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?

Debora

Debora writes romance - all types of romance! Her tastes vary from the paranormal to romantic comedy and everything in between. Believing variety is the spice of life, her website changes frequently to appease her creative spirit! She freely admits to being a caffeine and chocolate addict and loves to talk about romance writing with anyone who'll listen. Her latest release, A Knight in Her Arms, was released August 3rd. Visit her website for me details!

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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?

Moira

Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.

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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!

Moira

Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.

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      “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.”

Moira

Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.

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      “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.”

Chelle Sandell

Chelle Sandell is an aspiring romance author...and hates talking about herself in the third person. Her chaotic adventure in life includes two rowdy boys, her very own cowboy hero, and a very spoiled Blue Heeler cattle dog that loves to herd everyone around the house. And cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes.

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      Daphne Howard drove back into her hometown and nearly turned around and left again. She actually stopped at the post office, but Mrs. Lawrence spotted her and waved hello. Then it was all over—her family would know she’d actually made it before she got back to the edge of town limits.
       Why couldn’t this be the year that the big blizzard hit? Why couldn’t there be a little snow on the road? Anything so she could call her mother and say, “Sorry, can’t make it!”
       When Daphne pulled into the long driveway, she counted nearly a dozen cars. With three brothers and even more aunts and uncles, that wasn’t surprising. Unpleasant, but not a surprise.  She’d just have to deal. It was only tonight and tomorrow, Christmas Day. Then she was out of here.
       Daphne let her used sunshine yellow convertible roll to a stop behind her brother’s minivan and her aunt Tillie’s SUV. She could do this. In less than five minutes, she’d carted in the box of presents and hugged every warm body within the two-story farmhouse. All except her parents.
       Mama was first. She elbowed her way through three boys a foot-and-a-half taller than her, their picture perfect wives, and Daphne’s seven nieces and two nephews. Big families—that was the Howard way.
       Mama grabbed Daphne tight and whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, baby girl.”
       Daphne bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep the tears from spouting. If she started now, she’d be a goner by the time she saw her dad.
       The front door opened and closed behind her as she inhaled the vanilla scent that would always be her mama. Cold air swooshed across them.  A smiled etched its way across her face in anticipation, but a bit of scolding, too.
       Daphne’s dad had just come home after a mild heart attack. He should be resting, not out blowing leaves or whatever he’d been doing.
       But, when Daphne turned, it wasn’t her dad standing there with big, brown eyes, staring her down. Josh. Daphne glanced at her mother, who gave a guilty little half-smile and avoided her gaze.
       She’d left this house, in her wedding dress, one year ago exactly tomorrow… and her mother had invited the man she’d left waiting at the altar for Christmas Eve dinner?
       Everyone stopped to stare at her. At the both of them, really. Even the kids seemed to hush their chatter when they saw Josh appraising Daphne from across the room.
       Daphne did the only thing a mature, rational woman could do—she walked out, just like she did a year ago.
       She found her dad upstairs in her parents’ room. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Her dad struggled to sit up, his hair tousled from a nap.
       “She is a crazy lady,” Daphne mumbled.
       “Your mom? Tell me about it.”
       “What? Why?” Daphne shook her head and crossed to her dad. She’d been standing at the door, guarding it, while her poor dad tried to stand. She was some daughter. “Daddy, let me help you.”
       He waved her away. “I hate being sick. Your mother treats me like a child. ‘Don’t eat that, get some exercise, lie down, take your medicine.’ It’s enough to make you… Daph?”
       Daphne settled down on the bed beside him. “Yeah?”
       “Is that why you left?”
       “What?” She couldn’t stop wondering what Josh could be doing, just downstairs, right now.
       “That’s exactly what your mother does to you. Not the being sick part, but hell. She picked your wedding day. And your dress. And your major in college. Is that the reason?”
       “Maybe a little. But Mama only does it because she’s afraid of losing you.” Daphne eyed her dad suspiciously. “Did you set me up?”
       “Are you kidding? She’s driving me nuts. I’m not going to defend that. So what’s wrong?”
       “She invited Josh. I can’t believe she invited Josh. For Christmas. At the house we were supposed to get married in. At Christmas.”
       “She’s still close to him, baby.”
       “You’re defending her.”
       “Meh. I’ll pay you fifty bucks if you go get me a bacon cheeseburger and sneak it in.”
       “Not a chance.”
       “You’re a good girl, Daphne Anne.”

       Daphne marched back downstairs with determination. She wouldn’t let a little bit of awkwardness turn her into a child hiding from the mess she’d made. She’d just walk up to Josh and… um… apologize and then… Well, she’d figure it out.
       She approached Josh, who held her youngest niece on his hip. Daphne opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
       Josh raised his eyebrows expectantly and then, apparently, decided to take pity on her. “You look beautiful, Daph’. Merry Christmas.”
       Just then, Mama came over and took the little girl from his arms. “I’m sure you two would like some privacy. You probably have a lot to talk about.”
       Daphne leveled a gaze at her. “Mother.”
       She glanced around the room at her family only to realize every person in the room stared at the two of them. “This is going down as the second worst Christmas of my life.”
       Josh stepped past her, taking her hand, and pulled her to the door. He paused there and looked from face to face. “You know, I love this family. I loved the idea of being part of this family. But y’all really need to get over the whole ‘taking care of Daphne’ thing. She’s been a grown woman for a while now. Mrs. Howard, all of you—with all due respect—let her live her own life. Go back to making eggnog or making babies, or whatever you people do around the holidays, but let her do her own thing.”
       Daphne stared up at Josh in disbelief. Where had this man been a year ago? The two of them were practically trampled by her family’s beliefs about how things should be.
       Come to think of it, where had she been? It sure wasn’t anymore his responsibility than hers to stand up to them.
       “Josh?”
       “Yeah?”
       “I think my mom’s right.”
       “You what?” Josh examined her like she’d spoken in some foreign language.
       “She’s right, we need some privacy. We need to talk.”
       Daphne opened the door, stepped out onto the porch, and inhaled the scent of pine trees and snowflakes in the winter air. “Come on,” she said and led him to the old swing that hung from the big tree out back.
       She sat down on the swing and patted the seat beside her. “I need to show you something.”
       Josh settled onto the seat next to her then ducked his head to look up at her from the side.
       “Here.” Daphne pulled the worn piece of paper out of her pocket and smoothed it on her jeans.
       “What is it?”
       “Look.” She held it out until he took it. “It’s an advance. I finally sold one of my stories to a magazine. It’s not much, but—“
       “This is incredible. You did it.”
       Josh kissed her, surprising her. His lips captured hers and her heart started to race.
       When he pulled back, the cold winter day felt like a sweltering day in the middle of summer. “I really missed kissing you,” she murmured.
       He stood and said, “Wait right here. I have something to show you, too.”
       In only a couple of minutes, he came jogging back to the swing, a magazine in his hand.
       He held it out to her and her hands shook as she flipped through the travel magazine. Glossy pictures, write-ups about local activities. Except it wasn’t local to anywhere she’d ever been.  “Um, so… Alaska?”
       He gave a shake of his head. “Page seventeen.”
       Daphne took her time, reading through the article about a small festival, with ice and snow and hot… wait. Something looked familiar here. “Did you take these pictures? Oh, my God. You? How?”
       “My new job. I travel, snap pictures, and get paid for it. I’m going in a few days to Times Square for New Year’s Eve.”
       “I thought you wanted to work for the newspaper.”
       “Yeah, well, I thought you wanted to live and die in this stupid town.”
       “You mean you didn’t want to stay here and have fifteen babies and visit my parents twice a week for dinner? Seriously?”
       Josh knelt on the cold ground in front of her. “Only because I thought it’s what you wanted.”
       Daphne considered their engagement. The way her mother had swept in and planned everything. And Daphne had been too afraid to say boo to her about it. “Oh, God. I ruined our lives.”
       “They’re not ruined yet.” Josh slipped her hands in his, warming them. “You want to go spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square with me?”
       “You could forgive me after I just left you here?”
       “I think we can do things right, this time. What do you say?”
       “Merry Christmas and happy damn New Year, baby. Kiss me!”

Lori Sizemore

Lori loves happy endings, coffee, and techie gadgets. She writes contemporary romance with a dash of humor. The coffee she takes with a little cream.

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Last Snowy Encounter

By

Clarissa Yip

      “Just one time, I swear.” 
      Cole eyed his wife warily. As much as he loved her, the crazy ideas she came up with drove him nuts. If she wasn’t the hottest decorator in town and didn’t belong to him, he would have quickly turned tail and ran. But then, that wouldn’t be very manly of him. He glanced down the steep slope. They stood at the top of Death’s Peak. It was their spot—the one spot she’d run to when she wasn’t happy, but also the one place she’d wreaked havoc on him. He’d ended up in an ambulance, after the many times she’d accidentally tripped him down the hill.  
      He sighed. “Can’t we just do this at home?” 
      Maddy settled her hands on her hips and glared at him. “No.” 
      Cole pulled her into his arms and hid his irritation. “You remember what happened last time we tried this.” 
      She gazed at the night sky. “There are no trees above our heads this time. No snow will fall on us. Put up the tent and let’s do it.”
      It as in fulfilling her fantasy to make love outdoors. 
      “Let’s just go back to the house where it’s warm and I’ll build us a fire.”  
      She shook her head and pouted. “This is my Christmas wish. I want to do it here.” 
      Damn. The lip. She knew he couldn’t resist her pout. Shoving a hand through his hair, he looked around. “What if someone shows up?” 
      Maddy snorted. “Everyone is home celebrating Christmas. Besides, we did our family duties already.” Her eyebrow lifted. “What? Are you chicken?” 
      His eyes narrowed. “I’m just worried about you.” 
      “Don’t be. I’m pregnant, not disabled.” She patted her slightly rounded belly. 
      He bit his inner cheek. The bigger her stomach grew, the stronger those hormones struck. Trudging over to their belongings, he started to assemble the tent. Last time they’d tried this, snow had fallen from the branches and covered their naked bodies. Lovemaking suspended. 
      Who would have thought his spunky wife had such fantasies?  
      Once the tent was set up, he made sure the portable heater was on and lantern lit, before holding the flap open and turning to Maddy. “Done. Get in.” 
      Maddy hopped up off the tree stump and grinned. “About time!” She took two steps and slid backward. Cole quickly closed the distance, but not before she’d already fallen. At least the ground was fluffy with a fresh layer of snow. She glared at him, and he tried to keep from laughing. But mirth struck him as he clutched his stomach. Falling was natural to Maddy.  
      “The baby!” Maddy gripped her belly. Cole stopped and instantly went to her side.  
      “Are you okay?” He squatted down. She gave a soft moan. Fear and guilt instantly grasped him around the throat. “Is it the baby? Maddy, answer me.” 
      She peeped at him with a grimace. He cursed. He should have watched her more carefully, and here he was laughing at her. What type of man did that make him? He swallowed hard when she kept her head bowed. Four months into her pregnancy, he shouldn’t have allowed her to talk him into bringing her out here. Just as he started to slip his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, Maddy mushed snow into his face. 
      He froze then sputtered as he jumped up, spitting the cold out of his mouth. Settling his hands on his hips, he towered over her, glaring. She sat gripping her sides, giggling. Damn wench. “That wasn’t funny.” 
      “That’s what you get for laughing!” She held out a hand and he pulled her up.  
      “You could have been hurt. The baby could have been hurt.”  
      “Then you shouldn’t laugh at me every time I fall.” Maddy huffed.  
      “Then stop falling.”  
      “It’s your fault. You know how clumsy I seem to get around you. It probably wouldn’t matter even if we’re dating or ninety years old.” 
      Cole grinned. She did have a tendency to be klutzy around him. Only him. And it’d better stay that way for a very long time. Brushing the snow off her back, his hand lingered over her butt. He loved touching her ass. He wasn’t much of a butt man, but Maddy’s cute bottom always drew his attention, especially when she wore her black stiletto boots and sashayed around him like…. 
      He swung her up into his arms and strode to the tent. “Let’s do it.” 
      Maddy yanked the hair at his nape, and he grunted. “Now, you’re being vulgar.” 
      “You wanted to make love out here.” 
      “I said in the snow.” 
      “You’re crazy, woman. It’s the tent or nothing.” 
      She pouted. 
      “Stop that. You know I’d give you anything, but no way am I going to risk getting you sick.” 
      With a sigh, she brushed her lips against his jaw as he allowed her to slide down the length of him. “I know.” 
      He cupped her bottom, pulling her close against his groin. No matter how many times they’d made love, he’d never get enough of her. Keeping an arm around her waist, he lifted the flap of the tent. “Get in and show me your goods.” 
      Maddy giggled. She bent and started to maneuver into their temporary sleeping quarters. He gave her butt two pats before she disappeared inside. Sticking his head in, he frowned. The space was smaller than he anticipated. He should have grabbed the bigger tent from the lodge, but in their haste, he’d taken whatever was available. All thoughts fled as Maddie smiled seductively and slowly released the buttons on her coat.  
      Inch by inch, silky pale skin was revealed along with her black satin camisole. She shrugged off her jacket and slipped out of her jeans then sat demurely in her top and panties. She crooked one finger at him, and he was lost. Quickly shedding his oversized coat, he crawled into the tight space. His head hit the roof, but he managed to get his coat off.  
      Maddy helped him with his shirt. His elbow struck a metal bar. He ignored it and kissed her the moment he got his shirt off. Her fingers attacked his belt and unbuttoned his jeans as he searched for the hem of her camisole. Softness met his palms, and he slid his hand under, lovingly patting her stomach before closing over her breasts. 
      “Get these off. I want to see you.” Maddy tugged insistently at his jeans. He sat and she climbed over him, settling her legs on either side of his thighs as he tried to push his boxers and jeans off. She dug her fingers in his hair and continued to kiss him. He loved the taste of her—fruity and sweet. Her strawberry scent wrapped around him, drugging him as always.   
      Once he kicked his clothes away, he settled his hands on her hips and worked the satin top over her skin. They parted for a split second when he’d pulled her camisole off and threw it over his shoulder. 
      Maddy tugged at his hair, rocking against him as he kneaded her breasts, weighing them, loving them. They’d grown larger with pregnancy. The areolas were darker in color. He loved the little changes in her body as she blossomed with their child. Five more months and they would finally welcome their baby into the world. He was going to love Five Oaks as much as his parents did. 
      Bending down to sample her sweetness, Cole caressed her stomach before closing his mouth over her nipple. Maddy moaned and drew him closer, rocking against his groin. She tugged at his hair as he laved circles around the erect bud.  
      “I love when you do that,” she murmured. 
      He bit her gently, then kissed the spot and moved to her other breast. His hands slid over her hips to cup her butt, holding her flushed against him. The friction added to his desire. His head swam with each motion, each sensation. Frustrated with the satin barrier between them, he gave a quick tug, and the flimsy panties fell apart.  
      Maddy grinned and then gripped the sides of his face, kissing him. His tongue twirled with hers, her sweetness easily seducing his senses. Sliding from under her, he maneuvered her onto her back. He bumped his head on the top metal bar of the tent. Frowning and aggravated with their tight quarters, he settled himself between her legs. His eyes raked over her beauty and his annoyance slipped away. Her glow wrapped around him like a warm blanket, and he jerked her against him.  
      Nibbling along her jawline, he moved lower, trailing his lips across the smooth expanse of her chest. Maddy whimpered as his fingers found her. Wet and hot. She lifted herself on her elbows and peered at him with hooded eyes. The desire in her gaze flickered heat throughout his body. Control slipped the moment her tongue ran across her bottom lip. 
      Tugging her legs to hug his waist, he rubbed against her cleft. Her arms circled his shoulders, knees pressing into his sides. He leaned in to kiss her, but Maddy pushed at him. He frowned. 
      “Fire!” Maddy wriggled under him. 
      He held her tighter and tried to kiss her, but she gave him a shove. He didn’t budge. No way was she backing out now. It was her idea to make love out here. “Baby, you are hot. That won’t ever change.” 
      “No, fire!” She pointed to the corner. 
      Cole whipped around. Damn. Smoke rose from Maddy’s camisole. It had landed on top of the heater. His head hitting the roof of the tent, he grabbed his jacket and started to beat the blasted thing. Cursing aloud, he glanced at his wife to see her laughing, clutching her own coat to her chest.  
      Once the heater was off and the destroyed satin tossed aside, he settled back in defeat, bumping his head against the metal bar holding up the tent. Maddy slid her arms into her coat and grappled around for her jeans.  
      “You’re right. We should go home.” 
      He sighed. Lovemaking suspended. Again. He just couldn’t win.  
      Maddy leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. “I know. My crazy idea. But I’ll make it up to you.” 
      His eyebrow lifted. 
      “When we get home,” she quickly added. 
      Stifling the urge to growl, he reached for his clothes. 
      “Next time, we’ll grab the larger tent, so you fit, big guy.” 
      He smiled. She said “next time.” 
      Hope wasn’t lost.

Snowy Encounters Available at Decadent Publishing!

Clarissa Yip

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Have you ever woken up the morning after the office Christmas party with a horrible feeling of impending doom….?

In Vodka Veritas

“You’re late!”
Angela jumped, spilling coffee and half-eaten Christmas cookie over the desk. “Thanks,” she muttered.
“Guilty conscience?” Sally asked. She picked up the cookie and took a huge bite. “You know, I really thought that you would make an effort to be on time today.”
“I did. I always do.” It just never seemed to do any good; she was always late. So why should today be any different? Her mind came up blank. “I give up. What’s so special about today?”
“Didn’t you have something important to do this morning?”
“Did I?” A vague sense of unease stirred in the deep, dark recesses of her brain.
Sally regarded her with amazement, then smiled. “You don’t remember do you?”
“Remember what?”
Sally shook her head in mock disbelief. “Can you actually remember anything about Friday night?”
“Of course I can.” The lie rolled uneasily off her tongue. “It was the office Christmas party. I remember everything.”
“Everything?” The skepticism was clear in Sally’s voice.
“Absolutely.”
Sally stared at her for a moment. “You mean, you remember photocopying your bottom?”
“Of course.” Angela shrugged. “Didn’t everyone?”
“Good point.” Sally thought for a moment. “So, you remember telling Martin that he needs a lobotomy?”
Angela almost let out a sigh of relief. So far, not so bad. “Yes. It’s actually something I’ve been meaning to tell him for ages. Perhaps he’ll give it serious consideration. So,” she urged, “carry on then.”
“With what?”
“You know, your list of things that I remember.”
“Ha-ha. I knew it—you don’t remember. I knew you couldn’t, otherwise, you’d be scurrying around in a panic, or sitting under your desk with a bag over your head.” She stood up. “I’m going to let you stew for a while.”
Angela watched her go with a scowl on her face, then switched on her computer and pressed the new mail button.

Dear Everyone,
I just want to apologize to all those I may have offended at the office Christmas party. It was NOT, (as most of you no doubt believe) the effect of too much vodka, but rather the effect of an absolutely gargantuan brain tumor (the approximate size and shape of a football), which spontaneously exploded on Saturday morning. I am now fully recovered, but flowers and chocolates are still welcome (especially chocolates).

Angela

PS Martin – I still think you need a lobotomy.

But who to send it to? Better err on the side of caution, she decided, and selected the whole company. She was just about to press the send button when somebody spoke from just behind her shoulder.
“Angela.”
It was Jack, her boss. Six foot three of tall, dark, and handsome, all wrapped up in a designer suit. At least she could be pretty sure she hadn’t embarrassed herself there. Well, no more than usual anyway. She invariably turned into a tongue-tied moron, incapable of action or speech in his presence. Normally not a cause for celebration, but in this instance a definite improvement over the alternatives.
“Huh?” she mumbled.
He stared down at her for a moment, looked about to say something then obviously changed his mind. “I need last week’s numbers. Now.”

“I sent that email,” she said to Sally some time later, “and absolutely no-one, but no-one has brought me any chocolate. I need chocolate. And another thing, no-one will look me in the eye.”
“Kevin will.”
Angela glanced across the room, to where Kevin sat. He was in fact staring straight at her. When he caught her eye, he smiled and waggled is fingers.
“Not Kevin,” she said. “No way.”
“You want to have his babies.”
“I would never have babies with Kevin. Apart from his more obvious problems, he’s got red hair.”
“So have you.”
“Duh! That’s exactly my point. Red hair is carried on the recessive gene. Two red-haired parents and your children have absolutely no chance. Ginger babies. Even drunk, I would never do that to anyone.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think you seriously wanted Kevin’s babies. I think he was just a rehearsal. Like the others.”
The others? And a rehearsal for what? She glanced at Jack’s door, her feeling of unease intensifying. “Beam me up, Scottie,” she muttered under her breath. That gave her an idea, the perfect excuse. She clicked the new mail button again and started typing.

Dear Fellow Human Beings,
I am not going to apologize for my behavior on Friday night, BECAUSE IT WASN’T ME. At some point prior to the party, I was abducted by aliens and my place taken by an alien double. I was released on Saturday, unharmed and this is now me. So I just want to reiterate – I DIDN’T DO IT (whatever “it” was.)

Angela.

PS Kevin—while there may be a totally deluded alien out there who actually wants your babies—I don’t!

But what was really bothering her, was that there had to be something worse. Much worse, if Sally’s level of amusement was anything to go by.
“Sally, why are you doing this? You have to tell me if there’s something I need to prepare for.”
“Well, you did tell our managing director that his ex-wife looks like a horse and he’s better off without her.”
“Valuable advice.”
“And…
Angela stopped listening as her gaze snagged on something across the office. Jack was standing by the elevators, talking with the finance manager. She rested her head on her hand and stared at him.
“Yuk,” Sally said. “You’re drooling again. All over your keyboard. You know, I think it’s probably time for another of those reality checks.”
“But he’s so perfect.” Angela sighed.
“Angela,” Sally said sternly.
“Oh, okay then. Reasons why Jack will never marry Angela: One—Jack only goes out with tall, elegant blondes who ooze sophistication. Angela has red hair, freckles and is only five-foot-one. In addition she has no breasts, no hips, and she dresses entirely from the children’s department in Tesco.”
“Good so far,” Sally said, “but more needed.”
Angela thought for a moment. “Two—Jack is witty, intelligent and intellectual. In his spare time, he goes to the opera. Angela, on the other hand, is scatty, loves practical jokes, and in her spare time she reads Marvel comics and Mills and Boons.” She sighed. “Okay, that’s enough, reality restored.”

“Okay, I admit it,” Angela said. “I do not remember.” It was now afternoon, and she hadn’t even been able to eat lunch. No chocolate and no lunch; at this rate she could starve to death. “So, have you tortured me enough? Are you going to tell me?”
“Well,” Sally said, “you remember photocopying your bottom?”
Angela frowned. “We’ve already done that one.”
“It was more a case of what you did with the photocopies.”
“What did I do?”
“I’m not going to make it that easy, but what happens at three o’clock?”
Angela thought for a moment. “Oh God. The post. I’ve posted pictures of my bottom.” She jumped to her feet. “What time is it?”
“Five to three, you should just make it if you run.”
She ran, almost bowling Jack over as he emerged from his office. She arrived at the post room with seconds to spare and pushed open the door, panting.
“Bill, help me.”
“Don’t worry, your friend came round this morning. They’re over there.” He nodded to a pile of A4 envelopes on the desk. Angela went over and stared down at them. The top one was clearly addressed, in her handwriting, to the company CEO. She reached down with trembling fingers and opened it. Inside was a sheet of paper.
Across the top was written:

Happy Christmas and X my…

Above a huge copy of a somewhat flattened bottom. It would have been unrecognizable except she had signed, “Love Angela” at the bottom. She rifled through the pile.
“My mother? Why would I send a picture of my bottom to my mother?” At least three had “Jack” scrawled across them. She sighed and picked up the pile.
“Thanks, Bill, I’m eternally grateful.”
“Well, just don’t tell me you want my babies because I honestly don’t think you’re going to have the time.”
“No,” she said, “probably not.”

She pushed open the door with an enormous sigh of relief. Another day successfully negotiated. Another disaster averted. Was she a superhero or what? All the evidence was shredded, she’d actually apologized to Martin and she’d even explained the whole recessive gene theory to Kevin, though she wasn’t entirely convinced he’d followed her reasoning.
A man was leaning against the wall outside the office. For a moment, she thought it was Kevin and almost ducked back inside. But it was Jack, and it looked like he was waiting for her. Her heart sped up and her mouth went dry. Oh God, had she missed one of those pictures? She came to a halt in front of him. Her lips wouldn’t seem to work, and she had to force herself to speak.
“It’s not my bottom,” she muttered. “It’s an alien’s bottom.” He frowned. Not the picture then. “Okay, it’s probably best you forget I said that.”
“Actually,” Jack said, “I was wondering whether you’d like to come for a drink.”
“A drink?”
“And a chat.”
“A chat?”
“Yes, I thought we should talk about these babies…”

Nina

Nina Croft grew up in the north of England. After training as an accountant she spent four years working as a volunteer in Zambia which left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of 9-5 work. After a number of years wandering the world, she has now settled down to a life of writing and picking almonds on a remote farm in the mountains of southern Spain.

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     Of all the assignments I could’ve been given, this was the worst. It felt like a demotion. Had I pissed off the jolly old man? Don’t know how I would have done it, but this felt like a shit detail. I leaned against the garland-wrapped railing and stared down into the mock winter wonderland, complete with fake Santa, in the pavilion below. It all seemed out of place in the sweltering heat of…wherever the hell I’d been dropped. Beam me up Scotty, I’d like to get the elf outta here.
     I scanned the crowd, searching for my mark. It didn’t surprise me that he stood near the mechanical reindeer and Santa’s workshop. Even on the run, we still longed for familiarity. To not be the freak in the midst of humans. I didn’t move in right away, I wanted to admire the view I’d denied myself for the past year. Gorgeous, snow-white hair trailed down his back, metallic streaks of silver visible throughout, like tinsel had been woven through it. There was no mistaking Jack Frost—the man I’d avoided since the eggnog and unwrapping incident. So much beautifully lean and muscled naked elf, my cheeks heated at the memory.
     Shoving the image from my mind was difficult, but I had a job to do. I weaved my way through the hordes of holiday shoppers and garish elf wood cutouts until Santa’s throne was in sight. No Jack.
     “Crap!” How could I lose him so fast?
     “Why are you here, Holly?”
     I spun around and faced the man who’d had a starring role in my dreams for the last three hundred and sixty five days.
     “You know why I’m here, Jack.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. Didn’t want to risk being swept away in those icy blue eyes that swirled and darkened when angry or lost in the throes of passion. I’d seen both.
     “No, I don’t.” His voice held a note of hope when he continued. “Tell me.”
     “On the job.” Something kept me from coming out and admitting he was my target.
     “I won’t keep you then.” Disappointment and bitterness lined his words and took me by surprise.
     “What is going on with you?”
     “Nothing. Must be a real step down from your usual detail. Tell Santa I’m fine, but I’m not ready to come back.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his crisp grey slacks and started past me.
     I couldn’t let him go. Allowing him to walk away would mean I failed. No matter what the history was between us, I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, leaned in close enough to smell the scent of cool pine-laced breezes wafting off his skin, and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
     He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. “Why?”
     The slight contact wreaked havoc on my nerves and I began to tremble. He was so close. All I’d have to do is reach out and take him. But I couldn’t.
     “I…wrapping.” My voice sounded far off and distant. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. Around Jack, I always wanted to be present in body, at the very least. I started to hyperventilate.
     “Oh.” A small, swirling pattern of snowflakes started to take form in the depths of his eyes. “Walk with me.”
     He placed his hand at the small of my back, briefly brushing my handcuffs as he did so. “You were going to handcuff me?”
     “Last resort only.”
     “Really?” He pulled on my over shirt to reveal my gun. “And this is purely an accessory?”
     “Want me to shoot you?”
     “Not if it’s filled with one of Doc’s tranqs. Wouldn’t want you to take advantage of me.” He chuckled and we started walking through the crowd.
     “It’s no spiked eggnog.”
     “Still equally as powerful.” With a wink, he maneuvered me into a corner. I didn’t like feeling boxed in, my back against a wall. It did give me a good view of the area though, allowing me to plan my escape route if I should need one.
     With his hands splayed on the wall on either side of me, Jack rested his forehead against mine. “Why did you leave that morning?”
     Of all the questions he could have asked me in that moment, that one caught me off guard. “It was a drunken night of wild abandon—”
     “And wrapping paper,” he interjected.
     “Yes and while it was fun, it was one night. It didn’t mean anything.” Or so I’d been trying desperately to convince myself.
     “Didn’t stick around long enough to find out, did you?” He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. It was only a sample of what I’d experienced that night, but oh, how good and familiar he tasted. Kissing Jack was like drinking a cup of peppermint cocoa in front of a warm fire. When he started to pull away, I wasn’t ready to lose the intimate contact and I locked my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
     When we finally separated, we both were a little breathless and I leaned back against the wall to try and steady myself.
     Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Meant nothing, huh?”
     “Well, perhaps it meant a little.” Handcuffs—my handcuffs—snapped around my wrists. “What on earth are you doing?”
     “You want to know a secret?”
     “Can you tell me on the way home? I have to deliver Jack Frost to Santa’s doorstep on time. You wouldn’t want me to fail would you? Allow me to have an incomplete mission?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
     “No. I tell you now or I don’t tell you at all.”
     Stubborn man. I could ring his neck. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets, Jack.”
     “In all the centuries I’ve been around, I’ve never asked Santa for anything. That is— until now.”
     Butterflies beat wildly in my stomach and my throat was so dry I could barely even swallow. “What did you ask for?”
     “First tell me what you think of your assignment.”
     “You’re joking, right?”
     He shook his head. “Not at all.”
     “No offense, but being dropped in lands unknown and dealing with heat because you refuse to do your job is hardly my idea of a choice gig. And why are you laughing?” Suddenly, I started feeling like this was all a set up. “You didn’t really leave Santa a note saying you were going on strike?”
     “I did leave him a note, but nowhere did I mention abandoning my duties for the season.”
     I looked around the shopping area. Taking in more than the winterscape that had been set up for Santa photos. Palm trees lined the outside of the walkways; in the distance the sounds of the surf were faint but detectable. Add to that, Jack’s lack of surprise to see me there and—“This was a set up!”
     “Let’s just say I must have been VERY good this year.” He leaned in and kissed me briefly. “Because I got exactly what was on my Christmas list.”

Moira

Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.

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