The greatest gift might be
what they already have.
After years away building
his career, event planner Sebastian Chesnut returns to his small hometown of
Fir Falls to reconnect with his mother, sister, and young nieces before his job
takes him to London.
He doesn't expect to find
his high school boyfriend, Matty, has become a virtual member of Seb's family.
Back then, Matty only offered a casual relationship, but Seb fell hard, and
history is soon repeating itself. Seb’s afraid to hope for a second chance, no
matter how much they’ve grown and despite the family they share. Instead, he
focuses on creating a last perfect holiday, which won’t be easy with his
sister’s ex planning to take the girls over Christmas.
Seb and Matty might not
know what to do about their feelings for each other, but one thing’s for
sure—it won’t be Christmas without the kids. Can these star-crossed lovers pull
off a holiday miracle?
Buy links: Dreamspinner
Amazon
Cat gives this one 4 Meows with a 3 Purr heat
index...
I found this story lots of
fun to read. I loved all of the characters from Matt and Seb to Seb's mom,
sister and of course the two little girls. I love second chances, and this was
a good example. There are a couple of interesting subplots like the issue of
Seb’s sister's divorce and the kids having to spend the holiday with their dad
and Seb's looming job offer.
The story is sweet,
romantic at times, and witty too. (I hope to get to see Jackson and Cam's story
soon!)
If you like event
planners, artists, second chances, cute kids, holiday stories and a sweet, hot
romance you will like this.
Excerpt…
Chapter 1
Sebastian
“SEB? GOT a minute?” It
was not the request, but rather the tone, that tipped him off to the severity
of the issue. Bracing himself, Sebastian nodded for Trevor to continue. The
young man swallowed. “We’ve gotten a ‘note’ from the client about the ice
sculpture.”
Well, that was unexpected,
as Seb had personally supervised the installation of the crystalline swan ice
sculpture, and it was a prime example of the Ice Palace’s most classic work.
He’d made a point of keeping the variables of this late-November event under
tight control so he could wrap it up and head out for his vacation with an
abundance of calm.
One raised eyebrow gave
his assistant permission to elaborate. Trevor fussed with his collar before
continuing, “They don’t think the swan is the appropriate, um, bird.”
The bad feeling grew. “And
what bird would they prefer?”
“A turkey.”
Seb knew his face must
have darkened into the shade his employees referred to as “get-out-of-the way
plum.”
“I thought they indicated
on the event intake form that we shouldn’t have a Thanksgiving theme since
Thanksgiving was two days ago?”
“Yes. It said that. And I
confirmed. But the CEO was shown a photo and he asked what a swan had to do
with anything. And then he said it should be a turkey ‘for obvious reasons.’”
Four hours until the event
started, and Seb had a five-foot ice sculpture to replace. It was par for the
course. He winced because turkeys were ugly birds compared to swans. But what
the client wanted, the client got.
“Call Ned at the Ice
Palace and tell him we’ll pay double rate if they can deliver the turkey
sculpture in two hours. Let me know. I’ll handle Lacey.”
Lacey Anderson was the
president of Anderson Events, and Sebastian’s boss. He’d served as her VP and
right-hand person for the past five years. She specialized in corporate events
from an intimate dinner for three hundred to an elaborate three-day retreat for
a thousand on a private island. Sebastian had made it snow in Palm Springs in
May and transformed South Dakota into a tropical paradise in January.
As expected, Lacey
bellowed like a bull when he called her, and then creatively used the word
“turkey” in relation to the client for a solid fifteen minutes. Seb remained
restrained—he could turn purple on occasion but he rarely vented. He knew his
trademark single swan ice sculpture had a double meaning. But that icy edge was
his best asset—work the problem and get it done.
When Lacey was done
lambasting the idiocy of the C-suite, she paused to ask, “Your holiday plans
still set?”
“Absolutely. I’m finally
keeping my promise to see my family.”
It had been five years
since Sebastian visited his family back home in Fir Falls, New York. At that
time his sister Stephanie had still been married and his niece Chance was an
infant. He’d meant to go home when Rowen was born, but he’d been new then,
working with Lacey, and it was important he impress her. His family was
counting on him. No matter how much he missed them, he had to do right and
ensure they were secure. His mother’s throat-clogged admission five years ago
on how behind she’d gotten on the mortgage was etched as indelibly in his heart
as if she’d used a chisel.
One of the best ways to
impress his new boss was to help their clients’ success. The year Rowen was
born, a charitable foundation had scheduled a fundraiser for December 13th and
the following December, a telecom giant had hired Anderson Events to take its
top executives to a retreat in Cancún, so he hadn’t made it home for Christmas
either of those years, and the corporate events had rolled into each other… and
now Stephanie was divorced and Chance was five and he still hadn’t met
three-year-old Rowen. Unless FaceTime counted, and Seb’s firm opinion was that
it did not. His family deserved better.
Lacey let out something
between a chuckle and a sigh. He could imagine her expression, long fingers
tracing her temples and her nose scrunched.
“Guess you’ll be talking
about it to them?” she asked, husky voice sounding even deeper than usual.
“Not much else to do in
Fir Falls but talk.” He aimed for a light tone but his voice betrayed him. The
conversation ahead would be anything but easy. Swallowing, he said, “See you in
a month, Lacey. I’ll call…. Okay?”
“You’d better,” she
ordered before adding, “Take care, Seb.”
THE DRIVE from New York
City to Fir Falls took about four hours. Given that it was December 1st,
holiday decorations had already sprouted everywhere, and driving past the
festooned lampposts and storefronts on his way out of the city prompted an aggrieved
sense of nostalgia. Growing up, the spelling of his last name—Chesnut—had given
him a ridiculous amount of grief at this time of year. Too many “you’re
kiddings” and “you spelled it wrongs.” Frankly, it had been exhausting. His
mother had always taken it in stride and politely explained to every
schoolteacher that indeed her son did know how to spell his surname—there was
no T in it.
It only became more
obnoxious as he got older, when his college peers thought it was a grand idea
to burst into song about roasting chestnuts by open flames… for the entire
month of December. Because that was so original.
Planning holiday events
these past five years had also soured the festivities for him. Last year he’d
arranged for acrobats to perform at an event during dinner. They’d swung
overhead dressed as holiday ornaments, tinseled and sparkling, covered in
hundreds of miniature Christmas balls and wired with flashing lights. The
evening had concluded with a dessert of frozen hot chocolate mousse while a
dusting of snow shimmered down from the rafters above. The snow was edible, a
mix of cornstarch, flour, vegetable oil, and glitter sugar. It misted over the
tables like fairy dust, although he’d personally been bothered by how it landed
on the shoulders of his bespoke tuxedo and made it look like he had dandruff.
Most of the guests had been enchanted, but there were always a couple who found
an event not as exotic as they’d expected. Each holiday event had become a
challenge to top the last presentation.
But if the holidays were
mostly humbug to Sebastian and chestnuts could go roast themselves into the
underworld, seeing his family again was something he was greatly anticipating.
The rental BMW purred
beneath his hands as he pulled off the I-86 onto the narrow, curvy state
highway that led to Fir Falls. Much as his own name led to confusion, so did
his hometown’s, as it featured neither an abundance of fir trees nor a
waterfall.
The town was named for the
Fir family who had founded it in 1851 and started the glass factory that had
employed most of its residents. When the factory shut down, the town could have
fallen into backwater despair. But with a cache of vintage glassware from its
prime years, a boom in antique and art stores, and some savvy marketing, Fir Falls
had reinvented itself as a hipster attraction.
Seb’s nerves peaked as he
turned down the street to his family home. He wasn’t completely sure what to
expect…. Certainly, living in the twenty-first century made it easier to stay
in touch; he talked to his mother every week and his sister Steph nearly as
often, the girls fairly frequently too. Steph was determined that her daughters
know their Uncle Seb, but being with everyone in person for a month….
His mother’s trusty Volvo
looked lonely without his dad’s red Ford truck parked beside it in the
driveway. He’d been attending NYU when his dad had died eight years ago of a
heart attack. Dad’s sudden death had precipitated the spiral of events that
ignited his commitment to provide financially for his mom and sister, even if
that meant not taking a vacation to see them in years.
Shaking off his
melancholy, he pulled out the front door key he’d never relinquished and snuck
in to surprise them all. They’d been expecting him the next day, Friday. But he’d
been anxious to see his family and left Thursday afternoon in the hope the
surprise would be welcome. Four weeks with his family—his heart felt full.
Silently he went straight for the living room.
The
decorated-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life Christmas tree dominated the space in
front of the picture window, while the dancing flames of the fireplace cast a
warm amber glow on the tableau of his capering nieces: Chance, twirling in a
sequined tiara and tulle-trimmed pink gown, and little Rowen, in candy-cane-striped
footed pajamas, upside down in an attempted somersault.
And between them, dancing
with Princess Chance while keeping out of Rowen’s way, was Matthew Starr—the
boy who had broken Seb’s heart—whom Seb had last seen at high school graduation
ten years ago.
Matthew
AN HOUR ago, thirty-odd
pounds of three-year-old exuberance had slammed against Matthew’s knee as he
entered his favorite home in the entire world. “Airplane,” Rowen shouted.
“Row, let Uncle Matt take
his coat off first,” their grandmother Cheryl had admonished. But Matt didn’t
bother; he swooped Rowen aloft and swished her around the foyer like a kamikaze
plane.
Rowen and her older
sister, Chance, were the children of his best friend, Stephanie.
“Unc Matt, again, again,”
demanded Rowen, pulling on his pant leg with her tight little grip. She was a
petite child whose dark eyes and charcoal hair gave her a definite resemblance
to pictures of her late grandfather. Matt remembered John Chesnut as a tall,
reserved man with kind eyes. He knew how much Stephanie regretted that the
girls had never known their grandfather and that Rowen had never met her Uncle
Sebastian at all.
The family had accepted
Sebastian’s absence for years, the busyness of his job preventing him from
visiting. From Stephanie’s description of her brother’s career, Matt envisioned
him as a glorified party planner.
It was hard for Matt to
understand how someone could have a family like this and not want to be with
them all the time. Matt had returned to Fir Falls four years ago after his
parents had moved to Florida. As an only child, Matt was accustomed to being
alone, but the friendship he had developed with Stephanie and then her
family—well, it was the best part of Matt’s life.
As Matt finally slipped
his coat onto the rack in the entranceway, Chance skipped in wearing a Princess
Aurora gown, complete with tiny jeweled slippers and glittery pink crown. Matt
melted on the spot. She was a vivacious girl with fair skin and hair the color
of a daffodil in the sun. Her eyes were a gray-blue, like her grandmother’s.
And her Uncle Sebastian’s.
“Look at you, Your
Highness. Pretty as a cupcake.”
“I love cupcakes,” Rowen
said with an earnest nod.
“I know you do.”
“But not pink,” she added
with a frown. “Yuck.”
“Nobody likes pink
cupcakes,” Chance declared with older sister authority. “Except for Valentine’s
Day. Then they’re okay.” She changed topics with the lightning speed Matt had
grown to expect from her. “Dance with me, Uncle Matt.” Chance held her arms up.
Smiling, he followed her
into the living room where the Christmas tree blazed with riotous glory. Cheryl
had lit a fire that gave the room an antique sheen. He found the Disney
playlist on his phone and thumbed up the volume. Spinning Chance in a
pirouette, he kept an eye on Rowen, who was wearing the Christmas pajamas he’d
given her yesterday. He’d gifted both girls a matched set that made him think
of elves and Christmas magic, and sleepwear didn’t count as a present, he’d
told Steph when she protested that he was spoiling the girls.
Seeing that Rowen was
about to topple over, Matt attempted to catch her while continuing his spin
with Chance, overbalanced, and landed in a heap on the rug. He caught the sly
grin that Chance gave her sister as they simultaneously pounced on him, Chance
tackling his knees while Rowen belly-flopped across his chest. When Rowen froze
midflop to stare up, Matt turned his head and nearly stopped breathing in
surprise.
Sebastian Chesnut stood
openmouthed, gazing at them as if he had no idea what to make of the scene.
Matt supposed it did look baffling, seeing his once-upon-a-time high school
fling sprawled on the living room carpet of Sebastian’s childhood home,
shrieking nieces piled atop him. Oh, but did Sebastian look fine—his supple
black leather jacket just reached his hips and the trim fit showed off the
breadth of his shoulders. He had his father’s ebony hair and his mother’s
lighter eyes—which right now were appraising the tangle of bodies with a hint
of disapproval. Scrambling to his feet, Matt straightened his sweatshirt, which
had ridden up, exposing his belly. The girls ducked behind him like shy
bunnies, and he put a hand on each instinctively to reassure them.
Now that he was vertical,
he realized that he and Sebastian were the same height; it was just his long
legs that made Sebastian look taller. Or maybe it was the initial perspective
of seeing him from the ground…. He’d surpassed Matt in muscles even back in
high school, but mamma mia, Sebastian had grown into a stunning man. A moment
later, Cheryl entered from the adjacent kitchen and after her own shocked
moment embraced her son tightly. Still holding him, she said to Matt, “You
remember Sebastian. You two were friends in high school?”
The memories of hurried
secret make-out sessions heated Matt’s pale cheeks. With a grin that turned
just a little crooked, he put his hand out.
“Baz.”
Sandine Tomas grew up an
unapologetic bookworm, making friends with characters from the ancient past to
the farthest reaches of the universe. Her career as a marketing writer has
given her insight into the divergence between what a person thinks they want
and what they truly need. Relationships are at the heart of her writing, and
she enjoys creating characters who become so real that their stories beg to be
told. Writing allows her to explore people and ideas from all sides, spinning a
notion around like a gem until its facets glisten.
Twisting the old adage
about writing what you know into writing what you feel, Sandine doesn’t shy
away from raw emotions, turbulent circumstances, and above all, deep passions,
fueled by humor, honesty, and trust. She enjoys instilling her characters with
the flaws, courage, and idiosyncrasies that brings them to life.
Sandine lives in New York
with her husband, two daughters and a Golden Retriever puppy named Noodle. An
unabashed TV and film enthusiast, she happily binge watches her favorites until
her eyes glaze over. Her other guilty pleasures include attending fandom
conventions, sleeping in on weekends, and recharging solo by holing up with a
caramel macchiato and an amazing book.
If you’d like to chat,
reach out to her on Twitter @SandineTomas or on her
Facebook Page: Sandine.Tomas. Sandine Tomas
a Rafflecopter giveaway
0 comments:
Post a Comment