Christmas Wishes: A Christmas Romance Anthology

by Creative Anthologies

  “Seriously though, you could do a lot better than me.”

  “I don’t want better than you. No other woman could compare. Let’s just take each day as it comes. Enjoy each other’s company and have some fun.”

  She growls at me and nods.

  “Is that a nod of agreement?” I push her for an answer.

  “Yes. On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “I get to pay for things when we’re out. I’m a big girl, and I don’t like a free ride.”

  This is a hard limit for me, because I like to provide for my loved ones, but I need to learn to compromise. “Okay. It might take me a while to get used to it, but I’ll try.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Okay then.” I throw my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side. Her head rests on my shoulder and we stand in the middle of the square and look up to the top of the tree.

  I never expected this to happen this Christmas, but now that it has, I can’t wait to see what every other Christmas is like.

  Epilogue

  2 years later

  Ilythia

  “Oh, God,” I cry out as Damon thrusts into me from behind.

  My large protruding bump is forever in the way of sexual activity, but we’ve become creative. We’ve had to be since my hormones have made me like a crazed teenager experiencing sex for the first time.

  “Come for me, angel. I’m nearly there.”

  A few more thrusts of his hips, and we’re both crying out in pleasure. It’s true what they say: a pregnant woman is never satisfied.

  “Careful.”

  Damon helps me to lie on my back. He hovers over the top of me, rubbing my bump. Of course, our little angel is kicking his hand.

  “I’m sorry, we woke up Pip.”

  “Pip is always awake, don’t worry about it. A happy mummy equals a happy baby.”

  Damon lies down on his back and I roll into his side, throwing my leg over his hip. The poor guy must be so sick and tired of being my personal leaning post. He’s bought me pillows of all sizes, but I find them uncomfortable and unnatural.

  “Are you ready for tonight?”

  I’m not ready at all. We just bought a house in the Hamptons, and I stupidly suggested that we invite our closest family and friends over for Christmas Eve. My family is arriving in the next hour from Scotland, and Damon’s family is showing their faces at their leisure. This should be fun, because our families have never met, and to say that my relationship is still as strained with Damon’s dad is an understatement. Even more so when Damon and I went into business together and opened our own independent publishing house. We take on independent authors and give them the leg up they need. There are some amazing indie authors out there.

  “I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be. I’m looking forward to seeing my family, and since I can’t fly so close to the birth, this was the best option we had.”

  “I don’t want you to do too much. The caterers have everything taken care of.”

  I don’t really agree with caterers, and neither does Damon, but since I have three weeks left until my due date, the least little thing is exhausting me, or making my ankles swell.

  “Why don’t I draw you a bath and you can get ready as you wish?”

  “Do I have time for a bath?” I look at my watch.

  “Make time. It’s only our families, they’ll understand. And if anyone doesn’t, they’ll be shown the door.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Damon sits up, kisses me tenderly, and jumps off the bed to do as he said.

  I just hope that whatever tonight brings is positive.

  About an hour and twenty minutes later, I walk down our grand staircase. It was one of the reasons I loved this property.

  I walk into the living area where the sound of chatter and laughter is echoing through my house. I immediately hear the Scottish accent and smile brightly. I love America, but I miss home at times.

  “Mum.” My mum rushes into my arms and holds me as tight as she can considering my large bump in the way. “I’ve missed you so much,” I cry.

  My mum pulls back and wipes my tears. “You look glowing, sweetheart.”

  “I feel like a big beached whale.”

  “Nonsense. My little girl is beautiful,” says my father, practically pushing my mum out of the way to get to me.

  “Dad. I’ve missed you.”

  “Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

  “Anyone would think you have no contact with each other,” says my brother, Jax.

  “I love you too, baby bro.”

  “Less of the baby, sis.”

  “It is so good to have you all here.” Damon approaches my side and wraps his arm around my waist. “We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”

  “We wouldn’t have missed it. Christmas is a time for families, and we wouldn’t have enjoyed Christmas without you guys being there,” said my dad.

  The doorbell chimes and Damon excuses himself. I cringe at the thought of spending the evening with Damon’s family, but most of them are okay. Friendly, welcoming even.

  “Come and sit down, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be on your feet so long,” my mother fusses.

  I lift my maxi dress and show off my fluffy slippers. I had a nice pair of sandals set out for tonight, but when it came down to it, the slippers won.

  My family and I are still laughing and joking about my slippers when Damon walks in with his mum, dad, and brother behind him. I can see Mr. Brewster’s distaste in my footwear, but I don’t care; my feet are comfortable.

  “Hello, darling.” Jacqueline takes me into her arms, and I reciprocate. “How are you and my grandbaby doing?”

  “Still hanging in there.

  “Mum, Dad, these are Damon’s parents, Jacqueline and Duncan, and his brother, Gerome. This is my mum, Marie, and my dad, Josh. And this is my annoying brother, Jax.”

  All pleasantries are exchanged, and even Damon’s dad gets involved which is nice to see. Maybe I was worried about tonight for nothing.

  I take this moment to sit down on the couch and leave everyone to get to know each other. My back is aching. Why people miss being pregnant, I don’t know. I love this little pip with everything I am, but pregnancy doesn’t suit me.

  Damon sits on the coffee table in front of me and hands me an orange juice. “Are you okay, babe?” He rubs his hand delicately over my bump.

  “I’m good. It’s good to see everyone getting along nicely.”

  Damon looks over at the crowd that hasn’t realized we’ve made our escape. “It really is. Maybe tonight won’t be as bad as you thought.”

  Maybe we needed this get-together to break the ice. Maybe Damon’s dad needed to see that we’re serious about one another. We’ve been together two years, engaged for a year, and now with child. It has been a whirlwind for sure.

  “Damon, dinner is served,” says one of the caterers.

  “Thank you, Michael.”

  And in true Damon form, he knows every single one of the caterers by name. He claims to be a non-people person, but he’s kind to the people who work for him.

  “Everyone, do you want to make your way to the dining room?” Damon stands up and asks everyone.

  I stand up behind him and hold my hand over my stomach as a sharp pain shoots through me, followed by a gush of water hitting my feet. Everyone turns their gaze on me, and Damon looks frozen in place. He’s been the strong one throughout this pregnancy, but I think reality has just hit him.

  “Damon.” I try to stand up straight, but another shooting pain stops me.

  My mum rushes to my side, as does Jacqueline. She slaps Damon across the chest to make him snap out of it.

  “Damon,” I cry.

  My cry finally breaks him, and he bends down in front of me. “What do you need, babe?”

  “My hospital bag is at the room door. You need to call the hospital and tell them we’re coming. I’ll make my way to the car.”r />
  “I’ll help,” Damon protests.

  “We’ve got her, sweetheart. Just do what Thia asked,” Jacqueline says, and Damon toddles off. “In a crisis, men are better barked at as coddled,” she says with a straight face.

  “Jackie’s right, doll.”

  “Jackie?” I question.

  “Yes. That’s what my friends call me,” Jacqueline says.

  I shrug my shoulders and let the woman help me out. My dad opens the doors where needed. I’m glad they’re all here to help us because I don’t know what I’d do without them.

  “Just breathe through any pains.”

  I’m more interested in getting to the hospital and out of these wet clothes as opposed to breathing through pains, but I keep that to myself and walk out to Damon’s Jeep at the front door.

  “I’ve got everything, and Dr. Myers knows we’re on our way,” Damon shouts over to us as he throws everything in the car.

  “We’ll ride with you and Damon. Duncan, you get everyone else to the hospital, yes?”

  “Erm… yes, dear. We’ll see you there.”

  And just like that, everyone is organized and I’m about ready to welcome my little pip into the world.

  Our Christmases are never quiet anymore.

  Two hours later and I’m in the last stages of labor. The beginning was a walk in the park compared to now. I want to murder Damon and every other person in the room.

  “That’s it, Thia. The head is out. One more push,” says Dr. Myers.

  “You’re doing amazingly well, babe. You can do it.” Damon wipes my brow with a cold towel and takes my hand again.

  “I’m too tired,” I protest.

  “You can do it. You’re the strongest woman I know. Squeeze my hand.”

  I squeeze with all my power until I can’t squeeze anymore. A loud-pitched cry echoes throughout the room and I cry with relief.

  “It’s a girl. You have a daughter,” says the nurse.

  “You did it, baby. I love you.” Damon kisses every part of my face, but I can’t take my eyes off the nurses fussing with my daughter.

  The nurse hands over the baby and lays her across my chest. Damon rubs his hand across her head and silently cries with glee.

  “I love you both so very much.” He leans his head against mine.

  “I love you both, too.”

  “Does she have a name?” asks the nurse.

  Damon looks at his daughter carefully and smiles. “It’s Christmas Eve. What about Eve or Eva.”

  “I love Eve. It’s appropriate to her and us.” I hold her tiny hand in mine and stare into her beautiful eyes. “Who would have thought our Christmas would turn out like this?” I ask no one in particular.

  “I vaguely remember telling you two years ago that our Christmases would never be dull again.”

  “It will take a lot to top this one.” I smile brightly between Damon and Eve.

  “Maybe next Christmas we’ll get married,” says Damon.

  We did say we would have a long engagement, and it will be two years come next Christmas.

  “It’s a date.”

  And just like that, our life has changed forever. Christmas is a time for love and family. It’s our special time.

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  Her Surprise Christmas Gift - Andra Dill

  Chapter 1

  Clink Clink Clink Clink Clink

  Table after table of wedding guests delicately tapped their silverware against crystal glasses, urging the newlyweds to kiss. Mackenzie Avers had lost her enthusiasm for the quaint custom after the third or fourth call had reverberated through the banquet hall. From their beaming smiles and the conspiratorial looks that passed between the bride and groom, it was obvious they didn’t mind at all.

  Seeing their joy and intimate connection left Mackenzie feeling wistful, and a teensy bit envious. As they had several times during the wedding, her thoughts turned to Jared Reed. The man laughed easily, had mad cooking skills, and held a piece of her heart. A year ago, while celebrating her promotion, their friendship had teetered on the precipice of becoming lovers, but Mackenzie had hesitated. The moment slipped away.

  If she ever found a magic lamp, she’d wish for a do-over on that night.

  The best man stood up. He had a handsome face that attracted a person’s attention, but he didn’t spark interest in her like Jared did. He started his speech with a joke that fell flat. Undeterred, the best man doubled down, launching into a tale that had the groom laughing and the bride rolling her eyes. Mackenzie zoned out two minutes into his story. Not wanting to think about Jared again, she ran through a mental list of things she wanted to pick up this afternoon. Buy wrapping paper and scotch tape—even though she swore she’d bought a two-pack last year, she couldn’t find either cartridge this year. She needed powdered sugar and food coloring to decorate the sugar cookies she’d promised to bake with her nephews.

  Her thoughts shifted as her gaze skimmed over the bridesmaids. Their elegant ice-blue sheaths made her think of those dangling blue icicle lights she liked. If she weren’t afraid of ladders, she’d buy some to decorate the front of her house. Maybe she could talk her sister, Allison, into putting some up for her. Mackenzie recalled all the times Allison had helped their dad put up the Christmas lights. The two of them untangling lights, arguing over how far apart the connectors should be, and all the while she’d been safely on the ground acting as their gofer. Time hadn’t lessened the sting of her father’s death but the bittersweet memories made her smile.

  The best man droned on and on. Mackenzie’s attention strayed to the waitstaff gliding among the crowd refilling glasses. Off to the left side of the room, a crew set up chafing dishes on the buffet tables. Staying for the luncheon hadn’t been in her plans. When everyone headed for the buffet, she’d slip out.

  Polite applause greeted the finale of the best man’s speech. Blessedly, the maid of honor’s speech only lasted a few minutes. Another round of glass clinking started up. Obediently, and with much enthusiasm, the newlyweds kissed. Catcalls and thunderous applause followed.

  “My turn. My turn.” Mr. Sinclair, the father of the bride, stood and held his crystal flute high. The celebrants quieted. Pride and joy infused his voice as he toasted the happy couple.

  A familiar ache welled up in Mackenzie’s chest, catching her off guard. She remembered her father toasting Allison and her wife, Hillary. Tears misted her vision. Using a monogrammed cocktail napkin, she dabbed her eyes.

  Mr. Sinclair kissed his daughter’s cheek. The simple act, one Mackenzie’s father had done thousands of times, brought on a cascade of scalding tears.

  Everyone lifted their glasses and called out, “Cheers!”

  A lump formed in her throat. Embarrassed that she couldn’t get control of her emotions, Mackenzie dropped the mangled paper napkin onto the table and picked up a linen napkin. She turned sideways for a modicum of privacy and blotted her face. A fresh wave of grief struck, making her breath hitch. She needed to leave before she made a spectacle of herself. Through a watery haze, she sought out an escape route.

  The host and hostess directed guests to the buffet line. Around her, she heard chair legs scrape against the tiled floor. The room’s noise level crescendoed as dozens of conversations broke out. Mackenzie fisted the damp napkin. There were too many people between her and the foyer doors. She noticed a side door and a clear path to it. She picked up her clutch and headed for the door.

  Cold air whisked around her as she entered a narrow hallway. Someone had used a pair of insulated hunting gloves to prop open an emergency exit door. She doubted that was legal. Shivering, she walked down the hall, away from the bracing air. She wiped her cheeks with the back of h
er hand and focused on steadying her hitching breath.

  A familiar, rich tenor voice called out, “Mackenzie?”

  Jared. Of course, he would be the caterer for this event.

  For a nanosecond, she considered darting back into the banquet hall rather than having him see her mascara-smeared—and probably blotchy—face. Instead, Mackenzie finger-combed her long bangs off her face and plastered on a smile. “Hey, Jared.”

  “You here for the bride or groom?” Moving with the easy grace of a dancer, he wore a white chef’s jacket which—sadly, in Mackenzie’s opinion—camouflaged his swimmer’s physique. A trim beard edged his strong jaw. A narrow soul patch below his full bottom lip tempted her fingers to touch it.

  “Bride’s parents. They’re VIP clients. They invited Bryce but he couldn’t go and he… asked me to attend in his place.”

  Jared frowned; faint lines creased the corners of his eyes. “Have you been crying?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “It’s nothing. I got a little… I just… hearing Mr. Sinclair’s toast made me think of my dad… and it’s silly but I teared up a bit.”

  “Oh, that’s rough. Do you need a hug?”

  “Sort of, but it may make me cry more.”

  Jared pulled her close. A pleasant mix of his woodsy cologne, fresh bread, and a yummy spice she couldn’t quite place clung to his skin. Enveloped in his strong arms, Mackenzie relaxed against him. All traces of her grief vanished when she felt his cheek pressed against her hair. Why had she hesitated a year ago? They could be lovers now. She could simply turn her head and kiss him, and so much more. His thumb brushed against her low back and the insane hope that he’d done it intentionally sent a cascade of desire through her. She wanted it to be real. God, she could stay here forever.