A Conflicted Christmas - Part One by Margo Hoornstra

She peered through the snow-spattered windshield at the neon sign and hoped like hell there was room at the inn.

Mandy Nichols kept a tight grasp of the steering wheel as she pulled her older model Jeep to a stop across from the hotel entrance. Her absolute last hope here in their little resort town of Cascade Lake.

“Of course, Dean and the girls would pick this week for his before the Christmas holiday visit.” Nerves always did make her talk to herself. “The busiest tourist week all year.”

The very week of the Snowfall Festival. When every single hotel, motel and bed and breakfast room for thirty miles in any direction was booked months in advance.

Keeping her foot on the brake, she shoved the gear shift into park. Call her crazy, but no way could she contemplate the idea of spending an entire week, day and night under the same roof with her soon to be ex-husband. Especially during the Festival. What used to be an annual high-point in their once happy life together.

She flipped off the windshield wipers then brought her mitten clad hands up to smooth absently over the top of the steering wheel. “Sitting here with the engine running, brooding, sure isn’t going to change things.”

An instrumental rendition of Jingle Bell Rock played on the radio, and she absently tapped her fingers in time to the beat, momentarily lost in the cheerful song.

Momentarily. Because before she knew it, the tune ended.

“Doctor John’s Hemorrhoid Crème. We devote our bottom line to your bottom…line.” The idiotic message, delivered in a nasally monotone, boomed out of the speakers next.

“No sense sticking around to hear about that.”

Her bottom line…she was flat out of distractions.

“No more stalling.” She shut off the engine with a renewed sense of purpose. “The sooner I go inside, the sooner I’ll have this over with.”

Before she completely lost her nerve.

Dropping the keys in her purse, she cranked the door handle then stepped out to the chilling sting of fat, wet snowflakes landing on her cheeks. She ducked her head as she scurried toward the door, all the while buffeted by frigid Northern Michigan winds. A perfect match for the current condition of her heart. Ice cold and frozen solid. Even the heated blast as she pushed her way into the lobby wouldn’t affect any change in that. Nor could the piped in Christmas carols swirling in the air. Or huge blue and red balls twinkling and sparkling as they dangled from the ceiling on silver cords. A large and lush green wreath studded with vibrant red holly berries and matching velvet bow hung on the wall behind a long, marble counter. That couldn’t do it either.

“There’s just no getting away from the Ho-Ho-Ho around here.” There she went muttering to herself again.

Except for buying gifts for the girls, she was in no mood to even do Christmas this year.

“At all.”

Two customers already in line turned around, forcing her to bring out an apologetic smile. An elderly gentleman with kind eyes smiled back. The younger, pony-tailed woman—who looked about as harried as Mandy felt—didn’t.

While she couldn’t very well block out the music, she could divert her eyes from all things festive. Glancing to her right, her gaze landed on a framed poster from a previous Snowfall Festival.

Wouldn’t you just know.

Preserved behind glass, this one was from seventeen years ago. Ironically, the very event where she and Dean first met. Shortly after he’d arrived in town, a newly assigned State Police Trooper, and she was a recently hired third grade teacher. Both embarking on new phases in their lives.

Taking off her mittens, she unzipped her parka. With people ahead of her, and only one agitated clerk in evidence, she couldn’t do much more than stand there, wait…and try her very best not to remember…

“Nobody told me there’d be an actual angel on the premises this year.”

The tenor voice, deep, smooth and rich, set off a tremor of awareness in her that flowed from head to toe. In truth, she was strongly attracted to the voice before she even laid eyes on the man behind it. Once she did that, she was a definite goner. Dark brown, neatly trimmed hair framed an incredibly handsome face. Broad shoulders topped the body of a male model.

She gulped in a breath and hiked her purse higher on her shoulder.

Obviously an outdoors man, he carried the scent of snow covered evergreens etched with cinnamon candy. As he moved forward, his appealing fragrance surrounded her.

“I’m Dean.” He flashed a warm smile. One that lit up his eyes, causing them to crinkle at the corners in the most charming way.

She hadn’t recovered enough from his angel comment to respond when he reached out to capture one of her hands in both of his.

Pleasantly captivated, she didn’t mind one little bit. “Mandy Gearhart.”

“Hi, Mandy Gearhart. If we’re already into supplying last names, mine’s Nichols. Dean Nichols. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here, Dean.”

From that moment forward, their life together evolved into something truly wonderful. A two-year courtship, fairy tale wedding and happily ever after with all the trimmings.

Until recently.

“Can I help who’s next?” The request was followed by an exaggerated throat clearing.

Brought back to the present, she blinked as the stocky clerk stared at her in expectation.

“I need a room for a week starting tonight.” Stepping forward, she didn’t even try to hide the desperation in her voice. What was the point?

“Let’s see what we have.” Pushing a pair of wire rimmed glasses further up on his nose, he tapped the keyboard with a number of sharp clicks, then squinted at the screen in front of him. “You could have made this reservation online, you know.” He flicked her a look of pure irritation before bringing his attention back to the screen.

It’s much more fun to be here in person with you. Best to keep the smart-ass comment to herself. “My computer has been acting up lately.” She had no trouble at all telling the lie. He didn’t need to know the gory details of her recent life.

A looming non-contested divorce, two beautiful girls, ages fourteen and thirteen, who couldn’t accept the fact that their once blissfully in love and happily married parents were neither anymore. Both daughters she and Dean shared caused them very few problems beyond the inevitable drama of their teen years. Until the separation threw everyone into unknown territories. Neither girl had been exactly thrilled when their mother first suggested the idea of getting their father a hotel room while he was here, and she hadn’t had the energy for another argument.

Hence this trip to make the reservation face to face.

The trill of a desk phone beside the clerk cut into her thoughts. Quitting his room search for her, he reached over to pick up.

“Front desk.” Glancing down, he grew silent to listen.

For crying out loud. As far as she was concerned, the interruption of a phone call ranked right up there with cutting in front of someone in line. Extremely rude. I’d like to get this handled, please.

Leaning on the counter, when her cell chimed, she moved slightly away then rummaged in her purse until she found it. Amanda shown back at her from the display screen.

“Hi, honey. What do you need?”

“Where are you, Mom?”

“Uh…ma’am?”

She glanced over as the desk clerk caught her eye, held up the pointer finger of his right hand, then disappeared somewhere into a back room.

For heaven’s sake.

“Mom?”

“Yes. I’m here.”

“Where?”

“Running errands.”

“Who just called you ma’am?”

She shut her mouth and blinked, waiting for an only slightly deceptive response to occur to her. None did. What was the use? She never was a very good liar, especially when her kids were involved.

“I’m at the Hamilton Inn making a reservation for your father.”

“Mo-o-m.” A heavy sigh followed. A massive eye roll no doubt came next. “I thought we talked about this.”

“We did.” She called up her most authoritative mother voice. “When I first informed you and your sister of my decision.”

“I don’t know how you could let things get this far.”

“How I…” She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and slowly counted to ten. “That’s how you see this?”

“What I don’t see is why Daddy can’t stay with us for one measly week.”

“Because he can’t.” Her standard reply was decidedly weak. What else was new?

“But why?” Amanda was close to whining. Close but not quite.

“It will be easier for all of us.” Another equally feeble response came out of her. The only one she could share. Unlike so many others she kept locked up tight in an irreparably broken heart.

Especially the soul revealing…I have to keep your father as far away from me as I possibly can while he’s here to spend Christmas with us…rather you. Because the hurt he caused me is still way too fresh and raw. Just as she’d begun to locate the outer edges of the healing process, seeing him again, living under the same roof with him again, even temporarily, would be like having the scab ripped off a partially regenerated wound to create a whole new one. Because once he is in the house, even for a short time, I might not be able to stand the heart wrenching pain of seeing him leave again.

Another exaggerated throat clearing caught her attention. The desk clerk had reappeared. Drumming his fingers on the counter as he stared at her.

“I have to go, honey. I’ll be home soon.”

“But, Mom…”

“We’ll talk then. Bye. I love you.”

Waiting until Amanda responded in kind, she slid the phone back into her purse and again stepped toward the counter. “Did you find something?”

“I don’t have a standard room available for a full week on such short notice. Starting tonight.” The look of irritation struck again.

She totally ignored it. Customer service certainly was a lost art. “What do you have available?” And please, please, please don’t tell me nothing.

He peered intently at the screen, hit a couple of keys, and then peered again. “The only type of room I do have available for that length of time on such short notice is one of our suites—king-sized bed, two person in-room Jacuzzi tub, plus a few other amenities, which goes for one ninety-nine per night. Plus tax.”

Her mouth dropped open, she reared slightly back and blinked. Sooo out of her price range. Totally ridiculous to even consider. She’d have to teach an additional class all summer to pay for it. Get a waitress job on the side or something as well. Maybe this was a mistake after all.

I’ll be home for Christmas

You can count on me.

The taunting lyrics of a new Christmas melody suddenly flowed out of invisible speakers as if meant for her alone. Crooned in a deep, smooth, tenor voice, of all things.

Please have snow, and mistletoe

“I’ll take it.” Slapping her credit card on the counter, she made sure to shove it his way before she had a chance to change her mind. Which, considering the alternative, she definitely would not do,

…find me where the love light gleams

Resisting the urge to cover her ears, she confirmed the reservation with her signature, collected her card, then nodded her thanks to the clerk who was on the phone again.

I’ll be home for Christmas…if only

As she hurried away, she made sure to shut the door tight behind her blocking out the rest. Greeted by another blast of brisk, cold wind, she dodged a sudden deluge of heavier snowflakes as she rushed back to her car.

No way could she handle Home for Christmas ever again, not with one Dean Nichols.

It has to be hard, living like Mandy does, with an irreparably broken heart. My guess is Dean isn't faring much better. Come back tomorrow to find out for A Conflicted Christmas - Part Two. Plus, I have more short stories, available for free, on my WEBSITE

My Book Is Out...Now What? by Jannine Gallant

BURIED TRUTH is now available for the world to read!!

That's what I feel like I've been doing for the last day or so... shouting BUY MY BOOK. I swear, it seems like we wait forever for each new release to hit the shelves, virtual or otherwise. I've been talking about my latest baby for months now, until I fear everyone is sick to death of hearing about it. The big day finally arrives and I make the announcement on social media with as much hoopla as I can muster. My friends congratulate me, and I feel special... accomplished. Heck, my husband even suggested we go out to dinner to celebrate. Then what? Day two rolls around, and I'm feeling a little anticlimactic.

Part of the problem is nerves, wondering if my book will sell and if people will like it. As I stalk my rankings every hour or so on Amazon, hoping for a dip to indicate a sale, I feel like I should be doing more. More to get reviews. More to spread the word. More to generate those sales. Except I'm tired of shouting BUY MY BOOK. I feel like I've told everyone it's available, and now it's a waiting game to see what happens. I also feel like I know what doesn't work. Blog tours. Even my publisher has given up arranging them. They cost money and produce zero results, so why bother? I post here and on Just Romantic Suspense (my post will be up there tomorrow with a prize). They do get decent traffic, so I feel like that's enough blogging.

That leaves social media, and I feel like I've beaten that horse to death... at least for the moment. So, I'll try to give my friends on Facebook a short break. My plan is to sit back and take a breather to see what my publisher does to spark interest. BURIED TRUTH will be included in a Kensington roundup of suspense/thriller authors, most of whom are far better known than me, in February on their social media sites. I'll jump back on the bandwagon to do my part when they start promoting.

So, if you're an author, what do you do after a new book releases? Do you run around shouting BUY MY BOOK, or do you sit back and let nature take its course? Have you had success with a particular venue? If you're a reader, where do you find out about new releases? We want your insights!

In case you still haven't picked up your copy of BURIED TRUTH, here are the links: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo. Or visit my WEBSITE. Happy reading!

The Importance of #CharacterNames by Margo Hoornstra

When it comes to starting a new wip (work in progress), choosing proper names for characters is right up there in importance with profession and core beliefs. Distinctive, and properly chosen names can define characters, help establish their personalities, and bring appropriate word pictures to readers.

Baby name sites are helpful for this essential task, and abound the internet, classified by  meaning or popularity or origin and most everything in between.

I’m certainly no expert, but in my opinion, single syllable first names for alpha hero males (think Rhett) play better and have more impact. Though Percy, as a name is nice enough, I don’t recall any romance containing an alpha male hero with the moniker Percy. To be honest, the word picture I receive from Percy doesn’t have a nicely clefted thin, piercing blue eyes nor the slightest hint of washboard abs.

That being said, I’ve found some characters, no matter how heart stoppingly sexy they are portrayed, can have a negative effect on a reader. This reader, at least. My first and favorite historical romance is the epic Shanna by Kathleen Woodiwiss. Though a fabulous, and well written novel, the hunky hero’s odd first name, Ruark, stopped me as a reader every time.

When properly chosen though, again in my opinion, derivatives of a character’s name can have literary uses as well. (Not that I’d dare compare myself to the great Ms. Woodiwiss, here goes.)

In On The Surface my latest release from The Wild Rose Press, the alpha hero is named Brad short for Bradley. An extremely popular name that, according to one source denotes a no-nonsense quality of masculinity. Of English origin, Bradley officially means broad clearing in the woods. In Welsh, the name means Treason, of all things.

For my purposes, Brad is a tough cop turned badass bounty hunter who has his unrelenting sights set on using a fugitive’s unredeemable girlfriend to get his man. Too bad an admonishment from the foster mother who raised him intrudes on his conscience.

Don’t be too quick to criticize people, Bradley. You never know what trials life may have dealt them.

Has the name of a character in a book ever kept you from enjoying it or, on the flip side, made you enjoy the read even more?

My days to blog here are the 11^th and 23^rd. For more about me and the stories I write, please visit my website

Oh, and come back on the 23^rd for more Character Name musings. Secondary #CharacterNames Are Every Bit As Important

Fresh Covers for a New Year! by Jannine Gallant

I've mentioned before that my BORN TO BE WILDE series is getting new covers. The old ones had more of a contemporary feel, so they wanted to update them with a suspenseful vibe. My publisher has been teasing me by sharing them one at a time, and I finally got the fourth cover. They are officially changing them out on all the major retail sites this week. Today is day one of the four-day cover reveal. Yippee!

So, here they are! I like the new look. What do you think? Do you have a favorite?

Whether or not the new covers will improve sales remains to be seen. I'm crossing my fingers. If you haven't read them yet, find the buy links on my WEBSITE. Happy New Year, everyone!

Merry Christmas from the Roses of Prose

We hope everyone is enjoying this year's Christmas stories. Please visit us tomorrow for part one of Diane Burton's contribution, A Miracle in Far Haven. From all of us at the Roses of Prose, we wish you and yours a very merry Christmas!

The Joy Fairy Part 3 by Alicia Dean

Christmas Day

In spite of having slept only a few hours, Persephone woke at six a.m., her adrenaline spiking with excitement. She and Tripp had gotten home late and spent what remained of the night working. She was exhausted, but it was going to be worth it.

Slipping into Brielle’s room, she gently jiggled her shoulder.

Brielle blinked sleepily. “Whatsa matter?”

“I have something to show you. Let’s go.”

Brielle climbed from bed, the ruffled hem of her flannel nightgown bunching around her legs. “You’re here early.” Brielle slipped her small hand into Persephone’s, and a warm rush of belonging, of right, swept through Persephone. Leaving them, whether to return to the statue or not, would be torment.

At the top of the staircase, the flash of multi-colored lights reflected off the wall. Brielle rubbed her eyes. “What’s that?” Pleasure sparked on her face, quickly replaced by anger. “No, no!” Her panicked gaze flew to Persephone, and she jerked her hand away. “Did you do this? You have to get rid of it before Daddy sees!”

“I’ve already seen.” Tripp stepped into the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, his white teeth flashing in a brilliant smile. “And, we both did this.”

“Come on,” Persephone whispered, once more claiming Brielle’s hand.

When they descended, Brielle looked into the living room, and her face lit more brightly than the seven-foot tree. She stared up at Tripp. “Why?”

He touched her head in a gentle caress. “Because I miss Christmas, and I miss seeing you enjoy it.”

“But won’t it make you sad, Daddy?”

He picked her up and settled on the sofa with her in his lap. Persephone remained in the doorway, watching.

“I’ll always be sad your momma is gone, but she loved you, loved Christmas. I think this will make her happy, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Brielle nodded vigorously and pointed to the presents. “How did Santa know we were doing Christmas?”

Persephone joined them, smiling. “Santa knows everything.”

Brielle studied her for a moment, her mouth twisted, as if unsure whether to believe her or not. Then, she shrugged and grinned. “I guess he does.”

Tripp put her on her feet. “What are you waiting for? Dig in.”

Brielle had just opened her last gift when Minerva arrived. Her presence dampened Persephone’s happiness, but at least she’d accomplished her goal. And now, she could do whatever she wanted. She was free. Maybe, even though it was originally a ruse, she could stay on as Brielle’s nanny. The thought of leaving them was agony. She and Tripp may never become romantically involved, but she couldn’t imagine her life without him or Brielle.

“Wonderful!” Minerva gushed as Brielle proudly displayed her gifts. “How about Percy and I go whip up some breakfast?”

“Pancakes?” Brielle lisped through the gap in her teeth.

“Absolutely.” Minerva kissed Brielle’s cheek, then looked at Persephone. “Shall we?”

Once the kitchen door closed, Minerva took Persephone’s hands. Persephone’s instinct was to withdraw, but the woman was Tripp’s mother, Brielle’s grandmother, and she really had seemed to change.

“Thank you so much, my dear. This is more than I could have hoped for. You need never fear me again. You are free.”

“I was thinking…maybe I could stick around.”

Minerva’s dark brows drew together. “Why?”

Percy tried to keep her face neutral, but she could feel a smile stretch her cheeks. “To stay on as Brielle’s nanny.”

Minerva studied her with narrowed eyes. “I know what that expression means. You’re in love with Tripp.”

Persephone’s cheeks heated. “I don’t know him well enough to be in love.  But, I’m crazy about him. And, I think he likes me too. I want to stay, get to know him better. And I can’t bear the thought of leaving Brielle.”

Minerva began shaking her head before Persephone stopped speaking. “No, oh no, that’s not happening. You can’t. Not only might he find out who you really are, who I am, but he doesn’t need to be hurt again.”

“I would never hurt him, never tell him the truth. I’m not saying we’ll become involved. But, Brielle has gotten attached to me. I don’t think another loss right now is good for her.”

Minerva’s mouth contorted into a snarl. “Don’t pretend you’re doing this for her. You want my son for yourself.” Her dark eyes ignited with flames of rage. “He doesn’t need someone like you. He needs a real woman he can have a real relationship with.”

The words stabbed like icicles in her heart. As much as she hated Minerva for saying it, she couldn’t deny the truth.

Minerva gripped her arms and glared into her face. “If you don’t go, I’ll cast you back into the statue. And you will never be free again.”

Persephone jerked away. Tears welled in her throat, and she tried to speak, but failed. Her heart was shattered, her limbs weighted with agony. Either way she lost Tripp and Brielle. All she could manage was a nod.

Minerva’s expression was cold, unsympathetic. “I’ll tell them goodbye for you. It’s best if you just go.”

Persephone wanted to argue that she should say goodbye, but that would just be more difficult, for all of them. And, she might break down and tell Tripp the truth. Which would be disastrous. She’d go back to her cheap motel and figure out what to do for the rest of her life. She had her freedom, but if she could go back into the statue and not feel this ripping, searing pain, she’d gladly reside there for eternity.

~*~

Minerva went into the living room to call Brielle and Tripp in for breakfast. Their laughter thrilled her soul, and she smiled. All was well. 

Tripp looked up then glanced past her, his lovely green eyes dancing with merriment. “Where’s Percy?”

“She had to go,”

The merriment faded from his face. “Oh, I thought she’d spend the day with us. Will she be back later?”

“I’m afraid not. She asked me to tell you that she had another offer. She wished she could give you notice, but she had to take the job now. It’s a great opportunity.”

His shoulders slumped. “What? You’re not serious?” His voice was ragged, sounding unsettlingly close to the way it had after Shana died. “She couldn’t even say goodbye?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Brielle until you find a replacement.” Minerva tried to sound reassuring, but from the pain on his face, she knew he wasn’t bothered about losing a nanny.

He nodded, but his mouth settled into grimness, and his eyes glittered with a damp sheen. Were those tears? Could he possibly have feelings for Persephone? Surely not. He was much too good for that girl. Even if he did care for her, it didn’t matter. He’d get over her soon enough. He’d only known her a few weeks.

Tripp turned his attention to Brielle and watched her play with her toys, a forced smile fixed on his face.

Minerva touched his shoulder. “Son, are you okay?”

He drew in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I know it’s crazy, but I was starting to…feel something for her. For the first time, I felt like I might…I don’t know, fall in love again.”

A vice squeezed Minerva’s chest. So, it was true. She tried to infuse her voice with just the right amount of encouragement and nonchalance. “Well, dear, of course you will. But that doesn’t mean with Percy. There are a lot of women out there. You’ll meet the right one.”

He gave his head a quick shake. “None of them will make me feel the way Percy did.”

His words punched a hole in Minerva’s heart. Her only goal had been to make her son and granddaughter happy, and now he was crushed. She’d finally ensured they had joy, then immediately stole it from them.

~*~

Percy sat on the park bench near the angel statue where she’d resided for a century. She wasn’t sure why she’d come. Maybe she was a masochist.

An enormous sparkling Christmas fir towered over the frozen pond, but the stars in the velvety night sky were brighter and more beautiful than the lights of the tree. She wished she could appreciate the wonder, the winter scents in the crisp evening air. But not even knowing she was free could lift her spirits. Freedom meant little when you’d lost everything else.

“You’ll freeze to death.”

She jumped to her feet and whirled, her heart climbing to her throat. “Tripp? What are you doing here?”

The winter wind tousled his blond hair, and snowflakes dotted his dark coat like diamonds. “Looking for you.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he paused while her heartbeat boomed loudly in her ears, “I don’t want to lose you.”

She squelched the urge to break out in song, to fling herself into his arms and never let go. Instead, she looked down, studying a snow-dusted acorn at her feet, then drew in a breath and lifted her head. “You’ll find another nanny. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

He grinned and shot a gaze around the park. “Apparently, you didn’t have to go far.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I do. I was just, taking a breather before I head to the motel to pack.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I see. What if I told you I knew the whole truth?”

“About what?”

“About why you left. About why you came here in the first place.”

Fear trickled through her. How had he learned? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I really need to go.” She turned to hurry away, but his voice stopped her.

“My mother told me everything, Persephone.”

She halted and slowly faced him. “What did you call me?”

He rounded the bench and caught up to her. “Isn’t that your real name? Persephone? The name you used as a Joy Fairy?” He looked up at the statue. “And isn’t that where you’ve spent the last hundred years” He barked out an incredulous laugh. “At first, I didn’t believe her, but she…demonstrated her powers. As crazy as it sounds—fairies, magic, curses—I had to believe.” He shook his head. “To think, I was here so many times, and you were right there…in captivity. And I couldn’t help.”

Her legs weakened. “She really told you. Why?”

“Because, her love for me was stronger than her fear of the consequences. She saw I was miserable and wanted me to know the truth about the woman I’m falling in love with.”

Persephone shook her head. “This is unbelievable. She—“ His words sank in, and she jerked her gaze to his face. “Did you say…falling in love?”

“I did.” He took her hands, tugging her close to his warm body. “I think you feel something for me too. Maybe you could stick around, and we could see where this goes?” A grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “If, that is, the other job can do without you.”

A laugh caught in her throat. Her heart was so full, she couldn’t speak. But she didn’t need to, because his lips touched hers, sparking so much heat she feared it would melt the snow around them, and she kissed him back, finding her Christmas joy in the miracle of his touch.

Please keep reading for Diane Burton's Christmas story - I'm sure it will be fantastic! Thank you for joining us. These Christmas stories are always so much fun, and we love sharing them with you and hopefully bringing you some extra holiday cheer. A very Merry Christmas to you and yours and blessings for 2018.

www.AliciaDean.com

The Joy Fairy Part 2 by Alicia Dean

Persephone took a shaky step away from Tripp. She was afraid he’d touch her, and she’d go to pieces. The room shrank around her, cutting off her breath. Her mind exploded with questions. Did Tripp know? Was he a part of this sick game?

Voices came to her, his and Brielle’s, asking what was wrong, but she couldn’t respond, couldn’t focus on anything other than the evil creature in front of her.

“I’ll help her,” Minerva told Tripp, then grasped Persephone’s arm. “Come, dear, let’s put a cold cloth on your head.” Persephone didn’t protest as Minerva led her into the bathroom. Once behind closed doors, the Sorrow Fairy wet a wash cloth and pressed it to Persephone’s forehead.

Persephone shoved it away. “I don’t need that. What I need are answers. What are you doing here? Is Tripp part of this?”

Minerva cut a look to the closed door. “Keep your voice down. He knows nothing about who we are.” Her tone was level, not menacing as Persephone was accustomed to.

“Then, what’s going on? How did you trick him into thinking you’re his mother?”

“I am his mother.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It was during the Christmas season, thirty-five years ago.” Minerva played with the edges of the wash cloth as she spoke. “I was visiting a hospital—“

Persephone’s lip curled. “No doubt to spread poison to the souls of the weak and sick.”

Minerva grimaced without acknowledging the comment. “I found a baby on the stoop outside the hospital doors. My heart just…melted. One look, and I fell in love. That baby was Tripp. I decided to become human and raise him as my own.”

Joy Fairies and Sorrow Fairies resided at the North Pole year round, but just before Christmas, they traveled to various cities and towns, each set on their particular tasks. They could choose to become human at any time, but once they made that choice, they could never go back.

Persephone arched a questioning brow. “If you are human, how did you release me from the statue?”

“I retained my powers, but only related to acts I’d previously performed. You were a loose end, you might say.”

Was it possible she’d changed? Persephone studied the gracefully aging woman. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, the classically beautiful face now delicately lined at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. She wore designer glasses and an elegant black pantsuit with a red blouse beneath.  She looked…normal, benign, and Persephone  was dismayed to find she almost believed her…and felt sympathy toward the fairy who’d stolen her life. “So, this is why you want me to succeed, because you actually love them?”

Minerva squeezed her eyes shut as if stemming a flow of tears. “They are everything to me. I can’t bear seeing them so unhappy, especially this time of year.”

“What if I tell them the truth?” Even as Persephone said the words, fear shivered over her skin. Minerva held all the control. Centuries ago, a dark wizard who despised Kris Kringle had endowed Sorrow Fairies with capabilities that Joy Fairies didn’t possess. Joy Fairies were skilled at spreading joy, but had no magic powers. The threat was idle…and dangerous.

Minerva’s eyes blazed with anger, and her mouth pinched. When she spoke, her voice bore a malevolent hiss, as if the hounds of hell resided within her. “You would break their hearts, and I would devise a much, much more torturous eternity than you could ever imagine.” She poked Persephone in the chest with a manicured red nail. “Don’t test me.”

Persephone’s limbs went numb, and she shrank from the venom in Minerva’s expression, in her touch. Fear coiled in her belly, and as much as she wanted to be brave, terror stole her ability to do so.

“Everything okay?”  Tripp spoke from the other side of the door, and with his interruption, all evil drained from Minerva. Her face alit with love.

“Fine, darling. We’re just having a little girl talk. We’ll be right out.” Minerva smiled at Persephone, but beneath the smile lurked a threat. She slowly extended her hand. “Feeling better, dear? Shall we join them?”

~*~

Two nights later

Persephone sipped her wine and stared into the crackling fire, mesmerized by its beauty. But like so many other things in the world, the beauty was deceptive. In an instant, the flames could destroy and devour. 

“More wine?”  She started at Tripp’s voice. She’d begun lingering after Brielle’s bedtime, having wine with Tripp and talking until the wee hours. They’d never touched, never shared a kiss, but Persephone often sensed longing in his intense green eyes.

Once the shock of her encounter with Minerva had worn off, Persephone had settled back into her task of restoring his and Brielle’s Christmas joy. But her efforts had been in vain. A deep sadness still hovered over them. Neither was interested in anything holiday or happiness related.

Tripp returned with her wine and handed it to her, then settled on the sofa beside her—much closer than he usually sat. He was so near, she could feel the warmth of his thigh next to hers. Tingles slithered through her stomach. She sipped the Merlot, but could barely swallow over the lump in her throat.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of the crackling fire and the ticking grandfather clock. She dared a look at him. His gaze roamed over her face, settling on her mouth, and she stopped breathing. The air grew heavy with tension.

Barely aware of her actions, she leaned forward. He did the same. But just before they touched, he groaned and pulled back. Sitting forward, he thumped his wine glass on the table and covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.” The words were muffled, but the message was clear. “I can’t do this.”

Disappointment shafted through her, quickly followed by relief. She had no business kissing Tripp Evans. Nothing about her was true or real, and she could not get any more involved with this family than she already was.

She slid to the edge of the sofa and placed her glass next to his. “It’s okay.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. “We were caught up in the moment.”

He removed his hands and lifted his head, staring at her with tormented eyes. “No, I wasn’t caught up in the moment. It wasn’t some impulse. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you.”

Her heart slowed, then raced. She wanted to take his beautiful face in her hands, tell him that everything would be okay, that she wanted it too and there was nothing wrong with their feelings. But that would be a lie. “I have, too, but we both know it’s not a good idea.”

“I know.” His voice was anguished.

He stared into the fire, his fingers linked and resting between his knees. He looked so alone, so forlorn, it made her soul ache. He and Brielle deserved a joyous Christmas, and she was determined to make that happen.

Like a lightning bolt from the sky, the realization hit her that the consequences no longer mattered. Curse or no curse, statue or no statue, she’d do whatever it took to make them happy. And then she would leave them, and her heart would be as heavy as the stone that had been her tomb for a century.

~*~

Christmas Eve

Persephone was pleasantly surprised when Brielle asked her to read The Grinch Who Stole Christmas for her bedtime story. It was the first time she’d shown an interest in the holiday. Maybe there was hope.

By the time the story ended, Brielle’s eyes were drifting closed. “I wish we could have Christmas,” she murmured.

Yes. There was hope. “Oh, sweetie. You can have Christmas.”

Brielle blinked her eyes open and frowned. “But it’s too sad without Mommy here.”

“I know.” Persephone swallowed against the hoarseness in her throat. “But your mommy is watching you from Heaven. She loves you very much, and she’ll always be with you.”

Brielle shook her head. “No, she’ll never be with me again.”

“Yes, she will.” Persephone touched a finger to Brielle’s sternum. “Right here, in your heart.”

She scowled skeptically. “Really?”

“Yes, really. When you think about your momma and you feel sad, where do you feel it?”

Brielle touched her chest. “Here.”

“And when you remember the good times, and it makes you happy, where do you feel it?”

“Right here.” She touched her chest again.

“See, that’s your mother’s love, her spirit, always living within you so you’ll never really lose her.”

A tentative, gap-toothed smile emerged. “I’ll never lose her?”

“That’s right. And your mother loved celebrating Christmas with you. Don’t you think she’d be happy if you could start enjoying it again?”

“Maybe.” Brielle yawned. “But I can’t. It makes my daddy too sad.”

“You don’t want Christmas because it makes your daddy sad?”

She nodded, and her small hand brushed her bangs off her forehead. “Every time he hears a Christmas song or sees a tree or stuff like that, he gets really sad and sometimes he cries.”

Brielle’s words pierced Persephone’s heart, and she blinked back tears. No child should carry so much sadness, especially during this magical time of year. Something had to be done.

She waited until Brielle fell asleep, then silently left the room and went downstairs to wait on Tripp.

He came in an hour later, weariness carving grooves in his face. He gave a tentative smile when he saw Persephone. “I’m sorry I’m late. How did it go?”

Persephone crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the sofa. “Not great, actually.”

Concern creased his features. “What’s wrong?”

“I found out why she wants nothing to do with Christmas.”

His mouth tightened. “Yeah, because her mother tragically died on Christmas Eve.”

Persephone shook her head. “That’s not all of it. She doesn’t want anything to do with Christmas because it makes you sad.”

He frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

Persephone relayed her conversation with Brielle.

“Ah, hell.” Tripp’s shoulders sagged and he seemed to deflate. “Poor thing. I had no idea she was protecting me.”

His face looked so ravaged, so stricken, she wanted to smooth her fingers over his cheeks, kiss his lips, and erase his sorrow. She tightened her fingers into fists to keep them from giving in to the urge.

He dropped onto the sofa, brooding in silence, then lifted his gaze to hers. She was surprised to see a glimmer of happiness.

“If I have my neighbor come sit with Brielle, would you take a little trip with me?” He had the hopeful look of a small boy, with the rugged sexiness that was all man.

Persephone slowly nodded as a rush of love hit her so hard, her knees nearly buckled. She didn’t know what he had in mind, but she was certain that she would go anywhere, anytime, as long as she was with him. 

I hope you enjoyed Part 2...tune in tomorrow for the conclusion.

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