by Cat Johnson
Also by Cat Johnson
One Night with a Cowboy
Two Times as Hot
Three Weeks with a Bull Rider
Midnight Ride
Midnight Wrangler
Midnight Heat
AND READ HER NOVELLAS IN
He’s the One
In a Cowboy’s Bed
Also by Kate Angell
Sweet Spot
No Tan Lines
No Strings Attached
No Sunshine
When She’s Gone
No One Like You
No Breaking My Heart
AND READ HER NOVELLAS IN . . .
Unwrapped
He’s the One
The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap
Also by Allyson Charles
Putting Out Old Flames
The Christmas Tree
THAT MISTLETOE MOMENT
CAT JOHNSON
KATE ANGELL
ALLYSON CHARLES
KENSINGTON BOOKS
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To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Compilation copyright © 2016 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
“A Boyfriend by Christmas” © 2016 by Cat Johnson
“All I Want for Christmas Is . . .” © 2016 by Kate Angell
“Her Favorite Present” © 2016 by Allyson Charles
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eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0559-4
eISBN-10: 1-4967-0559-9
First Kensington Electronic Edition: October 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4967-0557-0
ISBN-10: 1-4967-0557-2
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
A BOYFRIEND BY CHRISTMAS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS . . .
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
HER FAVORITE PRESENT
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
Teaser chapter
A BOYFRIEND BY CHRISTMAS
CAT JOHNSON
CHAPTER 1
To the accompaniment of the pounding drumbeat of marching band music, a three-story-high, inflatable, cartoon-shaped balloon floated across the screen of the living room television.
Across the apartment in the kitchen, Noelle kept one eye on the cranberries bubbling in the pot on the stove while also watching the progress of the Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV.
The homemade cranberry sauce was Noelle’s signature dish. The secret ingredient—bourbon—melded with the flavors of the candied orange peel and cinnamon sticks to add the perfect zing to what was normally boring old cranberry sauce.
Her boyfriend, George, loved it.
George had been the boy next door—literally. His parents lived next to her parents and they grew up next to each other, but they’d never been high school sweethearts.
Actually, he’d never paid any attention to her when they’d been younger. That had changed the summer they’d both been home from college between junior and senior year. They’d been dating ever since.
That his parents and hers were neighbors had made holidays simple over the five years they’d been together. Today they’d have dinner with George’s parents and two brothers, and then walk next door for dessert with her family.
Noelle had offered to make her cranberries for dinner at George’s house. It was an impressive recipe, but deceivingly simple to make, so she had no problem cooking while watching the parade.
Sometimes having a small apartment had its perks. Not many, but today, being able to see the living room TV from the kitchen area across the room was definitely one of them.
She never missed watching the parade. It put her in the holiday spirit.
Just the anticipation of all the hustle and bustle that started this weekend and raced full speed ahead until Christmas had Noelle singing along with the festive song on the television.
It was a busy, frenzied, crazy time of year—and she loved every minute of it. The shopping. The wrapping. The decorating. The baking.
George didn’t love Christmas with quite the intensity that she did, but he’d agreed to go with her to pick out her tree tomorrow. He’d inevitably try to talk her into a smaller one, like he did last year, but Noelle was sticking to her guns. This year, she wanted a huge tree, no matter what he said.
The ringing of her cell phone broke into Noelle’s thoughts.
Where had she left it? She’d had it last night . . . and it had been almost dead, so she’d plugged it in.
After remembering that, she followed the sound to the cluttered area on the counter that she used as a desk. She tracked the cord from the wall outlet down and finally reeled in the cell, dislodging a few store flyers that she’d tossed on top. One fluttered to the floor as she hit the button to answer the call and pressed it to her ear.
“Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Aren’t we chipper today?” Her sister Nikki’s reply was less cheery than Noelle’s greeting had been.
“What’s not to be chipper about?”
“Besides my crappy part-time job and living in Mom and Dad’s house until I finish my dissertation? Um, I don’t know. Global warming? The war in the Middle East? The—”
“Okay, okay. Party pooper. Did you watch the parade?”
“Yes, I’m watching the parade. Mom has it on, on every TV in the house, so she won’t miss any of it while she runs around getting ready for today. I can’t believe you get out of having dinner here.”
“I’m not getting out of it. We’re spending half the day with George’s family and half with mine. You know that.”
“But you don’t have to watch Great-Grandpa spit his food across the table every time he talks with his mouth full. And you don’t have to listen to Aunt Anna hint for hours that I should be married by now.”
Eating dinner at George’s had some definite perks. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to enjoy all of that fun over dessert.”
“No, you won’t. You have George to dangle in front of them as a potential husband.”
She did, didn’t she? Noelle grinned as Nikki continued. “And by the time you get here, Great-Grandpa will be snoring in the recliner, so smart planning on your part, Noelle.”
“Thank you. It was, wasn’t it?”
“Brat.�
�� Nikki laughed. “I’ll forgive you if you drop off some of your cranberry sauce on your way to the Higginses’ for dinner. I’m going to need the bourbon you put in there.”
“I told you all the alcohol content burns away.”
“And I told you I don’t believe that, so bring some over.”
“Okay. Fine.” It was the least she could do, considering Nikki really was bearing the full burden of the family this holiday, while Noelle had shaved her time down considerably. “Let me go. See you later.”
“Okay. Don’t be too late,” Nikki warned.
“I won’t.” As she disconnected the call, Noelle considered that her sister was correct about Aunt Anna being obsessed with seeing them both married. Maybe Noelle would soon have news in that department, since this year things felt different between her and George.
The way he had taken her shopping with him to look at furniture for his new place. And the way he’d rented not the one-bedroom the Realtor had first shown him, but instead the more expensive two-bedroom, as if next year there could be two people living there.
A man didn’t invest almost five years in a relationship unless he had plans to spend a lifetime with the woman. Noelle was ready to settle down and start that life.
The timing was right. He was finished with grad school and was well on the way to building the career he’d always dreamed of. And Noelle’s lease was up the first of the year, but she’d been dragging her feet about signing a new one.
The truth was, she hadn’t renewed the lease yet because maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t need her own apartment next year. Perhaps there would be a diamond ring under the tree for her from George this year.
Her mother had gotten married at twenty-five. Noelle was turning twenty-five the day after Christmas.
Her mother always joked that Noelle was meant to be a December twenty-fifth baby, but in true Noelle fashion, she’d been late. Her tardiness drove the always-punctual George crazy, but differences between people was what made life interesting. She truly believed that.
Nikki might not agree with Noelle’s “opposites attract” theory, but what did she know? She was single and Noelle had been dating the same man since college. It was clear which was the more knowledgeable sister when it came to relationships.
And this time next year, Noelle could be preparing for her own guests for Thanksgiving dinner in her and George’s place.
Noelle dipped a spoon into the cranberries, blew on the steaming mixture, and then brought it to her lips for a taste.
Perfection. Even better than usual.
She had tweaked the proportions a tad this year. This might be her best batch yet.
If this cranberry sauce was any indication, her holiday season was off to a stellar start. George’s mother—possibly Noelle’s future mother-in-law—would be so impressed.
On the television, the parade was coming to a close as Santa Claus appeared on the screen, his elves skipping along the avenue on either side of the sleigh.
Noelle drew in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Another year’s parade had come to a successful conclusion and now it was time for her to get moving. She had to shower, do her hair, and then pick the perfect outfit.
She should probably put the cranberries in the serving dish first so that would be done. Then she could soak the pot while she was getting herself ready.
The cranberry sauce was still hot, but it would cool soon enough. It would probably cool even faster in the dish rather than in the hot pan. She moved to the cabinet and opened the door, surveying the choices.
She’d started collecting antiques in college. It seemed a person couldn’t drive two miles in New England without passing an antique shop.
One stop on a sunny fall day at a little place along the side of the road had led to another and another.
Soon Noelle and her roommate were going antiquing every Sunday. She became addicted to the hunt. To the thrill of finding a gem amid the junk.
It was exhilarating and meant that when she’d gotten her own apartment, she had a great collection. Hot chocolate pots, teacups and saucers, and Depression-era glass were her collection’s main focus.
The rich deep garnet color caught her eye and she spied a ruby-red glass bowl.
George usually rolled his eyes when he opened her cabinets and saw the precarious stacks of mismatched pieces on the shelves, but even he was going to have to admit that her cranberry sauce would look perfect in this bowl on the Thanksgiving table.
Feeling justified that her love of collecting was going to be proven very useful today, she stretched and took down the whole stack of vintage dishes. She set them on the counter and gingerly extracted the bowl she wanted from under the dishes piled on top.
She ran the prized bowl under the faucet to rinse off any dust and then set it on the counter next to the stovetop just as her cell phone rang again. She saw George’s name appear on the readout and jumped to answer it.
“Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Uh, yeah. You too. Are you meeting me at my parents’, or do I have to come over there and pick you up?” he asked.
“Um, I can meet you there, I guess.”
“Okay. Good. Mom says to be there at two o’clock.”
“I will. And I have my special cranberry sauce.” As she cradled the phone on one shoulder, Noelle lifted the pot off the burner and began to pour the piping-hot mixture into the bowl. It wasn’t even half full when she heard the crack.
Horrified, she sucked in a loud breath.
“What’s wrong?” George asked.
“Oh my God. I think I just broke one of my favorite antique serving dishes.”
The berries must have been too hot. Unlike modern glassware, Depression-era glass must not be able to withstand much heat. Or maybe there had been a hairline crack or an invisible flaw in the glass itself.
“You shouldn’t be using those things for food anyway. They’re probably full of lead and who knows what other poisons.”
It was silly to be so attached to an object, but she really had loved that little ruby-red bowl.
Fighting tears, she drew in a breath. “I guess.”
She put the pot and its remaining contents back on the burner. She’d have to throw away what was in the broken bowl, which meant she’d barely have enough left in the pot to take to George’s parents’ house for dinner. Never mind dropping off any extra for her sister.
Was it too late to run out to the store for the ingredients to make more?
What time did stores close on Thanksgiving? And even if the store was open, would they have fresh cranberries left?
“I gotta go and shower. I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s.” George’s voice on the phone dragged Noelle out of her thoughts.
Head still spinning about her cranberry mess, she gathered herself and drew in a breath. “Okay. Love you.”
“Yeah, you too. ’Bye.” The click signaled he’d hung up.
Noelle lowered the cell and sighed as she eyed the bloodred juice oozing out of the crack in the bowl and all over her counter.
Just a little bump in the road. Even as she tossed the beloved bowl and the ruined cranberry sauce into the trash can, she wasn’t giving up on this holiday season.
Fueled with determination, Noelle threw on clothes that wouldn’t embarrass her, grabbed her purse and jacket, and ran out the door.
She drove directly to the big megastore, where she’d most likely be able to find the cranberries.
After parking in the first spot she saw in the lot, Noelle ran to the entrance and breathed in relief when the automatic doors slid smoothly open. At least they were open.
One worry down. One more to go. She made a beeline for the produce and stalked up one side of the aisle and then down the other searching for whole bagged cranberries.
If she’d needed Brussels sprouts she’d have been fine, but the cranberries were eluding her.
Just when her hopes were beginning to wane, she spotted a tall, dark-haired m
an in front of her. He was so broad and muscular she would have noticed him anyway. But the fact that he had not one but two bags of cranberries in his hand had her running toward him.
“Oh, thank God.” She realized she’d said it aloud when he turned to level golden-brown eyes on her as he cocked one dark brow up. “Sorry. I just really need cranberries and I was afraid they’d be out.”
He cringed. “They are out now. These are the last two bags.”
She looked at the shelf and saw the empty place where the cranberries used to be, right between a big display of oranges on one side and a row of boxed figs on the other.
Sure. Figs they had plenty of, but except for the two bags the hulking hottie held captive in his hands, there were no more cranberries.
It was irrational, she knew, but Noelle suddenly felt close to tears as she said, “Oh. Okay.”
She’d turned to go when he said, “Wait.”
Spinning back, she watched him draw in a deep breath, expanding his broad chest to even greater proportions beneath his U.S. Navy sweatshirt. “Take one.”
She resisted the urge to grab the bag out of his hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Mom always makes much too much cranberry sauce anyway. She’ll be fine with just the one. It’ll save my poor dad from eating it on everything for the next month. To be perfectly honest, her cranberry sauce is not very good.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.”
He dismissed her concern with a wave of one hand. “It’s all right. We humor her and pretend we like it.”
Noelle considered for barely a second before she said, “You know what? I have a really good recipe for cranberry sauce. It’s got orange and bourbon and brown sugar. Would you like me to send it to you?”
“Yes! Definitely.”
She laughed. “That was enthusiastic.”