by Frankie Love
The Snuggle Is Real
A Cozy AF Christmas
Frankie Love
Contents
The Snuggle Is Real
Chapter 1
Cozette
Chapter 2
Cozette
Chapter 3
Whitaker
Chapter 4
Cozette
Chapter 5
Whitaker
Chapter 6
Cozette
Chapter 7
Whitaker
Chapter 8
Cozette
Chapter 9
Whitaker
Chapter 10
Cozette
Chapter 11
Whitaker
Epilogue
More Cozy AF Christmas!
More Frankie Love Christmas!
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Frankie Love
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Join Frankie Love’s Mailing List for a free book … plus never miss a new release:
https://frankielove.net/newsletter/
The Snuggle Is Real
A Cozy AF Christmas
By Frankie Love
I should be pissed. She’s taken up residence in my cabin without my permission.
But how can I be mad when Cozette is so damn sweet?
She’s turned this place into a Christmas Wonderland and suddenly the worst year of my life is ending up great.
She’s got struggles — sure — but who doesn’t?
This cabin feels cozy for the first time, and with her at my side, the snuggle is real.
We can worry about everything else after the holidays.
Except her trouble is knocking on the door.
And refuses to leave empty-handed.
Dear Reader,
Whitaker’s returning to his mountain man roots this Christmas. Lucky for Cozette (and us) this reformed city slicker is determined to make this holiday unforgettable.
Turn on the Christmas lights and get cozy on the couch… but you don’t need any hot cocoa — Whitaker is enough to warm you up!
xo, frankie
Join Frankie Love’s Mailing List for a free book … plus never miss a new release:
https://frankielove.net/newsletter/
Chapter One
Cozette
They say it’s the most wonderful time of the year… but whoever they are know nothing about my life.
It’s a few weeks until Christmas and I’m running away from the only life I’ve ever known.
Saying I’m scared is an understatement. Terrified might be a better fit. But freaking the eff out is probably more accurate.
I’ve been driving for three hours in a stolen car and I’m exhausted. I need food, gas and sleep. In that order.
Getting off the highway, I pull into the parking lot of the first grocery store I can find. I have less than a quarter-tank of gas, and I’ll get to that after I get some food. My stomach growls as I put the car in park, step out and I zip up my winter coat. It’s nearly freezing out. Then I triple check that I’ve locked the doors.
I have fifty bucks in my pocket — I don’t even own a wallet — and I figure that’s plenty to get me a few bags of groceries. After that I plan on finding a motel and holing up through the holidays. Then I’ll figure out the rest of my life.
The bag of shoes in the back seat seems like the last place anyone would look for a big bag of cash. They’d have to sift through my boots and heels to find the stolen money. Carrying fifty grand in cash with me inside a grocery store might look suspicious. Besides, the parking lot is nearly empty and it’s broad daylight and near freezing.
Joe and Max were passed out cold when I left this morning. Still drunk and probably high from the night before. They thought I wasn’t brave enough to leave, and until last night I wasn’t. But I heard them talking. About me. About their plans. And I decided then and there that the unknown was less scary than what I did know. And what I did know was that they planned to trade me to their boss because they were short ten grand. They thought the drug lord who basically owned them might as well own me too.
I blink back tears as I walk into the grocery store. Now is not the time to fall apart. Instead, I grab a cart and fill it with comfort food. Hot cocoa packets, marshmallows, oatmeal, mac and cheese and cans of chicken noodle soup. This year I can’t make the recipes I remember my grandmother preparing for the holidays — roasted turkey and mashed potatoes, glazed carrots and rolls fresh from the oven. Pecan pie and egg nog and…. Stop it. Thinking about what I can’t have this holiday isn’t going to help me.
I need to be realistic. And grateful I’m free and not being sold to the highest bidder.
I don’t even have a smartphone to get a fancy vacation rental, let alone a checking account or credit card to finance my stay. All I have is cash — which means a dive motel that won’t ask questions. Which also means whatever I eat is going to be cooked in a microwave. I can’t risk a restaurant where the guys might find me… or more likely whoever they hire as a hit man.
I know my worth at the moment. And it’s not just my virtue as a twenty-one-year-old virgin that has a price tag. It’s the money I stole before I left. When they realize what I’ve done, they’ll stop at nothing to find me.
Swallowing, I realize I need to get back to my car, and fast. I’m too visible at the moment. Grabbing tins of fruit and vegetables, I grip the cart and head toward the checkout.
“You okay, ma’am?” the cashier asks. He’s a gray-haired man who wears a friendly smile.
“I’m fine,” I say nervously, fiddling with the cash.
“Your knuckles are white and you look like a deer in the headlights. You sure you don’t need any help?”
“I’m sure,” I say as I grab my change. I have six dollars left. I’ll have to dip into the stolen money to get the gas.
“Have a candy cane,” he says, adding it to my paper bag of groceries. “My treat.”
“Thank you,” I choke out, appreciating his kindness. I’m not used to men like him, who want to make my world a sweeter place.
As I leave the grocery store, my heart drops.
The lot is empty, but the back door of my car has been left open. I take careful steps, not wanting to slip on the icy pavement of the parking lot. Terror rises inside of me as I peer into the door. I drop the bags to the ground, tears filling my eyes.
Everything has been riffled though. My bag of shoes is emptied out, and my hiking boots stick out of the broken window like a sore thumb.
I unlock the car, my heart pounding, and fearfully conclude that whoever broke into this car found everything. Took everything.
I have a feeling whoever Max and Joe hired to come find me did their job. Only instead of taking me back to the guys and asking for a reward, they took the money and ran.They must have followed me from town to find me this fast.
I look around, wondering if someone is watching me. Knowing I can’t call the police — I don’t have a phone and even if I did, what would I say?
I need to keep moving. If someone found the car once, they could find it again. Find me. Take me back to Max and Joe, and make me pay.
I have six dollars to my name and hardly any gas in the tank.
Swallowing, I put the groceries in the seat next to me, then I pull out of the parking lot, praying for a Christmas miracle.
Chapter Two
Cozette
I turn right out of the parking lot, not wanting to get stuck on the freeway. Instead I turn toward Juniper Junction, a town I’ve never heard of with a sign on the side of the road telling me the population is 1200.
As I pass through it, I focus on breathing steadily. Reaching into the bag of groceries, I pull out the candy cane and unwrap it with one hand. It’s sweet and pepperminty and calms me down. I can handle this. I’ve been in more difficult situations and right now I just need to find a free place to sleep.
The town is adorable. And if I were living a different life, I’d walk down the sidewalk covered in snow and window shop. Wreaths are on each door, a tree lit in the center of town. There’s an ice skating rink and children laughing in a snowbank as they build a snowman.
It’s quaint and perfect and the kind of town where everyone knows your name.
What would that be like, to feel so safe that you could let down your guard?
I doubt I will ever know.
Turning on the radio, I drown out my thoughts with Christmas songs. I soon realize I’m driving up a mountain, and away from town, knowing the quarter tank will only get me so far. Praying that my Christmas wish will come true, I look down long driveways that have been carefully snowplowed, my eyes taking in smoke from chimneys and driveways filled with cars. I need the exact opposite. I need an empty house that someone forgot about.
There is a sign on the left with an arrow pointing to Prancer Place. The driveway hasn’t been cleared and that means either someone is up at the cabin alone and hasn’t ventured out, or no one is there at all.
The sky is growing dark and the gas tank is nearing empty. I don’t have a choice.
I take a chance and turn onto the narrow drive of Prancer Place, my heart beating fast as the cabin comes into view.
There is no car parked anywhere, and there is no smoke from the chimney, no lights on in the house.
I park my car behind a row of trees, needing this win — needing this place to be empty.
As I get out of the car and step through the foot of snow, I brace myself for the worst. I knock on the door, hard. When there is no answer, I press my face to the window and look inside. It’s hard to see with the sun setting, but I can make out furniture and a river rock fire place.
My heart buoys with hope and I try the doorknob to see if it was left unlocked. It’s closed up tight. Biting my bottom lip, I lift a rock by the front door, smiling when I see a key under it.
Using it on the door, I exhale with relief as it opens. Tears slide down my cheek as I step inside and flick on the lights. They work. I won’t have to sleep in my car and freeze to death tonight. I will have a warm place to rest. And then in the morning I can figure out a plan.
It doesn’t take me long to bring in my bags from the car, and I know I’m breaking the law — this is not my house and I have no right to be here — but it does feel like the miracle I needed. It feels strange, walking around the cabin alone, but as I pull out a can of soup and warm it up on the stove, I pinch myself, unable to believe I’m so lucky. I never get big breaks, unless you count my escape this morning.
The house doesn’t appear to have had a visitor in a long time There is a layer of dust over everything, the place is ice cold and there a cobwebs in every corner. But still, it feels safe. Max and Joe can’t pawn me to their drug dealer when they don’t know who I am.
Once the soup warms, I pour it into a big ceramic mug I find in the cupboard and sip on it as I wander through the cabin. There’s nice-sized living room with two leather armchairs and a couch that is red and green plaid. I pause at two framed photos on a bookcase that is fully stocked with books.
One of the images is of an older couple, gray-haired and smiling in front of this cabin. The other is of a little boy with chocolate brown eyes and his parents, with a lake behind them. It looks like it was taken maybe twenty years ago and I press my finger to the little boy’s face, wondering what became of him.
Before my grandma passed away, I was probably as sweet and innocent as this little boy looks. Then everything changed for me… I wonder if things changed for him too.
Down the small hallway there is a bedroom with a large bed, and across from it there is a bathroom. My shoulders ache with built up tension and I decide to take a shower after I enjoy this soup.
There is a narrow staircase leading to a loft that has three twin-size beds, and there is large storage closet to one side of the stairs. I open it, curious, and find a stack of boxes labeled ‘Christmas.’
I know I have no business being here, playing make-believe. But as I open a box and see dozens of shiny ornaments, I realize that for the first time in a decade, those people who say this is the most wonderful time of year might be onto something. Maybe I can make something wonderful out of this mess after all.
Chapter Three
Whitaker
They say at Christmas all roads lead home and I’ve never felt that sentiment so damn hard.
“You’re seriously just leaving?” Bran asks, standing in the doorway of my office.
“I need a few weeks away from the city,” I tell him. We’ve been business partners for the last five years, and the decision to go has nothing to do with him — Bran’s a good guy… it’s just becoming increasingly clear we want different things. “Look, I need to figure out what I really want is all.”
“The Christmas party is tonight.”
I run a hand over my stubble. “I signed all the Christmas bonus checks. No one is going to miss me.”
Bran frowns. “Melinda’s bringing you a date.”
I shrug. “That is nice of your wife, but I don’t want to date any woman from this city. I’m not interested.”
Bran is already texting Melinda. They’ve been married two years and I admit to envying their relationship in some ways. They are best friends, treat one another well, and appear to want the same thing. Money.
“Christmas Eve is tomorrow,” he says after sending a text. “You really want to deal with airports right now?”
“Last Christmas was my first since my parents passed, Bran. It was hell. I don’t feel like putting on a smile at the party. I need to be alone, sad as that sounds. And I’m not flying anywhere. I’ve got my cabin out in Juniper Junction.” I close my laptop and slide it into my briefcase. I want to get out of the office — for good.
Bran chuckles. “You haven’t been there in years, have you? Thought you sold it.”
“It was my grandfather’s cabin — I couldn’t sell it. And I have good memories out there.” Truth be told, I haven’t been there since my parents died eighteen months ago. Felt like it would remind me of what I lost and I haven’t felt ready to face all that.
“And it has heat and running water?” Bran asks. “Because it’s near freezing out there. We went skiing there last winter and I froze my balls off.”
“Good to know, I’ll pack some wool socks. But yeah, the place has heating and everything. Probably its fair share of cobwebs too. But honestly, it’s what I need right now. I can fix the cabin up and chop some wood and clear my damn head.”
“You’re worrying me a little.” Bran’s eyes narrow as he closes my office door and steps closer to me. “You’re not planning on doing something really stupid, are you? Like sell?”
“I would never screw you over. We’ve been friends since college. But I don’t know man, I don’t really care about the apps anymore. At first it was exciting, getting funding, raising capital. But now we have a shit ton of money and I don’t have the same drive as you. You know my heart has never been in it.”
“But we just sold DinnerWin,” he says. “We’re about to go public with SuperEat. It should be the time of our lives.”
“You’re right,” I say. “It should.”
“We can pivot,” Bran says. “We can move away from food service apps and start something that does interest you. Like…” he looks around my office, his eyes landing on my TBR pile. “Books. You’re always reading.”<
br />
“Maybe,” I say. “But I need some space to think about it.”
“Fine,” Bran says. “But if you want to sell, let’s talk, because you’re the creative one. I’m just the programmer.”
I clap my buddy on the back. “Have a good Christmas. And tell Melinda I’m sorry about the date, okay?”
Bran smirks. “You know, maybe what you really need is a good lay. You’ve been alone way too long, man.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I say with a chuckle. “But I don’t think there are many prospects in Juniper Junction.”
I leave the office, and head to my loft downtown to pack. I’m going to leave first thing in the morning. I figure I can stop at the gourmet market on the way out of town and grab all the best comfort foods. The goods for a cheese plate, a case of wine, some whiskey, and everything to make a Christmas dinner — with leftovers. I’m a foodie at heart — it’s why I got into food delivery apps in the first place. I wanted to make sure people had good food whenever they wanted.
Besides packing up some clothes, I put my favorite pots and pans and knives into a bin, along with seasonings. I haven’t been to the cabin in ages, and so I add some pillows and sheets to the pile to load into my SUV. I want essentials, but I also want to enjoy myself. Which means adding a dozen books to the haul as well. Nothing better than sitting in front of the fire with something warm to drink and a good book. I remember to grab those extra wool socks, hoping like hell I’ll have plenty of hours to relax without WiFi and without a screen.