A Christmas Kiss

by Celeste O. Norfleet, Regina Hart, Deborah Fletcher Mello

Genres: Anthologies; Holiday books

Synopsis

Warm up with these sweet and sexy holiday tales of love and romance…
Sealed With A Kiss Celeste O. Norfleet
Small town bad boy Dean Everett has made good in the tech world and now struggling Hayden, Georgia, is ready to welcome him home—along with his corporate headquarters. But Carmen Stiles is less than happy to see him. Dean had no idea he broke her heart when he left town after high school. Now he plans to make up for it—and as old friendship stirs new passion, Carmen just might let him—until she suspects he has no intention of really making things right for Hayden, or for her….
Mistletoe Lane Regina Hart
Benjamin Brooks’s marriage ended when he learned his wife was having an affair—with his boss. Now he’s returned to Trinity Falls to start a new job—and ignore Christmas. Too bad his new employee, June Cale, won’t let him. June knows all about bitterness, and she’s determined to help Ben heal—through embracing the holidays. And soon he just might find himself embracing brave and beautiful June as well….
His Christmas Present Deborah Fletcher Mello
Bianca Torres is already dreading Christmas with her parents in tiny Boone, North Carolina. But she’s not at all prepared for her father’s golf buddy, the sexy, successful, holiday-loving, aptly named Ethan Christmas. And when she and Ethan find themselves snowbound, Bianca discovers a whole new appreciation for the season…

Release date: October 1, 2015

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Carmen Stiles stopped typing and read the copy she’d just written. Yes, it made sense. Yes, it was accurate, but it didn’t take a literary maven to know it was horrible. She grimaced, then glanced over at the time displayed on the monitor. The short holiday blurb for the local newspaper that was supposed to be due earlier that day was turning into a major mental undertaking.

For the last few hours she’d been repeating the cycle of writing, editing, rewriting, re-editing and getting nowhere. What should have taken fifteen minutes at most, had taken all afternoon. At this rate, she’d be sitting in front of the computer the rest of the evening.

Frustrated, she turned her attention to incoming emails. After reading through and replying when needed, she checked the bed-and-breakfast’s website and then confirmed the last three New Year’s holiday reservations. Then, having run out of valid excuses, she went back to the blurb, knowing that Thomas Ford, the head of the town’s council, would be asking for it any minute.

She sighed. She didn’t often procrastinate, particularly when it came to the family-owned bed-and-breakfast. But since it was only a few days before Christmas and they’d been sold out for the last six weeks, it seemed pointless to invite guests to stay when there were no rooms available. Still, her mother had promised the town council a blurb, so . . .

She sat up straight, tried to be more attentive, and read the copy again. It sounded even worse than before. She slouched. “Ugh. Even I wouldn’t want to stay here after reading this,” she grumbled as she leaned her elbow on the front counter and her chin in the palm of her hand. She looked around the open foyer for inspiration.

As with the rest of the Stiles Bed and Breakfast, the foyer was elaborately decorated for the holiday season—Christmas trees, candle glowing lanterns, twinkling lights, evergreen, fresh poinsettia plants, berry and fur holiday wreaths, nutcrackers and an array of holiday favorites. They even had a sprig of fresh mistletoe, which she avoided standing under like the plague. So one would think writing a short holiday blurb would be a breeze. But it wasn’t, at least not for her.

Her shoulders slumped. The holiday season always made her anxious. She knew how important it was to the family business, and she’d tried her hardest to make everything so perfect this year. She wanted to make her mother and father proud. But today, like the last few days, had been nearly impossible. Earlier, the microwave broke, then a guest bumped into the twelve-foot Christmas tree and knocked it over, breaking some of her favorite glass ornaments, the Christmas lights hanging from the back of the house fell down, and the attic roof started leaking again. And that was all just this morning. So, if one more thing happened . . .

Just then an email from Thomas Ford popped up. The subject title was, HOLIDAY BLURB NEEDED ASAP!! She didn’t bother opening it.

“That’s it, I give up.” Carmen pressed and held the delete button for the sixth time that evening. Why her mother insisted on making gingerbread cookies this late in the evening instead of writing this was beyond her. She looked at the blank screen and shook her head woefully.

Just then she saw her mother walk by humming a classic holiday tune and carrying a huge bouquet of white flowers. Carmen smiled in cunning delight. “Mom . . .” she began sweetly.

“Yes, honey,” Marion Stiles said as she continued to the marble table in the center of the open foyer. She placed the bouquet down beside the antique vase already in the center of the table. “I just love monochromatic flowers in winter floral displays. Chrysanthemums, hydrangea, paperwhites, orchids, and just the perfect touch of green with eucalyptus and fur sprigs right from the Christmas tree. “They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” Marion said.

“Yes, they’re beautiful. So, Mom, I need you to write the blurb for the newspaper, okay.”

“Carmen, you were supposed to take care of that hours ago.”

“I know, but writing it seems kind of pointless since we’re completely booked up until after the New Year anyway.”

Marion fanned out the flowers on the table. “The blurb should be about the bed-and-breakfast, but also it should bring people to Hayden. So write about Hayden’s quaint small-town ambiance, the friendly residents, and how our family bed-and-breakfast is the perfect holiday setting. And yes, even though we’re fully booked, you know how people love to stop by just to enjoy our holiday decorations and the amazing waterfront view of the town. Plus . . .”

“See, you’re so much better at writing this, so I think you should be the one to . . .”

“Carmen, this is your hometown and Christmas in Hayden, Georgia, is beyond amazing, you know that. Inspiration is all around you with the festival of lights celebrations, the ice sculptures and gingerbread house contests, the giant Christmas tree-lighting ceremony in the center of town, the spectacular holiday parade and . . .”

An email notification popped up on the computer screen and, knowing her mother was only just starting one of her long holiday pep talks, Carmen opened and read the email. “Hmmm, this can’t be right,” she muttered to herself. She stared at the computer screen and shook her head. “Why would he cancel his reservation? Mom, have you heard anything about this?” she asked.

“About what, honey?” Marion asked as she picked up a large white hydrangea blossom, trimmed the lower leaves, and then stuck it in the water-soaked Oasis floral foam in the bottom of the holiday vase.

“I just got an email from Senator Alistair Harrison. He cancelled his reservation. He’s the town’s grand marshal for the holiday parade. As a matter of fact, I expected him to have checked in by now. So why would he cancel? Do you know if he’s staying someplace else in town?”

“He canceled because he’s not the grand marshal anymore,” Marion said while trimming the leaves from another bloom.

“What? When did this happen?” Carmen asked as she walked over to stand beside her mother at the table. She picked up a stripped bloom and arranged it in the vase. “I thought everybody was excited to have him as grand marshal this year. Why would they make a change this late? The parade is in a few days.”

Marion handed Carmen another large bloom to stick into the oasis. “Alistair was the council’s second choice. He understood when we told him. And, to tell you the truth, I think he was happily relieved. You know his daughter and son-in-law just had another child and he really wanted to be with them this holiday season.”

“Fine so who is the town council’s first choice?”

“Dean Everett.”

Carmen stopped and looked at her mother. “Dean Everett.”

“Yes, he’s agreed to be the grand marshal this year. He’ll be great. He was always my first choice.”

“Oh God, no. Mom, please tell me this is another one of your really, really bad jokes.”

“Of course it’s not a joke. Dean Everett is finally coming home for the holidays,” Marion said proudly.

“Dean? Why him of all people? Whose idea was it?”

“Mine. I’ve suggested him every year, but he always declines because of his schedule. And well, there were still a few naysayers, but I changed their minds. He’s coming and I, for one, am thrilled. And he’s also agreed to come to stay with us here rather than in town.”

Carmen put the flower down, then walked away shaking her head. “No. No. No. He can’t stay here. That’s impossible. We’re booked.”

“You know very well the town council has a room on hold for the parade’s grand marshal. It’s tradition.”

“No, tradition or not, he still can’t stay here.”

“Carmen Marie Stiles, I have never known you to get this upset over anything, especially not a guest,” Marion said, placing a long-stemmed flower into the vase.

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand. Since this place was founded by your great-great-grandfather over a hundred years ago, the Stiles Family Bed and Breakfast has always opened its doors to any and everybody, and that includes Dean Everett.”

Carmen knew the history of the Stiles residence better than anyone. It was ingrained into her heart as far back as she could remember. A member of the Stiles family had always owned this place, and always would, and she knew it.

“Honestly, I don’t understand. You haven’t seen Dean since the day he graduated from high school. I thought you’d be happy he was coming home for the holidays, delighted even. It’s been ten years.”

“Mom, why would you think anyone in the town would be delighted he’s coming back? You know everybody in this town hated Dean.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate, Carmen. Nobody hated Dean.”

“Fine, they despised and ostracized him nonstop. Most of the town labeled him a menace, a troublemaker, and likely to be in jail by the age of nineteen, remember? It was almost a public holiday when he left town. Thomas Ford did everything he could to get rid of him. He even started a petition to have him kicked out of school. The day Dean left town, he threw a party.”

“You know as well as I nobody took that petition seriously, especially not Dean. And as for the party, Tom threw it for his daughter, Rachel, who was graduating high school with Dean.”

“Yeah, right, that’s what he told everybody else, but Rachel told me differently. And you know Dad hated him. That’s why he was always so hard on him.”

“Carmen, your father didn’t hate Dean. As a matter of fact, he really liked and admired him.”

“What? No, Dad never liked me hanging around Dean.”

Marion nodded. “True, but the reason he seemed hard on Dean was because he knew how much you liked him. He didn’t want Dean turning you away from here, from the family business.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It did to your father. Dean made no bones about wanting to leave Hayden. And even though you were just a grade behind him, your father was afraid you’d run away and go with him when he left.”

Carmen shuddered. She didn’t respond. That’s exactly what was supposed to happen. The day Dean left town, he had asked her to go with him and she’d agreed, but then she couldn’t. “Mom, you’re on the town council. Why didn’t you tell me he had been invited?”

“I’ve been inviting him to come back for years. But he always declined because of a scheduling conflict. But this year he said there might be an opening in his schedule. That’s why we had the posters read, ‘a special guest.’ Dean’s assistant just confirmed this morning.”

Carmen shook her head, exasperated.

“Carmen, he’s your friend,” Marion insisted.

“Correction, he was my friend,” she emphasized, “and that was a very long time ago.” She went back to helping her mother with the flowers. “I haven’t heard from him in years.”

“And whose fault is that?” Carmen didn’t respond. She had deliberately avoided Dean for years. “Well, be that as it may,” Marion continued, “Dean is coming home and I, for one, will be happy to see him again. He was always a nice young man, and you know he’s done very well for himself. CEO and president of his own very successful software company is a remarkable achievement. And now I saw he’s selling his company to one of the top ten Fortune 500 companies. If that happens he’s going to be worth some outrageously obscene amount of money. Imagine that.”

Carman looked at her mother. “And how do you know this?”

“I read the Internet,” Marion said smugly.

“Yeah, apparently, and that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Marion laughed then smiled slyly. “You know, Dean is also gorgeous and sexy. So you know those gold-digging women are going to be all over him.”

“Sexy? Mom!” Carmen said, surprised by her mother’s bold assertion.

“What? I told you, I read the Internet. I’m connected to social media and I have lots of friends there. Dean is one of them. He’s gorgeous, rich, and, as some well-informed websites put it, he’s sexy as hell.”

“Mom, I am not having this conversation with you.”

Marion shrugged off. “The whole world is crushing on him and, if I remember correctly, you had a bit of a crush on him too, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“No?” Marion repeated, then looked at her daughter, knowing better.

“Don’t start, Mom.”

“Start what?”

“I’m serious, no meddling,” Carmen warned, giving her mother a stern expression meant to remind her of the last time she’d meddled in Carmen’s personal life.

“What? When have I ever intentionally interfered in your personal life?”

Carmen stopped what she was doing and just stared at her mother. “You are kidding me, right? How can you even ask that question? You signed me up to an online dating site, without my knowledge. I still get emails from that craziness. Then we went out to dinner, which turned out to be a speed-dating event, and then there’s the ad you put in the newspaper a few months ago.”

Marion opened her mouth to defend herself and then closed it instantly. “Fine, but for the record, the newspaper ad was for the Valentine’s special and I needed a grand prize and you were it,” Marion said.

“Whatever, just no interfering,” Carmen clarified.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t think of it,” Marion agreed.

“Good. Thank you.” Carmen took a deep relieved breath. “Also, the news says that Dean is merging his company, not selling it.”

Marion nodded. “You’re right, that’s exactly what the news says.”

“And you know the only reason the town council really wants him here is because they say he’s looking to move his new company headquarters to the East Coast,” Carmen said. “They need him and his company here.”

“How do you know that?” her mother asked.

“I read the Internet too,” she said as she picked up a few more blooms and tucked them into the vase as the moment between them fell silent. She began to think about Dean and what her mother had said. There was no denying it. She’d seem pictures of Dean over the years. She was right about everything. “All right, fine,” she suddenly relented out of the blue. Her mother looked up at her, obviously wondering about her sudden outburst. “I give in, he is gorgeous.”

Marion smiled. “And . . . ?”

Carmen shook her head and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m talking about this with my mother.”

“And . . . ?” Marion insisted.

“Fine. He’s also sexy as hell,” Carmen added, repeating her mother’s earlier words. An instant later, they looked at each other and giggled like schoolgirls. Then her curiosity got the best of her. “Okay. So, when does the big event happen? When is Dean actually getting here, the day of the parade?” Carmen asked.

Marion looked up and smiled warmly. “Dean, you’re here, right on time. Welcome back home,” Marion said happily.

Carmen froze. There was no way her mother’s bad joking skills were this convincing. She watched in astonishment as her mother walked around her, looking toward the front door.

“Hello, Mrs. Stiles. It’s good to be home. You look amazing, as always,” he said.

Dean Everett had been on the phone for the last thirty miles. Before that he’d flown across the country, spending most of his time in videoconference with his attorneys and assistants. The sale of his company was going well and was nearly complete. As a result, key members of his inner team had been fielding phone calls and questions nonstop from entrepreneurs, financial managers, investors, acquisitions specialists, and financiers. Apparently everybody wanted to know about his next startup adventure and if he was really moving the new satellite headquarters to the East Coast.

Being successful had a way of drawing people in from every direction. Being extremely successful, selling a multimillion-dollar, number-one-rated African American tech company to a huge corporation, and getting an insane cash payout with mind-boggling stock options, had a way of making them want to ride your coattails to the next moneymaking venture no matter what or where.

His cell rang. He checked the car’s caller ID connection. Seeing it was one of his assistants, he answered. “Yeah?”

“Dean, it’s Kellie. I emailed you a copy of the processing forms you wanted and included the notes from the good-faith employee allocation contracts you reviewed last week. Do you still have the blueprints and architect renderings with you?”

He glanced at the black plastic architect’s tube on the seat beside him. “Actually I have the Texas ones, but they’ll do for now.”

“Do you want me to send you the recent ones?”

“No, I’ll use these for now. The structure won’t change.”

“Okay. I’ll forward the changes they made and the site plan notes from the Realtor. Is there anything else you needed this evening?”

“No, I’ll go over everything this evening and check in with you tomorrow.”

“Okay, have a good night,” Kellie said.

“Thanks, you too.”

He smiled to himself as he ended the phone call and then exited the highway. His next big adventure had nothing to do with the computer world. It was personal, and getting yet another request from his hometown to participate in the annual holiday parade fit into his plans perfectly.

Fifteen minutes later, he passed the sign welcoming him to the small town of Hayden, Georgia. Not surprisingly, it was the same sign he remembered seeing when he first came here fifteen years ago. Just thirty-five miles south of Savannah, Hayden was perched right on the water with stunning views from every direction. It was an idyllic location with small-town appeal, perfect weather, and down-home Southern charm unequal to most small towns in the area.

It had a rich and varied history that had been established just after the Revolutionary War. Then it had slipped into poverty during the next war. From then on, it experienced decades of prosperity, hardship, affluence, poverty—continuously finding itself in constant vacillating flux.

Years ago, it had been surrounded by working farms, small factories, and a large manufacturing plant that employed most of the residents, but not anymore. With the plant moved overseas and the factories closed, the town might have fallen into destitution. But it hadn’t. Instead, Hayden had survived and looked to be in the process of going through a recovery phase. Though it was ripe with growth possibility, its success was still debatable.

Dean drove down Main Street, checking out the sights. The varied structures looked more like colorful monopoly pieces than storefronts. A number of new shops, boutiques, cafés, and restaurants had replaced the ones he’d once known. There were changes everywhere. Nothing seemed familiar anymore. But, no matter how many changes were made, Hayden would always be the same for him—a small town steeped in historic beauty, forever on the verge of something new.

To his surprise, several people smiled and waved as he drove by. He nodded and returned the gesture, even though he didn’t recognize them. But he knew it was the small-town way, welcoming and friendly. Unless of course you were a thirteen-year-old kid from Detroit with a few anger issues.

He stopped at a traffic light and looked around, noticing several other storefronts empty or for rent. Then he remembered his time there. No matter how much time had passed, he’d never forget this place. This had been his home after his parents divorced. He’d come to visit his grandparents for four weeks one summer, and then had been made to stay for the next five years because neither parent wanted him.

For a long time after that, he’d equated his time in Hayden to a prison sentence complete with wardens and guards. The day he left was like being paroled. He was finally free. It was the best day of his life and the worst. His one regret was leaving Carmen behind. But he’d had no choice. She had left him first.

Thinking about her always made him pensive. What he’d lost with her was special. Although he had tried to find it with other women, no one had ever really come close. He’d loved her then and he loved her now. Coming back, he wasn’t sure what to expect. They hadn’t exactly ended well, but then their beginning hadn’t exactly been conventional either.

He chuckled to himself, remembering how they’d met. Climbing out onto that attic roof that day had been pure insanity, but it had begun a friendship that was the best thing that had ever happened to him. As the light changed and he drove off, his cell phone rang and the electronic voice announced the caller, Jared Carr. He pressed the button on the steering wheel and answered. “Yo, what’s up?”

“Hey, welcome back. I just heard you’re in Hayden.”

Dean smiled. Hearing his old friend’s voice after hours on the road was a welcome surprise. They hadn’t seen each other in several months because of their demanding work schedules. Yet they still kept in touch as much as possible. They had been best friends, frat brothers, and roommates in college, and they had kept their friendship strong over the years since. Jared had become a major public relations and crisis management professional whose clients were mainly in the political realm.

“Now how did you hear that? I just got here a few minutes ago. I’m driving through town right now.”

“You know how small towns are—everybody knows everything instantly. If you sneeze in Savannah, someone in Hayden says gesundheit.”

Dean chuckled. Jared had always made him laugh. “Ah yes, of course, the small-town added bonus, gotta love that.”

“And you know, in my business, I hear everything. Especially when a celebrated computer mogul visits the area while in the process of merging his company, making a wad of cash, and possibly searching for a new site.”

“That’s not what’s going on and you know it. No one can know that I’m actually selling the company. The stocks would go crazy and my employees’ livelihood would be in jeopardy. The only one here who knows is Marion Stiles.”

“Speaking of which, how’s the sale going?” Jared asked.

“So far, so good. My attorneys are doing their part. Everything should be done by Christmas Eve, so I get to take a short break for the first time in years.”

“When’s the official announcement?”

“Monday morning.”

“Well, enjoy it while you can. I have a feeling it’s not going to last too long.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying to keep a low profile. And it helps that I have a great team already in place.”

“Smart. Plus, hanging out in a no-name town in the middle of nowhere was a good idea. You know word is you’re about to usher in another Silicon Valley East and everyone wants to know where.”

“I don’t know where they get these news bites from.” Dean chuckled again. “So, tell me, what’s going on with you?”

“I’m on my way to D.C. There’s a situation that needs my attention. I’ll be back the end of the week. You know we have to celebrate this thing big time. It’s a major accomplishment. It’s not every day you sell a multimillion-dollar company for some insane amount of money. We have to get the crew together.”

“Definitely. A celebration sounds good, but we’re gonna have to wait on that until after the final announcement. I’m keeping everything under wraps for now.”

“Understood. So where are you staying in Hayden?”

“The Stiles, it’s a small bed-and-breakfast just outside of town. Three floors, eight full bedrooms, incredible views, and small lake in back. It’s perfect for a little solitude. I used to work there when I was a teenager.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about that place when we were in college. Maybe I’ll stop by there one day. But, are you sure you don’t want to crash at my place in Savannah? It’s only a few miles away, five bedrooms, six bathrooms, heated pool, Jacuzzi, game room, full kitchen, basketball court, and five minutes from a serious golf course.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, man, don’t tempt me. You know I have unfinished business to take care of.”

“Grand marshal, yeah, I heard,” Jared said, chuckling.

“Of course you did.”

“I’m surprised you agreed to do it. If I remember correctly, you had some interesting stories about that sweet little town when we were in school.”

“True, but I have my reasons.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. So, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“All right, sounds good. Take care.” Dean ended the call just as he passed through the familiar iron and stone archway. It was adorned on either side with the now massive azalea, hydrangea, and peony bushes he had helped plant long ago. He followed the canopy of snarled, tangled branches dripping with Spanish moss from century-old oak trees until he eased around the last bend that led to the majestic Stiles Bed and Breakfast.

Sitting atop a small mound of perfectly manicured grass and adorned with beautiful white Christmas lights, the massive four-story Victorian-style structure was breathtaking. It was white with hunter-green shutters, stained-glass windows, gingerbread trim, and classic accents. It had a wraparound porch with ornate railings that extended around three sides of the building. The front porch was lined with handmade rocking chairs and large potted plants filled with colorful flowers. Not surprisingly, the entire front was completely covered with festive holiday decorations.

Dean parked his car in the small lot on the side of the building, then looked around briefly. Although he knew it was the same structure, a lot had changed with renovations and remolding. He headed up the front steps and looked around at the magnificent view. It was good to be back. As soon as he opened the screen door and stepped inside, he stopped. The sights, sounds, and smells of the holiday season were all around him. He was home.

He walked farther into the foyer and saw two women laughing and talking at a table in the center of the space. One was Mrs. Stiles, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast. The other woman stopped him instantly. Seeing them, seeing her, filled him with elation. Even though her back was turned, he knew it was Carmen. He smiled. Her laughter was infectious and he instantly realized how much he missed the sound of her voice.

He watched her lean across the table and grab a flower. There was no doubt, she had definitely filled out in all the right places. Her dark hair was a lot longer. It was swe. . .