Almost a Christmas Bride

He hesitated a few seconds. “I’m not. I’m tired.”

“You’ve become increasingly irritated for two weeks.”

“And you’ve become increasingly calm.”

It sounded like an accusation. “That’s a bad thing?” When Kincaid didn’t answer, she said, “Would you prefer I go back to my own bed?” She could hardly form the words, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“No,” he said, his voice harsh.

“Do you … want me to leave?” She swallowed around the hot lump in her throat.

He finally looked directly at her. “No.”

“Then what do you want?”

Dear Reader,

It’s been said that you can’t go home again. For Shana Callahan that’s a good thing. Home was difficult, so difficult that she ran away and stayed away for ten years. Now she’s back in her small hometown of Chance City, all grown up and wanting to make amends. She’s trying to prove she’s changed and has been walking a gossip-free path for a year now. She is home, but it’s a new kind of home.

Landon Kincaid wants to help the struggling, pride-filled single mother. The way he goes about it, however, puts her squarely back in the gossip zone. But sometimes emotion trumps reputation, and success trumps pride. And sometimes love is all that matters.

I hope you enjoy Shana and Kincaid’s journey as much I enjoyed sending them on it.

Susan Crosby

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey, she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

Susan Crosby

For Lori and Justin.

You’re proof that the institution of marriage thrives in these modern times. I’m so proud of both of you.

Shana Callahan had learned long ago not to get her hopes up, but this morning butterflies of anticipation were flitting in her stomach. She pressed a hand against her abdomen as she punched the elevator button for the third floor of the downtown Sacramento office building. The elevator seemed to climb in slow motion as her employer’s words echoed in her head again and again. “The job would be long-term, Shana. And it’s in Chance City.”

Chance City, the place where’d she grown up, run away from at eighteen and then finally come back to after ten years away. Home.

No more hour-long commute to Sacramento for whatever temp job she’d been placed in that day or week. No more crossing her fingers that her car would survive the trip. No more worrying about rain or fog or accidents adding extra time to her commute. If it took ten minutes to get across town in Chance City, it was because someone hailed you down to talk.

She tried to imagine anyone from her small town contacting an employment agency instead of just tacking an ad to the bulletin board at the local diner, where most transactions were made, but no one came to mind.

The elevator door opened. Shana followed the hallway to the office of At Your Service, a high-end clerical-and-domestic-help temp agency often nicknamed “Wives for Hire” by clients, and owned by the elegant, unflappable Julia Swanson.

“Hey, Shana,” the receptionist, Missy, called out. “Julia said to send you straight back. She’ll be there in a second.”

Julia’s office was as soothing as the woman herself, the color palette muted, the furniture classic. On the wall behind her tidy mahogany desk hung the company logo, with “When you need the personal touch …” in gold lettering below it. It set the tone for every client or employee who sat opposite her.

Shana made herself sit rather than pace and appear anxious when Julia arrived, but her foot bounced and her stomach continued to churn.

“Hello, Shana,” Julia said from the doorway. “How are you?”

Hopeful. Scared. Excited. “I’m good, thanks. And curious.”

Julia smiled. “Are you ready for your interview?”

“Yes.” Shana stood. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“I prefer to let the client do the talking.”

They left her office and headed to the consultation room two doors down, which held a conference table with chairs on either side. Shana had never been interviewed in that room before, had always been sent to the office or home of the client. It rattled her a little. Plus, the client came from Chance City….

Hope scattered as a man stood—a tall, lean, muscular, familiar man with laser-blue eyes and medium brown hair. Landon Kincaid. Shana had known him for about a year, disliked him for about that long, too—ever since he’d tried to steal her sister away last year from the man she’d always been meant for. He didn’t seem to like her much, either.