True love waits forever… For Erik Lindholm, it’s been a long climb to the top of his company. Now, as president he has the power to bring his vision to life and speed his company in bold new directions. If that means a complete staff overhaul, so be it. If that means firing the woman who left his heart in tatters fifteen years earlier, it’s a business decision, not personal… Beryl Foster is highly competent and respected by everyone at the office. But rumors of a big shake-up are rampant and—surprisingly, scarily—Beryl’s job as CFO is on the line. Fifteen years ago she made a decision to put her career before everything else. It was also the last time she and Erik shared a life together. Every Christmas is a reminder. This one could be a second chance… “Struth has a gift for layering stories within stories while keeping them all connected.”— Library Journal “Struth is an author to watch!”—Laura Drake, author of RITA-award winner The Sweet Spot “Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.”—Eye on Romance
Release date:
November 11, 2015
Publisher:
Lyrical Press
Print pages:
123
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For Erik Lindholm, it’s been a long climb to the top of his company. Now, as president he has the power to bring his vision to life and speed his company in bold new directions. If that means a complete staff overhaul, so be it. If that means firing the woman who left his heart in tatters fifteen years earlier, it’s a business decision, not personal…
Beryl Foster is highly competent and respected by everyone at the office. But rumors of a big shake-up are rampant and—surprisingly, scarily—Beryl’s job as CFO is on the line. Fifteen years ago she made a decision to put her career before everything else. It was also the last time she and Erik shared a life together. Every Christmas is a reminder. This one could be a second chance…
“Struth has a gift for layering stories within stories while keeping them all connected.”
—Library Journal
“Struth is an author to watch!”
—Laura Drake, author of RITA-award winner The Sweet Spot
“Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.”
—Eye on Romance
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Books by Sharon Struth
Blue Moon Lake Series
Share the Moon
Harvest Moon
Twelve Nights
Bella Luna
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
A Blue Moon Lake Romance
Sharon Struth
LYRICAL PRESS
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First Electronic Edition: November 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-637-3
eISBN-10: 1-60183-637-6
Printed in the United States of America
To my sweet husband, who makes every Christmas a special one.
On this solo journey of writing, there are still so many people who stand behind to make each boo possible. First, I’d like to thank Dawn Dowdle of the Blue Ridge Literary Agency for her support and friendship. Thank you to Paige Christian, my wonderful editor at Kensington.
To my husband, Bill, thanks for being a test reader on this book and clarifying Manhattan’s Eastside from the Westside.
Thanks to my daughter Katie, who listened to me hash out details for this story. To my daughter Nicole, my mother, and my friends, thank you for always giving me support and being excited about each new book I write.
Last, but not least, where would a writer be without honest feedback from her colleagues? I thank Terri-Lynne Defino and Dixie Lee Brown for input to Twelve Nights.
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me—
A necklace with a heart key.
“If you value your reputation, you’ll get moving.”
Darcy’s clear, calm voice jarred Beryl. Before she could respond, Darcy looped her arm through Beryl’s and pulled her from the doorway into the crowded room.
“Didn’t you see that mistletoe overhead?” Darcy raised her classically thick eyebrows, darker versions of the ones that had made Brooke Shields famous years ago. “Chase was on his way over, and he had his sights set on you.”
Together, they neared Chase Stockard, VP of communications for Global Business Solutions. His charisma had landed him the prime role dealing with the firm’s media issues, plus the attention of most women in the office.
His Ken-doll smile turned into a frown. “Aw, ladies.” He arched an eyebrow. “Catch you next time around?”
“Or save the mistletoe moves for outside the office,” Darcy said, her tone stern, her brows lifted. “All due respect.”
Chase laughed it off and headed for a gaggle of females not far away.
“He really ticks me off.” Darcy tossed back her hair, dark as onyx and always worn to the shoulder with a little flip. “I’m beginning to wonder if anybody listened to me at last summer’s sexual-harassment workshop.”
Darcy took her job as director of human resources seriously. She once claimed to view corporate policy with the reverence of the Ten Commandments. Beryl was especially glad her best friend had stopped Chase. A mistletoe kiss might not be a big deal for some women, but in Beryl’s position with the firm, others would talk.
The pair blended into a sea of formalwear, mostly black mixed with every imaginable shade of red. Beryl gazed at the Temple of Dendur, just ahead as they moved through her favorite room at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Amber-colored spotlights illuminated the sandstone structure. Around it were tables covered with crisp linens and bowl-candle centerpieces, gleaming balls of gold light befitting the royal display. As a backdrop to the temple, a floor-to-ceiling projection screen played a continuous hypnotic loop of cascading snowflakes falling against a dark sky.
Darcy leaned close to Beryl’s ear. “Did you hear the rumor he’s dating a new copywriter?”
“He who?”
“Chase. She’s a subordinate, works in his own department. That’s pretty much the mother of all interoffice dating rule violations.”
“Thank goodness men like that are a rare breed.” Beryl didn’t want to discuss gossip. She had her own worries tonight. “Ready for another drink?”
“Lead the way.” Darcy grabbed a bite-sized quiche from a server passing by them with a tray, and popped it into her mouth.
Beryl moved slower than usual in the satin dress with a black-lace overlay, a nice change from her usual corporate attire. Leaving her arms bare, the gown showed a flash of skin beneath the satin, near the scooped neckline. A fitted silhouette followed the curve of her hip and gently flared from the knee down. Though most of her immediate peers were men, she refused to dress like one.
“Any idea why they’ve thrown the Christmas party so early this year?” Darcy dodged a waiter holding a tray of fluted champagne glasses. “Thanksgiving was only last weekend.”
“Saul’s choice. I’m pretty sure it’s so he can announce his replacement tonight.”
“And you really don’t know who it is?”
“One, if I did, I wouldn’t tell you standing in this crowd of our coworkers. Two, this is the best-kept secret since what was hidden inside Al Capone’s vault.”
Darcy laughed. “Probably will end up being as anticlimactic as the vault unveiling, too. Word around the office is that Rob Peterson is a shoo-in.”
Beryl shrugged. As chief financial officer, she ranked high enough on the scale to be considered as Saul’s replacement, too. Most expected someone with a sales or marketing background and many would argue that at the age of thirty-nine, she wasn’t experienced enough to oversee the company.
Beryl glanced both ways and dropped her voice. “I hope he chooses someone from inside Global. An outsider will surely bring in some of his or her own upper-level staff. I may get tossed out on the street with a pink slip.”
A sick pit settled in her gut. She’d been with this company her whole career and had given up everything else to achieve success. Losing the job by being fired would be more than humiliating. It would leave her empty-handed in life.
Darcy hoisted up the neckline of her strapless dress, her willowy frame without the meat to hold up the attire. “You shouldn’t worry. Anybody would be out of their mind to get rid of you.”
“The entire executive board is worried. Saul promoted us to these jobs and was our boss. If his replacement comes from outside the company, nobody is safe.” Beryl tipped her head to the bar. “Come on. Let’s get those drinks.”
As they walked, she kept an eye open for the firm president, Saul Weinstein. Mentor. Friend. Ten years ago, he’d transferred her from the Boston office to be part of his management team. They were so much alike when it came to their work ethics and beliefs, they could nearly read each other’s minds with a glance across the boardroom table. The faith he put in her abilities from the start had given her the incentive to work long, hard hours.
They ordered two glasses of Moscato and joined Darcy’s husband, Will, who stood talking to a few people from Darcy’s department. Saul appeared at the entrance, his full head of white hair like a beacon in any crowded room. He turned halfway, his mouth moving as he spoke with someone still outside the doorway. Beryl’s heartbeat quickened, this anticipation more nerve-racking than she realized.
She elbowed Darcy. “Saul’s here.”
Their group went silent, all eyes on the firm president. He turned around and came into the room, someone directly behind him. At the same time, a small group came through the other set of double doors, swallowing both Saul and the person she suspected was her new boss into the crowd.
“Did you see who he’s with?” Beryl whispered to Darcy, who stood several inches taller.
She shook her head.
Saul appeared at a podium set up at the temple’s front facade. The hum of voices subsided and people started to clap. Beryl put down her drink to join the applause.
Saul cleared his throat into the microphone. “Welcome to this year’s Chris. . .
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