A Blue Christmas

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3.00 · 1 ratings · Published: Dec 4th, 2013 {{ book.ratingTitle }}
Thomas "Blue" Miller is expecting a visit from the marketing executive whose radio station is featuring his Christmas tree farm in a holiday promotion. What he's not expecting is the marketing executive to be his first love, the woman who at eighteen turned down his marriage proposal and left September, Texas, never to be heard from again.

Jessie Buchanan has come to see Blue under false pretenses. Her station's holiday promotion has her remembering the man she left behind, the man she still loves and fears she always will. The man she knew would never leave the town that holds the worst memories of her life. Unfortunately, it also holds the best—those of loving and being loved by Blue.

Will one more night in his bed prove her memories false and allow her to finally move on? Or will this Christmas be the beginning of something even better than before for them both?


"A tale rich with emotional complexity, "A Blue Christmas" reveals an unexpected edge." ~ Cindy Penn, Wordweaving


15,000 words

Previously published by Kensington Brava in the JINGLE BELL ROCK anthology


Excerpt:

Jessie Buchanan had grown into a hell of a woman.

She wore black leather, black silk, and black denim: a motorcycle jacket, a low-cut T-shirt and tight, skinny jeans. Her skin was as porcelain-pale as ever, her eyes brilliantly knowing. Her toenails were painted a deep lush red; she had on the strangest looking pair of heeled sandals he'd ever seen. Lace-up and velvet and black, but she didn't seem to have noticed the cold at all.

She looked nothing like the girl he remembered, the girl who'd turned his gut inside out when she'd licked her lips and begged. Not for what she wanted; it had never been about what she wanted. It had always been about what she wanted to do. For him. To him.

He choked back the memory, took the last step onto the porch and stopped. He wondered what she was up to. He wondered if he wanted to know.

Fists shoved into his jeans pockets and shoulders hunched forward, he acknowledged her with no more than the suggestion of a nod. "Jess."

"Hi, Blue." She walked toward him, her hips swaying in that same seductive walk he'd seen for years in his dreams. "You're looking good."

She looked better than good. She looked like the breakfast he craved when he rolled out of bed, the rich dessert he never took time to savor. He lived on fast food and coffee, his life having become a series of quickies when his back had been turned.

And now here was Jessie Buchanan, looking like a bad girl who understood quickies well. The thought stirred the primitive heat seeing her had kindled deep between his legs.

"It's the air." He pulled in a huge breath. "The clean country living. It does a body good."

"You're full of crap," she said and moved even closer. "You always were."

"And I see you're still a mouthy little thing." Only she wasn't so little at all. She wasn't any taller; she just seemed so, her presence that of a lioness, confident, proud, where once she'd been more mousy and meek, skittish and easily cowed. Except with him. Never with him.

And then she was in his arms, saying hello with her body and smelling like the sunshine missing from these dreary winter days. His arms went around her waist; hers wrapped around his neck. He nuzzled his face to her hair and breathed deeply, remembering, reliving, aching from more than the press of her thighs to his, her belly to his, her breasts to his chest where his heart had started to thunder.

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