COASTAL CHRISTMAS
By Lori Hayes
Iron Stream Media
BLING! Romance October 19, 2021 trade paperback and eBook
ISBN-10: 1645263487
ISBN-13: 978-1645263487
ASIN:
B09DBX6BQH
eBook
ISBN: 978-1-64526-349-4
$14.99 trade paperback
$3.99 Kindle
When
Christmas magic fills a house, the charm of falling in love becomes
possible―especially in this heartfelt holiday story from award-winning author
Lori Hayes.
Local legend predicts that
whoever moves into an old farmhouse on a salt marsh will fall in love and be
married by Christmas. Terri McMillan scoffs at the lore and sets out to buy the
charming house in small-town North Carolina. However, the owner, Matt Baker,
insists on one final Christmas in his grandparents’ home before he bids
farewell to the past. In turn, he’ll help Terri renovate the old place,
where she hopes to foster troubled teens.
Terri and Matt find letters and a diary from
the Vietnam War era in the attic. Reading them together, they learn the truth
behind the Christmas legend. Now they wonder…could love like this be in store
for them?
COASTAL CHRISTMAS Excerpt
At the
end of the day we left the party exhausted but Sophie talked nonstop about what
a blast she had.
Once
we returned home, Sophie disappeared into the cottage to change clothes. At
some point soon, I needed to move her into the big house. One thing at a time,
I reminded myself.
I
unlocked the back door, but before I made it too far inside my kitchen, Matt
pulled me into a hug. We stayed melted into each other’s arms for a long moment
before he leaned down, our mouths so close, yet not close enough.
“I’m
curious,” I said as I pulled back slightly to challenge him. “What are we doing
here, Matt?”
“What
do you mean?”
“We
hug each other, spend time together outside of fixing up the house.” I raised
my hand to include us and the kitchen. “Go to dinner together.”
He
shrugged. “So if I told you I’m attracted to you, would you be okay with that?”
I
swear my heart smiled. “I’m out of practice with this whole attraction thing.”
He
leaned closer and stared into my eyes. “You’re beautiful. I find it hard to
believe you don’t date much.”
I
felt my cheeks grow warm. “Thank you.” I didn’t want to appear as a complete
reject when it came to relationships. “I mean, I had a couple of serious
relationships but for one reason or another they faltered. I don’t think I was
ready emotionally.”
He
leaned closer. “I’m glad I met you now then.”
I
stared at him, my mouth suddenly parched. I really needed a drink of sweet tea
but didn’t move.
“Just
a couple of relationships?”
I
glanced away. “I dated here and there, but after a couple of months I learned
we either had nothing in common, or we had serious communication issues. My
crazy work schedule didn’t help.” In all truth, I had given up on meeting the
right man and had pretty much stopped dating altogether. I enjoyed my own
company, doing my own thing without someone giving me grief. I didn’t need the
aggravation in my life, although I wished things were different.
“Well,
your ex-boyfriends were crazy to let you go.”
My
cheeks burned hot as I studied him. “What’s your story?” I wanted to know
everything about him.
“I
pretty much dated one girl throughout high school but we broke things off when
we went to college. When I came back home, we got back together for a bit but
things didn’t work out.”
“Was
it serious?”
He
nodded. “It was serious for me but she wasn’t ready to take it to the next
level.”
I
figured there was more to the story but sensed he was through with the topic.
Poor
timing because the back door opened. With reluctance, I moved away from Matt
and noticed Sophie was still wearing the same outfit except she held an armful
of clothes.
“I
thought you were going to change?” I asked out of curiosity while trying to
keep the disappointment from the almost intimate embrace out of my voice.
She
stared at the two of us as if curious about catching us so close together.
“I
wanted to take a shower to get the fire smell off me.”
“Help
yourself then,” I said as I stepped toward the pantry to preoccupy myself. “Are
you all hungry for homemade chicken potpie?” It had been a couple of hours
since we ate the oysters, and we had stayed at the party longer to listen to
the music. I knew Sophie’s answer, as she made a dramatic gesture of pretending
to wipe drool from the sides of her mouth. Matt nodded with enthusiasm and I
laughed at their responses. “It won’t take long to make.”
“Sounds
amazing,” Matt said.
“Are
you kidding?” Sophie asked. “Homemade?”
“Of
course.” This was one of the simple but impressive meals I made from scratch
whenever possible. I prided myself in preparing a few easy but healthy meals
instead of eating processed food. Besides, when I became a foster parent, I
wanted to cook decent meals for the kids.
Sophie
scooted off upstairs to shower and Matt busied himself with a project in the
living room.
An
easy dinner was necessary tonight, but even though I was tired, I still looked
forward to reading the diary and letters. I thought about them often and knew
Matt did too.
I
tossed the few ingredients together, mostly consisting of large-cut vegetables,
canned when in a hurry like tonight, creamed chicken soup, and two boneless
chicken breasts I sautéed in a pan. Simple really. I mixed everything together
in a bowl and spread out a premade pie crust. I scooped the ingredients into
it, and then covered the top with another layer of dough.
Sophie
reappeared in the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower, and I offered her a
butter knife. “Here, this is so you can cut holes into the crust so it can
breathe. It’s fun to make designs if you want.”
Sophie
lit up. She bit her lower lip and got to work carving an outline of a pumpkin.
When she finished, I stuck it in the oven for forty-five minutes.
“I’ll
be back in a bit,” Sophie said, setting the knife in the sink, and then left
the house. I saw a light turn on inside the cottage.
I
approached Matt, who was busy removing a corner of the ugly wallpaper in the hallway.
I knew I had won the battle about painting the walls instead of leaving the
paper. Without thinking, I closed the distance between us and he looked up. His
unwavering gaze made my heart beat faster.
As
we gazed into each other’s eyes there was an understanding between us of what
was coming next … our first kiss. And no sooner had I thought about it than
Matt placed his mouth gently on mine.
Our
mouths melded together, his breath warm, his scent intoxicating. His hands
moved to my arms, holding me close, his right hand sliding down to my waist to the
small of my back, making me quiver in its wake. Matt was gentle in his approach
but took what he wanted, giving me everything in return.
No
one had ever kissed me like that.
So
hungrily …
So
eagerly …
So
deliciously.
He
pulled away and raised his eyebrows as if to gauge my response. To reassure
him, I leaned forward and our lips met again. This kiss was longer, more
passionate and loving. Our arms wrapped around each other in a tender embrace.
When
he pulled away, I noticed a wide smile on his face.
“Want
to read the diary and letters before dinner?” he whispered.
Unable
to speak, I nodded. We moved to the couch, but instead of sitting on opposite
ends, we cuddled into each other. I leaned forward and handed him the letters
and pulled the diary onto my lap.
Nana’s Diary: July 1, 1968
I won’t lie, the past two weeks have been difficult for me
and I haven’t felt well. The last couple of days I have vomited several times.
I tried to trace back what I ate but all I could think of was I had chicken
salad at my friend Dorothy’s house. I know chicken is one of those tricky foods
that go bad fast. I can’t imagine my reaction has to do with that though. And
it’s difficult dealing with a wild boy running around while I’m not feeling
well, but by the grace of God, I am getting by.
Nana’s Diary: July 4, 1968
This Fourth of July hardly feels like a celebration with my
husband at war. I wonder if the American people appreciate the sacrifices our
soldiers are making, the lives lost, and the price we pay for freedom. The
holiday is more than shooting off fireworks into the sky.
A bunch of my family members—cousins, kids, parents—planned
to sit on the beach tonight to watch the fireworks display. I’m not sure I want
to go. For one, I will be thinking about Robert. For two, I’m still sick to my
stomach. If I don’t start feeling better soon, I will make a doctor’s appointment.
I am not a person who likes to visit the doctor unless I have to. It’s been at
least a year since I’ve been to his office.
Anyway, I made pasta salad for our picnic on the beach just
in case I decide to show up. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I know Daniel wants
to go. Before I do anything else today, I want to write Robert a long letter.
June 25, 1968
My lovely Shirley,
I got two of your letters today. You must have sent them
before I asked for your delicious cookies. I guess I have to be patient. I know
you have your hands full at home while working and raising Daniel.
I thought it was hot here earlier but now I feel like I’m
baking in the heat. The mosquitos are bad and will practically carry you away
alive. I’m looking forward to getting a shower tonight, if you can call it
that. Shower day is one of my favorites although it doesn’t take long to sweat
again and stink.
Yesterday we went into a small village and drank. Don’t worry,
I never drink much because I like to stay aware of my surroundings. Some of the
men get rowdy with the women but I think that’s just plain crazy. Anyway, it
was good to get away for a bit and have some fun with the guys. A person can’t
work all the time without releasing some tension. I have to go. I am needed.
I love you and say hi to Daniel for me.
Love,
Your Robert
July 4, 1968
My lovely Shirley,
I’m feeling patriotic in a new way. Even though I want to be
home with you, the war goes on and it’s the 4th of July. We are experiencing
our own set of fireworks here, but I would’ve preferred to be watching them on
the beach with you. The heat continues and the mosquitos are bad. I can’t wait
until the heat breaks and we get a good rain.
Tell Daniel I said I love him, and of course, know I love
you more than anything. You keep me going. And I’m still looking forward to
more cookies.
Love,
Your Robert
Every
once in a while we stopped reading to discuss our thoughts. I didn’t enjoy
history in general but found it enthralling to read the intimate perspective
from real people experiencing the war firsthand.
When
the timer on the stove went off, Matt followed me into the kitchen. I opened
the oven door and glanced at my creation. A light golden hue covered the top
crust, the aroma of a baked pie filling the air.
“Wow,
that smells delicious.” Matt licked his lips.
I
smiled at him before I pulled the pot pie out and set it on top of the stove to
settle for a few minutes. As if led by some unprecedented intuition that dinner
was ready, Sophie opened the door and entered the kitchen.
“Mmmm,”
she said, smacking her lips several times.
As
usual, Sophie acted as though she hadn’t eaten a hot meal in months, although I
knew she had because I cooked for her. Nevertheless, her interest in my
culinary skills made me feel appreciated. Matt also commented on the idea of a
home-cooked meal. As a bachelor, I assumed he didn’t cook much for himself.
I
had to admit, I was becoming quite the homebody.
We
ate mostly in silence because everyone was hungry and too busy shoving food
into their mouths. After we finished washing dishes, Sophie excused herself and
returned to the cottage. “I think I’ll suggest to her tomorrow to bring all of
her things inside. I’ll set up one of the bedrooms for her.”
“What
a wonderful idea.”
I
glanced at Matt as I hung the dish towel on the oven door. “I’d like to add one
more item to our remodeling list.”
“What’s
that?” Matt asked without looking up from wiping off the table. He excelled at
domestic chores and did them without complaint. I was sure my mother would say
he was a keeper.
“I’d
like to add a dishwasher to the list. Once I become a foster parent, I suspect
I’ll have lots of dishes.”
He
grinned. “I hope you have plenty of young ladies to fill up your house.” He
tossed the wet paper towel into the trash can. “Just remember, their living
here should consist of helping with chores. They need to learn to manage a household
to some extent to benefit their future selves.”
He
was right, and I looked forward to helping the girls to the best of my ability.
Matt
and I sat together well into the evening. The more I read, the more I felt as
though I knew Shirley and Robert Baker personally. She was almost a celebrity
to me now. I knew Shirley watched over my house, protecting the home and even
me in her grandmotherly way. I admired her strength as a mother and a loyal
wife, the love for her husband apparent. I wished I had met her in real life.
She was brave, strong, independent.
After
Matt left for the night, I curled up in bed thinking about our goodbye kiss. I
never thought it was possible to have intimate feelings to this degree. I
always saw a policeman as a rugged hero, not a man I could be attracted to.
Boy, was I wrong. It was endearing to see his caring side as he read the
letters from his grandfather, his own hero.
Matt
was deep and caring, someone I could likely spend my life with.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coastal Christmas is set on the coast of North Carolina. If money were no object, where would you choose to spend Christmas?
Two randomly chosen people who post a comment before 11:00 PM, October 30 will each receive a print copy of Coastal Christmas.
*Must be 18
*U.S. Only
*Void where prohibited
Lori
writes contemporary romance and romantic women's fiction. She promises to
deliver a happy ending in exchange for your much-appreciated time reading her
novels.
She
lives with her family in North Carolina, and while she hopes to someday say she
lives near the beach, right now she is a short drive from the ocean. She thinks
it's important to focus on what you have and to appreciate the small things
around you, like the tang of salt in the air. For then it becomes possible for
your dreams to come true, like her dream of writing and to be published.
She
thanks her mother for her career. One day her mom planted the seed for Lori to
be a writer, and it took hold. And as her grandfather always said, stop talking
about it and do something. So she did. While her son took afternoon naps, she
sat down and started her first novel.
Quickly
she learned it wasn't so easy. She bought every book possible about writing,
and to this day she's still buying books to study. She believes life is one
lesson made up of many shorter ones. Tell the story of your own life, and it
will come to fruition. She's living proof.
Learn
more about Lori on https://lorihayesauthor.com/, and check her out on:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LoriHayesAuthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lorihayesauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LoriHayesAuthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21432570.Lori_Hayes
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lori-hayes
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@lorihayesauthor
