Lindsay Taylor had been Watertown’s town clerk for years. She’d been the one to approve Katherine’s permit, and she’d helped Rowan and Matt get everything straightened out after Katherine’s death. Rowan shouldn’t be nervous, but she was. So much hinged on the contest.
“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor,” she called out.
“How long have we known each other?” Lindsay clucked her tongue, graying hair bobbing as she shook her head. “Please call me Lindsay.”
“Okay Mrs. Taylor.”
Sighing in theatrical drama, Lindsay made her way to the table where Rowan displayed the mugs of mousse. “These are pretty.”
The judges nodded their agreement.
Taking a deep breath, Rowan passed them around. She wanted to close her eyes, to not see their faces. She’d tasted it, of course, and knew it was good, but still. It was only mousse.
The door opened again, bells knocking into each other.
Tilly burst inside, her usually carefully arranged scarf and hat askew. “Mrs. Taylor,” she gasped. “I was just wondering when you were going to get to Tilly’s. We’re so excited to have you!”
Rowan suppressed a groan. Beside her, Matt squeezed her hand.
Lindsay frowned. “Tilly Grahn?” From her short stature, she had to squint up at the woman. “From over where Victoria’s Chocolate Café used to be?”
“That’s me!” Tilly beamed. Her eyes slid over to Rowan quickly, and Rowan swore she winked.
“Diabolical,” Rowan muttered.
“Ms. Grahn, I was planning on stopping by your establishment last. Do you realize your temporary alcoholic beverages permit has expired? I’ve sent you several notices. I see you’re still serving, though.”
Tilly blanched. “I . . . What?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Grahn,” Linsday said, “but I’m going to have to close you down.”
Eyes bulging, Tilly stared.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my annual dessert.” Lindsay winked at Rowan. “Elli’s Christmas cheer is the only sweet I allow myself all year.” Lifting the spoon to her lips, she took a bite of the mousse. A soft sigh hummed through her lips. “Oh, Rowan . . . This is amazing.” She turned to the judges.
They all nodded in agreement.
“I believe we have a winner.”
Tilly stomped out of the bakery.
Lindsay pressed a Santa-shaped trophy into Rowan’s hands, then sat down at a table with the rest of her mousse.
Feeling as if she might be dreaming, Rowan read the engraving on the trophy. “Mrs. Taylor?”
“Seriously, child. Call me Lindsay! I’m the same age as your aunt.”
“Okay, but Mrs. Taylor, this has Elli’s engraved as the winner.” She held up the trophy.
“Of course it does,” Lindsay said. “Elli’s always wins.” She turned back to her mousse.
“See?” Matt whispered, wrapping Rowan into a hug. “You’ve just got to believe in yourself.”
Leaning into him, inhaling the crisp scent of his cologne, the candles burning throughout the bakery, and the chocolatey scent of the mousse the judges were devouring, Rowan closed her eyes. Between the night before and winning the contest in Katherine’s memory, everything was perfect. She wished it didn’t have to be over so soon. “Just one more Christmas?” she asked Matt.
He lifted her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The next afternoon—Christmas Eve—snow started to fall as they closed Elli’s for Christmas break. Matt walked Rowan to her car, her arm tucked into his.
“So, I don’t mean to impose, but I thought we could pick up some takeout and I’d spend the night. You know, for just one more Christmas,” he said.
She grinned. “I was actually going to suggest you stay over.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay what?”
“We’ll take my truck.” Changing direction, he led her toward the pickup.
“But what about my car?” She glanced over her shoulder at her snow-covered Honda.
“We can pick it up later tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I figured we’d have another Christmas—breakfast with my mom and Danny.”
Tugging her arm free, Rowan threw both arms around his neck. They slid on the slick pavement, gliding straight back into Matt’s pickup. She pressed him into the truck, sprinkling his lips and cheeks with kisses. “How are you so perfect?”
“Oh, just wait,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve got a whole lifetime to devote to you.”
Though she kind of wanted to swat at him for the cheesy line, she resisted. Besides, it was working. She was practically swooning.
With his assistance, she hopped into the passenger side of his worn pickup. He slid into the driver’s side and blasted the heat. It would be a while before the old truck got moving.
She scooted across the seat and, cupping his chin, turned his face toward hers. “I love you,” she told him, heart thudding in her chest.
She did not expect him to say anything. She hadn’t exactly planned on dropping those three little words. Though she knew they both shared similar feelings, neither of them had ever actually said the phrase out loud. The moment just felt right, though.
Still, part of her hoped he wouldn’t leave her hanging.
A slow grin spread across his face. “I love you too, Ro,” he said, sounding surprised.
Lips curling into a smile, she kissed him. With the snow falling in fat flakes, and the blast from the vents brushing her hair back, the moment was perfect. Their lips met, a slow and familiar dance.
His hands went to her waist, simultaneously drawing her closer and halting their kisses.
“What?” Rowan asked.
He chuckled. “Let’s get to your place.”
As soon as they got to her house, they shed snow-covered clothing and, grabbing the warmest throw blanket from the couch, headed into the bedroom. Matt pulled Rowan into his arms, wrapping the throw around them. Pressed against his chest, her skin to his, she felt more complete than she ever had.
He backed them toward the bed, laying her down gently. Large hands closing around her breasts, he swept his tongue across her lips.
“I love you, Rowan.” His mouth devoured hers.
She felt him pressing urgently against her, the heat from their passion a barrier against the weather outside.
He trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. “I love you,” he growled.
Her fingernails dug into the bedspread.
His lips sucked in a nipple, tongue flicking it into a firm bud. “I love you.”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Rowan’s eyes fluttered closed. “This,” she gasped, “is the best Christmas present ever.”
Matt trailed kisses down the slope of her belly. “Oh, baby, I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
She smiled contentedly.
As their bodies connected, hearts beating as one, sparks flying between them, she saw dozens of Christmases ahead of them—each more perfect than the last. The circumstances would change. Someday they would be spending their Christmas Eve wrapping presents from Santa. The undeniable love between them, however, would only grow.
Entangled in each other’s arms, they drifted off to sleep, secure in the future they knew they would share.
The End
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Acknowledgments
Before I started Just One More Christmas, I was in a writing funk. I have an autoimmune disease with debilitating joint pain and fatigue, and was h
aving trouble getting my joints to move enough to get out of bed in the morning; my holiday spirit was pretty much non-existent. Then my good friend and work wife J.C. Hannigan told me she was working on a holiday novella for her Rebel series, and urged me to write one for my Not Just Any Love series. Though my wrists weren’t cooperating enough to write a 20,000-word novella, writing this novelette was just the mood boost I needed. There are not enough words to thank you, J.C., for your friendship and support.
There also aren’t enough words for my husband Mike, who is my rock and sunshine during even the nastiest of chronic illness flareups.
But I’m especially speechless when it comes to my readers, friends, and family, who’ve all pitched in to help in one way or another: keeping my spirits up on bad pain days, being kind and compassionate when I had to announce my social media break, donating to my GoFundMe to help my husband and me catch up on our bills, and just being awesome in general.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you are why I do this, and as long as you’ll keep reading my stories, I’ll keep writing them.
Whether my wrists like it or not.
Elizabeth Barone
December 12th, 2016
Watertown, Connecticut
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About the Author
Elizabeth Barone is an American novelist who writes contemporary New Adult romance and suspense, starring sassy belles who chose a different path in life. Her debut novel, Sade on the Wall (writing as Kaylene Campbell), was a quarterfinalist in the 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. She is the author of the South of Forever series and several other books.
When not writing, Elizabeth is very busy getting her latest fix of Yankee Candle, spicy Doritos chips, or whatever TV show she’s currently binging.
Elizabeth lives in northwestern Connecticut with her husband, a feisty little cat, and too many books.
Connect with Elizabeth
@elizabethbarone
elizabethbaronebooks
elizabethbarone.net
[email protected]
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Chapter 1
Jett Costa let her eyes open slowly. Gray light stung her retinas. Squinting against the haze, she glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand and yawned as she read the time. It was only seven in the morning. She should still be sleeping. Groaning, she turned onto her stomach and let herself sink back into the velvety darkness behind her eyes as she tried to remember what she had been dreaming before she woke up. Maybe she’d been having a sexy dream. She snorted. Dreams were the closest she had come to having sex in the last three months. Part of her had hoped that, even though she and Koty had separate bedrooms, the condo they shared would become some kind of sex haven when they moved in together.
Gripping her pillow, she sighed. She was pathetic. She needed to remember that they were better off keeping things platonic. They had way too much work to do to waste time on each other. The band would never take off if they continued going back and forth. Still, sometimes she wished that he would come into her bedroom and crawl into bed with her. Not so long ago, he had pressed his lips to hers in a dark tour bus, back when things were less complicated—before she ruined her entire life.
She had no job. If listening to wannabe musicians carve out her eardrums all day counted as a job, she was in big trouble. She was probably wasting her time—and Koty’s, not to mention his money. They'd been holding auditions for their new band for weeks. Maybe it was time to call it off. She could probably find a job as a music teacher somewhere or, at the very least, a cashier at a record store. Separating for good would probably be the best thing for both her and Koty, she surmised.
She rolled onto her side and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. There was one missed call. Her eyes widened as she read the name on the display. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. She wanted to shut the ringer off and go back to sleep. Knocking herself out would require more Benadryl, though, and it was already 7:10. She wondered where the time was going.
Nibbling on her lower lip, she stared at the phone, unable to believe what she was seeing. It seemed impossible. She hadn’t spoken to Griff in almost five months. He was a part of her old life, and she preferred that it stayed that way. Besides, there was no reason for him to call her—unless he was apologizing for what had happened all those months ago when Perpetual Smile broke up.
She sat up at the thought. Griff had never been slow to admit when he was wrong. It didn’t make sense for him to wait so long to say that he was sorry for what he did. There had to be another reason for him to call.
As she toyed with the idea of calling him back, her phone went off in her hands. Jumping, she nearly dropped it. Griff’s name appeared on the screen. Hands shaking, she accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had no idea how to answer. Neither a casual “Hey” nor a professional “Jett Costa” seemed right. She sat cross-legged on her bed, mouth hanging open.
“Hello?” Griff said into her ear. He sounded confused. “Anyone there?” Sirens blared in the background, nearly drowning him out.
Jett frowned, wondering where he was. “Yeah,” she said, voice thick with emotion and sleep.
“Jett.” He paused as the sirens flared again. When they died down, he wasted no time on pleasantries. “You’ve really fucked up this time.”
Her eyebrows shot up. Even five months earlier, when she’d deserved it, he had never spoken to her like that. “Excuse me?” She lifted the phone from her ear, double checking the name on the caller ID.
“You heard me.” More sirens whizzed by wherever he was. He
raised his voice over the noise. “Either you’re crazy, or there’s something you haven’t told me.”
Jett blinked. “What are you talking about, Griff?” She glanced at the time again. It was too early for him to be drunk or stoned. Besides, it wasn’t like him to pick a fight.
“Don’t play stupid,” he said.
She scowled. “Griff, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t you just tell me?”
“I got an interesting phone call from a guy named Owen around three this morning,” Griff began, sirens drowning out the rest of what he said.
Jett wrinkled her nose. “Where the hell are you?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She heard the flick of a lighter and the sharp inhale as Griff lit a cigarette.
She reached for her own cigarettes. According to the homeowners’ association, she wasn’t supposed to smoke in the condo. She would just have to buy some of those fancy plug-in air fresheners. “Seriously,” she said as she lit her own cigarette, “where are you?”
“Los Angeles,” Griff said. “Are you going to let me finish, or can you fill in the blanks yourself?”
Jett sighed. “I don’t know what your deal is, dude. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.” She tapped ash into a half-empty glass of water.
“Owen says he’s the owner of a bar called the Groggy Frogg. Does that ring a bell?”
Shrugging, Jett took another drag. “Nope.”
“Jesus, Jett,” Griff swore. “Do you owe them a huge tab or something?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Low blow, bro.” Her grip on her phone tightened.
“Well, according to this Owen guy, you scheduled Perpetual Smile last year to play a show there, in three weeks.” Griff sounded smug. It made her want to punch him.
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