Love, Laughter & Happily Ever After: A sweet romantic comedy collection

by Ellie Hall

  Do you know how hard it is to track down an elf in Santa’s Village on Christmas Day? I know, it surprised me too. I had always thought that once they loaded up the sleigh with presents and waved Santa and his reindeer goodbye, they were off the clock. It was time for those pointy-eared workers to kick back with a glass of glögi or eggnog in front of the fire at Elf Central.

  Apparently not. Elf Central is deserted. The only evidence that the elves have been here recently are the embers in the fireplace and a red and green cap lying on one of the overstuffed armchairs.

  I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I hadn’t forgotten my hat back at the hotel. The problem the elves had with their central heating seems to have gone in the opposite direction—instead of being boiling inside Elf Central, it’s now freezing. Winter in Finland is brutal. I hope my next assignment is someplace warm, like India or the Australian outback.

  I take a deep breath, and attempt to focus. If I’m going to pull off my surprise for Max, I need to find an elf. Maybe they’re at Santa’s Lodge?

  Bracing myself to go back out in the snow in search of Santa’s helpers, I grab the forgotten elf cap from the armchair. No, I’m not stealing it. Just borrowing it. The elves seem like understanding people. Besides, Eldon told me that they actually don’t like wearing their caps. Unlike humans who are susceptible to frostbite, elfin folk are adapted for the cold, and their heads sweat profusely under their caps. That’s why they have those pointy ears. They help radiate the heat away from their bodies.

  But Santa is all about appearances, so he insists that the elves wear the red and green caps. One of the elves probably rebelled and “forgot” his cap back here at Elf Central. He or she will be cool with me wearing it. At least, I hope so. I don’t want them to rat me out and put me on Santa’s naughty list.

  As I go to place the cap on my head, a card flutters onto the floor. I pick it up and smile at the illustration of the dancing elves on the front. They’re barefoot, of course. When I open the card, I’m surprised to see that it’s for me.

  Dear Zoe – We hope you enjoy this cap. Merry Christmas from Eldon and Edwina.

  I put my hand to my mouth. How did they know I was going to need a hat? How did they know I would come to Elf Central today?

  No time to think about this now. I have to track down one of these elves. It’s the only way I can make things right with Max. Pushing the door to Elf Central open, I step outside. Despite the frigid wind blowing, I feel warm and toasty as I run toward Santa’s Lodge, and I’m pretty sure that’s all due to the cap.

  When I get to Santa’s Lodge, I peer through the windows into the gift shop. The place is deserted too. Where is everyone? Although, I suppose it is Christmas Day. If you haven’t bought your presents by now, you’re out of luck.

  Wondering if there are any elves in the back somewhere, I cautiously try the door. Finding it unlocked, I poke my head inside. “Yoo-hoo, is anyone here?” When no one replies, I push the door open and enter the building. Calling out again, I walk toward the back of the store. Not one single elf in sight, not in the stockroom, the break room, or the workshop where Santa Claus receives visitors.

  I return to the gift shop, hoping I’ll find what I need there. After wandering through all the aisles, I reluctantly give up. “There goes my plan,” I mutter.

  “What plan was that?” a voice behind me says.

  I turn and see Max leaning against one of the counters. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to see you scurrying around like a madwoman looking for something.”

  “I’m surprised they leave this place unlocked,” I say, looking around at all the candy, souvenirs, and other trinkets on display.

  “I’m not. This is Santa’s Village. No one is going to steal from Santa Claus. That man always knows if someone is being naughty. You have to admit, it’s a pretty effective security system.” Max folds his arms across his chest. “Now, tell me what this plan of yours was.”

  “I wanted to fix your journal,” I say. “It was going to be my Christmas present to you.”

  “There’s no way you can fix it,” Max says. “Those pages that the reindeer ate are gone forever.”

  “I know that, but I thought that one of the elves could fix it. I’ve been looking everywhere for them, but they’re nowhere to be found.”

  “How could an elf fix it unless . . .” Max smiles at me. “Oh, I see what’s happened. You believe in elfin magic now.”

  I look down at the ground. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. There aren’t any elves around.”

  Max rubs his jaw. “Okay, so you couldn’t find an elf. But you were looking for something.”

  “I was looking for a replacement journal. I know it wouldn’t be the same, but I thought it might help a little bit. But they don’t have any.”

  “Hah, you called it a journal.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I meant to say diary.”

  Max pushes himself off the counter and walks toward me. As he draws closer, I think about what my sister said to me. Is this man the perfect guy for me? Is it time I admitted that to myself and to him? I have taken a lot of risks in my life—like riding a yak across the Mongolian desert and bungee jumping off a cliff in Tahiti—but telling Max how I really feel? Well, that’s possibly the riskiest thing I can do.

  “I hate it when you flirt with other girls,” I blurt out.

  Max locks his eyes with mine. After a beat, he says, “Haven’t you ever noticed that the only girl I don’t flirt with is you?”

  I furrow my brow, then fling my hands in the air. “That’s my point. I have feelings for you and knowing that you don’t feel the same way—”

  Max puts a finger on my lips. “I have feelings for you too, Zoe. Serious feelings. Feelings that freak me out. Why do you think I don’t flirt with you? Because I’ve been scared that something might happen between us.”

  I take a step back. “And you don’t want anything to happen, right? You don’t want a serious relationship, marriage, kids, anything like that?”

  “Oh, I want kids one day,” Max says. “I want them a lot. But I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  I cock my head to one side. “Why?”

  “Because of my career. I travel all the time. What woman is going to want to raise kids with me given my lifestyle?”

  “Maybe a woman who also likes to travel all the time. A woman like me.” I hold my hands up. “Listen, I’m not saying we’re going to get married and have kids. I’m just saying that there are people out there who make a nomadic lifestyle work for their families.”

  Max contemplates this for a moment. “Nicole said the same thing to me.”

  “Yeah, speaking of Nicole, she told me you made up that whole story about that girl’s boyfriend from Sri Lanka calling to complain about you. You were never in any danger of getting fired.”

  A sheepish grin creeps across Max’s face. “So, she ratted me out.”

  I pace back and forth, then jab Max’s chest. “So why did you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? That’s the only way I could get close to you. If I had asked you to go on a date, what would you have said?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly.”

  We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us sure what to say next.

  Max breaks the ice. “Cute hat.”

  “Thanks, it was a gift from the elves.”

  Max takes my hand in his. “What do you say? Should we try being a real couple and see where things go?”

  “No more pretending?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

  He nods. “Out of curiosity, if we had gone through this entire trip pretending to be a couple, what was I going to owe you?”

  “Oh, on our next trip together, I was going to make you wear a different costume each day.” I smile. “I know how much you hate dressing up.”

  “Yeah, someday I’ll have to tell you about
what my brother did to me at Halloween one year. It’s scarred me for life. I’ll never wear a costume again.”

  “Never?”

  “Never. You couldn’t even pay me to dress up as Santa Claus. Speaking of . . .” Max smiles as he leads me into Santa’s workshop. Just like in the gift shop, the lights are dim, and the only sound is that of Christmas carols playing softly in the background.

  Max sits in Santa’s green velvet chair, then pulls me onto his lap. “Have you been naughty or nice this year, Zoe?”

  “Nice, of course.” I run my fingers along his jawline, down to the cleft in his chin. “You, on the other hand, have been naughty.”

  “How so?”

  “Flirting with all those girls.”

  “You’re the only girl I want to flirt with.” Max cups his hand behind my neck and pulls my face closer to his. “To think I fell in love with you that day on the riverboat in Germany.”

  I slide his shirt collar to one side, then shift my head so that my lips are nearly touching his neck. Breathing in his peppermint fragrance, I say, “You love me?”

  “I do,” Max says simply. Then he shifts ever so slightly, and my mouth presses against his skin. I trail kisses up his neck and gently nip his earlobe.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” Max says, his voice low and husky. He takes control, brushing his lips against mine, softly at first, then more insistently. Now I’m being driven crazy.

  Remembering where we are—in the middle of Santa’s workshop, sitting on Santa’s chair—I pull back. After looking around the room to make sure we’re still alone, I slip off Max’s lap. “That was the perfect first kiss.”

  Max chuckles. “It’s actually our second kiss. Remember Germany?”

  “Vaguely,” I say with a teasing tone in my voice. “But, first, second, who’s counting?”

  “Oh, I’m counting.” Max stands, then pulls his battered journal out of his jacket pocket. He flips through the pages. When he reaches the one he’s looking for, he says, “Good, this one is still intact.” Turning to me, he asks, “Got something to write with?”

  I reach into my purse and pull out a pen. He starts to grab it, but I yank it back. “I want to see what’s on that page first.”

  A mischievous smile spreads across Max’s face, then he hands the journal to me. My jaw drops when I read what he’s written on the top of the page—“Kisses with Zoe.” There’s only one entry—the date and place that we first kissed in Germany. Underneath is a sketch of a trademark apple strudel that they served on the riverboat cruise.

  I grin. “See, I told you this was a diary. You keep a record of the girls you kiss in here.”

  “Girl, singular, you mean. You’re the only girl I’ve written about in here.” Max shakes his head. “And it’s a journal, not a diary. Can I have the pen now?”

  After I hand it to him, he walks over to a counter, shielding the journal from view. When I try to see what he’s writing, he gently pushes me aside. “Patience, Zoe.”

  After a few minutes, he waves me over and shows me his latest entry—today’s date, followed by “Kiss Number Two, Santa’s Village, Finland.” Underneath is a sketch of a candy cane.

  I look up at him and he takes either end of my scarf in his hands. Pulling me toward him, he says quietly, “How about if we go for kiss number three.”

  Kiss number three turns into kiss number four, number five, and so on. After kiss number eleven, he pulls back. “I think I’m going to run out of room in my journal.”

  I dash back into the gift shop and grab a notebook with candy canes and reindeer on the front. Looking around, I whisper, “Don’t worry, Santa, I’m good for it. I’ll settle up later.”

  After I walk back into Santa’s workshop, I hand the notebook to Max. “Merry Christmas. I know this isn’t as nice as your leather-bound diary—”

  “Journal,” Max interrupts me.

  “Diary, journal, whatever.” I put my arms around his waist. “Now, let’s get to work filling up the pages.”

  Epilogue

  Max

  “Why is mommy crying?” Lila tugs on the bottom of my coat. “Is she sad?”

  “No, those are her happy tears. She has happy memories of this place.” I ruffle my daughter’s hair, then look over at the display of candy by the entrance to Santa’s workshop. Zoe is clutching a large candy cane in one hand, and dabbing her eyes with the other. I scoop Lila up in my arms. “This is the third time mommy and I have been here. The first time was for work, then we came back a year later and I proposed to mommy.”

  Lila counts the fingers on her right hand. “One, two, three—” When she reaches her ring finger, she squeals. “Four. That’s how old I am, daddy!”

  “You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” I gently squeeze her pinkie. “What comes after four?”

  She giggles. “Five, silly.”

  “That’s right. Mommy and I got married five years ago.”

  “Did you get married in Santa’s Village?” Lila asks.

  “No, we got married in Australia. This is the first time mommy and I have been back to Santa’s Village since I proposed,” I say.

  Lila’s eyes light up at the mention of Australia. “Kangaroos!”

  “What’s this about kangaroos?” Zoe asks as she walks toward us. My heart melts at the sight of my wife and daughter together. Lila has her mother’s blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, but she inherited my curls. While my curly hair always looks unruly, Lila’s ringlets are adorable. Just like she is.

  “I want to see a kangaroo,” Lila says.

  “It’s a little cold here for kangaroos, sweetie,” Zoe says, kissing Lila’s cheek. “I don’t think they like to hop around in the snow. How about if we go see the reindeer after lunch instead?”

  Zoe puts her hands on either side of her head, pretending they’re antlers. Lila grins, then mimics her mother. “Rudolph,” she shouts repeatedly at the top of her lungs. The other parents waiting to see Santa give us an understanding smile, especially those whose kids have taken up their own Rudolph chant.

  We eventually manage to get Lila to lower her voice, explaining that the reindeer are probably napping. “We don’t want to wake them up, do we?” Zoe asks. “It’s Christmas Eve. They have a long night ahead of them delivering presents to boys and girls around the world.”

  As we near the front of the line, one of Santa’s elves approaches, a clipboard in hand. She cocks her head to one side and stares at me. “You look familiar. Were you the guy who stole Santa’s suit a few years ago?”

  “I think Santa might have put you on his naughty list that year,” Zoe says with a teasing tone to her voice.

  Lila pipes up. “You shouldn’t steal, daddy.”

  “I like to think of it as ‘borrowed,’” I say. “And it was for a good cause. Dressing up as Santa was what clinched the deal for your mommy. That dapper red suit was why she said yes when I popped the question.”

  Zoe squeezes my arm. “I would have said yes no matter how you were dressed. Well, maybe not as a hedgehog though.”

  The elf smiles. “I think it was sweet. Definitely memorable.” After taking down our information, she ushers us in to see Santa Claus. Lila squirms out of my arms and rushes over, talking a mile a minute about what a good girl she was this year, and could Santa please bring her a kangaroo. Or a reindeer. Or both.

  Santa listens patiently, letting out a “Ho, ho, ho” from time to time.

  When our turn is over, we point Lila in the direction of the candy display. “You can pick out one piece of candy,” Zoe says.

  Lila claps her hands together. “I want a candy cane.”

  “Like mother, like daughter,” I say.

  While she studies her candy cane options, I put my arm around my wife and whisper, “Why don’t I sneak back to the gift shop this evening and pick up a stuffed reindeer for Lila?”

  Zoe nods. “Better see if they have a stuffed kangaroo too.”

  We wait patiently while Lila com
pares the various kinds of candy canes. When I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus starts playing over the speakers, Zoe looks at me and grins. “Maybe you should borrow that red suit again.”

  I pull her toward me. “I don’t need to dress up as Santa Claus to kiss you, do I?”

  Zoe stands on her tiptoes and lightly brushes her lips against mine. “No, you don’t. But you do make a cute Santa. And you’re going to make an even cuter father . . . ” She smiles mysteriously at me as her voice trails off.

  I furrow my brow. “Huh? I’m already a father.”

  “What I was going to say was you’re going to be a cute father of two.”

  My eyes widen as she lightly touches her belly. “You mean we’re having another baby?”

  “I was going to tell you tomorrow on Christmas Day, but I couldn’t wait,” Zoe says, her eyes shining with excitement. “Merry Christmas!”

  I tuck a lock of Zoe’s hair behind her ear. “This is the best Christmas present ever.”

  Lila rushes over, clutching a candy cane in her hand. “What did mommy give you? Is it a hedgehog?”

  As Zoe breaks into laughter, I say, “No, it’s something much cuter than a hedgehog.”

  “Nothing’s cuter than a hedgehog,” Lila says.

  “Trust me, this is going to be way cuter than a hedgehog.” I pick my daughter up, then gaze at my gorgeous wife. Just when I think Christmas can’t get better, it does.

  Connect with Ellen Jacobson

  Ellen Jacobson is a chocolate-obsessed writer of romcoms and cozy mysteries. She lives in a teeny-tiny camper with her husband and an imaginary cat named Simon. New to the Smitten with Travel romcom series? Check out Smitten with Ravioli. Find out more at ellenjacobsonauthor.com.

  Breaking All the Rules

  Cindy Roland Anderson

  She needs a romance coach. He needs a last-minute date for a wedding. They agree to help each other just as long as they don’t break their number one rule. No falling in love. That’s not a problem…until their hearts decide that some rules are made to be broken.