Remember the story of the Turtle and the Hare?  Well, for 2012 I've decided to stop trying to be something I'm not, I've decided to stop writing like anyone other than ME.

I've decided to embrace my inner turtle!

For the last few years I gave myself daily writing goals of thousands of words, then kicked myself every night when my numbers fell short.

Then I gave myself weekly goals of thousands of words, once again to feel guilty or disgusted when I didn't hit my goals.

In the end, all the big numbers posted on the cork-board over my desk did nothing to motivate me, in fact, it did nothing but scare the crap out of me everyday!

Clearly I needed a new plan.

Enter the turtle.

Just before the new year, I sat myself down and analyzed how I work best – and giving myself huge goals didn't make the list. Giving myself a giant goal for the week or the month or even the year is more like a noose for me or just plain quicksand. In a word, paralyzing.

I thought about how I motivated my kids when they were small – YES! I am the star on the calendar kind of girl. I am firm believer in the small successes lead to major accomplishments way of thinking, the whole "slow and steady wins the race" philosophy.

How often do you hear, be yourself in every aspect of life. We don't all fit into a one-size fits all box – we don't all have to write the same way. We don't all have to write 2000 words a day or 20,000 words a week. Yes, we have to write, but for each of us the numbers will vary, just like our plots. And for me, without the 1000 word a day noose around my neck, my inner muse is finally opening up and showing up for work.

I've adopted a very small, very achievable plan of writing 212 words a day – close to one single page. Slow, steady and ONWARD! It's working. I've finished a chapter without the guilt of thinking it should have been last week. My family sees a happier me, and those small numbers not only give me the sense of positive results every day, they really do add up!

What about you?

I didn't achieve those dreams. Well not entirely. I'm not a marine biologist, though my fascination with the ocean and marine life is still alive and well. I do consider myself an artist though. Instead painting on canvas with oils and skilled brush strokes, I create art by painting a picture with words. If I do it well enough, you as the reader will feel as though the story comes alive for you. Like you are actually right there with the characters every step of their journey.

I consider this dream to be an everlasting work in progress. Each time I sit down and open my manuscript, it is an opportunity to grow and perfect my piece of art. I want to learn from the authors I admire and aspire to be like. My critique partners each serve as my teachers (though they may not realize it). They share their strengths through their feedback, they encourage me to see the beauty in what I've created, and most importantly… they keep me positive, grounded, and somewhat focused on the larger picture. And of course my own personal tidbit of advice… listen and don't be afraid to pursue opportunities that fall into your lap.

Once you decide on that dream, the one you can't live without achieving, you want to immerse yourself in the pursuit of it. You want to surround yourself with people who can help you along your journey. So do tell, what do you want to be when you grow up and what little tips and tricks do you have to share about your journey to success?

Every year people rush to make their resolutions. I resolve to get in shape, to lose weight, to finish that manuscript from 1988 about the robots from outer space who come to Earth because of Boy George and Cindy Lauper.

You know what happens to about 98.7% (a figure I made up just for this post) of those resolutions? They get forgotten. The pressure becomes to much and they barely make it past the first month. We forget about them.

No longer will this be the case for this zombie slaying, faerie loving, kilt obsessed author. Oh no. Starting with the year 2012, this will now become the time that I set goals. Small or big it matters little. I know I can hear you back there. "But Moira aren't goals the same thing as resolutions?"

To that I say… bah! The word resolution seems to be steeped in a cloak of negativity. They seem destined for failure. In all actuality, the word just seems to damn big. Perhaps resolution needs to go on a diet?

Okay I'm off my soapbox. My goals for the year have been set. They aren't huge. They are attainable…for the most part. Some might need a little push from cupid, others might need the every present and helpful support of my PC Girls to see come to fruition, but all in all they are goals I can live with. Goals that can be reached. So who's with me? Who is bucking the Resolution tradition and climbing on the back of the Goal Bandwagon with me? Bethanne's got the coffee back here. Silke brought-well if you want to know what everyone brought I guess you will have to just climb aboard and share!

I wrote and edited.

I submitted something…. yet at this point, I can't even remember what that was [maybe it's just a figment of my imagination].

I moved. I settled–mostly.

I am ready for the New Year.

Come on in and tell me what your New Year looks like to you.

Have a Happy One!!

May God Bless it with the satisfaction of success.

      “Crap!” Dakota rolled over and hit the alarm. Calming Bridezilla hadn’t gone well last night. Watching her best friend turn from cool as a cucumber, into a hysterical harpy, had shot her nerves. She was convinced that getting married around a major holiday was suicidal. Hell, it had taken half a bottle of Merlot just to help her fall asleep. 

       A quick shower, conservative up do, a dusting of light make-up, and she was out the door in record time. Perhaps the day wouldn’t be so bad. She approached the candy apple red Mustang and groaned when she saw the flat tire. “For Pete’s sake!”
       This was not happening. Today of all days.
       “Ms Schaeffer?” A security guard climbed out of the patrol cart.
       “Saw the flat tire while making my rounds. Thought you might need some help.”
       After a brief exchange, the tire was changed and she was on her way. The coffee shop  just around the corner from her work knew exactly what she liked and she drove through for her vanilla soy latte. She purred as the warm liquid slid down her throat. Perhaps her Secret Santa left her a little something in her office. That would put a much needed smile on her face, because the way her day was going, she’d be lucky to survive the rehearsal.
       She pulled into the parking garage under Ulterior Motives Marketing. Climbing out of her car, she spotted Ethan Nash, the guy she secretly longed for. Dakota balanced the coffee in her hand along with her briefcase and, as she closed the car door, spilled the hot liquid all over her. “Damn it!”
       “Everything okay?” Ethan rushed over and took the briefcase from her.
       “No. Just a crappy day that seems determined to not get any better.” She looked in the window at the driver’s seat. “Fantastic. I locked my keys in the car.”
       “Ah, chin up.” He pulled out his phone and called a car service. “No it’s not my car. I was a passenger in the vehicle. Yes, carpooling is a good thing. Thanks.”
       Ethan dropped the phone into the pocket of his black pressed slacks. “Someone will be here in thirty minutes. They’ll call when they get closer.”
       “Thanks.” She took back her things and they walked in to the office building.
       “So why the rough morning?”
       “Overslept.”
       “Too much late night television huh?” He smiled and she felt her cheeks flush.
       “More like too much Bridezilla.” She turned away from him. “Thanks for the help.”
       “No problem.”
       When lunch rolled around, her day seemed to be on the upswing. Car keys were back in her purse. Work was caught up. Boss wasn’t upset over the tardiness.
       Still, she was disappointed there’d been no package from her Secret Santa. Maybe the mystery person was having a rough day as well.
       The streets were wet and crowded. The hustle and bustle of holiday shopping was at a fever pitch. The clock was ticking down and people were feeling the pressure. She'd already gotten several calls from her mom, upset Dakota wouldn’t be home for Christmas. The chance she’d catch a flight home after the wedding was slim to none. Christmas! What a dreadful time to be maid of honor. No time for the normal Christmas traditions or truly feeling the magic that surrounds the holidays. Oh well, she thought as she stepped up to the corner and waited for the light to change. A truck sped up just as the light turned red and doused her in muddy water.
       She sank onto the bench behind her and buried her face in her hands.  Could she crawl back in bed and start all over again? Or at least sleep through until her best friend’s wedding had passed? As if she needed any help killing off her hopes for reciprocating attraction, Ethan’s cologne permeated the air around her. Now? How is it he found her now? Mud girl chic was not the fashion statement she wanted to make to anyone, let alone him.
       “Here. You look like you could use this.”
       A cup of warm, lovely, rich, energizing coffee slid into her view. She took it, still staring down into her lap.
       “So the bad day continues huh?”
       “Understatement of the year.” She glanced at him.
       “Dakota, you look like hell.”
       “Thanks. You really know how to cheer a girl up.”
       “Can’t show my sensitive side in public. I’d have to turn my man card in.” Ethan chuckled, sat next to her and leaned back against the bench. “You could make this look work. It is casual Friday after all.”
       That made her smile. His sense of humor might have been slightly warped, but his timing was always impeccable.
       “You’re giving me far more fashion credit than I deserve. My idea of casual Friday is jeans, a tank top, and flip flops. Not exactly company dress code.”
       “Now, the Dakota I know would find a way to make do.” He winked and his baby blues twinkled with a mischievous glint. This man was trouble…at least where she was concerned. “See you later, Dakota Schaeffer.”
       Dakota watched him walk towards the café and disappear through the doors. Oh if only she had a fairy godmother who felt generous around Christmas time. Her phone buzzed in her purse and she pulled it out and glanced at the display. A text flashed across the screen.
       Better get moving. Only thirty minutes left for your lunch break.
       He was right. Not a lot of time, but enough. With time and options limited, she went to her car.

      Ethan watched her through the café window, feeling very much like a perverse voyeur. He needed her to leave the bench. If she didn’t then there was no way he could get into the used bookstore on the other corner without her seeing him. Two years of friendship and conversations, he was finally ready to make his move. Only it couldn’t be small. One thing he’d learned about her—she needed a little variation from the norm.
       Too bad he didn’t get to the bookstore before it closed last night. Otherwise this morning might have looked up a little for her. If even just for an hour or two. He sent off the text message and waited. Dakota got up from the bench and hurried off. Perfect. He rushed across the street and had the package wrapped and ready for delivery.
       “Whatcha got there?” Dave, a fellow advertising executive, caught up to him at the main entrance to the office building.
       “Last minute Christmas shopping.”
       “For the girlfriend? I thought you guys broke up.”
       Dave was worse than a girl. Knew as much of the office gossip as any of the women in the company ranks.
       “We did. This is for a friend who needs a little cheering up.”
       “Cool. You sure you want to go to that wedding thing tonight? Boys and I are going to hit the clubs pretty hard tonight.” Dave started dancing, though it looked more like a seizure. 
       “No way. My buddy would kill me if I didn’t show.”
       “Your loss man.”
       Ethan breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the man leave. A glance around the lobby confirmed there were no witnesses, and he dropped the wrapped package into the interoffice mail before heading up to his office.

      “Dakota, we got another one here. Little later than usual though.” Kate, the company mail clerk, set the package on her desk.
“Thanks.” Dakota admired the wrapping, her mood improving with the promise of what hidden treasure lay within the box.
“I’m dying to know who it’s from. Will you share all the details when you find out?”
       “Not likely.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the reflective embossed red paper.
       “You are no fun.”
       “Just don’t want to feed the gossip hounds. You ladies do very well without help.” Dakota dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk and slid the package to the side. There would be no unveiling in front of Kate.
       “Speaking of gossip, what’s with your clothes?”
       “The outfit is purely the result of bad luck.” Without glancing at the woman, she flipped the monitor back on and typed in her password.
       “Whatever the reason, you look great.”
       “Thanks.”
       “Well, I hope Secret Santa turns out to be worthwhile. Lots of ladies are quite envious of the special gifts you’ve been getting.” There was a slight note of jealousy in her voice.
       “Merry Christmas Kate.” Dakota said, trying to casually dismiss the woman, though the sentiment was heartfelt.
       “Merry Christmas. See you when you get back from vacation.”
       The woman left, closing the door behind her. Dakota slid the package back to the center of her desk. The red paper reflected the light from her computer, casting a pretty stream of patterns across the dark wood surface it sat on. The clue wasn’t in the wrapping though and she slowly slid the bow off and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled in black tissue paper was a worn leather bound copy of the works of Edgar Allen Poe. Who could possibly know she liked Poe? She glanced up, looking through the glass window to see if anyone was watching her—hoping that maybe her Secret Santa would be waiting to see her reaction with anticipation. No one seemed too concerned with her. She returned her attention to the book and carefully opened the cover. A typed note was inside.
       Tonight, at O’Shaugnessy’s Tavern, five p.m. if you want to find out who I am.
       Right before the rehearsal and dinner. It would be close, but the tavern was just down the street from the restaurant. She could make it work. Her phone rang and she glanced at the caller I.D. She sighed. The phone kept ringing and she picked it up. “What now? Cake emergency, dress, or flowers?”
       “More of an M.I.A. best man.”
       “What do you want me to do about it Alex?”
       “Find him for me. Before the rehearsal. If he’s not there, Sam’s going to go ballistic.”
       Her best friend sounded on edge. “I don’t even know what he looks like. How am I supposed to find him Alex?”
       “I don’t know. He’s probably holed up in a damn pub somewhere.”
       “Deep breaths. Everything’s worked out so far.”
       “You’re right. Don’t be late okay?”
       “Not on your life.”

      Ethan sat in the bar, twisting a paper napkin between his fingers. He dropped it on the table, staring down at the bits of white fluff he’d crumbled onto the surface. She might not show. After all, the rehearsal dinner was tonight and he could make the reveal there, but it wasn’t the right place to do such things. Tonight was about Sam and Alex, this moment though…this brief hour before dinner was all his.
       He saw her enter, still in the same cocktail dress she’d put on after the mud fiasco.  The blotchy patches on her chest revealed how nervous she was. She strolled over to the bar and talked to the bartender for a moment. The man smiled at her, handed her a Guinness and a note. She read it then turned around with the beer in hand, stopping for just a moment when she saw him. Puzzlement settled over her, but she came and slid into the empty seat across from him.
       “Hey Ethan, what are you doing here?”
       “I could ask you the same thing. Don’t you have a rehearsal dinner to go to?”
       “Yes, but…” She leaned back in the chair and glanced around the bar.
       “But what?”
       The small clutch she’d set on the table began to vibrate and she slid her phone out of it. “Sorry could be another wedding emergency.”
       “Price you pay for being the maid of honor huh?”

      Dakota stared down at the display, then back up at the man sitting across from her, then at the display again.
       I never pegged you as a fan of Poe, hope you liked it. Ethan
       “What?” Her mind raced with a million questions and that was the best she could say? “I mean… you are the Secret Santa?”
       “Disappointed?” He asked as he slid out of his chair.
       “No. I’m feeling a lot of things right now; disappointed isn’t one of them.”
       “Good to know.” He flashed that wicked smile at her and she felt a million butterflies take flight in her stomach. “Well, you can tell Alex you’ve found the best man and we are heading towards the rehearsal. After which, you will agree to spend the rest of Christmas with me.”
       “Now why would I do that?” she asked.
       “Because after years of Christmases filled with nothing special, I’d really like to spend this one with the person who’s become my best friend over the last two years—the woman who manages to creep into my thoughts when I least expect it.”
       She stood and slid her hand into his outstretched one. “Guess there’s still a little Christmas magic to be had after all.”

      “Seriously?! You pick today, of all days, to break down?” Evangeline Scroggins, Angel to her friends and family, pounded the steering wheel of her late nineties model sedan. “Just make it to the office and I promise I won’t dump you at the scrap metal yard.”
       She knew it was probably time to either trade in or put some major money into an engine overhaul, but that would mean dipping into her savings or opening up her pocketbook. Maybe she could find a mechanic willing to put another bandage on the car so she could squeeze a few thousand miles more out of it.
       The sedan sputtered and coughed before the engine went silent. Without power steering, Angel manhandled the car off to the side of the dark country highway. She popped the latch to open the hood and cautiously opened the door against the blowing snow.
       “Lovely. You could’ve at least waited until this snow storm passed.” She grumbled and held on to the door frame to keep from busting her butt on the icy pavement.
       The sub-zero air and snow blowing up her long skirt made her think twice. Why was she looking under the hood? She knew the basics but anything beyond that was foreign to her. Angel left the hood up and inched her way back into the sedan.
       She hoped her flashing hazard lights would encourage someone to stop and help, otherwise she was doomed to miss her meeting. A meeting she insisted on having before the holidays using a breach of contract threat. Christmas holiday hype was being pushed to the max because of the commercial value. Department stores were laughing all the way to the bank. Although her loan company usually saw an increase in business, Angel didn’t believe in allowing her customers to become overextended so she wouldn’t have to spend more in labor costs to collect overdue accounts.
       Headlights cut through the blanket of heavy snow and reflected in her rearview mirror. She rolled her window down wide enough to fit her gloved hand out to wave down the slow moving vehicle. Brake lights flashed as the newer model truck slowed and pulled in front of her disabled car. A heavily bundled bulk emerged from the truck. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. With her luck her supposed rescuer would be a highway robber or serial killer.
       “If anyone up there is listening…I promise to be a really good girl if this person doesn’t murder me.”
       Before she could get the window rolled back up, a large hand emerged through the snow and tapped on the window. A face framed in a dark stocking cap and scarf followed and she jumped, realizing it was too late to escape her fate.
       “Hello? Car trouble?” The muffled voice was deep and masculine.
       Now what? It was do or die time. “Um, yes. I think it could be my fuel pump. I had it in the shop a couple of weeks ago but thought I could put off the repairs another month or two.”
       “Let me take a look. Stay warm and it’ll just take a second.” The voice was familiar. No, it couldn’t be. Grandmother Marston mentioned recently he was stationed in Afghanistan until next summer. And he was the last man on earth she wanted coming to her rescue.
       The car shook for a moment and she wondered what the heck he was doing. Angel squeaked when his face unexpectedly popped up against the window. Beau Marston’s gorgeous green eyes stared back at her. Oh, boy. Her heart pounded.
       “Hey, Angel.” His crooked grin caused her stomach to do some serious flip-flops. “I didn’t recognize the car under all that snow and ice. I can’t fix it out here, but you can ride into town with me and I’ll send someone from my shop back to get it.”
       Why did she have to run into the only honest mechanic within a fifty mile radius? Good news for her tight budget, but it was bad news for her pride.
       The jerk was grinning at her and acted like nothing had ever happened between them. She fought the urge to refuse his offer. Unfortunately she had to make her meeting.
       At least she wasn’t going to end up dead on the side of the road.
       “I’ll be right there.”
       He disappeared behind the curtain of snow. Angel dropped her forehead on the steering wheel. The last time she’d spoken with Beau was four years ago when he told her the wedding was off. A couple of months later she’d heard he’d been shipped off to boot camp.
       He was the closest thing to family she had since her father died and her step-mother had kicked her out. Maggie had not been happy when the loan company had been handed to her alone. Angel was devastated when Beau walked away. She hated to give him the satisfaction of knowing she needed his help for anything. Even if it meant handing over money from her savings to a stranger to get her car repaired.
       Angel grabbed her purse and briefcase and took a deep breath. Maybe he’d have the music blaring and they wouldn’t have to talk. She made the short trek through the sharp wind and stinging snow pellets. The door flew open as she reached out and she was flooded with warm air as she dumped herself and belongings in the truck.
       Beau leaned over moving her briefcase so she could have more room for her feet, his face inches from her chest. Angel restrained herself from running her hand through his long hair to push it out of his eyes. She was flooded with the memory of his silky hair brushing against her bare skin as he explored every inch of her.
       “Could you turn the heat down a bit, it’s pretty warm in here.”
       He looked up. The gold flecks in his green eyes mesmerized her, but when he smiled she choked, coughing like a complete ninny on what could only be drool.
       “You ok?” He frowned and pounded her on the back.
       “I’m hot.” Why couldn’t she form a legitimate sentence around this man?
       He chuckled. “I’ll turn the heat down. I turned it up because I thought you’d be freezing from sitting in that cold car. How long have you been stuck?”
       “Not long. But I have a meeting I can’t miss.” She turned to stare out the window so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She could actually think and talk without being a complete idiot as long as she wasn’t distracted by those eyes. That is until she took a deep breath and the familiar woodsy scent she’d loved about Beau overwhelmed her. “Can you drive any faster?”
       “As fast as the slushy roads will let me.”
       She knew he was smiling by the tone of his deep voice. Angel couldn’t help herself and looked over her shoulder only to torture herself with a glimpse of his grin. “I’m sorry to be so pushy but I’m paying extra to have software installed before Christmas. If I’m not there the guy may leave.”
       “Same old Angel. You’re still working as hard as ever, I see.” The smile disappeared and was replaced with a grimace.
       The awkward silence in the truck reminded her of their conversation when Beau had finally called off the wedding. His words ringing in her ears. He’d accused her of abandoning everyone and anything that wasn’t related to the loan company. She’d allowed her hurt and anger to push her into working harder and doubling the profits two years before her goal date.
       She couldn’t contain the urge to explain. “This isn’t just about me. But the new accounting system will free up several employees from working overtime.”
       “You mean you’ll be able to cut back on labor costs by letting someone go,” he replied, shaking his head. She could almost feel the disappointment dripping from his voice.
       “What are you doing here?” Why was she being haunted by him and what could’ve been if she hadn’t put everything she had into turning her father’s company around.
       “My service was up with the Marine Corp and Gram needed me. The man she had running the shop after Pops died was ready to retire. I bought the land off of the highway and started building a couple of houses for Gram and I. You know how independent she is. She refused to stay with me so at least this way I can keep a close eye on her.”
       “You bought the land we looked at where we were planning to put our house?” She couldn’t breathe. He was going through with their plans without her.
       He glanced at her but looked back to watch where he was going. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d still be interested or fork over that kind of money. The guy wouldn’t budge on his price.”
       Angel loved that piece of land. She drove by occasionally just to see if it was still for sale. She’d loved their dreams for the future. But it all fell apart when Beau called it off and left for Afghanistan. They’d both made their choices. Angel’s just happened to mean she’d probably end up a spinster with a house full of cats. Was that what she really wanted?

       After what seemed like forever, they pulled into the parking lot next to her building. The sidewalks would be icy since she’d cancelled the lawn service that usually kept it cleared year round. At the time it seemed like a waste of money. But they’d already had one employee hurt from falling. She should call first thing Monday morning and arrange another service contract. It was definitely cheaper than a worker’s compensation lawsuit.
       “Thank you for the ride. Just call and let me know how much I owe you. I’ll have someone bring me over to the shop before you close.”
       “I’m not opening up the shop today, Angel. It’s Christmas Eve. I want my employees to spend it with their families. I’ll take the tow truck and get your car to see what I can do.”
       “I hate for you to go to any trouble.” She pulled her stuff off of the floor without looking at him. There was no reason to explain why she felt she wasn’t worthy.
       “I’d do it for anyone.”
       And he would. He’d take the shirt off his back if she told him she was cold. That was just Beau. And so not what she’d become. He’d made a point of that in his goodbye speech years ago.
       “Yeah, well, thank you.” She shut the door without waiting for a reply. She couldn’t face that hurt again. Maybe she could get a couple of guys from the office to go pick up her car when it was ready.

       Angel opened the oversized oak door and heard the familiar squeak. That was another call she needed to make. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few things upgraded around the ancient building. She walked into Christmas music blaring in the office and her employees standing around drinking coffee. She walked over to the portable CD player and twisted the knob until the volume was off. She turned to find everyone standing completely still. Her half-brother inched his way through the crowd.
       “Merry Christmas, Angel. I was beginning to get worried, you’re never late. You really need to get a cell phone. I let the IT guy in your office so he could start the install. He thinks he can have everything set up in a few hours. I told the employees they could bring pot luck food to share at lunch.” His rambling distracted her long enough that when she looked over his shoulder to tell everyone they had work to do, heads were down and fingers were tapping on keyboards.
       “That’s fine. Um, I have a few things to take care of but we need to meet before lunch.”
       “Sure. Just buzz my phone when you’re ready.” His normal cheery disposition was gloomy. His smile had always reminded her of their father when he used to patronize her. They were lucky as children to have such an accommodating, doting father. But when it came to business he was a rabid control freak. He’d started grooming her from an early age to take over eventually because he’d always thought Ted didn’t have a backbone.
       “Look, Ted. I know it’s Christmas Eve but we have financials that have to be processed before closing year end. If you don’t think you can get your team to focus then maybe we need to rethink your supervisor position.”
       “You don’t get it, do you? These people aren’t just employees, they’re our neighbors, Angel. Even though the pay is low, they show up everyday and give you everything they’ve got because this business is the most stable thing they’ve got and it keeps a roof over their heads. It feeds their children.” His eyes were bloodshot and he looked exhausted. “I got a call from Katie this morning. Doc Jacobs got the blood work back on Jamie. My baby has Leukemia. And since our company doesn’t offer insurance, there isn’t a treatment available we can afford because they insist we pay for it up front. But I’ll make sure everyone gets back to work as soon as lunch is up and they’ll stay until it’s time to clock out.”
       His explosion caught her off guard. He’d never so much as batted an eye when she gave him instructions or direction. She was floored by his news. Jamie was only four years old. The toddler she remembered was so full of life with blonde curls and rosy cheeks. How could he be facing such a horrendous disease? How could Ted stand there and blurt out that kind of diagnosis and calmly go back to work?
       With a numbness threatening to overwhelm her logical thought process, Angel walked back to her office to touch base with the IT technician and decided to make some calls. She refused to allow hysteria to take control. If Ted could go on as normal, so could she. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?
       She reached up to touch her cheek. Jamie had patted her lightly the last time he’d visited their office and wandered back to where she was working. His sweet baby voice questioning why she hadn’t been over to play with his new train set.

       A while later, she was startled when Ted opened the door to the back office she’d escaped to so she could make some calls. His expression guarded. “Hey, I hate to disturb you. But did you know Beau is back in town? He’s here and says he has your car. Why didn’t you tell me you broke down on the way to work?”
       With all of his problems, Ted was still worried about her. He was constantly inviting her to spend time with his family and she’d always made excuses. He’d even asked her repeatedly to spend Christmas day with them. It’s not that she didn’t want to. Being around his boisterous, loving family reminded her of what she gave up.
       “Tell him I’ll be right with him. I need to grab my checkbook.” She glanced at the clock amazed that it was already noon. She opened her desk drawer to pull out her purse.   
       “No need,” Beau replied, filling her doorway. “I had the part lying around and it didn’t take long to repair. Merry Christmas.”
       “Oh, well, um. Ok.  Are you sure?”
       “Ted says they have eggnog and fudge in the conference room. I’ll let you buy me a drink and we can call it even.” His grin lit up the office. He had a way of making her heart dance when he entered a room. The anger she’d held onto for so long seemed so insignificant now.
       She pulled her wallet from her purse and started toward the door. “You’ve got to let me pay you something. You can’t afford to fix everyone’s car for free.”
       “I get plenty of business to pay the bills. I make it a point to pay it forward when I can for all the people that helped Gram and our family when my parents died. And they were there for her when Pops died and I couldn’t get home for the funeral.” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her hair. “Gram told me how much you did to help her.”
       “I didn’t do much. Just took her some food because I knew she wouldn’t make time for herself to eat. All I could really do was direct all the people bringing her food and flowers. It looked like she was a little overwhelmed.” Angel backed away to give herself some breathing room. She was sure he could see her heart pounding furiously.
       “She was. She still is a little lost without having to take care of Pops. She keeps harping on me to give her some great-grandbabies.”
       The thought of Beau having the babies they’d dreamed of made her heart just about jump out of her chest. Something must’ve come loose because Angel could swear it dropped into her stomach instead. “Three.”
       The look in his eyes and raised eyebrow told her that he remembered.
       “So they won’t be lonely and always have someone to play with if the other was mad at them,” he said quietly, raising his arm above her, and she realized he was holding a piece of mistletoe. “I’ll even settle for a kiss.”
       His soft spoken promise calmed her racing pulse. She leaned against him and lifted her head to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be the cat lady everyone pities.”
       “You don’t have to be,” he said as he lowered his head to gently brush a kiss against her lips. He pulled her against him. “It’s said to be the season of miracles.”
       “I pray you’re right. I’ve had some time to think today about a lot of things. How it used to be between us and how empty my life is now. Life is too short and fragile to waste it chasing a dollar. I want the kids and the house on the hill we dreamed about before I became obsessed with the financial side of our dreams. I thought if I built up the business it would provide for our future. But I don’t want that future if it doesn’t include you.” She closed her eyes. Angel was afraid she’d misunderstood his intentions and didn’t want to face the pity in his eyes.
       Beau’s soft touch lifted her chin up, prompting her to look at him. His beautiful green eyes shone with the love she’d craved for years after he left home. “I’m willing to see where things lead if you think you’re ready to make that happen. Can you put the same dedication into building a home and family now?”
       “I have something I have to do first.” She reluctantly stepped out of his arms.
       He nodded as if he understood and followed her into the conference room where the employees had gathered. Voices trailed off as everyone turned quietly, expecting her to scold them for not working.
       “If you’ll please stop by Anne’s office in payroll before you leave, I have a little bonus for you guys. And we’ll also be adding insurance to your benefit package. I appreciate all of your hard work and dedication to Ted and I. You guys are free to go after you eat and when we come back from Christmas holiday, Ted will be taking on more of a management role in the company.” Angel turned to look up at Beau as he stepped up behind her and put his arm around her shoulder. “I may be taking some time off before long.”
       Well wishes and holiday cheer erupted around the room. Beau squeezed her shoulders and stepped back as Ted pulled her into a bear hug.
       “You won’t regret this. I’m glad to see you happy again,” Ted whispered in her ear. “The invitation is still open for Christmas.”
       “I wouldn’t miss spending time with you and your beautiful family. We’ll work together to use all of our resources to get Jamie the treatment he needs to fight back.” She hugged her brother and felt a lightness in her soul she hadn’t had in years. “I hope it’s ok if I bring a guest?”
       Her brother glanced back at Beau. “He’s not a guest, he’s family.”

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      "This is wrong, and I will not be a part of your schemes."
       Elizabeth "Bitty" Crane kept her back to her husband, pretending she didn't hear him while she filled the display with her freshly baked muffins. She'd already planned her defense knowing his old-fashioned attitude would have him protesting her latest idea.
       George leaned over the counter of the Little Bitty Bake Shop and blocked her retreat to the kitchen.  "I know you heard me, Bitty. You've gone too far this time."
       "I haven't done anything. Sometimes fate just needs a helping hand. And, when it comes to the Starlight Hills Preservation Society, any fundraising is good fundraising. So pipe down and move out of the dark ages."
       George grumbled under his breath as she scooted around him with her empty tray.
       He trailed her into the kitchen, like a bloodhound latched on to a scent. “Auctioning men off to women is just wrong. If a man is interested in a woman he asks her out—it’s that simple."
       "It's all in good fun and will raise money we need to restore the Gallagher Movie Theater." She paused to touch his arm and went in for the kill. "Don't you believe in our cause, George?"
       His brow furrowed with her well-played, guilt-ridden line. It wasn't often in their thirty-three years of marriage she'd resorted to guilt, but this time it was necessary to get him on board. If the women in this town had to wait for the men to do all the asking, they were in big trouble. Their son, Jimmy, was no exception.
       George stared her down and tried to look stern, his caramel-brown eyes narrowing. "Did the rest of your committee agree to this?”
       "In fact, it was almost unanimous." Bitty nodded and began loading her gingerbread muffins onto the empty tray, leaving two to be hand-delivered to Corinne Mackenzie.
       He folded his arms across his chest and shook his full head of thick black hair. "It’s the almost that concerns me."

      Corinne Mackenzie rushed up the steps of Town Hall, anxious to get out of the cold. Once inside, she stomped the snow off her boots while she did a quick scan of the area for any sign of Jimmy Crane. Then she came to her senses. Of course, Jimmy wouldn’t be here. He'd been avoiding her. She knew it. The whole town probably knew it too.
       Determined not to let their break up ruin her holiday, she pushed him out of her thoughts and focused on the woman coming to greet her, bakery bag in one hand and a wide smile on her face. Between them, fresh pine roping hung from the arched entrance to the main hall, fragrant trees stood tall at each side and glistened with tinsel, white lights and red glass ornaments. Festive and magical at the same time. She pulled off her gloves with a relieved sigh, giving the scents of Christmas a chance to surround her.
       "Good morning, Corinne. Fresh from the oven. I know how you love them warm."
       "You do know my weakness, Mrs. Crane." Taking the offered bag, Corinne tried not to think what a wonderful mother-in-law Bitty Crane would have been. Then she thought about her waistline and decided she was better off without the permanent supply of the woman's irresistible carbs.
       On the other hand, maybe it was all those carbs that gave Bitty her boundless energy. Always bobbing here and there, dark brown curls framing her cherubic face, her blue eyes perpetually filled with mischief. Corinne had to give the woman credit. If it wasn't for Bitty, the annual holiday gala might never be the most talked about event of the season it had become over the last few years.
       Bitty took her by the elbow and led her over to the stage.  "There's been a slight change in set-up plans and so much to do before the gala tonight."
       "That's why I'm here," she said with a slight giggle as she ripped apart a muffin and then popped a bite-sized morsel of gingerbread heaven into her mouth. Decorating would also keep her mind off Jimmy and her biggest mistake since the spray-on tan in her senior year of high school had turned her skin fluorescent orange.
       "The rest of the ladies will be here any minute, but we need to move these tables off to the side to make room for the—oh good, Jimmy, you’re here!"
       "You said it was an emergency."
       The sound of his voice pinged along her spine, up to the base of her neck, and she shivered. Before her mouth went completely dry, she swallowed the remaining bits of muffin and hoped she didn't choke. Could there be a more embarrassing way to die than to choke to death while praying for the love of your life to save you with some good old-fashioned mouth-to-mouth?
       While she tried to catch her breath, he walked up beside her and Bitty. After a cursory nod in her direction, he faced his mother. "Okay, you've got me and my tools for the next four hours. Then I have to help Dalton at the Miller house. So, what's this idea of yours?"
       He wore jeans, a plaid flannel shirt in shades of green that opened to a white t-shirt underneath. The irresistible urge to touch his arm made her fingers twitch and her palms sweat. Knowing he'd pull away was the only thing that stopped her. She caught his sideways glance  and he quickly turned his attention back to his mother. Deep in conversation, he pushed a hand through his thick brown hair, which only doubled her desire to move closer and brush the stray lock off his brow.
       She was miserable and she only had herself to blame.
       Jimmy and Bitty talked and laughed, but Corinne didn’t hear a word. She nodded and smiled, but her eyes never left Jimmy's face. They could be discussing the gala or making fun of her new haircut—she'd never know. Whatever his words, his voice soothed the ache in her heart, if only for a few minutes.
       He was thinner than he'd been the last time she'd seen him, a day's growth of beard covered his jaw line and was it a hint of sadness she caught in his eyes? Had it been three weeks since they'd last spoken, three weeks since those lips had touched hers?
       The next thing she knew a box of ornaments and fresh greens had been thrust into her arms. She blinked to clear her daydreaming vision to focus on Bitty and her detailed directions.
       "Don't forget to hang the mistletoe in the doorway," she said with a wink.
       Sometime in the last few minutes, while Corinne had been busy zoning out to her own thoughts of Jimmy's lips on hers, the other committee members had arrived. They were busy moving tables and covering them with bright red tablecloths. Festive Christmas music filled the hall; the ladies began to sing as they worked. She just didn't have it in her to even hum along.
       In what seemed like only minutes, the hall was shaping up to be a winter wonderland. Candles, poinsettias and fresh pine centerpieces adorned every table, gold and silver decorations glittered from the ceilings. With her last decorations hung, she pulled the mistletoe from the box and found herself searching for Jimmy.
       The only man carrying two-by-fours, with a tool belt jingling at his waist, he wasn't hard to find.
       "Can we talk?"
       "I'm a little busy here, Corinne."
       She moved to the opposite side of the platform he was building, hoping to make eye contact. "I guess that’s why you haven't been returning my texts or my calls?"
       "Yeah, well, it's a busy time of year."
       He pulled a nail from his belt and hammered it into the wood between them with a thud. Tears welled up along her lashes, threatening to spill over and for the first time in weeks, she didn't try to stop them. Jimmy needed to see them; he needed to see that he wasn't the only one in pain right now.
       "Jimmy, I didn't think I was ready. I thought you'd understand that I was only asking for time-"
       Bang. He hammered in another nail and then his narrowed eyes met hers across the platform. It might have been the reflections from the Christmas lights blinking around them, but she thought she caught a tear on his lashes too.
       His jaw clenched and then he leaned toward her. "You needed time to decide if you wanted to be my wife? Seems to me that would be something you'd know in your heart. You shouldn't need time to think about it."
       He pulled out another nail and the hammer easily found its mark with another bang. Her whole body stiffened with the vibration and the room suddenly got quiet. All eyes and ears were on them.
       "Can we go outside for a few minutes and talk about this?" She wanted to beg, wanted to reach out and run her fingers over the flannel encasing the muscles of his arm. Most of all, she wanted to lean into his embrace and ask him to forgive her for being scared and not taking the leap of love he'd offered.
       He dropped his hammer on the stage and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Three weeks ago I would have gone anywhere you asked. Time changes things, doesn't it? Well, I don’t have time right now to guess at how you feel."
       With a nod of his head in her direction, he picked up his hammer and walked away. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiped the tears from her cheek and yelled after him, "Stop being so stubborn, Jimmy. What's it going to take? A neon sign for you to understand that I'm telling you how I feel?"
       Corinne stood there and watched his retreating back until he disappeared behind the stage curtains. Bitty's arm snaked around her shoulder and she dangled the sprig of mistletoe in front of her face.
       "Sometimes you have to show a man you mean business."

      Jimmy Crane couldn't remember the last time he'd been this embarrassed.  He'd agreed to build the catwalk down the center of the room never guessing he'd end up walking it himself. Now, he stood behind the red curtain while his very own mother introduced him and planned to auction him off in her "Stud Muffins and Mistletoe" fundraiser!
       He should have known something was up when she insisted he wear a tux tonight.
       "Ladies, get your checkbooks out for our first bachelor of the night, my adorable son, James Thomas Crane!"
       For two horrified seconds, he stood rooted to the floor behind the curtain, his heart thumping to the beat of the music. Strobe lights criss-crossed the stage; whistles and hoots filled the room. He was going to have a serious talk with his mother when this was all over.
       He thought about sneaking out the back door, but he'd have to get by the oldest member of the Starlight Hills Preservation Society. With her hands on his back, eighty-five year old Mrs. Dempsey leaned into him and whispered, "Show 'em what you got, Jimmy, it's for a good cause," and then she shoved him out onto the stage. At least she didn't swat him on the ass.
       The women in the audience were on their feet, but he couldn't imagine any of them paying money for a date with him.
       "Turn around, Jimmy. Don't be shy," his mother called from the podium to his left, as if it were perfectly normal to pimp your own son. "And ladies, he's a handyman, he'll bring all his tools on the date."
       The double entendre met with hoots from the women and groans from the men. He had a really bad feeling about this.
       "A hundred dollars."
       Corinne.
       He couldn't see her, but he knew her voice. Someone else bid a hundred twenty-five and then Corinne was there—directly in front of him, raising her hand. "One hundred fifty."
       There she was, all dressed up in her red velvet dress with its plunging neckline, he found himself stepping closer to the edge of the stage. The single strand of pearls he'd given her last Christmas circled her neck and her long sandy hair was swept back off her face. Seeing her this morning had been torture. It had taken every ounce of strength he'd had to keep from pulling her into his arms and kissing her senseless.
       The sight of her tears nearly undid him. He'd been kicking himself all day for walking away. Why did he do that? Pride or insanity? Those were the only two reasons he came up with, and he wasn't proud of either one. Now here she was, bidding on him—showing the whole town she was ready to be his wife.
       "Two hundred," shouted Melody Miller. 
       The two women stood arm to arm, jockeying for position.
       "Three hundred."
       What was she doing? Corinne didn't have that kind of money.
       Melody elbowed her out of the way, shaking her hips and thrusting out her more than ample chest. "Four hundred."
       Corinne teetered on her high heels and Melody inched closer to the stage. He'd swear she hip-bumped Corinne right into the lap of Lance Baldwin. And Lance, leech that he was, quickly wrapped his arms around her and whispered something in her ear.
       Jimmy's blood boiled in his chest, down to his fingertips. He tried to stare out across the stage and strobe lights to give Lance a warning gesture. Punching a man in the face at the holiday gala would definitely have the town talking all winter.
       "Five hundred for Jimmy, and Lance, let me go!"
       Beautiful and strong-willed, that was his Corinne Mackenzie. His. In that moment, he didn't need to think, didn't need time for his wounded heart to forgive her. He simply needed Corinne in his arms. Now.
       Without a second thought, he walked straight to the edge and jumped to the ground.
       As he hauled Corinne from Lance's arms he heard his mother knock her gavel to the podium to declare Corinne the winner of the first bachelor auction of the night.
       For one second he allowed himself the pleasure of looking deep into her green eyes, glistening in the bright lights and filled with tears of love. The bare skin on her arms brushed­ like silk against his fingertips. The scent of her perfume made him hungry to feel her body against his.
       He pulled her up close and sealed his lips against hers. All satin and warmth and a hint of gingerbread on her breath—Corinne Mackenzie was worth waiting for.
       The Starlight Hills Preservation Society might be five hundred dollars richer, but from where he stood, under the mistletoe with the woman he loved—Jimmy Crane was now the richest man in town.

*The End*

Want more holiday romance? A Knight in Her Arms is my sexy holiday time travel novella  and it's available now for only .99 from: Amazon and Barnes & Noble
 

by
Silke Juppenlatz

      Renee tugged on the fir, guessing the height while she checked the branches. It was a pretty tree, and it would fit her tiny living room.
       “Don’t get that tree.”
       She turned to see who’d murmured the advice, but saw no one. “Excuse me?”
       “It’s lousy for holding needles.” The voice came from behind another tree. “Don’t buy it.”
       “I’m not taking advice from a Christmas tree.” Renee chuckled. “I think you might be telling me fibs, so I take you home with me and get you out of the cold.”
       An answering chuckle sounded through the branches, then a man stepped around the tall tree — and Renee’s mind went blank. Holy crap. Adonis was alive and kicking, and giving Christmas tree advice.
       Adonis winked at her, an amused smile on his lips. “Hey, if it gets me fed, I might just come home with you. I never pass up turkey, especially not if I don’t have to cook it.”
       Renee couldn’t get over the laughing deep blue eyes in a face that belonged on the cover of a magazine. He was about half a foot taller than her. Strong and well built, with long legs encased in denim and a torso covered by a sheepskin jacket, he looked as sturdy as an oak. Unruly dark hair surrounded his face. He reminded her of a Viking she’d once seen — only this guy would give her sigh-worthy painting a run for its money. Where did they make men like him?
       Wait a minute. Had he just invited himself to dinner?
       Ignoring his comment, she smiled back. “So why shouldn’t I get the fir? It’s pretty.”
       “Your fir is a spruce. A Norway Spruce, to be exact. It’ll drop all its needles on the floor if you so much as sneeze.” He took the tree from her, lifted it, and dropped it on its stump. A rain of needles dropped out of it. “See?”
       “Oh.” No, that wouldn’t do. She lifted the label on the tree. “But it says here it’s a fir.”
       “Mislabeled.” A boyish grin lifted the corners of his mouth.
       “All right, not that one then.” She looked around the lot. “What do you suggest?”
       He took her hand and led her to a bluish tinged tree. “This one wants to come home with you.”
       Renee was still recovering from having a large male hand engulf hers and stared at the tree without really seeing it.
       “Your hands are icy, Renee. Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” He took her other hand and held them in his.
       She’d forgotten them, but the warmth from his hands more than made up for it. Wait. “How do you know my name?”
       He flashed another of those cheeky grins at her. “I know everything.”
       “Really.” Despite loving the feel of his hands on hers, she tugged them away and shoved them into her pockets. Everything inside her cried out to snatch his hands back, and not just for the warmth. Damn. What was going on with her? “You’re Santa and you know I’ve been naughty?”
       A sad look entered his eyes as he looked at her. “You haven’t been naughty.”
       No, she hadn’t, and judging by that look — he knew. “Who the hell are you?”
       “Not Santa.”
       No shit. He certainly didn’t look like Santa, or she’d be pushing kids aside for a chance to sit on his knee. And other places. Renee blushed. God, what was she thinking? “How do you know my name?”
       He shrugged. “I just know.”
       Was he some kind of freak stalker? Like she didn’t have enough of those already, what with Brian watching every move she made. Renee pushed the thought of Brian’s obsessive behavior aside. She wouldn’t think about him. Buying her first tree was supposed to have been fun, now it had turned into something sinister instead. She touched the branches of the tree he’d led her to, just to stop herself from reaching for him. The urge was there, and she couldn’t explain it.
       “Renee, I won’t let him hurt you,” the stalker said, taking her hand again. “I promise.”
       Was he reading her mind? Renee yanked her hand back. “All right, mister. Who are you, how do you know my name, and why do you know about Brian?”
       “I’m Maceiriel.”
       She’d never heard such a ridiculous name and didn’t recognize it either. “Go away, Mr. Maceiriel. You’re creepy.”
       He took a step back, clearly offended. “It seems I don’t know everything, after all.”
       “Must come as a shock.”
       Those beautiful eyes cooled and he turned to walk away. “I didn’t know you were so mean.”

      Renee stared after him, feeling as if she’d just kicked a puppy. He had no right to be offended. What woman would trust a stranger? Especially one who seemed to know far too much about her? She dragged the heavy pot-grown Blue Spruce to the checkout and paid for it, cursing the stalker for landing her with one of the most expensive trees on the lot.
       The lot owner helped her strap the spruce to her car and told her how to look after it. Why on earth had she taken some stranger’s advice on a tree? All she’d wanted was a pretty, not too tall, not too short, tree. Now she’d ended up with something a lot more permanent than she’d wanted.
       Renee parked outside her house and contemplated getting the tree inside. Somehow. It was too heavy for her to lift, and she didn’t want to drag it off. It would either scratch the car, or crash to the ground and break, and she’d end up doing this all over again. She should have gone with the one she’d initially picked. There’d be none of this hassle now.
       “Need a hand?”
       Renee spun around to find her stalker leaning against the hood of her car. “How…what…?”
       The cheeky grin was back. “Magic.”
       Seriously? She stared at him, half believing it. “All right, how did you really get here? And more to it, how do you know where I live?”
       His smile became even more endearing. “I told you. Magic.”
       She narrowed her eyes at him.
       “So do you want help? I feel responsible, since I told you to buy this tree.” He came around the car. “It seems fair that I help you get it inside.”
       Inside? Into her house? Was he serious? “What makes you think I’ll let you in? I don’t know you from Adam.”
       His expression became thoughtful. “I know Adam. Nice man, but he can hold a grudge with the best of them. Still hasn’t forgiven Eve for that apple thing.”
       Cute, real cute. “Are we talking about the original, as in, first man in the Bible, Adam?”
       “That’s him. You know him too?” A curious look followed.
       Jesus, the guy had a screw loose. “Of course I don’t know him! How could I? He’s fictional, a metaphor of some kind.”
       “Oh.”
       Something was off about him, but Renee couldn’t put her finger on it. Some kind of escaped lunatic? Was he dangerous? “What did you say your name was?”
       “Maceiriel. You can call me Mac.”
       “All right, Mac. Who are you? I mean, really?” She untied the rope holding the tree to her roof, not paying attention to the back. “You know entirely too much about me, and I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before.”
       “Watch out!” Mac rushed toward her.
       “Wha–” The tree slipped off the roof, taking her down with it. Mac knocked her sideways into the grass, a split second before the tree could bury her beneath branches and the sturdy pot.
       She pushed at the weight on top of her, but it wouldn’t budge. Not the tree. Mac. Finding Mac on top of her, his face a mask of confusion, was somewhat disconcerting. For a brief moment all she could do was lie there, stare into his blue eyes, and feel every inch of his hard body against hers. The shocking truth was…she didn’t mind.
       He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re very pretty, very soft. I didn’t know it felt like this.”
       Renee swallowed hard. Pretty? Soft? Okay…it was a welcome compliment, considering she wore more clothes than an arctic explorer, but still…she didn’t know this guy. “Would you get off me, please?”
       “Of course.” There was a certain reluctance in his voice, and he didn’t move. His gaze drifted across her face and became pensive. “So soft.”
       “Uh, Mac? Let me up?” She pushed against his shoulders. “Kinda uncomfortable here. Not to mention wet.”
       Mac blinked. Slowly, as if her words had no meaning for him. God, the man truly had the most kissable lips she’d ever seen. She wanted a taste so bad, it tied her in knots. Without thinking, she lifted her head and kissed him.
       He sucked in a sharp breath and jerked at the same time. His eyes were wide and shocked, staring at her as if he couldn’t comprehend what she’d just done.
       That went well. Renee blushed to the roots of her hair. She’d kissed him. Good grief, what had she been thinking? “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. If you let me–”
       He placed a finger on her lips to cut her off. “Would you do it again? It was…it…was…” He sighed. “Please? One more time?”
       Hell yeah. Never mind they were lying in the grass in front of her house, giving her neighbors reason to gossip for the next twenty years. She could just picture them whispering about Renee Collins doing the wild thing with a man on her front lawn. Oh yeah, plenty of ammunition — and she didn’t care. Not while the sexiest man she’d ever met asked her to please kiss him. She arched up and kissed him. His sharp intake of breath and the sudden rigidity of his body told her he liked it. His moan of pleasure sent her pulse racing. Renee waited for him to take charge, but he didn’t. He responded, his lips nibbling more than they were kissing, but he neither deepened the kiss, nor did he take over.
       Renee pulled back, amazed by the pain-pleasure grimace on his face. His eyes were closed, and his breathing had become erratic. For all his beauty, he looked as if he’d just experienced his first kiss. Which, of course, was nonsense. No man who looked like him would go through life without ever having been kissed.
       “It’s…I never knew…I understand now,” he whispered.
       Mac opened his eyes and smiled so beatifically, her heart jumped into her throat and lodged there. Wow. No one had ever looked at her like this. As if she were heaven on earth.
       “Mac? Can we get up now? My neighbors will think–”
       “Yes.” He bent down and stole a quick kiss before rolling off her. “Yes.”
       She let him help her up, still wondering why he acted as if he’d never been kissed before. They got the tree inside — well, Mac did, refusing to let her help — and put it up in the living room. Renee stood back and admired the beautiful spruce. It had been a good choice, despite the cost and hassle.
       “It’s lovely. Thank you for telling me to pick this one.”
       “You’re welcome.” Mac eyed the box of decorations. “Can I help? I’ve never decorated a tree before.”
       Right now, she’d let him do most anything. He intrigued her. She still had no idea where he’d come from and how he knew about her, but it didn’t matter. For some reason she trusted him not to hurt her, and he seemed to get more enjoyment out of being allowed to pin baubles on a tree, than a three year old kid.
       A loud knock on her door made both of them turn. Mac’s expression darkened. “Don’t open the door.”
       “Hey. This is my house.” Renee headed out of the room to see who had knocked. The moment she saw Brian on her doorstep, his dark hair immaculate as usual, she wished she’d heeded Mac’s request. All of a sudden Brian’s suited and booted attire seemed pompous, and she much preferred jeans and a sheepskin jacket. “What do you want?” Brian tried to get inside, but she blocked the doorway. “I asked what you want. I didn’t ask you inside.”
       “Ah come on, Ren. I just want to talk.” Once more he tried to get around her.
       Talk? Paw her, insult her, or threaten her, more like. “We have nothing to talk about. Go away. It’s over.”
       Anger sparked in his eyes and he glared at her. “It is not over. You are mine. Now stop with this nonsense and let me in.”
       “No.” Renee tried to shut the door, but his foot prevented it. “Move your foot.”
       “You’re acting like a spoiled brat. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you only have yourself to blame.” Brian shoved at the door.
       “You had sex with other women! How the hell is that my fault?” Renee struggled to shut the door, or at least hold it so Brian couldn’t come in.
       “You weren’t exactly forthcoming in the bed department. I had to go somewhere else for it.”
       “It’s over, Brian! Quit bothering me.”
       “I’m not–” His gaze fixed on something behind her. “Who is he?”
       Renee turned and relaxed her grip on the door, giving Brian the opportunity to storm inside. The two men stared at each other, only Mac didn’t look in the least concerned, while Brian seethed with rage.
       “What are you doing here, with my woman!” Brian snarled at him.
       “She doesn’t belong to you. She belongs to herself.” Mac looked straight into Brian’s eyes. “You want to leave her alone. You want to find someone to love, someone who will love you back. Renee is not that woman.”
       Brian blinked and his jaw slackened.
       “You can still redeem yourself. If you keep going down the path you chose up to now, you will never gain forgiveness for your sins.” Mac placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Do you understand?”
       “Yes.” Brian nodded. He turned and shot a sheepish smile at Renee. “Sorry, Renee. Take care of yourself and be happy.”
       Be happy? Usually it was Go to hell, not Be happy. Renee could only watch, her mouth open, as he walked out of the door without a backward glance. When he’d disappeared around the corner, she turned back to fix Mac with a confused look. “What just happened here?”
       He shrugged. “You saw what happened.”
       “I saw, but I don’t believe it.” She glanced outside to where Brian had disappeared. “What was that? Some kind of hypnosis? You do Jedi mind tricks?”
       He smiled innocently. “I just made some suggestions. It is up to him to heed them.”
       “Well, damn, Mac. Can you suggest to my boss that he should pay me more money?” Renee chuckled.
       “No.” Mac shifted uncomfortably. “Please don’t say damn.”
       “Oh. Sorry.” Apparently she’d offended him. “Shall we go and finish the tree?”
       “Sure.”

      “I like this. It’s fun.” Mac tossed tinsel on the tree. “Shame it’s nearly finished. I enjoy helping.”
       “Next you’ll tell me you want to help me bake cookies.” Renee clipped a silver icicle on a branch and stood back. “Wow. It looks amazing!”
       “You’re baking cookies?” Excitement lit his eyes.
       “Not tonight. I’m baking them tomorrow.” She grinned. “Let me guess. You’re a sucker for cookies.”
       “Never had one.”
       Never had a cookie? Renee gaped at him. “Seriously? Do you want one?”
       Something flashed in his eyes, and for a moment she thought it was panic. It made no sense that innocent chat about cookies would provoke such a reaction, so she dismissed it.
       “I shouldn’t.”
       That did it. The hope in his eyes, coupled with an expression of curiosity, was hard to resist. She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the kitchen. “Sit. We’re fixing this never-had-cookies thing. Right now.”
       Pulling out the container with the remnants of the Christmas cookies she’d baked last week, she watched him. He looked as excited as a kid. Where had he been, to never have had a simple cookie? He looked about thirty, and she couldn’t imagine he wasn’t capable of walking into a bakery and picking some up for himself. So why had he never tried them? Clearly he wanted to.
       “Here. Those are almond cookies. They are better fresh, but it’s nothing to sniff at a week later, either.” She held the tin out to him.
       Mac pulled the cookie out and turned it in his fingers. “You made this?”
       “Yes.”
       He bit the corner off and chewed slowly, savoring every crumb. His gaze lifted to hers, and he smiled. “Wonderful.”
       Renee laughed. “All right. You can come back tomorrow to bake cookies.”
       “I can?”
       “Yes.”
       “I’ll be here.” He rose to his feet. “I should leave now. Thank you for letting me help. It was fun.”
       Renee watched him walk out, still puzzled why he seemed so odd. Good God…she’d kissed him. A complete stranger — and she wanted more.

      A loud thump at the door made her sit bolt upright in her bed.
       Not Brian again, please.
       It remained quiet for a while, so she relaxed again. The cold draft from the window made her shiver and she got up to close it, casting a cursory glance outside to make sure nothing was going on.
       Spotting a dark shape on her doorstep made her blood freeze in her veins. The way the figure was crumpled there in the shadows made it difficult to see if it was man or beast, but she was certain whatever it was…needed help. Renee dragged her bathrobe on and, unable to find her slippers, rammed her feet into a pair of hiking boots. She tied the laces with shaking fingers, then headed down the stairs.
       She turned the porch light on before cracking open the door, and a cry escaped her lips when she recognized Mac, a puddle of blood beneath him. “Mac! Oh my God, Mac, you’re bleeding. What happened?”
       He lifted his head and smiled. “I fell.”
       She tried to see where the blood was coming from. It looked like it was pouring from his back, but she wasn’t sure. There was blood everywhere. “Can you get up? No, wait, I’ll call an ambulance.”
       “No. Don’t. It’ll be all right.” He struggled to his feet.
       “You need a doctor!” Renee wedged her shoulder under his arm and guided him inside to a chair. “Sit. I’ll get help.”
       “No, Renee. It will heal. It’s not so bad.”
       She helped him get the soaked jacket off, stifling a cry of shock when she saw his back. There were two large holes either side of his spine. “Not so bad? Are you nuts? If Brian did this, I’ll gut him.”
       “Brian didn’t harm me. My brothers removed my wings.”
       His wings? “What?” Renee knelt down next to him. “Mac, you’re confused. Try to remember what happened.”
       “I told you. I fell.”
       Those injuries weren’t from a fall, she was certain. It looked like someone had tried to gouge out his shoulder blades. “Who attacked you?”
       “No one. It had to be done. It is always done.” He lifted his hand and stroked her face. “Don’t worry. They’ll grow back. They always do.”
       He was delirious. And he needed a doctor. “I’m calling an ambulance. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
       Mac caught her hand. “I fell. I did it so I could be with you. My brothers told me not to, but I wanted you more than heaven.”
       Renee stared at him. Wings. Heaven. He’d never had a cookie. He’d never been kissed. He’d sent Brian away with just a few suggestions. Her jaw slackened. “You can’t be…You’re not…?”
       Mac cocked his head to one side. “Can’t be what? In love with you? I am. It feels wonderful.”
       Renee stared at him. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be an angel, and yet everything he’d done and said pointed at it. “You’re an angel?”
       “Yes.”
       “That’s how you knew…stuff?”
       “Yes.”
       “And you’re in love with me?”
       “Yes.” Worry etched deep lines into his face. “I’ve said too much, haven’t I?”
       Or not enough. “I didn’t see wings.”
       “I hid them. They would have drawn too much attention.” His gaze lifted to hers. “They won’t be white anymore, when they grow back.”
       She’d kissed an angel. Had she caused this? “You fell because of me?”
       Mac drew her closer. “Not because of you. Never that. I fell for you. It was my decision to leave, and I did.”
       I wanted you more than heaven.
       Hadn’t she wanted someone like him? She’d prayed to meet a man who would treat her with kindness, who’d make her laugh, and who’d love her above all else. Renee let him pull her on his lap and snuggled close. “You won’t regret it.”

Silke grew up in Germany and is used to things going bump in the night — and it wasn't always the acrophobic cat, or someone hitting their head on a low beam on the ceiling. She writes paranormal romance, usually at night, and blames Anne Stuart to this day for all her ambitions and strange stories, after reading one of her books.
These days the only thing going bump at "oh-dark-thirty" is her — usually when she smacks into the sofa while creeping to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
When she is not writing, you can usually find her somewhere in the Surrey countryside, come rain or shine, on the back of her dapple gray Paso Fino, Oscuro.

Silke likes to hear from her readers.
Feel free to contact her via her blog at http://www.evilauthor.com, follow her on Twitter, look her up on Goodreads or become a friend on Facebook and G+.

Her books Howl and Smitten are available at all major ebook retailers.

 To me, Christmas is about a promise. The promise of new love. The promise of new life. The promise of eternal happiness.

This story is for anyone in need of a good, old-fashioned promise. May this Christmas season be filled with Love.

Dear Isabel,
Two months, three days and six hours until you come home. (No, I’m not counting)
Yesterday, I walked past the school and it reminded me of when I first saw you. You might not remember me because you were scolding some bully for picking on a little kid. I always wondered what set you off. You were bigger than life, long hair flying, mouth running—in Spanish! I had no idea what you were saying, but it didn’t even matter. I think that’s when I first fell in love with you…

       Isabel Rodriguez dropped the well-worn letter into her lap and stared through the tinted window of the crowded bus.
       He loved her? The idea of someone loving her made her stomach twist. She rubbed a hand over her heart. Her secret admirer wanted to meet. On Christmas morning, no less, but after twenty-four letters—two for every month of her deployment—she wanted the discovery. “Although, if he knew me at all,” she muttered under her breath, “he’d know I was going to church with my family.”
       The passenger next to Isabel—in her Christmas vest, bright green and red with Rudolf knitted on one side and Santa on the other, shifted, looking at her with a questioning frown.
       Isabel cleared her throat and smiled, “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”
       …just thinking that when she found out who’d made her fall in love with him without even telling her his name, she was going to kick his butt.
       The bus pulled into her home town of Red Bluff and stopped on the corner of Elm Street and Main.
       Cold air washed over her as she stepped down into Northern California’s December mist. The driver pulled her duffle from the cargo bay, and she thanked him.
       “No. Thank you, miss.”
       She smiled and shook the hand he offered. “Merry Christmas.”
       “Welcome home,” he added then waved before driving off.
       “Eesabel!” An oh-so-familiar voice echoed from the church parking lot, strong and clear—or just plain loud. Heels clattered over the cold cement and jangling sounds of bracelets filled the air like bells in a Christmas song.
       At first braced for impact, Isabel relaxed in her sister’s arms, the worry of tomorrow falling away.
       “Maria, girl,” she scolded. “You need a jacket.”
       “Never mind that. How was your flight home? Did you have to stay long on base before they set you free?” Maria looked her over—head to toe. “You lost weight again. Oh, but it’s so good to see you.”
       Isabel cringed inside. It seemed with every deployment she lost a few too many pounds. “I’m just glad to be home. Where is everyone? No balloons? No band? Not even a roll of ticker tape for my return?”
       “Very funny. We know you too well. You would be tempted to use your M-16. Come on. Mom says to stop at the church and light a candle. Then we’ll go home.” Maria hooked her arm through Isabel’s with a pregnant pause before she continued, “Have you gotten any more letters?”
       “He wants to meet.” Isabel still didn’t know what to think of it. A secret admirer? It was weird… yet romantic—for a deprived soul like herself. “Christmas morning.”
       The answering sigh was expected and familiar. “Have you figured out who he is?”
       She threw her bag in the back of the car with a shrug and climbed in. “No. I’ve thought about it, but in the end, something stops me from really trying. Is it wrong to just enjoy the conversation and the attention?” It had been a long time since anyone had pursued her. “He’s kind, smart, funny. He likes kids and wants a large family. Of course, I’ll have to convince him otherwise about that.”
       “Ha ha. You love us.” Maria tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Just one guess, though. You have to have at least one guess.”
       “You want to gossip,” Isabel accused with a laugh. “I don’t know. If I knew, I might not be so taken.”
       “So you are attracted. I do hope he’s young and good-looking” She wagged a finger in her direction. “He could be fat.”
       Maria’s reality check made Isabel smile.  “Love handles won’t matter as long as he has a brain and a heart.”
       The neighborhood passing by—the Christmas lights especially—drove home the absoluteness of her mission completed. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
       Straining her neck to see down River Road as they crossed it, she wondered if Zack was back yet. She missed having him to talk to like they’d been able to do while she trained at Fort Benning. 
       “Well, you won’t go alone.”
       But, Isabel had every plan to go alone. Good Lord, she didn’t need an audience to watch her make a fool of herself.

      “Can I get you something to drink, Isa? Gin and tonic? Or perhaps a beer?”
       “Isabel,” she corrected her new, old friend with a smile. “No, thank you. I might fall over. How about a glass of punch?” She put a hand on Phillip’s arm. A gentle squeeze had his eyes lighting up like her mother’s Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. He was a nice guy. Nice. And she wondered if he was the one. Her heart hadn’t fluttered when he approached her earlier, and after all the letters, she was certain there would be something—a spark of recognition.
       Isabel side-stepped into the alcove, out of the way of all the traffic—family, friends, and strangers. Exhaustion blurred the edges of the celebration as the last four days of processing and travel caught up with her. She needed just five minutes against this wall to get her second wind, because if there was one thing the Rodriguez family knew how to do well, it was celebrate. Holidays, holy days, first communions, weddings, even funerals.
       Food would pour out of the kitchen as if it was the last day on earth. Drink would flow and music would resound through the rafters. She loved it. And hated it. The family joke was that she’d joined the Army to be alone. There could be a grain of truth in that.
       A hand settled on her shoulder and she jerked away.
       Zack Benson raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa. Slow down killer.”
       Isabel scowled. “Oh, it’s you.”
       A long time ago, they’d been like siblings. Now, not so much. Now, she had an urge to fix her hair and stand up straighter. Those she could ignore, but the racing of her heart gave her away as it had since that summer after graduation.
       He was her friend nothing more, like a brother.
       “If Phillip’s bothering you, I could take care of him.”
       “You better not,” she demanded, horrified at the thought of him running off a potential love match and just as horrified that he noticed her awkwardness. “You’ve done enough for me in the past, thank you very much, Zack. I won’t have you messing with this.”
       “A love match, eh?” Zack held up a plate of food.
       “I didn’t say that.” Her frown caused a headache right between her eyes. She grabbed a piece of broccoli and dipped it.
       Zack brushed a finger across the paper sticking out of her shirt pocket and left a trail of warmth across her collarbone.
       Maybe the doctor was right about needing more rest. She blinked away a touch of lightheadedness. Yes, that was it—fatigue.
       She’d carried the letter for months. As proof that someone on God’s green earth wanted her. Maybe Phillip? “He works with the fire department—an investigator, and he’s very nice. He likes children.” As a matter of fact, he has two of his own. That hadn’t been in the letters.
       She wanted children, though.
       “You look like hell, Isabel. You need food and sleep in that order, not some idiot who writes sissy love notes and offers you beer when it’s obvious you’re about to fall over already.”
       Tears tickled the back of her eyes. She was tired. And irritated by the whole mystery. Chinese torture, that’s what it made her think of and she wanted to scream. “Don’t call him an idiot.”
       Zack was always being over-protective.
       “Mija, amor.” Her mother approached and interrupted, putting an arm around her and giving Zack a hard look. “Go find something to do besides tease my daughter.”
       Zack winced. “Los sientos, Margaret.” He waited a heartbeat. “And Isabel.”
       Phillip strode through the crowded kitchen toward her and a sound must have escaped, because her mother tsked. “Don’t get caught up in something that isn’t real, Isabel. You don’t even know if he’s the one.”
       “But, he could be the one, Mamá.” Her voice faltered and the room spun.
       Phillip was standing over her with a punch in one hand. The silly grin on his face turned to worry. “Isabel?”
       Isabel opened her mouth to respond. Nothing came out. Lightheaded, she frowned. A chair. She needed a chair.
       Her mom’s lovely face came into sudden, sharp focus. Her lips were moving, but it was as if someone had muted a television. Beautifully tapered fingers snapped at someone behind her.
       “Miguel!” Zack called to her dad. But, his strong, commanding voice faded.
       “I’m so sorry,” Isabel whispered as someone wrapped arms around her, and she slipped into the sweet, blessed oblivion of darkness.

       The letter, which had been in her pocket last night, was gone. She threw back the covers of her bed, frantically searching, and dumped the contents of her dresser drawers. Gone? After all this time? She couldn’t believe it.
       She wanted to cry.
       Maybe it was a sign. She’d held onto it for so long. Maybe God was telling her to put aside false hopes. She sighed. That’s what her mother had said, anyway.
       After rushing to get out the door, Isabel drove to Ayer Park with a pounding heart and sweaty hands. She hadn't been this nervous since…well, ever. There wasn't even a car in the parking lot. Isabel shut off her car and got out. A breeze cut through the trees, and she tightened her coat, tying it off in front. She slipped her hands into leather gloves and stuffed them in her pockets.
       After years of playing in the park as a kid, the stone path was familiar under her feet.
       God had allowed her a good night’s sleep followed by the most gorgeous sunrise she’d seen since leaving Afghanistan. There was eternal promise in the blazing colors and it lifted her hesitant mood as she took the last turn in the path and followed it toward the row of trees along the river bank. A figure stepped into view.
       Someone was there.
       Slowing, she caught a glimpse of dark hair and a jean jacket—she knew that jean jacket. And a jaw line, smooth and square. She would recognize it anywhere. Her heart fell.
       Oh no. What had he done? A fire started under her feet and she steamed closer. That son-of-a-gun. She did not need his protection any more.
       “Zachariah Edward Benson!”
       He turned, watching her approach with hooded eyes.
       “You sent him away, didn’t you?” She stopped short in front of him and pummeled him with her fists.
       “Isabel,” he growled, trapped her in a grip and gave her a little shake.
       Her teeth chattered closed. And she stopped. “Who was it?”
       “Back to your old fighting self, I see.”
       She stomped her foot and looked him in the eye.
       All argument fled at nervousness shimmering in his blue eyes. Not just nerves. Longing. “But…”
       “I have something for you.” He fumbled into the front of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper.
       “My letter!” Isabel grabbed it from him and smoothed out the roughened edges. “How did you? I mean, when…”
       He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged a shoulder. “I took it last night after carrying you up to your room.”
       “You? Oh,” she breathed. “I’d thought…”
       “Um, do you think you might finish a sentence?”
       She shook her head slowly and really looked at him again. The spark of humor in his eyes. The slightly crooked nose, broken during combatives during training together a few years ago. Maybe it was okay that he’d scared the letter writer away. She already loved him. Letters from a stranger could not mean as much as what she was feeling right this minute.
       Isabel grabbed the letter by each side and started to rip.
       “What are you doing? Stop,” Zack exclaimed and stole the paper back from her grip.
       “Don’t you see?” she questioned, stepping closer to him and reaching for his hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore who was here.”
       His brow rose and, with a chuckle, he handed the letter back. “Read it.”
       A touch of sadness stole over her as she let go of love that could never match what she'd had right here all along.

I can’t wait to see you on Christmas morning.
Stay safe. I’m praying for you.

      What? Her gaze flew to Zack then back to the letter. Her heart pounded ferociously against her sternum, and a laugh bubbled out.
       A line had been added at the bottom of her letter.

P.S. It’s me.