Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Romance
ISBN-10: 1518841880
Type: Fiction
Pages: 366
Copyright: November 9, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781518841880
Price: $4.99 (eBook)
A Collection of Christmas love stories for pet lovers
ALL SHE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS: When Belle Rice rescues a runaway dog and returns it to its owner she falls hard for the dashing Christopher Winters. One thing impedes her happiness this Christmas—his girlfriend!
CHRISTMAS IN JUNE: High school sweethearts Leigh and Matthew met at her grandmother's guinea pig shelter. Fifteen years later Leigh returns to film a Christmas documentary only to learn that Matt has moved on. But has she?
THE CHRISTMAS MIX-UP: Danica Meriweather picks up the wong pet carrier at the airport, and is thrust face to face with the man of her dreams. the problem? She never saw his face. Now she has his dog and he has hers!
THE CHRISTMAS BUNNY: For grad student Kendra Tyler, marrying Cabe Alexander, who monitors her rabbit studies, would solve all her problems. But she has a secret, and if he finds out it could end their romance.
Excerpt
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal; love leaves a memory no one can steal. This sentiment was found on an Irish headstone when Christopher Winters and his wife Kristen went to visit his dead grandfather’s grave, after the body was sent back to Ireland for burial. He never forgot it, and when his beloved Kristen died he had this same epitaph carved onto her headstone that sits in the Hamilton cemetery at Burlington Heights.
Christopher Winters is the kindest man I have ever known. From the first moment we met, I knew he was the one. He had been widowed just over a year.
My name, Belle, is not short for Isabelle or Isabella, nor is it a rip-off of Twilight’s Bella Swan. My mother named me after the character Belle in Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol. That Belle was a kind and charitable woman always putting others ahead of herself, and she was engaged to the young Ebenezer Scrooge. She did not marry Scrooge but spent her time engaged in good deeds. After breaking up with Scrooge she lived the rest of her life a spinster. I don’t believe that was really my parents’ hopes for me. Maybe that’s why I spent most of my life as unlike her as possible—until I met Chris.
I have encountered many Scrooge types and found most of them boorish and arrogant. However, money isn’t everything. I am used to the New York City and Toronto types, the big city men who flaunt their wealth because most of them only have looks due to money. Which enables them to groom themselves to perfection. And isn’t it true that many city girls turn a blind eye to looks if the guy is rich? Otherwise, why do so many big city women marry men twice their age?
Christopher Winters was an entirely different type of man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and square-jawed, with just the tiniest hint of stubble. And he was every girl’s dream man in the looks department—but it was his eyes that floored me. He had the bluest, most intense eyes I had ever seen. And you know what they say about eyes. They are the windows to the soul. I met Chris at his Christmas tree farm just outside Dundas Ontario, which is a small community near my best friend’s estate. She is rich and she is also a romance novelist.
When I was a kid Christmas was my favorite time of year. Snow dripping from the eaves troughs forming rainbow-hued icicles, my best friend and I collecting them with a plastic bag attached to a bent coat hanger, knocking them down from the neighbors’ houses and then running home with our glistening treasures to hang on a huge fir tree in my backyard. “Do you remember when we use to do that?” I asked Cate, who was still my best friend, but now a bestselling romance writer at the age of thirty-two.
“Oh sure,” she said. “We used to wrap string around them and let them freeze outside over night, then tie them to the tree. They looked so pretty sparkling in the morning sun. Then they’d melt.”
I laughed. Yeah, like my life. Those were the days. No responsibility and the future wide open. These days I had no time to play, no less time to get ready for Christmas. Much as I hated to say it, this time of year sucked. I had not had a boyfriend in almost a year. Steve had broken up with me by text. How insensitive was that? Cate had divorced her latest husband a few months ago. We were beginning to feel like old spinsters, if they even used that term any more. Why was it that people always made you feel like a loser if you didn’t have a guy around at Christmastime? Everyone was partnered with someone.
“So what do you say, you and I spend the holidays together?” Cate said.
“What? You mean like go to Hawaii or the Caribbean, or something like that?”
“No, I mean do Christmas, but together. At my place in Ancaster, Ontario.”
I hadn’t been back home since moving out to New York City in the wake of Cate’s success as a romance writer. Like they say if you can make it there…well, you get the drift. I was a publicist in Toronto, but when she asked me to work for her, how could I say No? There was nothing to keep me in Southern Ontario now that both my parents were gone (and I had no siblings), especially not the cold winters, which I did not love as an adult. Cate and I were almost like sisters and her parents wintered in Florida. “Ooh, I don’t know. You want to go back to the frigid north?”
“New York is just as cold in the wintertime. Come on, it’ll be fun. And we won’t have to pretend we’re dating anybody. I really, really want to get out of this rat race.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” I kind of wish I were dating somebody.
“All expenses paid, Belle. You don’t have to fork out a penny.”
That was very generous of her, but I was pretty well off. Not as well off as Cate Zarcova, maybe, but I made a good six figure salary. I just didn’t make the millions that she did.
“It’ll be fun, Belle. A good old-fashioned white Christmas.”
I had my doubts. Much as I loved Cate, the idea of spending Christmas without someone you loved—and by that I meant a man—was depressing. But I agreed.
We took Cate’s private jet directly to Hamilton, Ontario. Ancaster where Cate’s estate was located was part of the megacity of Hamilton. Her house was a fabulous restored and totally updated mansion. It rose four stories high where the original structure stood and the new extension spread ranch style, surrounded by ten acres of perfectly manicured gardens. When we arrived there was no snow, but we had three weeks before Christmas.
One afternoon—in fact it was the day after our arrival—we were out Christmas shopping in the trendy tree-lined neighborhood of Dundas. The quaint historic town was decked out in full Dickensian splendor with holly, fir and pine garlands coiled around opaque globe-topped lampposts. I was peering through a shop window when I felt something scoot past my feet. I looked down and a furry black and white ball of a dog was scampering down the street. I turned to look for its owner, but it appeared to have none. Some other pedestrians had noticed the loose dog, too, and were staring in the direction it had run. It had disappeared through the crowd and I gave it no more thought until I happened to notice a poster on an evergreen-wrapped pole. It had a picture of the fugitive: a black and white Shih Tzu with the cutest frowning face.
Cate drew my attention to a gift shop called ‘Strawberry Fields’ and we were just about to go inside when I almost tripped over something. I looked down and there was the furry culprit. She was whining, and I bent down to pat her. “Are you lost precious?” I asked her.
She ducked out of my reach and ran to hide behind a potted cedar that was decorated with white Christmas lights, gold and silver balls, candy canes and red ribbons. On the ground below the tree, lying flat, were several fir-bough wreaths, and she cautiously climbed into the center of one and lay down. I had to act quickly to prevent her escaping. There was a festive outdoor display of ornaments beneath the shop window, and I picked up a copper-colored glass ornament shaped like a mouse and extended my arm. Out of curiosity the dog approached. When she realized it wasn’t food, she glared at me. I laughed. “Come here, sweetie. I’m going to take you home. Where do you live?”
By now I had two fingers under her red collar and though she tried to back away from me, I gently tugged her forward so that I could study her tags. She had a city license and a rabies tag so she was well looked after. By the glossiness of her fur and the brightness of her eyes, she was also well fed. She must have escaped from her yard. I lifted her into my arms, and once there, she relaxed. “What’s your name, precious?”
She had no nametag. I retraced my steps to the pole with the ‘Lost’ poster taped to it. Apparently her name was Ming. And she lived on a farm a few miles from here. I tapped on the shop window where I could see Cate inside purchasing holiday-themed napkins and coasters, guest soaps, candles and even a white fluffy bathrobe with matching slippers. She grinned at me, shaking her head, and paid for her purchases. Then she joined me outside.
“And just who is this little thing?” she asked. I had torn the poster from the pole and showed it to her. It not only had the name of the owner but his address and telephone number. “Ah, a pint-sized fugitive. I suppose you want to return her to her home?”
I nodded. “It’s not too far from here.”
I called the number on the poster and told the owner that we were on our way with his dog. Cate drove her Mercedes through the town and into the countryside.
Christopher Winters lived on a small Christmas tree farm. When he turned his turquoise blue eyes on me I felt everything from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes turn to jelly. From the absence of a ring on his finger, I assumed he was single. I soon learned that Ming was a shelter dog and not a pet. Chris ran an animal shelter on the side, and took in every stray that was brought to him. Ming had never run away before, and Chris was relieved when we showed up with her in tow.
“Thank you so much. I’ve been searching for her all afternoon. I finally had to come back to work and hope that the posters would do the job. Lucky for me they did. Where did you find her?”
I told him. He knew the street, and the shop. He said, “I had taken her into town with me, but then I met up with a friend who wanted to go to lunch. I left her in the truck and cranked open the window. “I had no idea the little mite could squeeze out of that crack. I guess she was looking for me.”
He tucked her under his arm after giving her a kiss on the top of her soft head. “I’d really like to repay you for finding her. How would you like a Christmas tree? On the house.”
Cate and I exchange exited glances. “Perfect,” I said.
He waved his arms around, indicating the entire expanse of the farm. “Your choice. Any one you want.”
I stared at the closest ones. Cate’s living room had a twenty-foot ceiling with a skylight.
“So, have you ladies decided on a tree?” he asked after a few seconds of silence.
“I’m not sure.” Cate smiled. She knew what I was feeling. She feigned a chill and said that she would rather stand sheltered from the wind in order to allow Chris and I to wander among the trees alone. “Maybe you should take Belle around the site a bit more. All of these cut trees are too small. You will cut a fresh one for us, won’t you?”
“I aim to please,” he said, and winked at her.
He placed Ming on the ground, and headed towards an area where the trees grew in perfect rows. I hung back just a bit and mouthed to Cate, “He winked! Who does that?” Somehow it was cute coming from him. If any of the guys in my New York office dared wink at a female colleague, he’d be slapped with a sexual harassment complaint faster than the original wink.
“Charlie,” he called to a chocolate lab that came obediently bounding up. “Ming. Come girl.” The small black and white Shih Tzu ignored him. He turned back and picked her up with one hand.
“What am I going to do with you, little girl?”
“She’s adorable,” I said.
“Are you in the market to adopt?” he asked. “She could use a good home.”
“I’d love to but my place doesn’t allow dogs.”
“That’s too bad. She seems to like you.”
The Shih Tzu was trying to sniff my extended hand, and her tongue was hanging out like she was laughing.
He tucked Ming under his arm while Charlie the chocolate lab followed. Ming whined in protest.
“She’s a stubborn one, has a will of her own. I’ve had mucho trouble finding a home for her. Everyone who tried adopting her has returned her within a week.” He sighed. “She’s a sweet thing except for the whining. Can’t seem to break her of it.”
“I think she’s adorable. But like I said my building doesn’t allow pets.” For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I lived in New York.
“Yeah, not an appropriate home for a dog who likes to bark.”
“She barks, too?”
He grinned. “Incessantly. That and the whining are why no one wants to keep her.”
“Can’t you keep her?”
“Wish I could. She’s precious, but…” At that moment a large tree came into view. “How about that one?” He turned around, gently lowered the dog to the ground. “Where’s your friend? I thought she wanted a big tree.”
“Cate!” I shouted. “Is this one okay?”
“Perfect!” she hollered back. She nodded in the distance, rubbing her ermine-trimmed mittens together, the end of her matching red cashmere scarf, flapping in the wind.
“It’s fine,” I said, adjusting my fur-lined gloves.
“We’ll take it.”
He had a handsaw with him and began to saw it down. I was about to suggest he use an electric saw because it would be a lot easier, but there was something about watching a man’s muscles at work that was mesmerizing.
“Stand back,” he said. The dogs backed away as though he were talking to them. “She’s coming down.”
The tree fell with a rustle and a thump. “I’ll wrap it up for you.”
Over his shoulder, the sun was going down. The blue sky dimmed to dusk. A woman was walking towards us and it wasn’t Cate. Cate stood huddled by the small wooden shop where a scant display of wreaths and holly sat on a wooden table and hung on the walls around a narrow window.
The woman was dressed stylishly in a grey wool coat with a fake fur collar. She wore matching gloves and her hair (unless I was mistaken in the growing dark) was auburn. A shine of gloss was on her lips. The Shih Tzu Ming immediately started barking, but not in a happy way. It was more like a warning or a demand for attention. When the woman dropped down to pat the dog, she ducked out of reached. I swear the woman scowled, but then her face lit up in a smile when Chris saw her. “Hi, honey,” she said.
Honey? Rats. That meant he was taken.
“I’ll just be a minute, Lacey. After I fix up these two ladies.”
Lacy had huge dark eyes, a slim neck that was partially visible above her fake fur collar and long elegant arms and legs. She looked me over and the message was loud and clear. Stay off my turf or you’ll be sorry.
Chris headed toward the hut, with the tree across his shoulder while Lacy clung to his other arm. Was he ever strong. I had lived in New York too long and had forgotten that some men could display great feats of physical strength without meaning to. And he was clearly oblivious of his own powerful muscles. I followed. The two dogs accompanied me, and when Ming tried to catch up with them, barking as she ran, Lacy turned and shoved her booted heel at the little dog. The dog yelped and then resumed barking. I stood with my lower lip partially hanging, shocked by her maliciousness. Chris turned, and I almost said something, but who was Chris going to believe? He’d hardly accept that his girlfriend would kick a little dog. I noticed now that the dog was limping. I picked her up and checked her paw. Nothing was broken, but then Lacy had not used much force. It was more the sentiment behind the action that I found troubling. By now Chris and Lacy were standing by Cate.
“What’s wrong with the dog?” Cate asked when I reached them.
“She’s limping.”
Chris lowered the tree to the ground. “Let me see.” Ming immediately crawled into his arms as he stretched them out toward her. “You okay, baby girl?”
“Let me see the little sweetie.” Lacy crouched down beside Chris and patted Ming, but Ming nipped at her, struggled out of Chris’s arms and started barking.
“She’s fine,” Lacy said, and threw me a scathing look.
“I’ll be just a moment,” Chris said. He went inside the small shop to fetch some twine and Lacy made some excuse about freshening up in the bathroom.
When they were both gone, I turned to Cate. But before I could say anything some barking came from a lighted building just kitty corner to the shop. It was a two-story house and when Cate and I went to investigate by peeking in through the bright windows, we could see that the main floor was covered with tidy kennels filled with dogs and cats. Some of the animals were free, these were the better-trained, calmer ones and they lay on clean pet beds laid out on the floor. I noticed now the sign on the front door that said: Kristen’s Animal Shelter.
“Oh no,” Cate said. “I know that look. You aren’t bringing any pets into my house, even to impress a gorgeous guy like him. Mr. Gold would not allow it.”
Mr. Gold was an orange tabby, and quite territorial. Bringing another pet into his home would be a disaster. I frowned. “Do you think it’s serious between them?”
“I think it’s serious between her. That woman is a tiger with her claws firmly embedded in her man.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but did you see his eyes?”
Cate laughed. “Didn’t notice. But knowing you, they were blue, weren’t they?”
“Sooo blue,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that blue in my life. I know this sounds like a serious cliché but when he looks at me I melt.”
“Schoolgirl crush. That’s all. Though he could do better than that tigress he’s got clinging to his arm. Let’s just get the tree and go home.”
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