Big on Christmas

By Jan Romes

Born to free-spirited, convention-shucking parents, Cassie Newman thirsts for normal. Leaving L.A. with a secret, she finds herself in Woodstock, Vermont – a town rich with Christmas tradition. She’s not big on Christmas but Woodstock feels like the perfect fit. Landing a job with Stennett’s Hardware, she tries to forget the world she knew, but Luke’s small-town charm makes her even more aware of the life she never had. Luke Stennett has his hands full with running the store and caring for his dad. He’s attracted to Cassie but he doesn’t have time for a relationship. Things are starting to go right but he harbors a secret of his own that has the potential to turn everything upside down. Once their secrets are revealed, will it kill the chemistry and send Cassie back to LA? Or will she fight for her happiness and stay firmly planted in a place big on Christmas?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781628305326

Book preview

Inc.

Cassie felt lightheaded and sat on a bench heaping with snow. She wrapped her arms around her to keep from shivering. Why had she left without her coat? How had things gotten so out of hand? All she’d wanted was to find some peace of mind in Vermont.

What she found instead was love, but she’d tainted it by not being truthful. The only thing she’d accomplished by leaving L.A. was trading one chaos for another. One was sweeter than the other, but in the end it was too good to be true. She loved Luke, but he didn’t love her. If he did, she’d be in his arms right now instead of sitting on a bench with her teeth chattering and body trembling from the cold.

Big on Christmas

by

Jan Romes

Twelve Brides of Christmas Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either 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.

Big on Christmas

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Jan Romes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Diana Carlile

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Champagne Rose Edition, 2014

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-532-6

Twelve Brides of Christmas Series

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To the fine folks of Woodstock, Vermont,

for providing the perfect setting for this story.

A special thanks to

the Woodstock Chamber of Commerce

for information regarding Wassail Weekend.

Chapter One

I’m not a ‘partridge in a pear tree’ kind of girl. I don’t do tinsel. Or twinkle lights. And eggnog makes me barf. Cassie Newman bit down on her bottom lip when her boss raised a dark, bushy eyebrow.

Grinchin’, are we? Luke Stennett stacked another box next to the counter.

I’m not being grinchy. I just can’t wrap my head around eggnog. Cassie shuddered for effect. Who came up with that concoction anyway? Did someone at a party say, ‘Hey, why don’t we throw a few eggs in the rum and see what it tastes like?’

It also has cloves, vanilla, cinnamon… Never mind. We’re more about wassail than eggnog anyway. So you’re safe.

Doesn’t the traditional recipe for wassail include eggs?

Luke gave her a who-are-you look, and Cassie pressed her lips together to stifle a grin. She was Cassandra Rosalyn Newman from L.A, according to her resume. The part about California was completely true.

My dad and I make ours without eggs. We use apple cider, lemons, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, brown sugar, and a splash of brandy. Tomorrow we’ll throw a batch in the slow cooker and let it simmer all day so it smells up the store. Nothing better than a hot cup of wassail on a cold November day to keep people in the store longer. While they sip, they can browse.

Luke used a box cutter to slice open the first of ten boxes delivered by UPS. He reiterated his request for Cassie to start decorating. The other hardware stores have had their decorations up for a month. I stall until the fall foliage crowd thins out before I put mine up, but I’m about a month behind because of my dad’s issues. It’s a week from Thanksgiving, which means it’s crunch time. Folks will start wandering in for tree stands and skirts, ornament hooks, holiday mailbox covers— he held up an extension cord—and these. If I don’t have the place looking like Christmas with holiday music playing in the background very soon, shoppers will take their business elsewhere. I can’t afford for that to happen.

Okay, boss, I’m on it. She took a few steps and stopped. Why is Woodstock more about wassail than eggnog?

Still stuck on the eggnog bit, huh?

Cassie was stuck on the whole decorating, gift buying, and overall madness that came with Christmas. She understood the religious aspect but not the excessive hoopla. She also didn’t get why everyone thought Christmas wouldn’t be complete without snow. It was white, fluffy stuff that required a shovel or plow and made the roadways slippery. What was the big deal?

She lifted her shoulder in a shrug at Luke’s question. What can I say? I dig until I fully understand things. I’m an info sponge. Or, as her parents put it, she was a total geek. They hadn’t said it to be mean; they’d stated the obvious.

A smile worked its way to the corners of her mouth. She knew things that most people could care less about, like chewing gum while peeling an onion will keep you from crying, bats always turn left when exiting a cave and if you raise your legs slowly and lie on your back you won’t sink in quicksand. She also had a special affection for making jewelry out of odd things like washers, wire, scrap pieces of metal and glass beads.

Woodstock is proud of its English roots and is rich with Christmas tradition. It’s only fitting that we celebrate with wassail. Luke raised and lowered his eyebrows. You’ve only been here a short time so you haven’t experienced your first Wassail Weekend.

You dedicate an entire weekend to drinking the stuff?

Luke laughed, and Cassie tried not to enjoy the vigorous masculine vibrancy coming from deep in his chest.

It’s more than that. We have an equestrian parade, holiday shows, historic home tours, and the annual lighting of the yule log. You won’t want to miss the hundreds of luminaries that light the way to the living Christmas tree in the village square. I could go on and on. He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the storage room. "Most of the decorations are in boxes