Unexpected Christmas plans
Olivia Bowen would rather avoid this holiday season. Even her satisfaction at improving the family business doesnât make up for the loss of her beloved father and the sudden tension with her mother. Olivia questions how much longer she can live in her hometown. And her decision is further complicated by Ben Hovik.
She should keep her distanceâhe broke her heart years ago. Yet his compassion and their still-sizzling attraction are seductive. Could she be falling for him again? When she spends Christmas with Ben and his teenage son, she wonders if this might be the first of many moreâ¦.
Ben Hovik. Tall, dark and handsome.
He was also one person in town she went out of her way to avoid.
âOlivia.â The way he said her name seemed like a caress.
Her heart cramped, as if she hadnât already felt like a walking advertisement for Prilosec. Why did he have to look so damn good?
âI need to get back to work,â she said, desperate to avoid him.
âYou donât look like someone who should be going in to work. Is it your dad? I saw you were with your mom.â
Olivia laughed, a corrosive sound that had his eyebrows climbing. âDad? Oh, sure. And Mom, who is apparently ready to throw off the old life and begin a new one.â Now, finally, she tried to shuffle sideways to go around him. âIâm sorry. I shouldnât have said that. Really, I need to goââ
âYou need to vent,â he said firmly. âIâm here and willing. Plus, Iâm discreet.â He looked momentarily rueful. âOn my job, you get good at keeping secrets.â
Dear Reader,
Ages ago I read about a teenage girl being found dead and how, when she remained unidentified, the folks in a small town decided to consider her theirs. If there was any follow-up to the story, I donât remember it. I have no idea why this particular snippet of a story stuck with me, but it did. Maybe it was ready-made for me. As Iâve said before, Iâm always interested in the aftereffects. You know, those ripples spreading outward from an event that might have seemed momentous, or really trivial, but that set something in motion.
In this case, the discovery of this girl is a catalyst in a small town, where a whole bunch of people start wondering guiltily whether they might know something, or might have done something that played a part in her death. Nothing like the uncomfortable tweak of a conscience, and especially when those same people decide to keep quiet!
You may have noticed that I most often set my stories in small towns. The truth is, Iâve never lived in a city. My parents moved often when I was growing up, but even when my father taught at big-city universities (Mexico City College, San Francisco State University), we always lived in a small town. I love going into Seattle, my closest big town, but have chosen small-town and rural life myself. I like the quiet, and as I was raising kids I also liked the sense of community, knowing other people kept an eye out for my kids, too, just as I did for theirs. When everyone knows everyone, thoughâ¦well, gossip is, in some ways, an indication people are interested in each other and care, but it can also be destructive.
Ripe ground for a novel about secrets⦠And all the more ironic when the holiday season is upon these characters and they celebrate goodwill toward all even as they bury their own uneasiness.
Please visit my website at www.janicekayjohnson.com! I love hearing from readers.
Janice Kay Johnson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An author of more than eighty books for children and adults, USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE KAY JOHNSON is especially well-known for her Mills & Boon Superromance novels about love and familyâabout the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. Her 2007 novel Snowbound won a RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America for Best Contemporary Series Romance. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small rural town north of Seattle, Washington. She loves to read and is an active volunteer and board member for Purrfect Pals, a no-kill cat shelter. Visit her online at www.janicekayjohnson.com.
PROLOGUE
WHERE WAS THAT damn dog?
Marsha Connelly stomped into the woods, swearing when she noticed the laces on her right boot were straggling and now snow-crusted. Grunting, she bent over far enough to tie and double-knot them. After she straightened, it took her a minute to regain enough breath to bellow again.
âBlarney!â she bellowed. âYou come right this minute!â Blarney. She only hoped neighbors thought the blasted dogâs name was Barney. What was