A Southern Christmas

by Carlene O'Connor

Genres: Anthologies; Holiday books; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Reporter Danielle Bright is heading home to write about Christmas down south--and possibly win back her ex. But Sawyer, the sexy photographer, is determined to jingle her bells . . .

Originally published within OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS anthology.

Release date: October 27, 2026

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 100

Sample

Danielle Bright and Nathaniel Hathaway walked hand in hand down the boardwalk. It was a picture-perfect Christmas Eve. There was a tiny nip in the air, and the skies were littered with stars. Boats along the river were decked out in Christmas lights and displays, floating their holiday cheer up and down the Cape Fear River. The horse and carriage was coming in for the night; the telltale clip-clop rang out even before the white beauty came into view. The driver treated the pair to a wink and a wave, and Dani and Nate smiled and waved back. The horse, a Percheron, was one of five rescued draft horses that they rotated in and out of short shifts. They were well-treated and friendly, like most folks about town.

The air had the smell of cookies just out of the oven. Dani could imagine racks of them cooling on counters up and down Front Street, awaiting icing and Santa. Dani smiled at the thought of all the children hyped up even before licking the bowl. She glanced at the skies as if trying to spot flying reindeer. The huge tourist paddleboat, the Henrietta, was just pulling in from its moonlight cruise. The ship honked its horn, as if winking at the young couple on the shore.

Nate’s hands were clammy, which wasn’t like him. She hoped he wasn’t coming down with something. They were having Christmas dinner at his grandmother’s house, and Danielle couldn’t imagine missing the exquisite feast. She absolutely loved going to Ruth Hathaway’s gorgeous historic home on Christmas. Oh, she loved spending the mornings with her parents and sister, of course, but there was no denying the special pull she had toward Ruth’s festivities.

Ruth Hathaway had a passion for the holidays that could not be beat. Her home always boasted the best decorations inside and out, the food and drink were a culinary dream, and not a single detail was ever overlooked, right down to chestnuts literally roasting over a roaring fire. And this year, Dani’s entire family was invited. Just thinking how special it would be infused Dani with the Christmas spirit. Beside her, Nate cleared his throat.

She would have to encourage him to take some vitamin C before bed, and if he woke up with the sniffles, he was just going to have to power through it. Just ahead towered the town Christmas tree. Dani and Nate were just a few feet from it when the scent of pine reached her nose. Dani stopped, dropped Nate’s hand, and gasped. “It’s live,” she said.

Nate grinned. “You got your wish this year,” he said. Normally, it was an artificial tree, something that really got to Dani. But this year. What a surprise. What a beauty she was.

“Did you know?” Dani asked Nate.

Nate nodded. “It’s a regal blue spruce specially cut from the mountains in Asheville.”

“It’s unbelievable. They did it. They finally did it.” The multicolored lights glittered like precious gems in the night. Just as they passed the tree, Nate stopped, swung her around, took her hands in his, and gazed into her eyes. There was a twinkle in his eye. Nate got down on one knee. The clues finally gelled. He was going to propose.

Before she could even think, her body reacted. She yanked him back up. He was off balance, and startled. She took a moment to look into his eyes. Normally a greenish-blue, next to the tree tonight they were the color of emeralds. A perfect contrast to his dark hair. He was such a handsome young man, and they had been happily going steady for three years. But she was only twenty-four. And they hadn’t had the talk yet, not really, about the future. To Danielle, it seemed a sure thing, but far off. At least three years. Even five. She wasn’t ready to settle down and have kids. And as much as she loved Wilmington, North Carolina, their little “Hollywood of the East,” she wanted to see other places before they started a life together. More specifically, she wanted to see New York. No, that wasn’t the exact truth. She didn’t just want to see New York. She wanted to be a part of New York; she wanted to live in New York. And Nate had stated numerous times that there was nowhere he’d rather be but right here. It was sweet, but it was also maddening. She had resolved to talk to him about it in the New Year.

“Nate,” she said. He smiled and squeezed her hands, and only then could she see how nervous he was. And how well dressed. Why hadn’t she noticed before that he was wearing his blue blazer? There were a few other people roaming about, but mostly they had the boardwalk to themselves. An older couple stopped to take a picture of the tree. Music was playing nearby. Danielle couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from, but suddenly she realized what it was. Her favorite Christmas song, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” sung by the one and only Bing Crosby. Nate had planned that, too. He reached into his pocket. He was so nervous he wasn’t picking up on her attempts to stop him.

“Wait,” Dani said. The couple who had stopped to take the picture were openly staring in anticipation. Smiling. Holding the camera up, just waiting to get a snapshot of his face when she said, “Yes. I will. I will marry you.” Dani leaned down. “Pretend you’re tying your shoe,” she said.

“What?” Dani pointed to his shoe. He stared at it, then stared at her, and raised an eyebrow.

The words were out of her mouth before she could censor them, soften them. She clasped her hands as if she was the one proposing. She dropped to one knee, too, so that they were nose-to-nose. Anyone who saw them would probably think they were putting on some sort of strange nativity performance. Dani could have used the guidance of a wise man tonight, preferably all three. Or even a shining star to guide her. But all she had was herself. And the burning feeling in her gut that if he asked her now, there would never, ever be a later. “Please don’t ask me,” she said. “Please, not here. Not now.”

Nate’s eyes bore into hers for a few seconds, before he glanced behind her. At first, she was annoyed. He couldn’t be that upset if he was so easily distracted, if he didn’t even want to hear why she was stopping the proposal. Delaying the proposal. Of course she would marry Nate. Just later than sooner. They had all the time in the world. She turned around to see what had captured his attention. What a fright!

The boardwalk behind them was now teeming with people ready to celebrate. So many of them. Piling off the Henrietta’s moonlight cruise. All their friends and family, come to witness this romantic moment. Nate had timed everything perfectly. Passing the tree, stopping to gawk. The boat pulling in. The captain playing her favorite Christmas song. So that by the time she said yes, they would turn around to a thunderous cheer, and the popping of champagne. The horse and carriage was indeed waiting take one more spin that night, this time just for the luckiest couple in the world.

Slowly, it dawned on her. “You had the tree flown in,” she said.

“Just for you,” he replied.

Oh yes. Nate Hathaway had seen to every tiny detail. Every detail, but one. He had never counted on Danielle Bright saying anything other than a resounding “Yes.”

“Just what is a Southern Christmas?” Adel asked the question and everyone at the conference table looked as if they were pondering it, except Dani, who slid a few inches down into her chair, hoping it wouldn’t happen, but inevitably Adel’s eyes landed on her and remained. Soon, the entire room was looking at her. Could she really be the only employee here from the South? “Well?” Adel said in a tone that suggested she did not have time for Dani to slip all the way under the table and crawl to the exit on her hands and knees.

“There are three things you need to know about a Southern Christmas,” Dani said. Lately she’d noticed that Adel responded to lists of three. She nodded at Dani to continue and took her seat. “One,” Dani said, holding up her index finger and stalling for time.

“There will be food. Two—”

“We all have food,” Adel answered. She sounded suspicious now.

“Do you have cheesy biscuits, and grits, and country ham?”

“No, we do not,” Adel said, feverishly tapping on her iPad. She was back on board now. “Wait. You have that for breakfast? On Christmas morning?”

“Well—my family would often have that breakfast as the main meal on Christmas Day.”

“Oh my God.”

“But that’s just us. Others go all-out. Southern meals at Christmastime, are you kidding me? Beef tenderloin with homemade mustard dip, sweet potato biscuits, glazed ham and sage-crusted pork with pear chutney, standing rib roasts with red wine mushroom, and turkey with figgy port wine sauce—”

“Figgy port wine sauce,” Adel echoed.

“—Montgomery punch, cheese dreams—”

“Cheese dreams,” Adel repeated as if she was in a dream.

“Mini corn cakes with smoked salmon and dill crème fraiche, cheesy grits soufflé, pecan bourbon balls—”

“Stop or I’m going to wet my pants!” Adel looked as if Dani had been to an exotic new land. “Two?” she asked grasping her pen like a torch she was about to pass.

Two was easy. Two was one of the things Dani missed the most about Christmas in the South. “Two, there will always be a gala.” Instantly, she was in Ruth’s gorgeous home. Violinists playing Christmas carols along with the pianist. The table elaborately set with the finest china, and ribbons falling from the chandelier, and skyscraper candles resting in mini-wreaths, and always a showstopper centerpiece. Dani’s favorite was the year Ruth had a gorgeous white swan pulling a red sleigh.

And, oh, the smells. Ham, and turkey, and corn bread stuffing, and so many delicate little appetizers that Dani often fasted for days before the dinner just so she could taste as many as possible. Christmas cocktails and champagne on ice. Mountains of delectable desserts,. . .