The Cinnamon Bun Book Store (Dream Harbor, #2)(81)
And finally, thank you, as always, to my family. To Liz, Steve, Janzer, and Sean for your excitement and encouragement. To Molly for always reading. To Ashley for insisting that I’m a really big deal now (not sure I believe it, but it’s nice to hear). To my in-laws for being totally cool about a daughter-in-law who writes smut. To my parents for continuing to be my biggest cheerleaders. To my kids for continuing to ask if I’m famous yet. And to my husband for continuing to bring that big romance hero energy into my life. You guys are the best.
Read on for an exclusive extract from The Christmas Tree Farm
Kira North hates Christmas. Which is unfortunate since she just bought a Christmas tree farm in a town that's too cute for its own good. Bennett Ellis is on vacation in Dream Harbor trying to take a break from his regular life.
Somehow fate finds Ben trapped by a blanket of snow at Kira's farm, and, despite her Grinchiest first impressions, maybe, just maybe, the glow of the fairy lights might give these two lost souls a Christmas they'll remember forever...
The Christmas Tree Farm: Extract
Chapter 1
Kira North hated Christmas. Which was unfortunate considering she was currently the proud owner of a Christmas tree farm in a town that was far too cute for its own good with residents that couldn’t seem to take the hint and leave her the hell alone.
She breathed out a frustrated sigh as she closed the door on her latest visitor. Some guy named George, dropped off a complimentary sample of Christmas gingerbread cookies from the bakery in town and a business card, and more than a few hints about a plan to do business together. He was the third one this weekend.
Yesterday, Deputy Mayor Mindy Walsh dropped by on behalf of the town council to hand her a flier for the annual Tree Lighting next week, as though Kira hadn’t seen half a million of those every time she went into town for food. And just this morning an entire family showed up, kids in tow with matching Christmas sweaters asking if they could cut down a tree. She’d pretended not to see the children’s tears as she turned them away.
It was all a bit much. She slid down to the floor, her back against the door, and tore open the red and green cellophane protecting the cookies. She picked a Santa-shaped one and bit off his head. Unfortunately, he was absolutely delicious, all nutmeg and cinnamon. Damn him.
The cold seeped through her back as she finished him off one decadent bite at a time. The door was freezing. The floor was freezing. The entire crappy old house she’d moved into three months ago was freezing. She leaned her head back against the door with a soft thud, attempting to pretend that she was fine. It was fine. She would just put on another sweater even though she was already wearing two. She’d put on a warmer pair of socks. People sometimes wore hats inside, right?
The ancient radiator beside the door let out a defeated whine.
Right. Time to get up. Time to get up and get back to work because the ‘quaint farmhouse’ she’d bought sight unseen was actually a decrepit, old farmhouse with a heating system on life support, and the ‘acres of scenic farmland’ was actually a beloved, but totally run down Christmas tree farm and even though she’d sworn not to re-open it, now she had to in order to make some money and fix up this place, seeing as how she’d spent all hers buying it in the first place.
If she wanted to survive the winter and not be found frozen to death by a nosy but well-intentioned neighbor, she needed to get this place up and running. And fast. It was already the Sunday after Thanksgiving and judging by the family she’d devastated this morning, people were dying to get their trees up.
She grabbed a blanket on her way past the couch and shuffled over to where she’d left her laptop on the ancient wooden dining room table the previous owners had left behind. They’d left a lot of junk behind actually. She kept finding old mail tucked away in odd places but hadn’t bothered opening any of it. The table was nice though. It fit her farmhouse aesthetic.
She flipped open her computer. Still no wifi. It hadn’t worked right since that power outage last week.
Damn it.
How was she supposed to hire people, set up a website, and create a social media presence for this place without wifi and an incredibly unreliable cell signal? In like two days? She slumped down in the closest chair and practiced not crying. Her tears would probably freeze on her face if she did. She sniffled them back in and tried not to think about how pitiful she must look right now wrapped in a worn comforter, packed into way too many layers of clothing, nose red from cold and crying.
This wasn’t at all how things were supposed to go.
First of all, she wasn’t supposed to be alone. Her sister should be here with her. Her other half. Her much more competent, reasonable, level-headed half. Her twin and best friend since birth. Chloe never would have bought this place on a whim. Chloe never would have agreed to the sale without a visit and an inspection at the very least. Chloe would have asked questions like: why do you want to live on a farm in New England despite having no idea how to grow things or cook things or really do anything on your own? Questions that Kira had no desire to answer.
Because this whole plan wasn’t so much a whim as it was a last ditch effort to start over. To get as far away from her old life, her old self as possible. It wasn’t a whim so much as a radical reimagining of who she wanted to be.