Her Christmas Romance Surprise

by Kenna Shaw Reed

  Christmas Kisses

  Book 1: Pia

  KENNA SHAW REED

  Pia

  It’s all my fault.

  It seemed like a good idea at the time. My three best friends didn’t agree but at least were willing to try. To beg, borrow or buy a man for Christmas.

  Only, I didn’t expect to be going online, again. Dateless and desperate.

  Until the mysterious K made me laugh. He said all the right things and perhaps this could be more than lunch. Or not. After all, this country girl may live in the city, but she’s a country girl at heart. And I still have the photo of my first crush to prove it.

  Kade

  First son will always inherit his father’s kingdom and the woman’s heart. As for me, I left home, the kingdom, and tried to forget the woman. Not that the drought-stricken farm is much of a kingdom. And after my father’s recent ultimatum, it will go to the first to get married. As for the woman, Pia was the only woman I’ve ever wanted. The only woman my brother could never have.

  Now, a week before Christmas and I’m about to meet my online date. Interesting and funny, she needs a fake boyfriend for Christmas while I need a reason not to go home. No harm, no foul.

  Except Pia Morgan just walked into the café. The right woman, wrong time.

  ALSO BY KENNA SHAW REED

  Christmas Kisses

  Her Christmas Romance Surprise (Pia)

  Her Christmas Noel (JoJo)

  Unwrapping Her Christmas Gift (Abbie)

  Her Surprise Christmas Kiss (Zara)

  Aussie Military Romance:

  Avenge Her

  Protect Her

  Save Her

  Defend Her

  Passion without Rules:

  Who is Erebus

  Random Fantasies

  Dark Indulgences

  Romance with Passion:

  Trusting his Heart

  A Billion Reasons Why

  Never Second Best

  Shattered Hearts

  Choose Your Own Romance:

  The Bad Kitty

  The Uni Student

  The Intern

  The Question Is

  Choose Your Own Romance: Imperfect Marriage

  The Politician’s Wife

  The Unfaithful Wife

  The Unforgiving Wife

  The Perfect Wife

  All books can be read standalone or in any order. Only the Choose Your Own Romance series have cheating (although you can pick a path that doesn’t).

  If you love Her Christmas Romance Surprise, then please leave a review. Reviews are like hugs for authors and I can never get enough!

  Want all four Christmas Kisses and an exclusive Epilogue? Pre-order the Christmas Kisses Complete Series today.

  For Mr Shaw Reed.

  Because you’ve made every Christmas wish come true.

  Copyright © 2019 by Kenna Shaw-Reed

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover: Kenna Shaw-Reed

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously.

  Her Christmas Romance Surprise

  Prologue - 10 December

  Pia Morgan

  It’s all my fault!

  I mean, none of my friends came up with the idea, and even though they tried to stop me, I didn’t give them a chance.

  At the time, it seemed like a good idea and totally doable. One month, for Abbie Bancroft, JoJo Methven, Zara Renoldi and yours truly to do the impossible. Beg, borrow or buy a man for Christmas.

  What was I thinking?

  What could possibly go wrong?

  You see, I didn’t want to go home for Christmas.

  It wasn’t even a joke. From assuring my mother she didn’t need to bother about a Christmas present for my boyfriend—who still doesn’t exist but thanks for asking. To ignoring the pointed looks from well-intentioned friends who look to my naked left hand and the hushed whispers about the missed babies and weddings. I stopped travelling home from Sydney for these monumental events two years ago. Tired of shelling out for ugly bridesmaids dresses and presents for children who couldn’t possibly love all the stuffed toys.

  They should know my absence isn’t because of a lack of love or homesickness. I’ll turn up mid-January when Goulburn is still burning in the summer heat but my old friends are holidaying at a beach, with their families.

  Back in November, it seemed like a good idea; find a date for one Christmas lunch.

  I tried, but time’s no longer on my side. Single, dateless and desperate. Okay, I’d admit to the first two but will resist claiming the third a little longer. Online dating is a legitimate way of meeting a soul mate.

  Hopefully, in years to come we’ll all look back and laugh. But if I’m honest with myself, I can already plan my epitaph, Here lies Pia Morgan, single white female—as smart as she is stupid.

  Kade Reiss

  Kade, Your mother and I are quite concerned at the life choices you and your brother have made. When you come home for Christmas, we would like to talk to both you boys about succession planning for the farm. All these years you may have assumed your older brother has automatic right. We have been speaking with the family lawyer and he will be in touch with our instructions. Love Dad.

  Two weeks until Christmas and my parents decided to pull a mega stunt. I didn’t need to ask Declan for his opinion. No brothers were closer growing up—or more different. He’s always expected and wanted the farm. I haven’t and don’t. Dad’s email doesn’t change a thing. I’ve never wanted to be a farmer. Never had and never will.

  Christmas promised many things; summer sun, bushfires and cold beer. But, if Declan thinks he has to fight for his birth right, it’s not gonna be boring.

  15 November

  Pia

  “What are you doing here? I thought you had a date last night!” The shriek could have stopped traffic. Fortunately for me, only the women brunching in the crowded Sydney café heard, and only three cared.

  In my yellow and white pinstriped playsuit, I walked past the hipster waitress who had more piercings than dreadlocks towards my three best friends offering a mock standing ovation. My smile faltered when I recognized the sympathetic gaze of the diners who hadn’t returned to their smashed avocado and smoked salmon on sour dough. Yes, I was yet another late-twenty-something failure of the insta-world of dating.

  Fight or flight? The boxing bag at my gym had already suffered enough frustration earlier, and my need for comfort food drove me forward. Something warm, filled with forbidden sugar and saturated fat. As for my usual partners in crime, well they could either laugh with me, or I’d remind them of their own dating woes.

  Own it or let my shame consume me?

  Fight. When the alternative was to give up and accept defeat, I’d always stayed to fight. I straightened my back, adopted a confident smile and swagger, treating the café as my stage. Held my audience with the careful and precise release of my long triple toned dark hair from the high ponytail. After shaking the waves across my shoulders, I threw my hands in the air. Captured the moment and attention in a moment of stillness, a three count beat—or was it four—I declared to all who were trying not to listen, “Well, ladies, I hope someone had a fantastic Saturday night underneath a hot man or with fresh batteries because mine, once again, was a bust.”

  To embarrassed gawfs from other diners, and genuine applause of my friends, I graced the empty seat. “Did I make enough of an entrance for
you?”

  At least Zara snickered her approval. Sometimes taken for sisters with our petite Mediterranean features and banter, I could usually trust Zara to keep me laughing in the face of never-ending dating disasters.

  “I’m so sorry, his profile looked promising.” Blonde and sweet Abbie Bancroft at least tried to be understanding. “Hopefully, the next guy you swipe for will be the one.”

  “At least it only took one night to cross him off the list.” I’d moved on but needed to face my friendly inquisition. No malice or judgement, my friends enjoyed living vicariously through my ridiculous attempts to find love. They’d given up but I never would. I still had hopes of adoring husband, time-consuming children and living happily ever after.

  “What happened?” JoJo didn’t wait to ask before motioning to the waitress for another menu. “Three weeks of chatting, I thought you knew him.”

  “I knew what he was willing to share online and some of it might have even been true.”

  Of course, my friends wouldn’t let me get away with tidbits, JoJo continuing, “So what was the deal breaker—unemployed axe murderer?”

  “Or perhaps he took one look at you and decided your cute curves would be too much for him to handle,” Zara winked at me as the waitress came over. “My friend will have your most decadent pancakes with caramelized banana fritters and extra maple syrup. Oh, and a short black coffee.”

  “Who needs a man when you know me so well.” I needed this, my friends and a good laugh. Yes, Sunday brunch could always cure another dating disappointment. “For your information, he couldn’t stop gushing how rare it was to meet someone who looked like her photo, or how he could see us building a life together.”

  “After one date? You really know how to reel them in,” JoJo started. “So why aren’t we toasting to your excellent adventure?”

  “Maybe because I have professional standards.” A picture would save a hundred words and I showed them my phone. “As an ad copy writer, I resent false advertising.”

  “Oh, gross!” Abbie grimaced as JoJo shoved the phone away.

  “Some things you can’t unsee! How many minutes did you last?” Zara asked, studying the images from his dating profile and the selfie I’d taken of us last night as proof.

  “I swear on this perfectly buttered slice of toast,” I proclaimed with dramatic overtures, stealing a slice from Zara with not even an apologetic smile, “I am done with online dating!”

  “Yes, you can have my second slice, thanks for asking,” Zara joked. “But didn’t you give up Tinder last week?”

  Nonsense. Or was it? I looked to JoJo and Abbie for help.

  “No, you’re thinking of the week before,” Abbie toasted our banter with coffee. “When the professional footballer turned out to be an online gamer.” Abbie’s sea-blue eyes shone with my discomfort. I’d turned up with hope, anticipation of enjoying my date’s muscles and tan—like the profile. Not the pale, scrawny introvert that turned up to our date and expected me to understand his deception—or was it his delusion?

  “Fair call,” I couldn’t defend the indefensible. “Although he did put together fantasy football teams, so technically he made money from football.”

  “A month ago, it was the gym junkie,” JoJo reminded my friends to another howl of laughter. “Wasn’t he more junkie than gym?”

  “Like I said, I’m over online dating. I’m sick of turning up to meet one guy but it’s someone different at the table.”

  “So, tell us about last night.”

  “At least I had a last night, when was the last time any of you even had a Saturday night that didn’t involve Netflix or batteries.” I was over my non-existent love lif e and tried to stare them down. Living through last night had been enough, I didn’t need to rehash it. “At least I haven’t given up on finding the one.”

  “The one?” Abbie was enjoying this far too much. “If the dating pool looks like Mr. Last Night, I’ll pass.”

  “When was the last time any of us had possibilities?” JoJo sighed, waving to the waitress. “Excuse me! Can I have extra maple syrup on my pancakes.” With a familiar resignation, JoJo justified, “It’s not like anyone is coming home to notice whether I have an extra curve or two.”

  “Are you still representing your ex?” I needed to change the subject and we’d all been concerned at Zara’s latest client.

  “Yes, and any joy I thought I’d get from seeing him suffer disappeared sitting opposite the woman he left me for.”

  “That’s some messed up situation. Couldn’t you refer him to someone else?” I didn’t want my friend to claim the title of Most Messed Up Love Life, and this had heartbreak written all over.

  “Like I said, I wanted to see him suffer, but the asshole who broke my heart happens to be a great father. I promised him I’d get him shared custody of his daughter by Christmas.” Zara challenged us to disagree. “I’m doing it for his daughter who deserves her father.”

  “As long as he pays his bills and doesn’t treat you as a free therapist.”

  “Said no divorce lawyer ever!” At least Zara still had a sense of humor. “Who’d have thought the best date I can get is an ex-fiancé who pays in six-minute increments.”

  “Stop it!” I’d had enough and we needed to get real about the state of our lives—and our impending Christmas doom. “Seriously, I’m busting my ass wading through the bottom of the online dating pool, Zara is trying to convince us she can treat her ex as another client, and the two of you have checked out of dating all together!”

  “Lead the way, sister,” JoJo smirked, used to my outburst. “Find yourself a perfect boyfriend and I’ll give dating another go. Until then, my tv remote and I have the perfect relationship.”

  “That’s what you use your batteries for?” snorted Abbie. “I get it, dating sux.”

  “What I hate,” I said, stealing more syrup from JoJo who’d stopped pretending to care. “Is the look of hope in my mother’s eyes. The whole, ‘darling you shouldn’t be so picky’ and then almost immediately she starts talking about my biological clock.”

  “Are you kidding me! I swear mine has an app with my biological clock on count-down.” Abbie agreed. “Half the time when I go home to catch up with friends, I sneak into town so my parents can’t guilt me into marrying the first male they throw in my direction.”

  “So, are you going home for Christmas?” I casually asked. I had an idea, but they needed to agree without feeling manipulated. “My invitation came through last week.”

  “Really? Do we have to talk Christmas lunch?” Abbie sighed. “I was enjoying brunch.”

  “Well, it’s only a month away. I thought if we weren’t going back to our homes, we could rent a house on the central coast and spend a relaxed holiday at the beach.”

  “My parents want me to go home,” JoJo admitted. “Dad hasn’t been well, and it’s been three years since I turned up.”

  “Two years for me,” Abbie chimed in. “Then my perfect sister became a perfect mother and my mother amped it up about my turn.”

  “Five years for me,” Zara said. “Vince broke my heart and I don’t think dad ever forgave me for losing his future son-in-law.”

  “What if we all went home for Christmas this year?” I’d waited until the perfect moment. When my friends were in a state of fear, and almost ready to admit to homesickness. For me to push this party forward. “No, seriously, think about it. What if we all agreed to go home this year. Suffer together and then come back for New Year’s Eve.”

  “I can’t bear to turn up to Christmas lunch and have my sister complain about an odd number of guests.” Abbie grimaced. “Leonie will then give me be that ‘oh, I’m so sorry you’re still single’ look of pity and my mother will down her sorrows in another glass of wine.”

  “I used to love Christmas,” Zara smiled. “The whole anticipation. I loved going to church on Christmas Eve with Vince and watching happy families with sleepy children. Thinking that one day it would be
us.”

  “I loved that moment before you tear open the wrapping paper on the first present. Until that moment, everything you wanted for Christmas is still possible.” Zara added before sipping her orange juice. “Then you open up to a cooking book because your mother knows that you can’t, and will never, be able to boil an egg.”

  “Oh, at least you don’t get a new sewing machine.” Abbie laughed. “Mum thinks I stopped sewing because I didn’t like the machine, but I could never turn my imagination into fabric creations.”

  “But you sketch like a dream.” Abbie had put herself through university by selling charcoal portraits of pampered pets.

  “Yeah, well teaching English and art isn’t enough for my mother. Christmas used to be her opportunity to remind me of all the skills she had to teach but I refused to learn.”

  “Still, we should at least turn up this year. How about we all go home for Christmas and then catch up with a New Year’s Eve party on Sydney Harbour.” I threw out the idea casually, bracing for the moans.

  “That won’t stop my mother drinking to my singlehood status,” Abbie said. “At least I know what to put in her stocking. Half a case of Verve.”

  “How about you give one to your mum and we can drink the others for New Years,” JoJo laughed, not at all joking.

  “Or I give her all six bottles and remind her that Leonie couldn’t afford such a generous gift, what with the twins and all.”

  “Or, we could make it interesting.” I was ready to unleash my plan, carefully timed before they all started wallowing and chickened out of Christmas. Of the four of us, I came up with the crazy, Abbie the sweet, JoJo refused to let us settle for less than we deserved and Zara the voice of cautious reason. While they waited for me to up the definition of crazy, I ordered four cocktails. Expresso martinis—after all, it was still brunch.

  “Sounds serious.” Zara looked to JoJo. They’d be the hardest to convince.