Mistletoe Kisses & Christmas Wishes: A Christmas Romance Boxed Set Book Bundle Collection

by Leah Atwood

  “You don’t really have to have a maid of honor, do you? Why don’t you ask your mother to stand up with you? I think she’d be delighted. And you’ll find a lovely wedding dress, too.”

  “I’ve been teasing you, Matt. Actually, I already bought one,” Rayne said with a giggle. “The day after you proposed.”

  “Aren’t you a minx, trickin’ me?”

  Rayne leaned her head on Matt’s shoulder. “My pastor recommended some pre-marital counseling books I’m reading. I’ve found them helpful. Would you like me to share them with you when I’ve finished?”

  “Yes,” Matt said, taking her hand. “I want to be a good husband to you, Rayne.”

  “You will be, Matt.” She squeezed his hand. “I feel sure or I wouldn’t have said ‘yes’.”

  “Thank you, Rayne.” Matt swallowed past the emotional constriction in his throat threatening to choke off his words. “Please tell me any time I fall short of your expectations.”

  Silence fell between them as they contemplated their future together. Presently, Matt said, “I’m sure my pastor will want to have some time talking with us. Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course,” Rayne replied, smiling at him. “You aren’t the only one who wants to be an excellent marriage partner.”

  “Let’s work on it together, shall we?”

  They sealed their agreement with a kiss.

  But even with her eyes closed, and while being thoroughly kissed, Skye’s face crossed Rayne’s mind and made her heart clench.

  When they landed in Seattle, Matt spent two nights with his friend at his former apartment. Rayne saw Matt off to Montana. At the end of the week she notified her landlady that her last day to rent the apartment would be May thirty-first. And on that morning she flew to Missoula and Matt picked her up at the airport.

  “Here you are!” Matt said folding her into a warm embrace. “My sweet Seattle Rayne just blew into Montana!”

  Rayne chuckled and said, “I hope you keep me laughing for the rest of our lives.”

  Matt sobered. “Yes,” he said, “I hope so, too. In fact, I intend to.”

  In the last week before their wedding, days seemed much too short for all they needed to do. They had several sessions of pre-marital counseling with Matt’s pastor.

  At the end of one of their counseling sessions, Matt led Rayne down the street to a farmer’s co-op store. “Time I fixed you up with the proper gear,” he said. “A Montana cowgirl needs the proper fixin’s.” With a dramatic flourish of his hand, he showed her the display of cowboy boots and hats.

  “Oh, Matt!” A lump began to build in Rayne’s throat. “You’ve given me so much already. A trip to Malawi was the best Christmas present I could have.”

  Matt pulled her close to his chest with his arm snugged around her shoulders. “Just the same, you need lady cowgirl fixin’s, and I’m aimin’ to keep you tricked out fine.” He gently kissed her forehead. “My Christmas present, six months late, Seattle Rayne.”

  The ladies from the Hayes’ church gave them an elaborate wedding shower and many of Matt’s friends and folks from his church attended. Mom and Dad DeMarco and a few of Rayne’s friends who lived not too far away arrived in time to be at the shower. Rayne’s mother sat beside her to keep track of gifts and cards. Matt lounged at her other side, a little bored with the proceedings.

  Suddenly, he leaped to his feet and rushed toward the door. Rayne’s glance dashed ahead of him, and her breath stopped. There she was. Skye. The gorgeous young woman she’d seen in the photo. And the same girl she’d met on Matt’s doorstep. Rayne covered her mouth and her lungs stopped working. Matt folded Skye in a decidedly affectionate hug. He said she’s family, but that seems more than just a cousinly hug. Right, Rayne. He’s chosen you for his bride. Get over it!

  Matt took the woman’s hand, leading her across the room toward Rayne. Rayne stood and her lungs fluttered feebly.

  Matt stopped in front of her. “Skye, I’m happy to introduce you to my bride-to-be, Rayne DeMarco. Rayne, this is my twin sister, Skye.”

  Rayne sat down. Hard.

  Skye’s glance traveled from Rayne, to Matt, and back again.

  When Rayne stood a moment later, her knees felt like they wouldn’t hold her up. “Hello, Skye. Sorry for being clumsy. We met once before on Matt’s doorstep, didn’t we?”

  After they’d chatted a bit and Skye had left to go find her parents, Rayne took Matt’s arm. She whispered, “And how is it I didn’t know you even had a twin, much less that Skye was the one?”

  “We talked about her before, Rayne. I told you then she’s my sister,” he whispered.

  “No, you said ‘family.’ I distinctly remember you using that word because I thought she was your cousin or an even more distant relative.”

  Matt looked at her. “I said ‘family,’ did I?”

  “Yes, you did.” Rayne couldn’t keep the tremble from her fingers as she rubbed her cheeks. I must look like a ghost. And I’ve been so foolish to doubt him.

  He took her hands. “I’m sorry, Rayne.”

  Surely he could feel the trembling in her fingers, but he kept eye contact until she smiled. “Here—sit down for a minute. You’re white as a sheet. Let me get your some punch.” He went to get it.

  On their wedding day, Rayne felt like a princess in the filmy, tea-length dress of cream fabric threaded with gold. The sweetheart neckline framed a gold necklace with a diamond pendant matching the diamond earrings sparkling near her rosy cheeks. The dress’s hem dipped into a short train, skimming the floor. Skye helped her pin a tulle veil into the cascade of curls falling from the crown of her head.

  The early-June sunshine streaming through the church’s stained glass windows cast bright colors on the pale blush roses in the bouquets flanking the altar. Two stargazer lily plants in full bloom breathed out their scent, too.

  “Lilies, Matt?” Rayne whispered when she turned toward him in the middle of the ceremony.

  “I always keep my promises, Rayne,” he answered softly. “I’ll plant ‘em by the front door as soon as we come home from our honeymoon. I promise.” And he winked.

  RECIPE FOR LEMON CURD

  ½ cup butter

  2 cups white sugar

  ½ cup lemon juice, either fresh or bottled

  4 ex-large eggs beaten until frothy

  Dash salt

  **Note: Do not use an aluminum pan or spoon to make the curd. The acid in the lemon will leach the aluminum into the curd and make it taste and look odd. Keep heat low. I use number three on my electric stove. Do not allow the curd to boil after the eggs are added, or the curd will curdle.

  1. Melt sugar, butter and lemon juice over low heat being sure there are no granules of sugar left. (I test by dripping a small drop on one finger and rubbing it against my thumb.)

  2.Add eggs all at once, stirring vigorously. Cook, stirring constantly, until a droplet leaves a dimple on the surface of the curd in the pan. Do not allow to boil. It should be thick like cooked pudding.

  3.Bottle, cool, refrigerate and enjoy on toast, pancakes and waffles, or use to fill baked tart shells.

  Montana Skye

  Sample Chapter

  SWEET ROMANCES, Novella 2 ~ Contemporary Christian Christmas Romance

  “Hi, what can I get for you?” With a damp cloth, Skye Hayes polished the counter in front of her customer. He had come into the Starlight Café with the University of Washington’s evening crowd and now only counter seats were left.

  “Java with cream and a BLT, please.” The man stroked his rugged jaw but didn’t lift his glance from the menu that fluttered in his hand.

  “Coming right up, sir.” Skye took an appreciative second look at her handsome customer.

  Just then, he turned toward the window. Her breath caught. At livid scar dipped into a deep indentation at his left temple and zigzagged from his hairline, past the corner of his eye, and down to his chin.

  Oh boy! I hope I didn’t gasp. Skye turne
d to snag an insulated jug and fill his cup. She pushed the sugar and cream closer to him. “Your BLT is nearly ready.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So you noticed my scar, huh?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Skye meant both that the accident had happened and that he’d heard her indrawn breath, but she felt too embarrassed to say more.

  “I’m sad that my face startled you.” His smile broadened a bit, and his eyes lit with humor. “But I get that a lot these days. Horse clipped me a good one.”

  “I wasn’t afraid of you, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you. I was just shocked and very sorry for the pain such a trauma had caused you.”

  “I’m OK, thanks.” His wider smile pulled the healing scar into wrinkles. “I’m a—um, I was a rodeo rider. Couple ‘o months ago, a bronc kicked me into a serious concussion. But I’m doin’ OK now. Just need to see to this fidgety hand.”

  “I’m so sorry. Best wishes about getting your hand better.” Skye turned to take his bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich from the kitchen hatch, setting it in front of him. “Anything else I can bring you?”

  “Can I add some fries to this? And I’ll have pie in a bit. To top things off like.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be back with your fries.”

  A few minutes later, she placed a basket of hot fries and a bottle of ketchup in front of him.

  “Thanks.” His smile lit up eyes as blue as one of Skye’s Montana lakes with a glint of sunshine on it.

  He extended his hand over the counter. “Since I’ll be around here for awhile, I should introduce myself. M’ name’s Shelvin Edward Morris. The day my mama named me, she must have had a meal that didn’t agree with her.” He gave her a chagrined smile. “I asked her once what she was thinking of to give a baby a handle like that.” He winked. “M’ friends call me Shell.”

  She reached for his hand, and felt its tremor as her hand touched his.

  “Hi, Shell. My name is Skye. I’m from Montana. I’ve been in Seattle only a couple of weeks. I’m going to study in the University of Washington’s nursing program. Fortunately, I was blessed to find a job right away.”

  “Ah, a beautiful Montana Skye, then!” Those blue eyes mesmerized her.

  She felt the blood rush into her face.

  “Where are you from? Obviously, not from around here.” She pointed toward the Stetson he’d placed on the end of the counter.

  “I’m fresh in from Wyoming, but I was born and raised in Eastern Oregon. For the next couple ‘o days I’m sightseein’ in Seattle. I came to see this here new-rologist, a specialist, at the U. See if he can fix my shaky hand, ya know.”

  “Wyoming? So you’re a cowboy, huh?”

  “Yeah, sorta. But, like I said, most recently ridin’ broncs in rodeos.”

  “Bull riding, too, I bet.” Teasing mischief sparkled in her eyes.

  “Hah! I look that tough, do I?” He thumped his fist on the counter and pointed his forefinger at Skye. “I always did like a filly with sass.”

  The mischief faded out of her face. “Sass?”

  “Hey, wait,” he said. “I didn’t mean sassy.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his shaking right hand and half rose from his stool, plucking up his Stetson as if he were getting ready to leave in a hurry. Then he eased back down and held his hat to his chest. “Look, bein’ sassy means bein’ arrogant, rude, and talkin’ back. Havin’ sass is something else entirely.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah, havin’ sass means standin’ up to people who belittle you; speakin’ what’s on your mind; havin’ well-thought-out opinions and sharin’ ‘em. Mix in some mischief and fun and you got sass.” He placed his hat back on the counter’s end and collapsed against the backrest of his bar stool as if relieved of a difficult burden.

  “Oh really?” She scrubbed at a sticky spot on the counter. “Well, I guess you’re right then. I’m all of that. But I thought those were not-so-good traits for a ‘filly’ to have.” She looked at him from under one dark eyebrow.

  “Nope!” His head wagged a negative. “Sass in a filly and a gal is a definite plus.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know that, Shelvin Edward Morris.”

  “Aw, now you’re laughin’ at me!”

  “My turn.” Her gaze pierced like a lance. “Who was it that started the mockery by referring to a lady as a filly?”

  “Hey, fillies are sleek and high-steppin’.” His glance took her in from head to toe. “And pretty as the first dandelions in Spring.” He took a big bite of his BLT.

  She huffed a short laugh. “Cowboys blather a lot.”

  His gaze jerked up. The motion of his jaws slowed. He gulped hard and took a sip of coffee.

  “And what kind of pie were you wanting, cowboy?”

  “Apple with a small wedge o’ sharp cheese, if you have it.”

  “You’ve got it.” She turned to welcome a new customer. “Back in a sec.”

  Shell raised the BLT to take a bite. For some reason he wasn’t as hungry as he’d thought. Fillies are as unpredictable as a rattler when it’s sheddin’ its skin. He actually dipped his head in a gesture of apology. Excuse me, miss. I mean ‘lady.’ A grin tipped his mouth up. He shook his head.

  Skye slid a plate in front of him—a generous triangle of apple pie lay on it, the cinnamony apple filling gleaming at the edges of the crust. A succulent wedge of cheddar snugged up to it. “Is something amusing you, sir?”

  Shell nearly dropped his sandwich. “Mmmh!” he said, his mouth too full to speak. He swallowed. “Just contemplatin’ on snakes. A Wyoming hillside might have several of ‘em.”

  “And that’s amusing?”

  Shell’s neck flushed red and he shook his head in embarrassment. “Well, yeah. At least in the context o’ my thoughts it was.”

  Her lovely, dark brows came together. “And that context was . . . ?”

  Shell cleared his throat, shifted on his hard counter stool, and plucked at his Stetson, leaving a smear of mayonnaise on the brim. “Well . . . some o’ my thoughts are better kept to m’self.” He dabbed at the mayonnaise with his paper napkin.

  “Yes, perhaps they should be. ” She gave him a meaningful glance. “Do you need anything else?”

  “More coffee, please.”

  She poured it, and Shell’s gaze followed her as she turned to warm up another customer’s cup. Yep, she definitely had an irritated swing to her step.

  Dagnabit! Now how in tarnation did a little chitchat with a fill . . . I mean a lady, go so wrong?

  Montana Skye is coming soon! Keep an eye on my website for more information.

  About Author

  Sylvia Stewart

  Sylvia Stewart went to Africa with her parents. She flew into the (then) Belgian Congo shortly before her 6th birthday. Later, as an adult, she spent 21 years as a missionary in Malawi, East Africa and another 11 years in Ethiopia. Africa is her second home. She's retired and living in the Pacific Northwest.

  All I Want for Christmas

  A Sweet Serenade Christmas, Novella 1

  Janalyn Voigt

  Chapter One

  “A gift, if you want it.” Hailey plunked the mug she’d pulled from the kiln this morning in front of Matt, waiting for her at their usual table in Seattle Coffee. “It made me think of you.” She didn’t explain that the cobalt glaze matched the color of his eyes.

  “I’ll treasure it.”

  The way he was looking at her, you’d think she’d just given him the keys to the city. “The glaze bubbled a little on the inside, but other than that it came out okay.”

  “It’s more than okay. Honestly, I don’t know why you work in insurance when you make such beautiful pottery.” With his dark hair rumpled and a fiddle by his side, Matt looked more like a gypsy than the pencil-pushing cubicle worker he became during the work week. She’d picked on him about his mismatched clothing until he’d invited her to organize his wardrobe for him, personally.

&n
bsp; No way was she going to Matt’s place, especially not when he asked in that tone of voice. She’d made it clear when they’d first started coordinating their breaks two years ago that she thought of him only as a friend. Not that he was unattractive, the opposite in fact, but his lack of ambition bugged her. On more than one occasion, she’d made him aware of her opinion, but it never fazed him. Honestly, what kind of career could he expect to build while working for a chamber music association? She wasn’t quite sure what he did, exactly, but from the way he dressed it wasn’t running the company.

  “That’s easy.” She pulled free of his touch and settled into the sling-backed chair across from him. “I have to pay my bills.”

  His forehead puckered. “Must we talk about money again?”

  “Well, you brought it up.” She tried not to sound as snippy as she felt.

  “My mistake.” His smile crinkled his eyes at the corners, intensifying their blue. He handed her a red paper cup emblazoned with the logo for Seattle Coffee, the letters SC in a white circle.

  She hated it when he was annoying and endearing at the same time but gave him a grudging smile. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  She didn’t miss the irony in his voice. They both knew he had to buy her coffee all week because she’d won their yearly bet by finishing her Christmas shopping first. Last year she’d purchased his hazelnut lattes throughout the Christmas season. She sipped her mocha with a sense of satisfaction.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” He trotted out their usual Friday question.

  “Wrapping presents.” She couldn’t resist a small dig.

  His eyes gleamed. “Need any help?”

  The smile tugging at her lips was genuine this time. She could never stay irritated with him for long, a fact he well knew and used to full advantage. “I do not, thanks all the same. How about you? Any plans?”

  “I’ll catch a Christmas concert Saturday night.”