|
On Top Shelf
|
Exclusive Marketing Opportunities for Authors
Curious about how Fresh Access helps authors gain more visibility and connect with active readers?
Discover premium promotional opportunities, enhanced exposure, and author-focused services designed to help your books stand out.
|
Hallmark Publishing Read Kindle Preview"β¦literally a Hallmark movie in book form." Cosmopolitan Magazine "One of the BEST ROMANCE NOVELS OF 2020" Cosmopolitan Magazine She never dreamed her holiday would include her hometown, a dog, or a firefighter. But a mysterious charm bracelet predicted it allβ¦ Ashleyβs supposed to be having the Christmas of her dreams. After four years of working at an upscale jewelry store in Manhattan, sheβs finally going to get a little velvet box of her ownβfrom her boyfriend Jeremy, whoβs taking her on a romantic trip to Paris. What could go wrong? Well, everything. Ashley heads home to Owl Lake instead, falling asleep on the train ride thereβ¦and waking up with a beautiful antique charm bracelet on her wrist. Soon, she realizes that each silver charm predicts an event that happens in real life. What does this mean for her and Jeremyβ¦or her and Aidan, her former high school boyfriend, whoβs now a local firefighter? Is there still a chance that she could have the perfect Christmas? *One of the BEST ROMANCE NOVELS OF 2020,Β CosmopolitanΒ Magazine* Excerpt Oof. We collide right at the edge of the red carpet stretched out beneath FAO Schwartzβs fancy marquee. Technically, Iβm only partly to blame. The manβs arms are piled so high with gift-wrapped packages that I canβt even see his face, so I doubt he can tell where heβs going or who might be in his way. My gaze snags on the sight of his hands in the seconds just before impact. Theyβre nice handsβstrong, capable. The sort of hands that can probably steer a car using only two fingers. Cradle a sleepy puppy in a single palm. Loosen a necktie with one swift tug. I blink, and then impact occurs and the packages scatter. The rattle of what sounds like airborne Lego bricks and who knows what else snaps me back to attention. βIβm so sorry. I wasnβt watching where I was going,β I say. I drop to my knees on the sidewalk to try and collect as many of his gift-wrapped packages as I can before they get stepped on. βHere, let me help you.β We reach for the same box and when our fingertips collide, I realize thereβs something almost familiar about those nice hands of his. Something that makes my stomach do a little flip, even before I look up to meet his gaze. And when I finally stand and get a glimpse of his face, Iβm more confused than ever. Aidan? My arms go slack, and all the presents Iβve just scrambled to pick up tumble to the ground again. Aidan Flynn? No. It canβt be. Absolutely not. One of his packages must have conked me on the head or something and made my vision go wonky, because thereβs no way my high school sweetheart just walked out of FAO Schwartz. The Aidan Flynn I used to know wouldnβt be caught dead in New York City. He was a hometown boy, through and throughβas much a part of Owl Lake as the snow-swept landscape. Hence, our awkward breakup. βAshley,β Aidan says, and itβs more a statement than a question. After all, he shouldnβt be as surprised to see me. Iβm the one who belongs here. This is my city, my homeβthe very same city I left him for all those years ago. Still, he seems to be almost as stunned as I am, because he makes no immediate move to pick up the remaining gifts scattered at our feet. βAidan, what are you...β I clear my throat. Why is it so difficult to form words all of a sudden? βWhat are you doing here?β This canβt be real. Itβs definitely some sort of Christmas hallucination. Not magic, definitely not that. Even though I canβt exactly deny that thereβs a pleasant zing coursing through me as we stare at each other through a swirl of snowflakes. I shake my head. Get ahold of yourself. Iβve moved on since Aidan and I dated, obviously. Eight years have passed, and now Iβm practically engaged...sort of. In any case, I shouldnβt be wondering why Aidan looks as if heβs just bought out an entire toy store. Is he a father now? Is he married? Is he a married to a New Yorker? All of these possibilities leave me feeling a little squeamish. I wish I could blame my sudden discomfort on something gone off at Salads Salads Salads, but alas, I canβt. βIβm working,β he says, which tells me absolutely nothing. He could be one of Santaβs elves for all I know. Or a professional gift wrapper. Or a personal shopper for a wealthy Upper West Sider who has a dozen small children. Somehow none of those seem like realistic possibilities. Against my better judgment, I sneak a glance at his ring finger. No wedding ring. My gaze flits back to his faceβhis handsome, handsome face. Goodness, has his jaw always been that square? βOh,β I say. Ordinarily, Iβm a much better conversationalist. Truly. But Iβm so befuddled at the moment that I canβt think of anything else to say. Plus, Iβm pretty sure Aidan noticed my subtle perusal of his most important finger, because the corner of his mouth quirks into a tiny half smile. My face goes instantly warm. If a snow flurry lands on my cheek, it will probably sizzle. When Aidan bends down to scoop up the packages I dropped, I take advantage of the moment to fan my face with my mittens. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice one of the toy soldiers in front of FAO Schwartz smirk in my direction. As if I need this surprise encounter with my Christmas past to get any more awkward than it already is. Aidan straightens, and I jam my mittens back into my coat pocket. I really should get going. My shift starts in less than ten minutes, and Windsor Fine Jewelry is still a good eight-minute walk this time of year. But something keeps me rooted to the spot, and as much as I want to blame it on simple nostalgia, Iβm not sure I can. Aidan is more than my high school sweetheart. Heβs the personification of another place and time. And every now and then, the memories sneak up on me when I least expect themβnow, for instance. Whenever it happens, I feel strangely empty, like one of those chocolate Santas you donβt realize are hollow until you bite into them and they break into a million pieces. Thatβs silly, though. Iβm fine, and my life here in Manhattan is great. Iβm certainly not on the verge of breaking. I square my shoulders as if to prove it, but when I meet Aidanβs soft blue gaze, my throat grows so thick that I canβt speak. Not even to say goodbye. βIt was good to see you, Ashley,β he says. And then heβs gone just as quickly as he appeared, and Iβm once again standing alone in a crowd. Β Start Reading CHRISTMAS CHARMS Now
Our Past Week of Fresh Picks |
|
| |||
|
||||
© 2003-2026