by Dee Ellis
Mistletoe Magic by Dee Ellis
© 2019 by Dee Ellis. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Cover Design: Dandelion Cover Designs
Interior Formatting: Dee Ellis
Publisher: Hummingbird Press
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
More from the Author
Chapter One
Noel
Snow falls from the gray skies in fluffy flakes that swirl through the air with the slight winter breeze. With all of downtown lit up and glowing bright with holiday lights it is a beautiful scene. Christmas songs play softly from several storefronts on the main street of town.
None louder, happier, or more twinkly and festive than Mistletoe.
Mistletoe is my year-round Christmas décor store. It smells of pine and cinnamon, twinkles with festive décor, and sounds like Christmas time all the time. You might call it my happy place.
“Merry Christmas,” I smile at the young couple as they head out with their new matching ornaments for their first holiday together.
Snowden—a sleepy little town close to Boston—comes alive every year for the holidays. We are a town who loves to celebrate the merry and bright and downtown is where it all shines the brightest. My little store is on the corner of Main where it can’t be missed—and that is exactly the way I like it.
At twenty-five I am what most might call naïve. I never left home for college or to see the world. I adored my parents and when I lost them, I took it hard. I drew into myself and accepted I would be alone forever. Opening up my store with my inheritance was the first chance I ever took on myself. This place and the people who come in make me feel a little less lonely.
Growing up here, I looked forward to the season. I love the hope and magic of the holiday and how it brings out the best in people. Our town is small and mostly close-knit but we welcome tourists and strangers this time of year as if they are one of our own.
Shelters serve massive feasts from Thanksgiving through the New Year because so many of us donate and volunteer. Most families give to their friends and neighbors so no one has to go without. It is not about the magical tree lighting or the annual Welcome Winter Wonderland party—it is about how we are kinder and more giving this time of year.
At least most of us are kinder this time of year.
My mysterious and sexy landlord is a Grinch if I ever met one. We met just once when he came to tour my store after buying it last year. He is grumpy and grouchy but so gorgeous I barely notice anything else. He looks as if he should be starring in one of those Hallmark Holiday movies as the dashing hero who helps the heroine find love just in time for Christmas.
Too bad he’s really a miser who wants to kick me out before the holiday.
Not because I owe money, because by Thanksgiving I am in the black every year. Not because I have broken codes or not followed rules—of which my landlord has many. No it can only be one thing, if you ask me.
Malcolm Fort hates me, so he wants me gone.
Shortly after he came to my store he also met with the other store owners—Grinds to my left, a coffee shop, and Another Chapter bookstore on my right—but only I started getting letters. Letters letting me know he was not fond of my store and felt I could not prove it was a good choice to keep it in his building.
I make more than enough from November first through January first to pay my rent and utilities for the entire year. All the rest of the months are what I call bonus months. I make enough profit to get inventory in and take care of myself—and that is all I really need.
“How could he hate you? It’s impossible,” Edgar, the owner of Grinds and one of my closest friends, insisted this morning while I was grabbing my morning coffee.
“Explain it then? Once he met me he started eviction proceedings. He hates me, Edgar,” I argued about my impending doom of eviction.
“Maybe it is not about you but…parts of you? I mean…he doesn’t seem very merry and bright. Maybe he just hates the holiday?” he suggested as I snatched my coffee out of his hand with a gasp.
“How could someone ever hate Christmas? It is the most wonderful time of the year!” I playfully sang the carol as I tipped my peppermint mocha at him and headed out.
After thinking about it all day, I have to wonder if Edgar is right.
Maybe Mr. Malcolm Fort hates Christmas?
If it’s true then, well, I guess he might as well hate me too!
Chapter Two
Malcolm
Peering out over the sleepy little town I now call home, I let out a reserved sigh. I am too damn bitter to be warmed by the picturesque view Snowden provides. Too damn resentful to cherish the beauty of the holiday as I did a lifetime ago.
Coming to Snowden was a bad idea, but I had to get away from the ghosts of my past. Ghosts that haunted me at every corner I turned and every step I took back home in Boston. I had to get as far away as I could before I lost all I had left—which is not much at all, really.
Snowden was deep in its holiday celebrations when I came here last year after acquiring half a dozen buildings downtown. I came for business and to clear my head and my heart. Facing down the carolers and the colorful lights and the Christmas spirit covering this town was painful.
Four years ago, I was enjoying a veritable winter wonderland with my wife, Celeste. Christmas in Cape Cod was her favorite time of the year and making her happy was my favorite pastime. We had announced our first child was due in the spring and the holidays were as festive as she could make them. I lived for pleasing her but in the end, it cost me everything.
After celebrating a huge Christmas with all our friends and family, we made our usual rounds viewing the lights twinkling on almost every house in town. Celeste was lamenting how beautiful our life was when we were struck by a drunk driver. We were pinned against a twinkling Christmas tree as she died in my arms.
More than my wife and child died that night—my heart, my soul, and everything good about me died too.
Once I lost her, I felt as if I had lost all the parts of me that mattered. I cut off her family and mine and all of our friends. I let my partner take over our business, and I became a recluse for years. Holidays came and went but every Christmas, I wondered why I bothered trying to live without her. I stopped living after she died and I know she would not want that for me.
Celeste had loved life so not living life to the fullest would be wrong.
Last year, while packing up some things I had held onto for too long, I came across a box of her keepsakes. In it were postcards and ticket stubs and moments of her entire life. In that box was a postcard of this town and on the back, she had scrawled just a few words.
“I want to celebrate life like this.”
Those words brought me to this little town. It was all she imagined it might be and more. People here love the holidays for the right reasons—being with loved ones and finding the magic in the moments we normally take for granted. It was beautiful to witness, and it reminded me of the woman I had lost who loved all the moments she got to have.
It took just one moment with one woman for me to bring me back to life.
Standing in the town square with snow falling and ligh
ts twinkling, I saw her. Noel King. Bright, bubbly, and beautiful, she outshone the brightest twinkling lights. Once her blue eyes locked on mine, it was as if I came back to life.
I want Noel King—in my arms, in my bed, and in my life.
To even flirt with another woman tastes like a bitter betrayal in my mouth. To want another woman’s body feels like a violation of the vows I gave my wife. Wanting her heart and soul feels like a deep disloyalty.
It has made me feel rotten and guilty so I began to punish her. Sharing that brief moment made me resent her bitterly. Bitterly enough that I have been trying to oust her from her home and her business out of pure malice. I am ashamed of myself and my sweet and loving wife would be too.
“Has she responded to the latest notices?” I ask my secretary who grins and shakes her head.
“No, sir. Samuel said she told him to get stuffed like a turkey when he stopped by to present her with the latest one,” she laughs when I grumble but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth.
“Very well. I will deal with her,” I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose and tell her to have a good holiday.
Dealing with her means going to her store and talking to her. It is something I have avoided since I first set eyes on her. After I saw her at the park, I met her at her store and I knew I was in trouble. I have avoided that store and her for the past year.
Not that I have kept my eyes off of her even though I have kept a safe distance. Oh, no, that is now how Malcolm Fort does things. No, I know every little detail about Noel King. Details I could use to get her to close up shop and vacate my building.
If I can’t, I don’t know how I can keep my distance any longer.
Chapter Three
Noel
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell…. seventy two, seventy four, seventy six,” between singing songs I take inventory as I stroll the empty aisles of Mistletoe.
It is late enough I should be at home but too early for me to face another lonely night. Christmas is two weeks away so I have plenty to keep me busy. Not enough to keep my mind off of the many reasons this year seems less jolly than years past.
If you ask me, most of them are tied to one man—Malcom Fort.
“You are an odd individual, Noel King,” a rusty voice booms from behind me suddenly.
Shrieking, I drop my handful of tree toppers as I spin to face my assailant. I say assailant because who else would sneak in after closing hours but a murderer? Holding one of the more dangerous looking toppers like a sword, I back up until I hit a wall.
My would-be murderer is a mountain of a man. Of beautiful man, at that. Tall and dark with salt and pepper hair—with a beard to match—bright blue eyes that twinkle with humor as they crinkle at the edges, and a sexy plump mouth quirks in a taunting smirk. Beneath my fuzzy red sweater, my heart does a twist I can’t be sure is healthy.
Malcolm Fort towers over me with a frown I can’t call anything but handsome.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” my voice shakes but I know it’s not from fear but from the way the air crackles between his body and mine.
Stepping into aisle and effectively blocking me in, he cocks his head at me. I cock mine and point the glittering gold tree topper at him and he laughs. I gape at him before I suddenly, I laugh too. He takes a step back as his hands go up in surrender.
“I am not going to hurt you, Noel. I am Malcolm Fort,” his voice is warm and wraps around me until reality stakes my heart like an icicle.
“I know who you are. Not going to hurt me? What do you call threatening to evict me two weeks before Christmas?” I shout as I wave the glittering topper at him.
Malcolm watches me as his mouth twitches and I flush when he lets out a hearty laugh. Laughing at me again. Frowning, I toss the Christmas décor aside and huff as I brush past him. I only get a few steps before he stops me. Huge hands circle my waist and he spins me around to face him.
His scent—of leather and cigars and sexy man—floods my lungs as he pins me to a display case. Lights soften the imposing figure he makes as he pushes his big body against mine. My thighs quake as he makes a sound from deep in his throat and my eyes track the bob of his Adam’s apple. God, everything about this man is sexy.
Except, you know, how he wants to kick me out on the street.
“Grow up, Noel. I do not want to evict you I just need you to…. I need you to… Christ, you smell like Christmas as much as you look like it,” he groans his words out as he dips his head and breathes deep.
“Need me to what, Mr. Fort?” I don’t say it as a tease but his eyes flash down at me.
I ignore the press of his body and the rub of what cannot possibly be an erection against my belly. It can’t possibly be because it is massive and heavy and makes my mouth water. I whimper a little and rub against it and he lets out a sexy animalistic sound and pins me from hips to chest with his body.
“Stop. Moving. Don’t force my hand here, Noel,” his eyes are on my mouth as he orders this and I smirk.
“I have no idea whatsoever what that means, Mr. Fort. Besides, it is you holding me captive here, not the other way around,” my eyes dart up to my hands which he has pinned above my head and then my body which his is pressed against.
“Wrong, little Angel. You’ve got it so fucking wrong,” he roars and twists his hips just slightly.
Now I know it is an erection, and I am fascinated. Not just because of how big and thick it feels, either. Because it means this beautiful, mysterious, demanding man is hot for me. I tip my head back against the glass of the display he has me pinned against to watch his eyes.
Malcolm has something sad and brooding about him and I press closer, wanting to ask what it is. Wanting to fix it and make him feel joy and peace again. Because something tells me it has been a long time since he let himself feel much of anything.
“If you do not want to evict me, why send those notices? Why come here tonight after threw your messenger boy out?”
Lowering his head more, he brushes his nose against mine and lets out a shaky breathe. His lips brush briefly against my jaw and I jerk against him, both of us moaning suddenly. As both sounds vibrate against me, I whimper and push into his firm body.
“I came here because,” his breath is hot against my lips as his anguished voice answers me, “I need you out. I need you to get out. I can’t take it… I can’t fucking take it, Noel!”
Before I can argue I am going nowhere, he slams his mouth over mine. From the moment his lips cover mine, soft but savage, I feel every nerve ending come alive. Not just come alive—no they come to life for him. For just this man kissing me as if he owns me and he knows it.
Slick and hot his tongue licks at my mouth and I open it, welcoming his sweet earthy taste. I shake against him as he lifts his head, biting at my bottom lip. Panting, I press closer, feeling achy and needy in ways I have never known.
“Make me understand,” I whisper as his hand lets go of mine and trails down my front.
“Once I understand what you have done to me, I might be able to manage that. We will talk again, Little Angel,” he grunts before he turns and sneaks out the same way he snuck in.
I stare after him, wondering just it is he has done to me, too.
Chapter Four
Malcolm
Storming through the snow, I slam into my new weather ready SUV and speed through town. I am thrumming with need after making the mistake of going to see Noel alone. I have kept my distance for a reason. I watched her from outside before I couldn’t stay away a moment longer.
Finding her singing holiday songs in that tight little sweater and ridiculously silly but sexy skirt made me mad. It’s hem was trimmed in bells. Jingle bells. Just like the song she sang wildly off key as she shook her ass and counted her stock of bawdy items.
Being so close to her, smelling her sweet cinnamon and candy scent, and hearing the joy in her voice as she sang that silly song did crazy things to every part of me. Made me want
to bend her over, flip up that silly skirt, and fuck her raw. It also made me want to hold her by a fireplace and talk about her hopes and dreams.
Touching her was like holding heaven and hell in my hands.
I want her more desperately than I have wanted anything in a very long time. When she got soft beneath me and moaned my name, I couldn’t stop myself. I had to taste her cherry red lips and feel her full tits at my chest as I held her close.
“Stupid move, Malcolm,” I pound my fist on the steering wheel and blare my horn at some carolers, “she is exactly the opposite of what you need right now!” my voice echoes in the space of the SUV as I crank the wheel to turn back towards downtown.
After a few blocks, I pull over. Shutting off the engine and killing the lights, I wait. Aiming the truck at the dark lot, I sit here as I have for the past few weeks, almost every single night. Watching Noel kick through the snow in her fuzzy boots with her skirt jingling, I feel my smile before my laugh fills the SUV.
It cuts off when guilt slices through me at my betrayal.
I don’t deserve to feel this joy and light, not after what I lost.
Still, as I watch that beautiful creature gaze out at the world with hope, that is exactly what I feel.
Noel wanders the Christmas tree lot several times a week, looking for the perfect tree. Someone who loves the holiday as she does should have her tree up by now. But, no, I know her house is lit up with twinkling lights and Christmas music plays around the clock, but she has yet to find the right tree.
Guilt crushes me again because I know it is my fault. Ever since I demanded the businesses in my new buildings prove they could profit, her shining light has dimmed. With the holiday growing nearer, I started eviction proceedings out of pure desperation. I want her out of my building so I can sell it and be rid of her.
Only I can’t stand the thought of her not being in that store selling holiday décor in the summer heat. I can’t bear the idea of her leaving that tiny apartment that she shares were her fluffy cat. I hate the idea of her store not being there almost as much as it kills me to see it every single day.