Home for Christmas (Romance Novella Box Set)

By Ruth Ryan Langan

Two Holiday Novellas from New York Times Bestselling Author Ruth Ryan Langan.

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS, a Contemporary Romance Christmas Novella:
Successful novelist Adam Holt returns to the inn owned by his childhood sweetheart, Caroline Stark. He broke her heart once. Can she trust the feelings that surface now that he's back in her life?

CHRISTMAS AT BITTER CREEK, a Historical Romance Christmas Novella:
Despite the fact that Matthew Braden was always in trouble, Laura Connors had lost her young heart to him. Years later, when he shows up at her isolated cabin, she does her best to nurse him through his injuries, knowing he'll soon be back on the trail and running with outlaws. But she can't help wishing that just this once, she could get her Christmas wish that Matthew would stay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Ryan Langan
• Release date: Oct 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310603662

Ruth Ryan Langan

New York Times best-selling author Ruth Ryan Langan, who also writes under the pseudonym R. C. Ryan, is the author of over 100 novels, both contemporary romantic-suspense and historical adventure. Quite an accomplishment for this mother of five who, after her youngest child started school, gave herself the gift of an hour a day to follow her dream to become a published author. Ruth has given dozens of radio, television and print interviews across the country and Canada, and has been quoted in such diverse publications as THE WALL STREET JOURNAL and COSMOPOLITAN. Ruth has also been interviewed on CNN NEWS, as well as GOOD MORNING AMERICA.

Book preview

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Two Christmas Novellas

Ruth Ryan Langan

Home for Christmas

Holiday Inn – 1996

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Copyright 1996, 2015 Ruth Ryan Langan

Christmas At Bitter Creek

Historical Christmas Stories – 1990

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd

Copyright 1990, 2015 Ruth Ryan Langan

Digital Publication 2015 by Ruth Ryan Langan

Cover design by Tammy Seidick Design

Digital formatting by A Thirsty Mind Book Design

Smashwords edition

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Contents

Home For Christmas

Christmas At Bitter Creek

Titles by Ruth Ryan Langan

About the Author

A Note from Ruth Ryan Langan

I love Christmas. Most of all, I love the feelings of peace and joy that are generated each year by this glorious holiday.

These two novellas, my historical, Christmas At Bitter Creek, and my contemporary, Home For Christmas, though very different in setting, reflect the very essence of Christmas.  I hope they touch your soul in a very special way.

This Christmas and every Christmas, I wish each one of you peace, joy and, most of all, love.

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

A Contemporary Christmas Novella

Ruth Ryan Langan

To Tom, for so many Christmas memories.

Chapter One

Malibu, California

"Adam, where is your mind today? Olivia Martin peered over the rim of her half-glasses. She’d been Adam Holt’s literary agent for the past seven years, and she had learned to gauge the writer’s moods. Something was troubling him. And when something was troubling Adam Holt, it was wise to take cover. You’ve been pacing like a caged lion."

Have I? Adam stopped his pacing to stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking his Malibu beachfront. With his hands jammed in his pockets, he watched a golden retriever fetching a ball from the surf. A bikini-clad blonde chased the dog until both disappeared from view. He turned toward the glass-topped table, where Olivia had spread the latest contracts for his signature. Did you know that in just three days it will be Christmas Eve?

Olivia lifted one elegant hand to remove her glasses. I’d have to live on Mars not to know that. In fact, I thought this contract would be a very welcome Christmas present. Apparently you were expecting something more generous. Would you like me to go back to them and—

Adam held up his hand, then ran it restlessly through his hair. No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just— He shrugged and began to pace once more, his voice low with feeling. I can’t stop thinking about Christmas in New England, with snow and kids on toboggans and skaters on real ponds.

Not a lion, Olivia thought as she watched him. A panther. A very dark, very restless panther. She sighed. She’d come to care very much about this man, who was such a paradox. His literary success had bought the usual trappings: this house, once owned by one of Hollywood’s most famous directors; a garage filled with sports cars; and beautiful women on his arm at publicity and charity events. But despite the fact that he could be absolutely charming in public, there was a dark, private side to Adam Holt. In the years she’d known him, Olivia had never heard him mention his childhood. And as far as she knew, Adam had no family, at least none that he talked about.

His moods always seemed darker at this time of the year. And every year, after a few days on the East Coast, he returned ready to settle down and produce another blockbuster.

It was time to soothe the beast.

Tell you what. Why don’t you sign these contracts and then take some time in New York. If you like, I’ll ask my assistant to book you a flight and a room at the Plaza. You can walk through the snow in Central Park, watch the skaters at Rockefeller Plaza.

Instead of seeing the expected smile, she watched Adam’s frown deepen. He turned to stare out the window again, lost in thought. Then he suddenly nodded. Yes, it’s been too long. He crossed the room and picked up the pen, scratching his name on a dozen different documents. That done, he said, Tell Mary I want to stay at the old Freedom Tavern. It’s a bed-and-breakfast in Port Freedom, New Hampshire.

If Olivia was surprised by Adam’s choice, she gave no indication. She’d send him to Timbuktu to keep him happy and productive. Consider it done.

* * *

Port Freedom, New Hampshire

Where’ve you been? The gray-haired woman removed a mop and rags from a cupboard as the back door opened. I expected you back hours ago.

Sorry, Maggie. The van wouldn’t start. Caroline Stark nudged the door shut with her hip and deposited two bags of groceries on the table. I had to get Jerry Simpson’s boy to give me a hand since Jerry was out on a call.

Caroline opened the door and weathered another blast of winter wind as she trudged back to the car. She returned minutes later with two more bags. As soon as Caroline pried off her boots and stepped into a pair of scuffed slippers, Maggie began mopping up the puddles.

One of these days that old van’s going to break down in the middle of nowhere, and you’ll find yourself walking, Maggie muttered. And with your luck, you’ll be transporting your best customers, who’ll then cancel their reservations and leave you high and dry.

Caroline laughed, though she knew there was some truth in the older woman’s statement. I think the van’s safe for a little while longer. When Jerry got back with the tow truck, he and his son checked everything, from battery to transmission fluid.

Good. By the way, it looks as if your holidays won’t be as lazy as you’d hoped.

Why? Caroline hung the keys on a hook and slipped off her coat as she headed across the room to unpack the groceries.

Got a call while you were out from a woman in California. Booked a room for the whole week.

California? When is she arriving?

Maggie shrugged. Some time tomorrow. But the reservation isn’t for her. It’s for some man. I figure he’s probably her boss.

Did you get a name and credit card number?

Maggie nodded. I wrote everything down, just the way you like it. It’s in your office. She nodded toward a pile of fresh linen still warm from the dryer. Want me to start on one of the guest rooms?

Caroline thought a minute. Since our guest is a man, let’s give him the Elias Room. It always feels like a man’s room to me.

Maggie picked up an armload of linen and left the room. When Caroline finished storing the groceries, she hurried upstairs to lend a hand.

Nice work. Caroline studied the elegant four-poster, freshly made up with clean sheets and blankets and covered with a heavy quilt of dark burnished plaid. She folded an afghan and tossed it on the foot of the bed.

We’ll need more logs, Maggie called as she began arranging logs and kindling in the fireplace.

I’ll get them. Caroline made several trips from the back porch to the guest room until the basket beside the hearth was filled.

This robe? Maggie held up a thick terry robe for Caroline’s inspection.

That’ll be fine. I just stowed some fresh soaps and toiletries in the hall closet.

While Maggie finished with the bathroom, Caroline vacuumed and dusted, then stood back to study the room with a critical eye. The room earned its name from the portrait of Caroline’s ancestor, Elias Stark. Two comfortable high-back chairs were pulled in front of the fireplace. Between them was a table with a reading lamp. One wall was lined with shelves of books, while another wall was hung with pictures dating back to the early part of the century. In front of the window was an antique desk and an assortment of stationery and pens.

Maggie paused in the doorway. Thinking about the extra work you’ll have to take on during the holiday season?

Caroline shook her head. You won’t hear me complaining. Not when I think about the check I just wrote to cover the work on my van. Right now I’d welcome a dozen guests.

At the crunch of tires in the driveway, Maggie walked to the window. Here’s Will. He said the newscasters are calling for another snowstorm. He decided to come for me early, before the roads get closed. When her husband looked up, she waved to let him know she’d spotted him. Do you need anything else?

Not a thing, Maggie. Caroline followed her out of the room and down the stairs.

All right. See you in the morning.

You might have to dig your way out of your driveway first, Caroline said with a laugh.

Maggie hesitated. I hadn’t thought of that. With a guest coming, I’d better get an early start.

Don’t worry about it. I can handle it. Just be careful.

The older woman pulled on her coat and took her leave.

When the door closed, Caroline climbed the stairs to her own room and kicked off her slippers. She hadn’t eaten since early morning, but despite her hunger, what she really craved was a long hot bath.

She filled the tub and added her favorite bath oil, then stripped and pinned her hair into a knot on top of her head. When she settled herself into the warm scented water, she gave a sigh of pure pleasure. After the day she’d put in, this was heaven. Caroline lingered until the water began to cool, then dried herself quickly and slipped into a cheery red velvet lounging robe.

Though it was late, and her bed looked inviting, Caroline had no intention of sleeping until after she’d satisfied her hunger. Padding down the stairs, she paused in the doorway of the main parlor. Maggie had built a fire earlier, and the embers were still glowing. Caroline poked at the coals and added a log. Within minutes, the fire was blazing. This, she decided, was where she wanted to eat her late supper. In front of the fire.

She was just starting toward the kitchen when she heard the sound of a snowplow heading up her driveway.

Bless you, Hal, she said aloud as she ran to the front window to wave.

Hal Winslow ran a service for lawn maintenance and snow removal in the city of Port Freedom. Knowing that she lived alone, he often took a swing up the long private driveway leading to her place to assure that she wasn’t snowbound. She was always grateful for his kindness.

Just as Caroline started to turn away, she saw the truck come to a stop. The passenger door opened, and the figure of a man was caught in the headlights as he climbed down and walked toward her front door. Before he could knock, she hurried to open it and was greeted by a swirl of wind and snow.

Tell Hal I— She stopped in midsentence.

It wasn’t Hal Winslow’s assistant who stood facing her. It was a tall imposing figure hunched in a denim jacket. She tilted her head to see his face. For a moment she forgot to breathe. Her heart forgot to beat. She was staring at a face from her past. A face she had carried in her mind for more than a decade.

Hello, Caro.

No one else had ever called her that. No one except Adam Holt. The man she had once loved more than life itself. The man who had left Port Freedom without a word or a letter. The man who had broken her heart.

Chapter Two

"Mind if I come in?"

Adam’s voice was the same. Low and deep. Touching a nerve that Caroline had thought dead. Or at least buried so deeply it could never be uncovered. Numbly, she stood aside as he stepped past her into the foyer. It took a moment to realize that he was carrying a leather garment bag over one arm.

What— She was struggling to make sense of this. But her mind seemed incapable of functioning. What are you doing here, Adam?

You’re expecting me, he said simply.

I don’t under—

My agent assured me that she’d called and made the reservation.

The call from California. It occurred to Caroline that she hadn’t even taken time to check her office. Oh, how could she have overlooked such an important detail? If she had seen his name, at least she would have been prepared. Instead, she was standing here feeling like the worst sort of fool, with her heart pounding and her trembling legs threatening to fail her at any moment.

Somehow she managed to find her voice. She was relieved to note that it sounded almost normal. Maggie said someone was coming tomorrow. How did you happen to be here now, riding with Hal?

When I heard about the snowstorm, I grabbed an earlier flight. At the airport, I found out the roads were closed, so I hitched a ride with Hal. He and I are old school chums.

I see. With considerable effort, Caroline was beginning to pull herself together. Her tone hardened. Just a fraction, but enough to signal that she was in control. What brings you back to Port Freedom?

Just a whim.

Adam was studying her so closely she had to turn away. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.

Caroline climbed the stairs, achingly aware of the man trailing behind her. Leading the way along a hall, she opened the door and stood aside to allow him to precede her.

She studied his profile as he looked around. There was a sculpted leanness to his face. High cheeks, straight, even nose, firm chin. And lips that could be called pretty if it weren’t for the danger always lurking behind that smile.

Had he always been that tall? Had his shoulders always been that wide? She’d thought, hoped, that she had magnified everything about him. But now she was forced to admit that the years had been kind to him. He had acquired a polish, a sophistication, that he wore with the same ease with which he wore his clothes.

Oh, why did he come here? And why now?

This is nice, Adam said. Mind if I use the fireplace while I’m here?

That’s what it’s for. Caroline remained near the door, feeling entirely too uncomfortable being in the same room with him. Her nerves were strung so tightly she feared that at any moment they would snap. She needed to escape. Have you eaten?

Not since this morning.

I was just going to fix myself something. Caroline started out of