As I’m writing this, it’s a few minutes before midnight.
I should be sleeping.
But I can’t.
In a few hours, I will officially be a published author. It’s a feeling I can’t really describe…except to say, I’ve only experienced this odd mix of nerves and excitement on two other occasions: my marriage and the birth of my daughter.
Whoa.
It’s true. I’ve been dreaming, wishing, hoping and, yes, even praying for this moment since I was old enough to know what “writer” meant.
This is a milestone. One I’d planned to commemorate with an epic blog post about a decades-old journey and the twists and turns, ups and downs that stretched my mind and nerves, tested my strength and willpower.
You see, I’ve been working on that story for years. I planned to wow you with wit and grit.
I wanted you to like me. I wanted to impress you. And let’s be honest, I wanted you to buy my book. ; )
A simple card from my daughter changed my grand plan.
It contained these words. “You rock! Way to go!” Then, written in black crayon was this: “No Sweeter Love. Coming Soon. May 17, 2012. I’m so proud of you. I love you.”
Whoa.
Now that’s epic.
I held that card in my hand, and for the first time in weeks I was able to take a deep breath and simply enjoy the truth of this moment.
My name may be on the cover of a book, but I haven’t gotten this far in my career all by myself.
I am surrounded by supportive family and friends who cheer when I cheer, cry when I cry…who push me when I need a push and make me leave the laptop when I need a break.
I am grateful and humbled by the support you all have given me.
There’s no sweeter love than that.
Welcome to Union
Population: 994
Town motto: Where no secret goes untold
His father’s death forces Dr. Ryan Williams to return to the home—and the woman—he’d left behind ten years earlier. Ryan knows it’s best to avoid Union sweetheart and police officer Emily Winters during his visit. But how? Stuck in this small town, fighting an attraction that hasn’t diminished over time, the sparks are unavoidable—and so are the rumors. The same rumors that made him leave Union in the first place…
Experience taught Emily to keep her guard—and her panties—up. Until Ryan returns as suddenly as he left, tempting her with promises she already knows he can’t keep. Or so she thinks. This new adult Ryan is one capable of forever and, God-willing, forgiveness. Because even as they learn to trust and love each other again, Emily knows once she reveals her secret, heartbreak is inevitable.
Tina is a wife, mother and newspaper editor who enjoys writing contemporary romance. "The world is full of dark, depressing news. When I read and write I want to know that my 'Once upon a time' ends with 'and they lived happily ever after.'"
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Posted by Tina Vaughn on Dec 13, 2011 in
Books,
Christmas,
Holidays,
Life A HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
The aging oak trim splintered as Teresa pushed in the last tack.
“Dammit.” She whispered a quick prayer of forgiveness. She hated cursing.
She arranged the pine garland to hide the dime-sized hole. Finally satisfied that no one attending tonight's party would be able to see the blemish, she turned to survey the rest of the room. 
From her perch on the stepladder she soaked in the scene – and smiled.
A twelve-foot tree in the corner glowed with flickering lights and silver tinsel. Above the soft melody of Christmas music, the roof creaked under the weight of last night’s snow and lanterns sizzled. On each of the fifty crimson-draped tables she’d centered a polished silver oil lamp.
Teresa took a deep breath, the scents of pine resin and cinnamon tickled her nose and brought tears to her eyes.
As the only child of a Baptist minister, most of her Novembers and Decembers, until now, had been spent polishing pews and sanctuary woodwork with her mother's homemade furniture polish. To this day every time Teresa smelled vinegar she thought of Christmas.
“That's really disturbing,” she murmured as she rubbed the mound of her belly. Did little Nicholas or Holly have a sense of smell yet? She’d have to research that when she went to work at the library in the morning.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. She had just an hour before the party began. Jolene would be here any minute with the food. That would give Teresa just enough time to get home, get changed and get back.
There was a lot of getting to be done this time of year.
She wasn't sure what it was – maybe a noise or a movement – that caught her attention. She turned toward the door, and her breath exited her lungs in a violent whoosh, leaving her lightheaded. There stood Jeremiah, his broad shoulders filling the entryway, as equal parts happiness and anger filled her heart.
He'd come home.
She lost her footing, the stepladder rocked, tilted…
She didn’t actually have time to panic. It just sorta happened. Dizziness, a flash of light, hot and cold…
“God, help me,” she whispered.
“Hell, woman.”
Suddenly she was on the ground, but she was standing, not sprawled on the scarred floor as she’d dreaded.
A big, muscled arm cradled her back while a giant hand pressed her face into the rough wool of a coat still carrying the chill of wind and dampness of blowing snow.
Her knees shook and her stomach quivered like a lime-gelatin wreath.
Seconds passed. Long anxiety-laced seconds in which she heard and felt, warm, reassuring, deep-voiced murmurings from the man who held her tightly. Tears burned her eyes and throat. It was the first hug she'd had since he left.
Where had he been? Why hadn't he called? She wanted to punch him in his square jaw or kick him in the shins. He was the only person in the world who made her feel so violent – or so good. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.
Tension drained from her muscles, and the shaking eased.
She leaned back. Well, as far back as he’d let her.
“Jeremiah? Jeremiah Roberts?” It was more question than statement, despite the fact he was right there and touching her.
“It's me.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Did you forget what I look like?”
Never. Even frowning, Jeremiah was the best-looking man she'd ever seen. Her heart jumped and lodged in her throat.
His eyes were as green as the pine tree in the corner, and his jaw was shadowed by stubble the same deep black as his hair. His cheeks were red from the cold and she almost reached up to touch them. Almost.
But, she hadn’t seen him in – she automatically rubbed her stomach when the baby kicked – well, it seemed like forever.
It would be presumptuous of her, wouldn’t it? To initiate such contact.
She settled for curling her fingers around the lapels of his coat. She didn't know whether to shake him or pull him closer, to laugh or cry.
Jeremiah stared down at her belly, then back to her face. His eyes were filled with questions that probably wouldn’t pass his lips.
He’d never been curious about her, had always tried to avoid her.
Except for that once…
Teresa's confusion was as obvious as the giant ball of her belly pressed firmly against him.
He reached and pulled a pine needle from her hair. Her pretty blue eyes widened and her mouth puckered. He almost leaned in to kiss her. But, shit, there was a baby between them. And that meant there was a man…
He dropped the pine needle on the floor. At her grimace he bent down and picked it up, shoved it in his coat pocket. The place was as pretty as a photo on one of those home-decorating magazines. Teresa had probably cleaned and decorated the room all by herself.
Everybody took advantage of her… including him.
She deserved better. That's one of the reasons he'd left.
Jeremiah might want her. She might want him, but what she needed was some nice, nine-to-five guy who opened car doors and bought her flowers and candy. Had she found one?
He searched for a wedding band. There was no way she’d be having a baby without a husband.
But her fingers were bare, as were her wrists. Her nails were short and plain. No bling for Teresa.
Of course, her beauty was God-given. She was an angel. Pale skin and blonde hair, all sweetness and goodness. Halo-bright.
Regret and jealousy burned a path from his gut to his throat, even as he exhaled in relief. So Teresa had a man, but they weren't married. Jeremiah still had time… for what, exactly, he didn't know. Because nowhere in his Teresa-inspired fantasies had he imagined a freakin' baby.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. She had the softest skin he'd ever touched. “You okay?”
Teresa glanced toward the overturned ladder then examined his face. “You mean right now or since you've been gone?”
He ignored the disappointment, the accusation in her question. He'd stick with now. That's all he could handle.
“What the hell were you doing up on that ladder, anyway?”
Why the hell are you pregnant?
“It’s just a stepladder.” She adjusted her glasses and sniffed. “You scared me.”
He scared himself. Just before he’d left town nine months ago…
His eyes automatically drifted to her belly. The old pink sweatshirt she wore was too tight, stretched so taut that she — oh, Jesus. There was no way in hell. No way.
“You look ready to pop.” The words flew from his mouth and he cringed. He’d never had a bit of tact.
Teresa’s cheeks flushed. She wiggled in his arms.
“I – I tried to call you.”
“Call me?” He shook his head. “I don’t have a cell anymore.” He’d tossed that thing before he’d left town. Besides, where he’d been, he couldn’t have it anyway.
“Oh.” Teresa’s cheeks turned bright red — and he knew.
He dropped his arms and turned his back on her so she wouldn’t see the panic stamped on his face.
Honest to God, his heart pumped faster, sweat trickled down his back and his throat closed up so tight he could barely breathe — the same reaction he'd had that morning nine months ago when he'd woken up with the worst hangover of his life, Teresa draped over him like a quilt and no memory of how she'd gotten there.
Well, that wasn't exactly true. He recalled one thing from that night – thinking he had no business kissing the preacher's daughter while his breath reeked of Jack Daniels.
He'd done it anyway and apparently a whole lot more.
He swiped his hand over his face and through his hair, counted to ten… stalling. Finally, he cleared his throat. “What would you have told me if I answered the phone?”
“I — Oh!”
At Teresa’s painful exclamation he was at her side in an instant, his pulse a painful, pounding rhythm that made him woozy.
She was bent over, rubbing her belly.
She breathed in quick, loud pants, and when whatever was going on had passed, she looked up, her pale face tense with fear.
Her cold fingers curled around his. She needed him, and just like that, Jeremiah's panic faded.
“We’re having a baby,” she whispered. “I would've told you we're having a baby.”
Time stopped. Teresa blinked up at him and Bing Crosby sang something about Christmas dreams and light and love –
“Jeremiah?” Teresa squeezed his hand. She might as well have been holding his heart. Actually, she already did. She just didn't know it… yet.
He kissed the top of her head and swept her up into his arms, where she belonged. “And I would've told you I'm coming home,” he said.
Tina is a wife, mother and newspaper editor who enjoys writing contemporary romance. "The world is full of dark, depressing news. When I read and write I want to know that my 'Once upon a time' ends with 'and they lived happily ever after.'"
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Tags: Christmas, Passionate Christmas, Passionate Critters, Romance, short stories, Tina Vaughn, Twelve Days of Christmas
