Holiday ever after a sec.., p.1
Holiday Ever After: A Second Chance Holiday Romance, page 1
HOLIDAY EVER AFTER
A Second Chance Holiday Romance
J.D. HOLLYFIELD
Holiday Ever After
Copyright © 2021 J.D. Hollyfield
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Deposit Photos
Editor: Word Nerd Editing
Proofing: Novel Mechanic
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental
Title Page
Copyright
Blurb
More from J.D. Hollyfield
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Epilogue
Join the Club
Acknowledgments
About the Author
’Tis the season for falling in love with this hilarious, heart-warming, second-chance holiday romance.
Down on her luck, all Holly wants for Christmas is for her life to stop unraveling.
The last thing on her to-do list is traveling back to her hometown of Willow Falls. In fact, it’s a place she’s avoided for the past five years.
After being dumped by her boyfriend and fired from her job, stringing twinkle lights, decorating the tree, and sipping hot cocoa with her family turns out to be just what she needs to get out of her funk.
Until a familiar face from her past reappears, wreaking havoc on her life once again.
Liam Cody.
The one who got away.
The boy who shattered her heart and ran off with the pieces years ago.
But one glance at Liam, and all she sees is a strong, confident, sex God of a man. And the worst part? Her heart doesn’t understand he doesn’t belong to her anymore.
As the days tick down to Christmas, can Holly let go of the past and still get her kiss under the mistletoe?
Dirty Little Secret Duet
Bad Daddy
Sweet Little Lies
Love Not Included Series
Life in a Rut, Love not Included
Life Next Door
My So Called Life
Life as We Know It
Standalones
Celebrity Dirt
Faking It
Love Broken
Sundays are for Hangovers
Conheartists
Junkie
Chicks, Man
Lake Redstone
Paranormal/Fantasy
Sinful Instincts
Unlocking Adeline
#HotCom Series
Passing Peter Parker
Creed’s Expectations
Exquisite Taste
2 Lovers Series
Text 2 Lovers
Hate 2 Lovers
Thieves 2 Lovers
Four Father Series
Blackstone
Four Sons Series
Hayden
At Christmas, all roads lead home.
-Marjorie Holmes
“Yes, Mom… I know, Mom… Trust me, if I could, I would. I’m so swamped at work.” I glance at my vanity, searching for anything sharp to stab my eyes out.
It’s always the same conversation. The same questions. How’s work? How’s that boyfriend of yours? When is he going to propose? When are you coming home? I don’t even think she breathes between questions.
“I just don’t understand who doesn’t give their employees off for Christmas, honey. You’ve worked the holiday four years in a row.”
“I know, Mom. Things are just really busy. I can’t take off now.”
She sighs.
It’s no ordinary sigh. It’s a mother’s sigh with hidden meaning. The infamous Margaret Bergner sigh. The if your brother were still alive, he would come home to be with his family for the holidays sigh. Which is not to be confused with her I expected more of you sigh. Or the shame, I was really depending on you sigh. My mother has a whole book of sighs. But this one is the worst.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I want to be with you and Dad, but now isn’t a good time.”
And it’s not. Guilt tickles at my conscience. But not enough to change my mind. “Maybe when things settle down after the holidays.”
“Speaking of settling down. . .” Dammit. I walked right into that one. “Your father was really hoping to meet Vincent.”
Vincent. I haven’t heard that name in a while. Maybe because he goes by so many other names now. Cheater. Bastard. Douchetard. That’s Eileen’s nickname.
“You know, you two have been together for three years. I’m not understanding why he hasn’t proposed yet. You’re not getting any younger, Holly.” Ah, there it is. The monthly reminder. That’s always my favorite. Almost twenty-six and not married. Way to rub it in.
“I know, Mom. Listen, I really need to get to work. I have a huge meeting today and really need to concentrate. Tell Dad I love him. I’ll call you guys later in the week. Love you—”
“Oh, honey, before you hang up, I wanted to tell you I saw Liam the other day.” Just when I think I’ve made it out alive, she throws a grenade at me.
My phone slips out of my hand, and I perform an impressive juggling act until I finally bring it back to my ear. “What do you mean you saw him? When did he get back?” He’s back? He’s back… He’s back… “Thought he was stationed in some country doing Peace Corps stuff?”
“A few months ago—”
“A few months!—I mean, wow…three months.” Thanks for the heads up, Mom.
“Looks very healthy. He’s helping your father run the hardware store.”
Liam Cody.
My high school sweetheart.
The love of my life.
More importantly, the one who hates my guts.
“Well, that’s great, Mom. Okay, I really need to—”
“He asked about you.”
Dammit! My phone slips out of my hand again. I really should have reconsidered returning those air pods Vincent bought me. “Wait…hello? Hi. He asked about me? Like, what do you mean asked about me?” Asked, as in he’s hoping I’m rotting in hell somewhere?
“Well, he asked how you were, of course. I just couldn’t stop bragging about how well you’re doing. He told me to say hello the next time I talked to you.”
I pause for a second until my brain catches up, then burst out into a fit of laughter. “He told me hello?” Remember to Google negative meanings for hello.
“Of course. Such a nice man. It’s a shame you two never worked out.”
“Yeah, shame,” I say. Screw it. Google it now. Negative meaning of—
“Remind me again what went wrong between the two of you.”
Would she like the long story or the cliff notes when he called me a selfish, conceited brat just before I told him to go to hell?
“Don’t remember, Mom. Such a long time ago. Really gotta go. Love you. Give Dad my best. Bye.” I hang up. Thank God the couch is behind me because otherwise, I would fall straight back against the floor.
“Are you ever going to tell your parents you lost your job?”
I turn to Eileen, my roommate. “Why would I do a crazy thing like that?” I reach for the remote and my box of donuts.
Eileen shrugs. “I mean… it’s been a month. Maybe it’s time. Maybe going home would be a good thing. As would be possibly showering.”
I gasp at her. How dare she judge my choices. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“That you’re starting to smell and need to shower. You’ve been in those pajamas for four days now, and if I see you watch The Notebook one more time, I’m going to blow my brains out.”
“Hey! The Notebook is one of the best love stories ever.”
“Yeah, and watching you cry the entire time is ruining it for me.”
I scoff at her. “I don’t cry every time.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Fine. Whatever. But you need to stop sulking. You lost your job, and Vincent cheated on you. I get it. It sucks. But he was a total douche, and that job worked you too hard. Maybe this is a good thing. A way to start fresh. Find somebody who appreciates you.”
I sag further into the couch. The lump in my throat resurfaces, and tears prick my eyes. Three years I dedicated my life to Vincent, only for him to cheat on me with his trashy secretary. His reasoning was the best part of it all. She understood his sexual needs and fetishes. Fetishes! What did he want from her that I couldn’t do? I would suck on toes. Gross, no, I wouldn’t. Whips and chains? Meh, I don’t do pain well.
“You really want to sulk over a guy who probably dreams about shoving a hamster up his—”
“Well, you moping around watching cheesy romance flicks and eating your weight in powdered donuts won’t make anything better. Vincent’s a jerk. He lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”
I grab a throw pillow and clutch it to my chest. He is a jerk. And he didn’t deserve me. To be really honest, Vincent wasn’t great. He was a typical guy who showed affection when I needed it and kept me company instead of being alone. He was my distraction.
Maybe going home will do me some good. I can’t remember the last time I indulged in the warmth and joy of Christmas—a holiday Vincent hated. A holiday that brought up too many memories. A holiday I avoided at all costs. But maybe it’s time.
“Fine.”
“Fine, as in you’ll shower? Or fine as in you’ll go home for Christmas?”
“Both.” I press my nose to my armpit. “Definitely shower first.”
A tightness forms in my chest as we pass the welcome sign for Willow Falls. Inhaling a deep breath, I take in the familiar scenery. It’s been five years, and still nothing has changed when it comes to holiday traditions. And this town lives for the joy of Christmas. Over-the-top houses sparkle with an array of lights and figurines. There’s not a roof without a Santa at the chimney, and if you’re missing a reindeer, they sure as hell talk about you at church. Rudolph’s nose is glowing a bright shade of red, just as it has since I could remember. Dad used to always say it’s how Santa found our house. God forbid the year the light went out and I tried climbing out of my window to the roof while holding a flashlight so Santa wouldn’t miss us.
We pull up to my childhood home. A thick layer of fluffy snow covers the ground, but not enough to hide Jesus and his manger display. An array of elves litter the bushes, carrying piles of glittery wrapped presents. Every decoration brings back memories. Being grounded for trying to unwrap the gifts. Scaring my parents to death when I was five, and they thought someone had kidnapped me, but I was sleeping in the miniature stable because I wanted to be just like Jesus. The ridiculous lights. So many—
“Unless you want me to escort you to the door, this is your stop, little lady.”
I blink and pull my eyes away from the glowing house to the driver. “Sorry. Thanks for the offer, but I got it.” I hold my breath and push open the door. I can’t believe Eileen talked me into this.
It will be good for you.
Holidays should be spent with family.
You’ve hit rock bottom and need a reset.
I completely disagree with the last part. I have not hit rock bottom. It’s called mourning. Look it up. The death of my perfect life. I had the perfect job as senior creative designer at one of the top advertising agencies in the city. It took me years to get there, and I was the best. Not only was my job amazing, but I also got to work side by side with my boyfriend, the director of brand management, Vincent Sheshull. We were unstoppable. Had the same aspirations. Goals. Work was our passion. We were both driven—me toward furthering my career, him toward boning his secretary.
It probably didn’t help that I lost my cool at work and threw a few sluggers at her. And, okay, maybe HR getting involved wasn’t the best. Turns out, no matter how good you are at what you do, assaulting another employee is frowned upon.
So, there was that. I walked out with a box of my things, my plant, and my pride. Well, the last one was in shambles. Still, I kept my chin up and had no regrets when I gave the entire building a fuck off speech, claiming my now ex had a small dick and couldn’t get it up in case anyone else wanted to take a ride. I might have had tiny regrets. That outburst may have cost me a referral. But I’d just lost the best job of my life, money, a steady income—and my heart was in a million devastated pieces.
We had plans.
I mean, I had a plan. We weren’t perfect. There were doubts here and there… maybe more than there should have been, but we were going to get married. I felt it. I felt… something. Yeah, anger, betrayal, murder…
When you get thirty days with nothing but time on your hands, your mind conjures up the most creative ideas. We truly don’t give our brains enough credit. It’s a good thing I don’t have it in me to disassemble a body or the muscle mass to drag one into the woods. Instead, I sulked. And sulked. And now, worse than being dumped like yesterday’s trash, I’m parked outside my childhood home, about to spend the holidays with my parents, who still think my life is perfect.
“Those sure are some decorations. That’s the holiday spirit if I say so.”
Or desperation to contact aliens on Mars. “Yeah, my parents just love Christmas.”
Climbing out, I grab my two suitcases from the trunk and tug them up the driveway, slipping on the ice and almost eating the frozen blacktop. I must resemble a shotty ice skater as I slip and slide up the walkway. I just about take out an elf and curse when the heel of my stiletto snaps.
“Bad idea. Bad idea.” I should have stayed home. Ordered in Christmas dinner. Made sure my couch wasn’t lonely. Your family needs you. You need them too. Shut up, conscience! I remember my mom’s voice when I told her I was coming home, which makes the guilt surface again, knowing how selfish I’ve been the past five years. With my brother gone, I’m their constant concern.
This is right. I need to be here for them. The look on my mom’s face when she sees me… she’s probably going to cry and stuff me with Christmas cookies before I can even get my jacket off. I’m shocked she wasn’t stalking the window for my arrival.
I drag my suitcases up the porch steps to the front door. Get through the holidays, then I can be home putting my life back together. I hope Mom made my favorite—the gingerbread cookies with the sprinkle buttons.
I turn the knob and push open the door. “I’m home!” I sing, waiting for my first cookie. The overwhelming scent of sugar. The crackling of the fire. A Christmas Story playing in the background.
There’s nothing.
No cookies.
No smells.
Nothing.
“Hello? Mom? Dad?”
I’m met with silence. “What the…? Hello? Anyone home? I’m here!” I kick off my heels and look around. There has to be a mistake. Did I give them the wrong time? I grab my phone and pull up the email I sent Mom. Nope, it’s right. Where the heck are they? I drop my suitcases and shimmy out of my jacket, tossing it on the back of the couch as I walk through the house. I gaze at the missing fire and head into the kitchen. Not a single sheet of cookies, just a note.
Holly,
Dad and I are at the hardware store.
Mom.
Am I seeing things? My parents, who have been dying for me to come home, aren’t here to greet me? Dropping the note, I head to my old room, throw myself on my bed, and stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stars. I loved these stars as a kid. My brother Billy spent an entire day jumping up and sticking them perfectly so they would resemble a map of the galaxy. Every night, we would lay in my bed, and he would teach me anything and everything about astronomy.
Hating the heaviness in my heart that the memories conjure up, I lock them back down and get up. It’s a short walk downtown from the house, so I dig a pair of winter boots out of the closet and head out to enjoy the overwhelming holiday spirit.
The snow crunches under my boots, leaving footprints in the powdery snow. The faint sound of singing tickles my eardrums, and I spy a group of carolers outside the Wilsons’ house. Through the different frosted windows I pass, Christmas trees glitter brightly, and each house flickers with an array of dazzling lights. I snuggle into my jacket, feeling the warmth the holiday spirit offers.
Willow Falls has always been beautiful. A quaint little town stuck in the middle of nowhere. From the gigantic Easter egg hunt and the turkey races to the Fourth of July potluck and fireworks, holidays are a huge deal here. But nothing tops Christmas.
