* * * * *
Joey McIntyre hadn’t changed a bit.
That was what she’d thought when she’d walked into the tacky cowboy saloon. Hot hometown honeys dripping from him like a rich widow’s jewelry. He’d always been a player. She oughtta know, he’d played her like a fiddle.
A willing, stupid, naive, starry-eyed fiddle. Yeah, that. Until he drove the bow right through her heart.
“Doesn’t matter.” She walked up to her van and unlocked it with the key fob. As always, before she got in, she took a second to love the thing. It was glossy black with dark burgundy swooshes. And there was a very Bat-signal-like logo on it, unless you looked close enough to notice it was a winged-V in a white oval. White lettering followed the curve, proclaiming it The VetMobile. She opened the door and got in, running a hand over the two-tone “pleather” seats that matched the paint job. Even the car seat in the back matched. You know, underneath its layer of crust, composed of Goldfish crumbs and apple juice.
There was no reason, she told herself, to believe he was anything but what he’d always been—a spoiled, rich, self-centered playboy who didn’t have a care in the world for anybody but himself. Worse yet, he liked it that way.
She imagined his face when he’d first looked at her. God, he was still just as beautiful to her as he’d always been. The tall lanky frame, those long arms that used to wrap all the way around her and then some. And his sweet face, and chocolate brown eyes and little boy lashes. God she loved looking at that face of his. Always had.
That face could charm the moon out of the sky.
She started the van, flipped on the headlights, and then the heater. It was chilly tonight. And then she backed carefully out of the gaudy saloon’s parking lot and headed back onto the winding, narrow road. It turned into Main Street once it hit the village. She didn’t have to go that far, though, hanging a right onto Church Street, and then past the little white church with the big red doors, and on up to the B and B—make that boarding house—where she was staying.
It was a pretty Victorian in a violet shade so subtle it seemed white at nighttime, and its elaborate trim work was decked out in pine green, minty pink, and baby blue. The sign that swung from a wrought iron holder had matching wood-trimmed edges, all scrolled like the trim on the house, and read Peabody’s Boarding House. Ida Mae Peabody’s holiday decorations were far more understated than most of the others in Big Falls. She had a single white electric candle in each window and a giant wreath on the front door. Period.
Emily shut off the van and hopped out. The front door swung open before she even reached it, and Ida Mae herself stood there, holding a cherub with burnt gold curls on her hip. But the angel quickly wriggled free and ran toward the porch steps. Emily reached them first, and scooped her up before she could fall.
Matilda didn’t even notice her brush with disaster.
“You’re supposed to be asleep, young lady!” Emily said, closing her eyes and just inhaling the smell of Tilda’s hair. The greatest smell in the known universe.
“I waked up!” Matilda said.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I had to see someone.”
“Was it Santa?”
“No, honey. It wasn’t Santa.”
Matilda pouted. “But we have to find him and tell him so he’ll be able to find me!”
“And we will. I promise.”
“Tomorrow?” Tilda asked.
“Yes,” she promised. “Tomorrow.”
Tilda hugged Emily’s neck a little tighter. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too, baby.”
Also Available
The McIntyre Men
Oklahoma Christmas Blues
Oklahoma Moonshine
Oklahoma Starshine
Oklahoma Sunshine (coming soon!)
The Oklahoma All-Girl Brands
The Brands Who Came for Christmas
Brand-New Heartache
Secrets and Lies
A Mommy For Christmas
One Magic Summer
Sweet Vidalia Brand
A Brand of Christmas
Buckles, Boots and Mistletoe
The Texas Brands
The Littlest Cowboy
The Baddest Virgin in Texas
Badlands Bad Boy
Long Gone Lonesome Blues
The Lone Cowboy
Lone Star Lonely
The Outlaw Bride
Texas Angel
Texas Homecoming
Wings In The Night: Reborn
Twilight Guardians
Twilight Vendetta
The Rhiannon Chronicles
Edge of Darkness
The Fairies of Rush
Fairytale
Forever Enchanted
Once Upon A Time
Standalones
The Bride Wore A Forty-Four
The Fairy’s Wish
The Witch Collection
Gingerbread Man
Annie’s Hero
Miranda’s Viking
Everything She Does is Magic
Stargazer
Witch Moon
Zombies! A Love Story
Magic By Moonlight
The Immortal Witches
Eternity
Infinity
Destiny
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series
And MAGGIE’S NON-FICTION
Shayne On You
Magick and the Law of Attraction: A User’s Guide
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Maggie Shayne has published more than 60 novels and 23 novellas. She has written for 7 publishers and 2 soap operas, has racked up 15 Rita Award nominations and actually, finally, won the damn thing in 2005.
Maggie lives in a beautiful, century old, happily haunted farmhouse named “Serenity” in the wildest wilds of Cortland County, NY, with her husband and soul mate, Lance. They share a pair of English Mastiffs, Dozer & Daisy, and a little English Bulldog, Niblet, and the wise guardian and guru of them all, the feline Glory, who keeps the dogs firmly in their places. Maggie’s a Wiccan high priestess (legal clergy even) and an avid follower of the Law of Attraction
Connect with Maggie
Maggie’s Website
WingsInTheNight.com
Maggie’s Bliss Blog
Maggie’s Coffee House Blog
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Oklahoma Christmas Blues Page 31