Snowed In for Christmas

by Jaqueline Snowe

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Holiday Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

Fans of Christina Lauren and Maggie Knox will adore this fun and festive romcom featuring a grumpy/sunshine duo who find themselves in stuck together over the holidays, where the weather outside is frightful—but inside, things are heating up in this sexy holiday story.
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Sorority mom Becca Fairfield is used to guys not taking her seriously. She’s too blond, too quirky, or Just. Too. Much. So she’s ditched dating to focus on her job and a house filled with drama and plenty of tea. Now with the holidays and a major blizzard on her doorstep, Becca has everything she needs to survive the next two weeks on her own. Hot cocoa, plenty of books . . . and the memory of a steamy kiss with a certain sexy, grumposaurus next-door neighbor to keep her warm.

Only Becca’s seriously underestimated this Snowpocalypse. So when the power goes out and Harrison Cooper—football coach, master crank, and the guy who acted mega-awkward after said steamy kiss—offers her shelter, it only makes sense to accept. They’ll just be Blizzard Buddies. Hang out, stay safe, and maybe indulge in a little R-rated cuddling. Becca knows that Harrison isn’t the dating kind, and what happens during the storm lasts only as long as the storm. But are they keeping warm . . . or playing with fire?

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 368

Sample

HGTV had to be created with magic—it sucked me in within the first second, and I hadn’t moved in three hours. Love It or List It was my catnip. Three entire hours of sprawling out on the massive leather couch when I had shit to do. Lots of shit. As the house mom for Betas, I had to make sure the chef was paid, and since the cleaning service had two weeks off for the holidays, that had become my responsibility, too. And considering the fun fact that there was a blizzard coming, I had to make sure I had enough food to shelter in place for a week. If I wanted to get into specifics, I needed to make sure I had enough sugar, chocolate, and wine to survive the holidays alone. Again.

“Becs? My mom wants to know when the doors are officially locked for winter break.” Marissa Kelly patted my shoulder as she came to a stop behind the couch. I would never rank students in the Beta house in order of favorites, but if I was forced at gunpoint, Marissa would be in the top three.

“Friday, girlfriend.”

I looked away from the TV and cringed at my outfit: hot pink pajamas covered with little suns wearing sunglasses tucked into purple-and-green fuzzy socks, with a stain on my chest from either chocolate or coffee and a clear view of my stomach because I forgot a button. It’s no wonder I’m single.

“Is it sad I wish I didn’t have to leave for two weeks?” Marissa joined me on the couch and sighed with as much angst as a nineteen-year-old could.

“You have a home here waiting for you when you get back. Trust me, enjoy the time you have with your family while you can, because adulthood comes fast and hard.” I adjusted my position, moving so we sat shoulder-to-shoulder, and snuck a look at her. Her typical smile disappeared. A deep frown that made her look years older replaced it. I nudged her shoulder with my own. “Hey, talk to me. I haven’t seen you this sad since the infamous breakup freshman year.”

She shrugged. “My parents are going through a rough time, and it’s hard seeing them fight. It never used to be like that.”

Poor Marissa. My soul hurt for her. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I had some profound advice for you to help or make it better, but that is out of my realm. Just… maybe try to find things to do with your parents separately. Offer to help with dinner or cleaning. You can always text me if you want.”

“You’re the best, Becs.” She leaned her head against me.

A rush of this-is-why-I-love-my-job bloomed over me in a full-body hum of happiness, and I couldn’t stop my smile. “I am your house mom, and yeah, I can be the best.”

She laughed, and I put my arm around her shoulders for a half-hug. She leaned into it, and a lightness filled my chest.

No one in my education-focused family understood why I did what I did. They always asked how it was going and what I actually did, but it was so foreign to them that their eyes would gloss over and they’d nod a lot. They appreciated the fact that I helped college students, sure, but it wasn’t the same as teaching in their eyes. Yeah, I loved my parents, and I knew they loved me, but they didn’t understand me. None of my endless stream of first dates ever understood me. Very few people did. Except these girls.

“I guess I better start packing since it’ll take me forever to clean my room.”

“Yeah, honestly, you’re a great human but a slob, Issa.” I earned another smile from her.

I was about to offer to help when Amanda Lee rushed down the spiral staircase to my right, face flushed and eyes the size of saucers. “Becs.”

“Yes?” I sat up straighter, already imagining the crisis I would have to deal with. Was it her creepy boyfriend? Her slipping grades? Her secret stash of vodka I knew she kept behind her desk but we never talked about?

“I tried opening the window and it wouldn’t work, so I forced it, you know, to get fresh air into the room. I do live on the highest floor so it gets stuffy, yeah? So I shoved it and the window shattered and I tried cleaning it up but then the wind picked up, and anyway… my clothes are on the roof, and you know how my mom feels about me losing anything,” she rambled, slurring words and syllables in an almost incomprehensible way. But I knew her well and pieced it together.

“Your clothes are on the roof?”

“And all over the yard.” Her bottom lip trembled. “My mom will kill me if I lose those blouses. My grandma made them for me.”

Save the clothes and then look at the glass. “Okay girls, get your coats. We’re going on a recovery mission.”

I marched from our huge living room to the closet, shoving my feet into my favorite pair of sequined Uggs, bundling up with a head-to-toe hot pink parka and ridiculous yellow hat I’d knitted myself two years ago. Not my best-stitched work, but it was warm and that was all that mattered in winter. Marissa, Amanda, and another pair of girls joined us and bundled up, and we set out the back door. Sure enough, colored shirts decorated the dull landscape. It had been a brutal December in the Midwest. Poor central Illinois was already prepared for a blizzard before Christmas, and the wind burned the exposed parts of my face. I didn’t complain though—we had a mission to complete.

We each took off in different directions, grabbing shirts before they blew away, and a bright red something caught my eye next door. Damn it, Amanda. It landed in his front yard. Of course, I’d be wearing something totally uncool as I trekked around Harrison’s property in search of a runaway shirt. He probably wasn’t home anyway. He had family in state—a niece and nephews, if I remembered correctly—and it was Thursday before break. Yeah, he wouldn’t be home, and I’d be fine. No need to panic.

With a quick glance at Harrison’s front window, I blew out a relieved breath at the dark stillness within. Yes! He’s not even home!

I sprinted toward the yard and snatched the shirt. Unfortunately, whoever was in charge of my life thought it’d be hilarious to increase the wind and send the shirt flying onto his front porch.

Rats.

Okay, I can do this. He wasn’t home, and even if he was, I had nothing to be embarrassed about—even if he did ghost me on the after-date call he’d promised.

Ten steps. That’s all it’d take. I scanned the house once more, and then I moved stealthily in case I was wrong. The last thing I needed was to come face-to-face with that man.

Each crunch of the ground beneath my boots echoed, and my heart raced. Tiptoeing on the bottom step, I winced as it creaked. My eyes shot to the window, hoping his handsome face and infamous frown wouldn’t appear.

A long moment passed before I moved again. Then, blowing out a breath, I snatched the shirt off the railing. Thinking I was home free, I almost did a victory dance. But before I could stop myself, my right foot slid out from beneath me on a patch of wet leaves, and I crashed onto my butt on his porch. Hard. With enough noise to wake the dead. Fate was seriously messing with my life.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I yelled, my lower back hurting more than I’d like to admit. I lay there for several seconds before heaving myself upright, and as I stood, the front door flew open. I tried to never let the girls hear me curse. But the pain caused it to slip out.

It was like a movie, a slow-motion action scene where my heart crept up my throat and my palms sweated despite the freezing temperature. I took one deep breath and met the intimidating and perfect green eyes of Harrison. “Hello, Harrison.”

“Becca,” he grumbled. His rough, deep voice was way too sexy and commanding for his own good. And oh, baby, I hated how he affected me.

“Great porch you have here. Just wanted to say have a nice holiday.” I marched down the stairs with more trepidation than before. I winced, but my back was to him so he wouldn’t see. Just let me escape, please.

“Why are you on my porch?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said into the wind, still not turning back.

“Try me.”

I snuck a glance at him again, hating how his gray Henley showcased his sculpted arms and strong chest—broad shoulders were my weakness—and the shirt paired well with his black jeans hugging his massive thighs. It wasn’t fair he looked like that when my pink, girly pajamas peeked out from under my coat. Channeling my tiny inner badass, I gave him my best smile.

“Okay.” I held up the red shirt and motioned to the sorority house with my chin. “One of the girls broke a window on the top floor, and her clothes escaped her room. She blamed the wind, but now that I think about it, it’s a bit suspicious. Was she waving clothes out to signal someone? Smoking a doobie? Airing out a fart? I just don’t know.” I frowned for a beat before chewing on my chapped bottom lip in the awkward silence. “Anyway. So yeah. We’re on a dangerous recovery mission before the elements destroy her clothes.”

His expression never changed beyond a slight lift on the side of his mouth. “Recovery mission?”

“Yes. For the clothes.” I held the shirt up like I was wearing it, pretending to be a model. “See?”

“Yeah, I see. You expect me to believe it just landed on my porch?” He arched one disbelieving brow.

“Yes.” I gave him a firm nod.

“What was the crash I heard?”

“Oh, that.” I tried thinking of something that would explain the sound of my tush hitting his stairs, but the longer the silence grew between us, the more I felt the need to ramble. “A raccoon. I saw a raccoon, and we fought over the shirt.”

His nostrils flared for a second before he tilted his head to the side. “You fell.”

“Okay, fine. Yeah. I fell. Happy?”

“Not particularly. Are you okay?”

Did his face look like he was actually concerned? My heart skipped a beat at the thought, but it settled down just as quickly. No, he must be cold.

“The diagnosis is that I will survive. It’ll take a couple of hot baths, but nothing more than my ego and butt is bruised.”

“Glad you’re alright.”

Those simple words should not have caused me to blush like a teenager around her crush, but they did. I had to get out of there, like five seconds ago. “See you around, Harrison.”

I took a couple steps back toward the sorority house when he spoke again. This was the most words we’d exchanged in over two years… since that night. Since that kiss. Weird didn’t cover how I felt about it.

“Are you staying in the house alone over break?”

“Yes.” I didn’t stop walking.

“That’s a huge house for one person.”

I spun around and narrowed my eyes, giving him my no bullshit look I always gave the girls. My mom referred to me as a tough marshmallow when I tried to be mean, but it was all I had. “I’m a big girl, and I’ve done it before. I’ll be fine. It’s my job.”

“Make sure you fix the broken window. You shouldn’t wait too long to repair it with the blizzard coming.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. He was right. Ugh. I had to call someone to come out today or tomorrow or I’d have an open portal into the frigid negative temperatures that would last for an entire week. My heart rate sped up like I was running.

“I gotta go.” I waved over my shoulder, still too humiliated to face him again.

“Have a nice holiday, Becca.”

I didn’t respond to him. The window was my priority. I had never had to get one repaired before. Did I just call a window guy and beg? Were there window guys? Oh my gosh, how could I be a house mom and not know how to fix a broken window?

I rushed by the girls carrying various shirts and waved at the few sitting in the front parlor with their suitcases. Parents started picking up their girls today after finals, and I doubled back to say goodbye. They couldn’t see me with anything but a smile. No one ever saw my panic. Remain calm, stay positive, and always have a plan. That was my motto for life.

“Ladies, have a wonderful time at home. I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll miss you, too, Becs.” Ashley, Beatrice, and Maria all hugged me, and I squeezed them back. “We left you presents under the tree. You can’t open them until Christmas, though.”

“You did?” I almost cried at their genuine expressions. “I said no gifts!”

“We know, but you’re unlike other sorority moms. You invest yourself in us, and believe in us, and well, you deserve a nice holiday.”

My eyes watered. “I told myself no tears when you all left but look at me, already weepy.”

“You cry at animal rescue commercials, every rerun of Friends, and when we get good grades. Never change, Becca Fairfield.”

“Don’t forget every single Hallmark movie,” Beatrice added.

“Okay, leave already.” I gently pushed her away, causing the three of them to giggle.

I peeled off my coat, refilled my cup of coffee with the newest hazelnut roast and coconut creamer, and sat. I had a crisis to deal with, and I had no idea how. But the first step: clean up the mess.

That I could do. I grabbed the broom, a trash bin, and heavy-duty gloves I still had from an intense scarecrow costume for Halloween and marched up to the third floor still wearing my puffy coat. Amanda’s room faced north—the exact direction of Harrison’s house—and sure enough, the wind whipped around her room. Pieces of glass decorated the floor, the windowsill, and the window ledge that spilled onto the roof.

I am their house mom. It is my job to take care of them when they are away from home. I can do this. I will do this.

“Becs, do you need help?” Kristin Garrison, the president of the Betas with enough potential to run the world—despite her terrible taste in men—entered the room.

A rush of happiness flooded through me at her offer. “I’d rather you don’t cut yourself. But could you find me a tarp and lots of duct tape? We should have some in storage outside.”

“You got it. Be careful.”

“You too. That shed is a piece of work out there.”

Kristin left, her face set in determined lines, and I scanned the damage. It took ten minutes to sweep up the floor, the desk area, and the windowsill. So far, no cuts.

Outside the window, there were huge pieces. I stepped onto the small porch on the roof—just one foot—and balanced, picking up the broken glass and tossing it into the bin. The wind blasted and I stumbled, slamming my shoulder into the window frame—right where a minor shard stuck out.

“Balderdash!” The cut hurt. The sharp sting stole my breath for a second, and I maneuvered myself back into the room. I unbuttoned my top and surveyed the damage. Yup. A small shard impaled my arm, leaving a trail of blood dripping down my pale skin.

My head spun… oh no. I hated blood. I did. It was the worst.

I needed to sit. Yeah, just for a second. I found my way to Amanda’s twin bed and put my head between my knees. Everything turned fuzzy, and I focused on my tasks.

Clean up damage.

Repair area with tarp.

Make insurance claim.

Call repairman.

I repeated it three more times as everything went black.

Only during a cold day in hell would I voluntarily watch my younger brother be interviewed about his team playing in a bowl championship on TV. There wasn’t enough beer in the world to numb the rampant feelings of jealousy, anger, and injured pride coursing through me. The jealousy wasn’t about his coaching ability—I’m good at what I do—it was the envy of having professional athletes who took their careers seriously.

Winter workouts were not going well, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it. College players were getting drunk and high, and throwing away their future for a good time. Team and responsibility meant nothing to them. All a coach can do in the off-season is pray.

My strength-and-conditioning staff gave me weekly reports on the guys, and they weren’t incredible. They also weren’t garbage. Our team defined the word average. I pinched the bridge of my nose and cracked open my second beer. Yeah, it was only midday, but since we didn’t make it to any championships, it was my first holiday break in three years.

Probably my last break, since I’ll get fired next year if we don’t start winning.

The amber liquid loosened the tightness in the back of my throat. Thinking about getting fired had the potential to ruin any day at any given time. It didn’t help that my folks constantly pointed out the differences between my younger brother and me, like they had to convince me he was talented.

Oh, Hank is just made to coach. He’s a natural.

Hank will have offers with the NFL, I know it.

Hank played football one year of his life and had a string of luck to get him where he was. I could only blame myself, since I got him his first coaching job. Funny how life works.

My phone went off, the dull buzz drawing my glance to a text from my mom.

Mom: Since Hank is in the Bowl, we are flying out to see him play in California for the holidays! This is huge! Aren’t you so proud of him? You’re more than welcome to come, as we’ll do Christmas there this year to support him.

Of course, they would fly out there even though the game wasn’t until a week after the holiday. I didn’t get a chance to respond before my sister—my favorite family member—texted me.

Blair: We’re not flying out to see His Holiness. Come stay with us. The kids miss you. I miss you. Ben will have beer.

Harrison: Thank God we’re the normal ones. I’ll be there.

Blair: He is the classic youngest child, isn’t he? Always the favorite, never to blame. We’ll always have each other, Harrison. Don’t let them get in your head.

I didn’t respond and hated how some family members could make me feel insignificant even as a thirty-four-year-old man. My career was filled with accomplishments and awards. I was proud of myself. I didn’t lack confidence or patience or even self-awareness about my strengths and weaknesses. It was the constant embellishing of Hank’s average, yet lucky, career that drove me mad.

Hank could be average at anything and get praised for it, while I had to work three times as hard to get any acknowledgment. I’d coached in two bowl championships, and no one except Blair and her family came to watch. My parents canceled last minute both times. Hank had to focus on his own career and couldn’t take off work to watch. Yet our mom wanted us to fly out there? I groaned and ran a hand over my face.

When I first started, Blair told me that I needed to stop caring what they think. That was easier said than done.

Damn, why am I thinking about my parent issues when I could be three beers in?

I finished my second brew and shuffled into the kitchen for another. Downtime for me consisted of napping, watching football, drinking beer, or heading to the gym. I had already completed an aggressive workout that morning, so I could do whatever the hell I wanted the rest of the day. And what I wanted? Napping and beer.

The fridge sat next to a window, and I glanced out into my yard, hating how dark and drab the landscape was. I needed to make my property a priority in the spring, because if I had another losing season, I’d get fired and be forced to sell it. Then what would I do?

Stop. I couldn’t worry about that now. Not without the facts. My ex-wife always told me my outlook was too negative, and look at me now, refusing to think about getting fired until it happened. I was growing as a person after all. I snorted and cracked open a third beer just as the wind howled and the screen rattled against the glass. I paused at the sound.

Becca.

She’d mentioned a broken window at the house. My lips twisted. The bright pink pajamas, the wild honey-colored hair, the wide eyes and full lips. That woman was too fucking happy and full of energy and trouble. I knew how those lips felt against mine, and if I thought about it too long, I’d forget why it would be a terrible idea to kiss her again. Even though her face and body were gorgeous.

Becca could talk for minutes without stopping, created ridiculous stories when she was nervous, and always had a smile on her cute face. Hell, the woman played the ukulele and sang during our one dinner together. If anyone could be described as my complete opposite, it was her. She was petite and fragile, she loved everyone, and everyone loved her.

And she shouldn’t be trying to repair a window on the third floor of an old house.

“Son of a bitch.” I wiped my hand over my jaw. My chest tightened, and I swallowed. Becca needed help, and I couldn’t sit here when she might hurt herself. I threw on a down coat I used when I camped, found my warmest boots, grabbed my toolbox, and headed next door to the large house.

I had no idea how Becca could live with fifty college girls. The thought made my body cringe with horror, but she clearly liked it. She’d been there as long as I had: four years.

Neighbors for four years, one date, one insane kiss, and maybe ten conversations since that kiss. Great track record on my part. I marched through the backyard and frowned when I spotted a tiny woman struggling to open the shed. “Need help?”

“Hi Coach Cooper. Yeah, Becs needs a tarp out of here.” She blew out a breath and put her hands on her hips. “This is stuck.”

“Let me.” I set my stuff on the ground and yanked at the door. It was jammed hard and took three tries before it opened. The tarp lay folded in the corner—because how else would Becca store it? The woman so. . .