Let It Snow

by Jeanette Grey

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Baby, it's cold outside . . . 'Tis the night before Christmas Eve and Holly wishes she hadn't volunteered to work the night shift. The weather is frightful and getting worse by the minute, and the same old annoying carols are blasting from the bookstore's speakers. But Holly's holiday spirit returns when the store's sexy new assistant manager arrives to keep her company. He has muscled arms, baby blue eyes, and a sweet pair of lips she wouldn't mind meeting under the mistletoe. Sam is glad the snow is keeping away customers-it gives him a chance to get close to his favorite employee. Holly has always been a mystery to Sam, like a beautiful present he'd love to unwrap. When they're trapped by a full-blown blizzard, Holly breaks into the Christmas cookie display. Sam busts out a bottle of vodka from the boss's office. Soon the two are trading heated kisses-as well as secrets neither has ever felt safe enough to tell before. What started out as one naughty night together turns into something so much more.

Release date: November 1, 2016

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 104

Sample

Chapter One

“Come on, cheer up. With a name like yours, aren’t you, like, legally obligated to love Christmas?”

Holly raised one eyebrow but declined to look up from her book. No reason to encourage Rebecca to loiter around the register any longer than necessary. “Yes. I had to sign something when they made out my birth certificate.”

Out of her periphery, she saw Rebecca pull a face. “You had to sign something when you were a baby?”

“You didn’t?” This time Holly did glance up. Mostly because she had to turn the page anyway.

Rebecca was looking worried now. “I don’t know. I don’t remember back that far.”

“Maybe you should ask your mom.”

“Yeah, maybe.” With another little frown, Rebecca wandered off toward the rear of the store where her mother, Margie, was probably in her office nipping off her flask.

Seriously. Nineteen-year-olds should not be that gullible.

For a second, Holly almost felt bad for messing with her, but it wasn’t as if the girl didn’t have it coming. Five times now she’d asked Holly if she was excited about the lights or the presents or the trees or even church of all the godforsaken things. Holly had only a limited supply of nice to work with every day, and she was saving it for the customers, thank you very much.

Speaking of customers…

Holly marked her place and took a quick survey of the shop. Ugh. Margie had been so excited about her plans to keep the place open until midnight the whole week running up to Christmas Eve, and business had been brisk enough the past few nights. But now the snow was starting to pile up outside, and the roads were almost empty. They’d scarcely had a dozen customers since six, and at almost ten p.m. on December twenty-third, she doubted their tiny little independent bookstore was going to have some sort of sudden rush. Especially if the forecasters’ threats about an early blizzard came to be.

Not that Holly really minded being stuck here. Other than the awful, never-ending soundtrack of ancient Christmas tunes, the job was pretty decent. The overtime pay was good, and it wasn’t like she had anywhere better to be this time of year. Classes weren’t in session, and all her friends had already gone home. As appealing as yet another Doctor Who marathon might be, at least when she was working, she had something to do.

“You know…” a voice said from behind her.

Holly just about went out of her skin. She whipped around, hand flying to her mouth, only to find Sam standing there smirking at her, blue eyes twinkling, his short, sandy hair all finger-raked and perfect. With the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to his elbows, the muscles of his forearms stood out in stark relief as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world like one of the heroes from her comic books come to life. He was more or less the same age as she was, but when he cocked his brow like that, he looked so authoritative and in-charge. Warmth bloomed on her cheeks, and she had to work to keep her heart in check for reasons that had nothing to do with being startled.

Reasons that had everything to do with the slow-burning crush she’d been harboring ever since he’d started on as assistant manager at the beginning of the term.

His mouth settled into a softer smile as he tilted his head toward the hallway Rebecca had disappeared down. “It’s not very nice to pick on her like that.”

Oh. Was that all he was concerned about? Her itching suspicion about the two of them that had kept her from acting on said crush made her huff in annoyance. “A girl’s gotta have a hobby,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She didn’t even bother to push her boobs out. Apparently, it wasn’t worth the effort if he was sticking up for Rebecca of all people.

Only, one corner of his lips rose, making the dimple in his cheek stand out. “Come on. That’s not nearly enough of a challenge to count as a real hobby.”

“You have a point,” she conceded, working to suppress her grin. She chalked up one strike against the idea of him and Rebecca getting it on in the storage closet during breaks. It made her bold enough to flirt a little. Looking at him over the rims of her glasses, she touched her neck, running the tip of her index finger along her exposed collarbone before dipping it under the neckline of her super-sexy vintage She-Ra T-shirt. “Have an idea of someone I should pick on instead?”

What? She didn’t say she was going to flirt well or anything.

Fortunately, before she could start to feel too self-conscious, he laughed—a warm kind of sound, the sort that made it clear he was laughing with her as opposed to at her. Still chuckling, he pushed off the counter, closing the space between them. He reached out and tugged on her hair, twisting a finger through one of her long, dark curls. “Not sure anyone is an equal for your brain, college girl.” His tone was as teasing as ever, but the heat of it shot straight through her all the same. He ducked in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. “But I’d be willing to give it a shot if you’re feeling…understimulated.”

Her knees felt like they were going to buckle, and the tips of the awesome breasts she still wasn’t using to their full effect tingled with a warmth that shot right down her spine.

“Oh?”

Before she could even fully appreciate how thoroughly he’d asserted himself into her space, he stepped away, leaving her dizzy and her lungs tight. With one eyebrow cocked, he grinned. “Anytime.”

And just like that, he walked away.

Jesus. Okay, fine. Make that two marks in the not-fucking-Rebecca column. Or at least in the not-fucking-Rebecca-exclusively column. She knew better than to expect much more than that from a guy who knew how to get a girl’s pulse racing so quickly. Resisting the urge to actually fan herself, she swept her gaze around the store again, only lingering on the sight of his ass in those jeans of his for a second before she kept scanning.

And spotted Margie and her 100 percent unironic light-up Rudolph sweater walking right toward them, followed closely by Rebecca. Which at least went part of the way toward explaining why Sam had pulled away so fast. And diminished some of her confidence in the mark she’d just made in her mental fucking- or not-fucking-Rebecca chart.

Margie and Rebecca already had their coats with them, which was fine by Holly. Margie was an easy boss to work for, but if business stayed slow, her exit would mean some nice uninterrupted time to read. Or maybe flirt with Sam. It’d probably be a combination. Except then she spotted the binder under Margie’s arm and internally groaned.

Margie bustled toward the front, speaking over the piped-in holiday soundtrack. “Thank you two again for staying till closing tonight.” She glanced around at the empty confines of the shop. “I would just send you home with it this slow, but we did do all that advertising…”

“No problem,” Sam said smoothly.

Margie honest-to-God stopped and pinched his cheek. Holly had to bite her lip at his stifled reaction. “You are such a doll.” Continuing toward the counter, Margie added, “Anyway, the worst of the storm is supposed to hold off for another few hours, so you should be okay.”

Eyeing the window, Holly didn’t know if she completely believed that. But if it got too bad, Sam was pretty reasonable. She could probably talk him into locking up a little early. “We’ll be fine,” she said with a bit more confidence than she. . .