by Debbie Mason
“Way to go, Grinch,” Madison murmured, her gaze dropping to the woman in the picture. She leaned in to get a better look. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. “Is that me? That can’t be me.”
Skye tilted her head. “I know. You’ve got those serial killer’s eyes going on, but it is you, sweetie. Sorry.”
“But I-I am not a Grinch, and I didn’t kill Christmas.”
“You kinda are,” Skye said.
“Skye,” Vivi muttered, then redirected her attention to Madison. “It’s because of the resort in Christmas, Colorado, Maddie. They’re blaming you for killing the deal and the town. They’ve got letters from old people and four-year-olds saying it was because of your report Hartwell didn’t go through with the resort.”
“How would they know that? No one called me for a comment.”
“Harrison spoke on behalf of Hartwell.”
Madison groaned. “What did he say?”
“Um, here, I’ll put it up to the screen.”
Scanning the article, Madison stabbed the monitor when she came to Harrison’s name and quote. “Harrison,” she growled her nemesis’s name. “I can’t believe he questioned my numbers, and to the press! My facts are accurate. I quadruple-checked my projections. If we went through with this deal, we’d have gone under.” Stupid small towns and the small-minded people who lived in them. They’d ruined her life once, and she was not about to let them ruin it again. “I’ll sue. They’ll have to print a retraction.”
“If you say the deal won’t fly, it won’t. But honestly, there’s not much you can do about this. They’re putting a spin on the facts, but you are the one who compiled the report, even if Joe signed off on it. Harrison hung you out to dry,” Vivi said.
“So I just have to sit by while they tear my reputation to shreds on the front page of the Times?”
“Yeah, you do. And I hate to tell you, Maddie, but with Christmas less than a month away, a headline like this is going to sell a lot of papers.”
And that was her biggest concern, because Joe didn’t like conflict or negative publicity. If Santa really did exist, he’d be her boss. Unlike Madison, Joe was a people pleaser and had come close to bankrupting the destination firm before she’d come on board. If he read the letters from the little kids and old people, he’d waver. He’d question her report, and Harrison would have the ammunition he needed to reopen the deal.
That was not going to happen, not on her watch.
“What are you going to do?” Skye asked.
“Once I’ve reamed out Harrison for talking to the press, I have to reassure Joe that the negative publicity will have no impact on us whatsoever, and that I stand by the numbers in my report.”
“If you need me, I’ll be on the next plane out of here,” Skye offered.
“And if I can think of an angle to counter this in the Daily News, I will,” Vivi promised.
“Thanks. I love you guys, but I’ll be fine,” Madison said past the fist-sized lump of gratitude in her throat. She really did have the best friends in the world.
“Group hug, it’s time for a group hug.” Skye waved her hands.
At home was okay, but at the office, no way. “I’m not doing a group hug. Someone might walk in, and thanks to the Times, I already look like an idiot.” And that was bothering her more than she let on.
At the disappointed look in Skye’s eyes, Madison gave in, wrapping her arms around the monitor. “Vivi, Hot Bod is welcome to join us.” They laughed and made kissy noises before saying good-bye.
A throat cleared. “Ms. Lane, what are you doing?” Harrison “the Snake” Hartwell asked.
Heat suffused Madison’s cheeks. “Um, I have a bad connection. Wire’s probably loose.” She patted her hands along the back of the monitor.
“It’s wireless.”
She ignored him, sat poker straight in her chair, and lowered her glasses onto her nose. She decided not to say a word about the paper tucked under his arm. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking the article had gotten to her. “What can I do for you, Harrison?”
“My uncle wants to meet with you in the conference room. Have you seen the Times this morning?” he asked in his faux British accent.
She looked him right in his shifty dark eyes. “Of course I have.”
“And you’re not concerned?”
“Why would I be? It’s nothing more than a piece of sensationalist crap. Everyone will have forgotten about it by tomorrow.” She hoped.
“I don’t think my uncle agrees with you, nor do I. As I see it, the only way to combat the negative publicity is to reopen the deal with Christmas.”
Over her dead body. She hit the key to print off her revised budget and the previous one with the resort included. Organizing the papers into a neat pile, she rose from her chair, striding past Harrison.
She walked into the boardroom where her boss stood by the window, his gray suit hanging on his too-thin frame. “Joe.” He turned, his face lined with worry, his eyes tired.
Her heart pinched. He didn’t need this right now. He had enough dealing with Martha, his wife of fifty-five years, who’d been diagnosed with lung cancer not long before Harrison had come on board. Madison had begun to believe that was the reason Joe had hired his nephew in the first place. He wasn’t thinking clearly. And she wasn’t about to let Harrison take advantage of his vulnerability.
“Don’t worry, Joe,” she said, coming to stand beside him. “No one’s going to pay any attention to this.”
“It doesn’t look that way to me, Madison.” He tapped the glass. On the sidewalk below, at least twenty protestors marched in a circle, waving Grinch signs that called for a boycott of Hartwell Enterprises. She couldn’t believe it. With everything going on in the world, people came out to protest this? The paper had only been out a couple of hours. How…
Her gaze shot to Harrison, who gave her a got-you smile.
Madison gritted her teeth as the midmorning sun glared off the snow-covered mountains and the GPS cheerfully informed her she was going in the wrong direction. She wasn’t. The problem was the town of Christmas was off the grid. She’d been lucky to find a map that showed it actually existed. And Harrison had the nerve to insinuate her visitor projections were too low? Like hell they were; no one would be able to find the place.
As the number of protesters grew yesterday, she’d practically had to tackle Joe to stop him from picking up the phone and reopening negotiations. He’d only relented once Madison had offered, as a last-ditch resort, to go to Christmas and turn the public relations nightmare around. She hadn’t figured out exactly how to do that, but she would. Hartwell Enterprises’ survival depended on her.
Harrison had pulled out all the stops in his campaign to be sent in her place. He’d gone from charming to butt-kissing to whining in a New York minute. But three hours later, Joe had conceded that Madison was the best one to convey her findings to the people of Christmas. Of course, she was to do so in such a way that they would understand the decision was in everyone’s best interest.
Which meant she was supposed to charm and cajole the citizens of Christmas and kiss a baby or two—so not her strong suit. But she’d suck it up and get the job done. Otherwise, she might not have one.
She’d flown out on the red-eye, arriving early this morning at the Denver airport, wasting an hour trying to locate the car and driver Harrison offered to arrange for her. Only to find out it had never been ordered. She should’ve known better. Harrison was probably sitting in her office dreaming of her demise, which was highly likely given her limited driving experience and the hairpin curve she’d just rounded in the rented SUV.
The man in the car behind her blasted his horn as he sped by. If she wasn’t terrified of letting go of the wheel, she would’ve flipped him the bird. She needed something to calm her nerves. She slowed down to turn up the radio when “Independent Women” by Destiny’s Child came on.
Madison loved to sing, even though her friends en
couraged her not to. No matter what they said, she didn’t believe she sounded that bad. Her confidence returned as she belted out the empowering lyrics. The town of Christmas wouldn’t know what hit them. She’d have them eating out of her hand in no time once she expounded on the evils of bringing corporate America to their sleepy little town.
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She’d been on the road for over three hours. According to the map, she should be approaching the turnoff to Christmas right about now. Perfect. There it was. If the meeting went as planned, she’d be back on the road by 2:00, which meant the most hair-raising part of her drive would still be in daylight.
Her breath caught as she made the turn. The town, nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains, looked like it belonged in a snow globe. Sunlight sparkled on snow-laden evergreens and danced off the pastel-painted wooden buildings in the distance. It was postcard perfect and exactly the ammunition Madison needed to convince the town that Hartwell Enterprises had done them a favor by backing out of the deal.
She’d focus on the town’s positive attributes and not the negatives that had made the case against them. Like this road, she thought, her good mood evaporating as her tires spun out beneath her. She slowed to a crawl, a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. Three-quarters of the way down the treacherous hill, as she was about to release the breath she’d been holding, a movement to her right caught her attention. A deer leaped from the woods, darting in front of her. She braked hard, the car fishtailing as she slid along the road. From behind a cluster of evergreens at the side of the road, a twelve-foot Santa holding a “Welcome to Christmas” sign seemingly sprang out in front of her like a giant jack-in-the-box.
Madison screamed. Her foot mistakenly jumped to the gas instead of the brake. She watched in slow-motion horror as the car kept moving and crashed into the sign. Santa loomed, teetered, then fell on the hood, his maniacal, smiling face leering at her through the cracked windshield.
Her last thought before the airbag slammed into her face was that she’d finally succeeded in killing Santa.
Michael Gallagher’s story doesn’t
end here—will he find true love?
Find out in the exclusive audio edition of
“Christmas with an Angel” available now!
Get a sneak peek and buy it today at
soundcloud.com/hachetteaudio/angel
Or look for the ebook in December 2016.
Also by Debbie Mason
The Christmas, Colorado series
The Trouble with Christmas
Christmas in July
It Happened at Christmas
Wedding Bells in Christmas
Snowbound at Christmas
Kiss Me in Christmas
Happy Ever After in Christmas
Marry Me at Christmas (short story)
ACCLAIM FOR THE CHRISTMAS, COLORADO SERIES
HAPPY EVER AFTER IN CHRISTMAS
“This charming story of two people struggling to trust their love and build a life together is certain to earn the author new fans.”
—Bookpage.com
KISS ME IN CHRISTMAS
“This story has so much humor that at times I found myself laughing out loud, holding my sides and shaking my head…a complete joy to read.”
—HarlequinJunkie.com
SNOWBOUND AT CHRISTMAS
“Heartfelt…a laugh-out-loud treat..”
—Publishers Weekly
“4 1/2 stars! Mason’s brisk pacing and inventive plot define this first-rate entry in her Christmas Colorado series.”
—RT Book Reviews
WEDDING BELLS IN CHRISTMAS
“Romance readers will absolutely love this story of matchmaking and passion rekindled. Wedding Bells in Christmas is the very definition of a well-fought-for HEA.”
—RT Book Reviews
IT HAPPENED AT CHRISTMAS
“Debbie Mason gives the reader an excellent love story that can be read all year long…You must pick up It Happened at Christmas.”
—NightOwlRomance.com
CHRISTMAS IN JULY
“Debbie Mason’s books are the type of books that leave you with a warm and fuzzy feeling…Christmas in July is a great read.”
—FreshFiction.com
THE TROUBLE WITH CHRISTMAS
“4 stars! This is a wonderful story to read this holiday season, and the romance is timeless…This is one of those novels readers will enjoy each and every page of and tell friends about.”
—RT Book Reviews
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Giving her bodyguards and the paparazzi the slip, heiress Annelise Montjoy comes to Maverick Junction on a mission to help her ailing grandfather. But keeping her identity hidden in the small Texas town is harder than she expected—especially around a tempting cowboy like Cash Hardeman…
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Debbie Mazzuca
Excerpt from The Trouble with Christmas copyright © 2013 by Debbie Mazzuca
Cover illustration by Tom Hallman.
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner.
Cover copyright © 2016 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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ISBNs: 978-1-4555-3717-4 (mass market); 978-1-4555-3718-1 (ebook)
E3-20160927-DA-NF