FROM THE DESK OF AUTHOR CHRISTY PASTORE
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Today is not off to a good start.
My mom’s voice rises up like the Ghost of Christmas Right Now in the back of my mind. “You should’ve left when I told you.”
Christmas Eve, Eve and I’m stuck in a New Jersey airport.
Yeah, I should have left the day before yesterday like she suggested. And maybe I should’ve listened to my brother, Alex, when he suggested I fly out yesterday morning with him, my sister-in-law, Ella, and their kids.
Nope, work was more important.
I blame the weather people. They kept changing the snowfall totals. Not only that, it was supposed to be a light dusting. Born and raised in Michigan, lake effect snow is nothing. I’ve driven in worse conditions than this.
As long as I’m blaming people. I’m going to add my psychic to that list. She neglected to tell me that this would be the storm of the entire winter.
Why didn’t she see this coming?
Truth be told, I should’ve stopped seeking her advice years ago. Sure, she’s been right about a few things—job and health stuff. But Michele missed the mark on the tall, dark, and handsome man that I was destined to meet and fall head over heels in love with.
Oh, sure there have been a few men. None of them were exactly tall. Not a one of them had dark hair...light brown maybe chestnut. Not jet black.
Blowing out a deep breath, I tear open the wrapper on the Almond Joy and bite into it. I swipe my phone and then tap the screen, wavering between getting a hotel room or just staying here.
The Marriott is right next door. Will the bar be open? Because I’m thinking getting blitzed is a good idea. Or is it lit?
Cranberry martinis and me…after three…hammered is what I’ll be.
The gate agent’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Flight 1212 from Dallas has been rerouted and is now arriving at terminal A, gate 18.”
Guess I won’t be totally alone tonight. Maybe there’s a tall, dark, and handsome cowboy I can chat up. I take another bite of my candy bar and watch the gate agents open the door for the passengers. These people will either spend the night here or try to maneuver through the snowy streets.
Stretching my arms over my head, I stand and walk to the trash can. I toss the candy wrapper into the bin and amble back to my chair.
The bag of nacho cheese Doritos is my main course for tonight’s Christmas Eve, Eve dinner.
All I can think about are my mom’s homemade mashed potatoes and that yummy ham that was waiting for me. Let’s not forget the rolls that no doubt my adorable niece and nephew helped Nana make.
Should have left earlier.
My head falls back, and I keep the tears at bay. I focus on the lines that decorate the ceiling.
The faint sounds of chatter and shuffling directs my attention to the people spilling into the seating area.
The opening notes of “Santa Baby” play over the speakers.
I start to hum along and that’s when I lock eyes with Mister tall, dark, and handsome.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.
Dark, sexy waves that touch just below his scruffy jawline. Buttoned up white shirt underneath a leather jacket and untucked from dark denim jeans that stretch tight across his thick thighs.
Casual, yet commanding.
Same as he was back then. My first crush just walked off a plane and back into my life.
Fate? Karma—she’s having a good laugh right now.
He blinks at me. Oh, he recognizes me all right.
“Amy. Amy Robertsen.” His gravelly voice washes over me, and my heart skitters in my chest. Despite the fact that my cheeks feel like they are on fire, I manage to smile.
He takes a seat next to me. My cheeks are outright smoldering.
Those blue eyes, deep and knowing, travel across my face and down my body before returning to my eyes. Slow, so achingly slow I can feel every inch of me through his gaze.
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