Mistletoe Magic (23 page)

“Gretta! Don’t throw your food around,” remonstrated Louise, but the little girl had already retrieved the slice and placed it back on the table.

Rafe’s warm breath tickled Melissa’s ear, making her shiver. “Am I your dark prince?” he asked gruffly, caressing her with his eyes and tickling her knee under the table. “You’re definitely my fairy.”

“Hey, Daddy! Are you gonna make Melissa our wicket stepmother?” Gretta asked. Everyone stopped eating to stare at the child. “Ow!” Gretta jumped as Hank kicked her under the table. “’Scuse me! I mean
magical
stepmother, okay?”

Laughing, Rafe told Melissa, “You can take that as an official marriage proposal.”

“I accept,” she said quickly, the full realization of what she was promising sinking in as she looked around at the family. Not only would she be marrying the man she loved, but she’d be taking on the task of helping him raise his children. Could she do it? Her heart answered a resounding yes.

“Yea!” cried Gretta, waving her spoon and leaping up to hug Melissa. “Can I be the little girl in the wedding that walks around and throws flowers on top of everyone?”

“The flower girl,” Louise said. “It’s really true? You’re going to get married? How wonderful!”

Kissing Gretta and rising to hug Louise and then Hank, Melissa was elated by the family’s positive reaction. She sat back down beside Rafe. “We can tell everyone we pledged our troth on Christmas Day. Won’t that be romantic?”

“Except it’s really March 22,” Rafe corrected her.

“So? Holidays are magical. Christmas has no season—just like love,” she explained, feeling like her own heart was running over with joy. “You can celebrate a holiday whenever you want. Today is Christmas for me.”

“Okay, little Christmas Fairy,” he agreed softly. “I only know today’s the most wonderful day of my life.”

As she gazed into Rafe’s beckoning eyes Melissa couldn’t wait to be alone with him.

“Come on, kids,” said Louise. “Dinner’s over. We’re going out for dessert so your dad and Melissa can have some time alone. How would you like ice cream in thirty-five different flavors with hot fudge sauce and whipped cream?”

“Whew!” exclaimed Hank. “I’m glad Dad’s happy now, but I don’t know how much longer I could take the mushy stuff!”

“Then we can go to a movie,” Louise added. “Don’t worry about the pie I fixed, sweethearts. We can eat it later. Go get your coats.”

“I can stay up late tonight? Yea!” cried Gretta, “Merry Christmas!”

“To all,” said Hank.

Louise pushed them toward the stairs, but turned to Melissa and Rafe, who were already in each other’s arms. Winking, she added, “And to all a good night!”

About the Author

Lynn Patrick is a pseudonym of two authors who have been friends for thirty years. Also known as Jeanne Rose, Roslynn Patrick and Roslynn Griffith, they wrote 23 romances for 5 traditional publishers and have more than a million books in print together. Patricia also writes as Patricia Rosemoor and Linda is a college professor.

Look for these titles by Lynn Patrick

Now Available:

The Mermaid’s Touch

The Perfect Affair

Mistletoe Magic

Coming Soon:

More Than a Dream

Double or Nothing

Just a Lot More to Love

The Gentleman Farmer

Mystery in the Moonlight

When a free spirit and a rigid outlook collide, only love can find common ground.

The Perfect Affair

© 2012 Lynn Patrick

Morgana Lawrence makes dreams come true. The part-owner of a company that produces fantasy weddings, she needs Nicholas Bedford’s business—a medieval-themed wedding for his sister—but could do without his bossy advice on how to handle her business.

As a financial consultant, Nicholas can’t stop himself offering his opinion on the way Morgana runs things. It’s just so….inefficient! She’s a flighty artist who lives in the fantasy worlds she creates, and he’s firmly grounded in the real world. But still, he can’t help but be captivated by her vibrant personality and beauty.

But can a man who views love and marriage as just another business contract hope to capture such a free spirit?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Perfect Affair:

Adding the final box of flowers to the pile, Morgana Lawrence blew a sigh of relief as though it might cool her flushed face. She checked the thermostat: eighty-six degrees. That worried her. If the temperature didn’t drop rapidly, she would be stuck with hundreds of wilted orchids and gardenias in the morning.

Pulling her sweat-soaked hair away from her face, Morgana pinned up her black tresses. She usually refused to wear her hair that way since it accented her long neck, but she was too hot to care. Longing to do nothing more than strip off her skimpy T-shirt and shorts and jump into a refreshing shower, Morgana picked up her clipboard instead. It wouldn’t hurt to do one more inventory.

Everything had to be perfect for the sunrise wedding ceremony. Although she tried to ignore the chattering chimp and screeching birds, it was impossible. With a sigh of resignation Morgana crossed the room, opened the cage door, and held out her hand.

“Come on out, you little creep,” she said to the chimp.

Like a small child that knows it has won its way, the chimp eagerly took her hand and waddled alongside her.

“I don’t think they’ll miss one banana, do you?” She lifted a bunch from one of the dozens of crates stacked along the walls. He took the fruit she offered him, then, engrossed in removing the peel, sat quietly.

“If only you two could be silenced so easily.” She scolded the macaw and cockatoo. Their screeching was giving her a royal headache!

“I’ll be glad when this wedding is over,” Morgana complained as she eyed the clutter. Would the van hold all this? Across the room the phone rang. Morgana glanced at the chimp before going to find it. He was absorbed in eating his banana. She was sure he’d be all right for a moment.

Unable to see the telephone, Morgana followed the cord to its hiding place behind the boxes of flowers she had stacked so carefully. She hunted for the phone anxiously, hoping the caller would hang on for a few rings longer. In her haste she managed to dump an entire box of orchids around her feet.

“Damn!” Her hand closed over the receiver. “Hello. Lawrence and Smythe, Fantasy Weddings.”

“Wake here.”

“Oh, Mr. Wake.” Morgana was relieved to hear from him. She had tried unsuccessfully to reach him all day. “The deliveries have been made, and everything’s ready for tomorrow,” she said, assuring him with her fingers crossed.

“Miss Lawrence, I don’t know quite how to tell you this, but I have some news for you.”

“Another change?” she asked wearily, pulling her hand across her forehead. She couldn’t believe her luck. Every time she thought everything was set, the Wakes threw her another curve. If it weren’t for the money…

“Mr. Wake, I’ll do the very best I can, but it
is
Saturday afternoon. That only leaves us about thirteen hours—”

He interrupted her. “The jungle wedding is off.”

“What?”

“Lavinia and I have decided to elope.”

“Elope?” The word came out in a strangled sob. She’d gone through all this for nothing?

“The family’s impossible, just like the first time we got married. We eloped then, too.”

“Mr. Wake, the wedding is scheduled for sunrise. Everything had to be delivered
here.
At my shop!” Morgana waved her free hand in agitation. “I’m surrounded by crates of fresh fruit, gallons of piña colada mix, boxes of flowers, one screeching chimp, and two squawking birds!” On cue each animal tried to outdo the other, so Morgana used her free hand to cover her left ear. “What do I do with all this?”

“Sell everything,” Mr. Wake said.

“What?”

“We’re leaving for Africa tonight,” Wake told her. “We’ll be married at the safari camp where we reconciled. My bush outfit and Lavinia’s suede wrap dress will be a little fancy for the real jungle, but we’ll wear them anyway. You did do a nice job designing them,” he conceded, as if playing up to her ego would smooth over things.

Morgana found herself in the middle of a nightmare. There had never been a cancellation before. She’d sensed this wedding would be trouble, but she’d gone along with her sister when Blanche enthusiastically accepted the Wake wedding, assuring the reconciled couple their ideas were perfectly within reason.

“Mr. Wake, there are outstanding bills—”

“I’m sure my lawyer will be able to convince you they are
your
responsibility.” His voice had lost its congeniality.

Morgana studied the flowers strewn around her feet, crushing one under her heel in disgust. From the corner of her eye she saw the chimp climb over the crates and cages while stuffing himself with bananas. He was throwing the peels around the room.

“Mr. Wake, make no mistake. I’m a businesswoman. Your lawyer doesn’t frighten me. You
will
receive an invoice for the unpaid portion of your wedding bill. I suggest you pay it promptly!” She slammed down the phone, barely missing her own fingers. “What
nerve!
”

Her adrenaline pumping like mad, Morgana turned to face the clutter. She was calculating her losses, trying to find a way to minimize them, when the impact of the chimp’s mischief hit her. Morgana closed her eyes to shut out the sight.

Knowing the mess would not disappear because she refused to look at it, Morgana reluctantly surveyed the damage. The chimp had strewn banana peels and mangoes around the room, but he hadn’t done any real harm. At the moment he was on the highest stack of crates, trying to open a plastic jug.

“The piña colada mix. No, you don’t,” Morgana scolded him as she crossed the room to the devilish animal. “Come on, give it here,” she coaxed.

Just out of her reach, the chimp seemed to delight in her efforts to take hold of him. He jumped up and down, screeching at her, then moved back and took the jug with him. While he renewed his efforts to open the bottle, Morgana pulled another crate next to his refuge. This time her long arms and legs couldn’t do the trick alone.

“Be a nice boy, would you? I’ve had a hard day,” she complained.

Morgana managed to get a grip on the bottle while the chimp succeeded in loosening the top. The struggle was short-lived. Morgana gave a huge tug. The chimp let go! It might have been an ocean wave approaching. Morgana saw it in slow motion. An undulating, rippling swell of whitish fluid separated into tiny splashing streams, missing her clothes by a scant few inches but spraying her face.

“Wait until I get my hands on you!” she threatened.

Jumping up and down on the box and pointing a finger at her, the chimp was making strange noises that sounded like laughter. Morgana lunged to grab him, but he scooted under the worktable. At that very moment she heard the door open and her sister Blanche’s trilling voice.

“Step in here. Oh, dear, whatever are you up to, Morgana? You’ll have to pardon the mess,” Blanche said doubtfully to the couple who had followed her into the workroom. “Wait right here, won’t you?” She rushed to Morgana.

Looking past her sister, Morgana stared into the cool gray eyes of a striking-looking man in a three-piece suit. Although she disliked the formal business attire intensely, Morgana had to admit he was elegantly dressed, the gray suit perfectly tailored to his tall, trim form. An Italian import, no doubt. His companion was a young, petite blonde casually dressed in a flame-colored Gibson girl blouse and turquoise jodhpur pants. Morgana thought they made a strange couple.

When he unwraps her love, he uncovers her secret…

Abigail and Mistletoe

© 2012 Karen Rose Smith

Just before Christmas, trauma makeup artist Abigail Fox packs up her bag of tricks and travels to Crested Butte, Colorado, to help an actress who has lived in seclusion since a disfiguring accident.

The lodge owner irritates her with his suspicions that she’s only out to hook her name to a star.
 
However, his broad shoulders and quiet intensity make her weak in the knees.

A former stuntman familiar with Hollywood politics, Brady is sure Abigail has ulterior motives. Why else would she travel far from home over a holiday if there wasn’t something in it for her? Yet gradually he realizes that with Abigail, what you see is what you get—a caring woman who only wants to help accident victims rediscover life.

Sheltered in Brady’s beautiful, snowbound world, warmed by his holiday wish that has nothing to do with Santa Claus, Abigail finds herself falling into his arms. But if he learns her terrible secret, the love that’s catching fire could blow up in her face.

Warning: Consummated love scenes.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Abigail and Mistletoe:

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Brady Crawford muttered as his black hiking boots purposefully ate up the distance between the parking lot and Colorado’s Gunnison Airport terminal.