic-shaped food …it screams sex.” I laugh and then grab a bag of apples from the display. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Okay, well keep me posted. Maybe check out the deli? I think many people could fall in love over cheese and meat.”

  “Oh! Cheese is a food group in itself. I just might have to venture over there. I tried that area at first, but then I became fixated on the ice cream idea since I feel like everyone loves ice cream, except for our friend, Gretchen. Weirdo.”

  “Well, almost everyone likes cheese too. Maybe it’s just a dairy thing? I feel like it really is the best part of the food pyramid.”

  Her declaration makes me laugh again as I grab a microwave bag of broccoli and throw it in my cart, knowing I’ll probably just toss it in the trash before I get around to eating it. I might as well just throw four bucks in the garbage at this point.

  “Okay, I’m heading over there. I’ll call you later. We still on for happy hour Friday?”

  She scoffs. “Uh, duh! That’s our thing.”

  “Yes it is. Talk to you soon.”

  We hang up as I spin around to grab a few more things I need for the week. It’s a Tuesday night and even though I frequent the store at least three times a week right now as I wait for my meet-cute to come to fruition, Tuesdays are when I get my own shopping done as well. The sales change on Wednesdays when the new store ad comes out, so on the night before I can get items discounted and save a few bucks.

  I’m not hurting for money, but I also know that my income is never guaranteed. I’ve been a full-time writer for two years now after I quit my corporate job when one of my releases went viral and raced up the best seller’s charts. With over twenty books under my belt, my hobby and past time I fell in love with in the evenings turned into a full-fledged career, which is probably why I want this story to be a hit. You’re never guaranteed that your next book will do well, so I feel the need to constantly top what I did last time.

  I’ve created a brand of romantic comedies that readers flock to and love enormously. It’s never lost on me how blessed I am that women and men want to read my stories day after day, and I want them to always know what to expect from a story from me. I strive to give them entertainment and an escape from reality, and I’m sure that once this story comes to fruition in my mind, they will fall in love with it to.

  The sad thing is, I’ve never experienced writer’s block like I have in the last month. I’ve never gone this long without writing something, and it’s freaking me out. Not only am I not able to create a new story—believe me, I’ve tried five times now based on this idea—but my livelihood depends on me being able to pump out new books quickly.

  Additionally, it’s hard to write happily ever after’s day after day when you haven’t experienced one yourself. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated, but I’ve never found the all-consuming love that I create for my characters—the alpha man that adores his woman and dotes on her constantly, basically worshipping the ground she walks on. I know that there are real men out there like that—they can’t possibly just exist in the fictional universe—but writing and reading about love can make you jaded sometimes and I think that’s another thing that’s preventing me from being able to bring this story to life.

  My entire life revolves around food—and if you say yours doesn’t, we can’t be friends. So why can’t I find two people who can fall in love over the one thing that life is centered around—feeding our stomachs? And in turn, hopefully my creativity will spark again for a love story that will stand the test of time.

  I see that the lines at the registers are backed up, blocking the main aisle that guides you to the other side of the store where the deli is, so I decide to cross the store in the back, along the meat counter. As I’m pushing my cart, I see something that triggers an idea in my head, so I stop and reach for my notebook from my purse frantically. I never know when inspiration is going to strike for a story, so I started carrying around a spiral notebook with me everywhere I go.

  As I jot down the idea before it escapes my brain, I smack my tongue on the roof of my mouth, dying for a drink of water. Those cookies are good, but not super moist.

  “Too many Sandies today?”

  A deep voice interrupts my thoughts as my head pops up to locate the owner, spinning from side to side while I question if that acknowledgment was meant for me.

  A short whistle rings out and pulls my attention to behind the meat counter. “Over here.”

  I swear my heart pauses mid-pump as I take in the brawny man staring back at me, his head covered with that white paper hat that must be part of the butcher’s uniform.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t know how you eat those cookies, especially when everyone knows that the elf cookies with the double fudge in the middle are the best ones Keebler makes.”

  My eyes drift down to the half-eaten package of cookies in the child’s seat in my cart and then pop back up to stare at the insanely attractive man again. How on earth have I not noticed him back there before?

  “But for those I need a glass of milk, so I guess you’re shit out of luck no matter what you choose, huh?”

  “Have you …” my head spins around, as if there are people watching our exchange. I’m standing in front of a display of chips on the end cap of an aisle facing the meat counter while my eyes focus on the white button down shirt on this guy as it stretches across his broad chest while he smirks in my direction. “Have you been watching me?”

  His smile builds with a glimmer in his eye as if he’s happy he’s been caught. “It’s hard to miss you. Your hair alone is pretty eye-catching.”

  I internally roll my eyes because I’ve heard comments made about my naturally orange-red hair before.

  “But it’s your smile I couldn’t help but see, especially when you take the first bite of a cookie.” He chuckles and then looks back down at the slab of meat he’s feeding through the electric knife. “Ah!” His scream startles me, my hand flying up to cover my heart as he looks up at me with wide eyes and a red face. “My hand! Look what you made me do!” He raises his hand in the air and it’s completely covered in blood.

  I lift my hands to cover my mouth in shock while muttering, “Oh, my God!”

  But he throws his head back in laughter as one of the other men behind the counter comes over and nudges him playfully.

  “You’re a dick, Dylan,” he chastises as the attractive man’s eyes find mine again.

  “That was not funny!” I say as I drop my hand from my racing heart and move my cart closer to the glass display case, my blood boiling as I watch his body vibrate from his subsiding chuckles.

  “Sorry,” he says, still laughing as he picks up a piece of blood covered meat. “Must have hit a vein still full of blood. It happens sometimes. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

  I inhale sharply and then shake my head at him, clenching my jaw in anger. “I don’t appreciate being scared shitless. I’m just trying to do my grocery shopping.”

  “While eating…” he says as my brow scrunches in confusion while I watch him move to the sink to wash his hands.

  “Huh?”

  “The cookies?” His eyes dip down towards my cart, directing my attention there as well.

  “Oh, well yes. There’s nothing worse than shopping on an empty stomach. You spend way too much unnecessary money that way.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He grins again, flashing a set of pearly white teeth at me while drying his hands on a paper towel. I take that moment to study his face—his chiseled jaw covered in light brown stubble, his blue eyes that twinkle in the florescent lighting above him, his lips that continue to curl upward as he catches me staring.

  He tosses the paper towel in the trash and then moves closer. “Like something you see?”

  I shake my head, trying to pretend like I wasn’t just
caught checking him out.

  “What?” Great. Apparently my vocabulary has been reduced to single words at the sight of this man.

  “Are you thirsty?” His long arm reaches over the meat counter now, over the glass windows encasing steaks, roasts, marinated chicken, and burgers galore. My mouth starts watering at the sight of all of the meat in front of me—both animal and man.

  I glance at the clear plastic cup of water he’s holding out for me. “Is that safe to drink?”

  With a roll of his eyes, he retracts the cup and downs it himself, smacking his lips as his eyes find mine again. “Would I have drank that if it were contaminated?”

  I shrug, not quite sure how I started talking to a butcher while doing my grocery shopping, but not hating that it’s happening. “You probably have some kind of iron stomach.”

  He smacks his abs beneath his shirt and if the noise coming off of them is any indication, I’d say my assumption is correct. “I’m actually pretty sensitive on the inside, but I promise I’m not trying to poison you.” He turns around and refills the glass and then outstretches his arm again. “Just take it…”

  Eyeing him skeptically, I decide my dry mouth is more pressing than my need to question this man and his motives. So I accept the water and down it in just a few gulps, clicking my tongue when I’m finished in satisfaction. “Thank you, Dylan.”

  “You’re welcome …”

  “McKenzie,” I finish as his face lights up.

  “McKenzie. I like it. It suits you.”

  I arch a brow. “Really? How so?”

  Squinting at me now, he shakes his head in contemplation. “I don’t know. It just does. I’ve sort of been wondering what the name was of the cookie monster trolling the store.”

  I gasp in horror. “You’ve been calling me the cookie monster?”

  His laugh is back and deeper than before, igniting a flurry in my stomach. “In my head. Don’t worry, I don’t know that the other guys behind the counter have been watching you like I have.”

  I tilt my head at him. “I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”