Better to Give

By K. K. Weil

For most people, the holidays are a time of warmth, happiness and celebration. But to Jenna Samuels, they mean only one thing. Mounting debt. A single mother, Jenna struggles to make ends meet and to her, it’s a season of excess and distress. James Garrison is in over his head, too. His ex-wife said he wasn’t equipped to take care of his twins, and now that he’s got joint custody, he fears she was right. They’re wild, spoiled, and always fighting. When they knock Jenna’s daughter into the “Gifting Tree,”—a part of their town’s charity collection—the parents are immediately attracted to each other. But James has had his fill of cold women and Jenna won’t make the mistake of falling for another man who disappears when life gets too heavy. As their paths cross, James and Jenna must decide whether first impressions are accurate, or if sometimes, people are not what you assume at all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781509210640

Book preview

Inc.

I needed some air.

I just attacked a man for no good reason. Yes, his kids were running amuck and one of them did almost send Nora tumbling into a tree, but I could tell he was overwhelmed and I pounced anyway.

I blamed Carrie. She knew I didn’t want to come to this damn event. There was no way I could turn her down when she used her cherub-like persuasion tactics, twinkling her green eyes at me. This is what happened as a result. I was out of sorts, and way more hostile than I had a right to be. When he tried to gloss over it and joke around, I didn’t ease up. Instead, I got worse. I also wanted to blame it on the fact that I was already in a bad mood, and he was the closest person to take it out on. I was nothing if not honest with myself, though. The truth was, neither Carrie nor my foul mood caused me to snap at him. It was something much worse.

When his kids were fighting, the guy covered his face with his hands—the international sign for losing control and giving in to the frenzy that is the parenting world sometimes. I got it, I’d been there, and I only had Nora. I couldn’t imagine what twins would be like.

When he took his hands from his face and turned to address me, an awful thing happened. I got a good look at him, and when I did, heat ran through every crevice of my body, including my face. No one should be as handsome as that guy, with his hazelnut hair, day-old scruff and eyes so deep blue they were almost black. Plus, I had a thing for guys who were in over their heads. This guy was definitely drowning with those kids.

I hadn’t reacted that way to anyone in a long time and I didn’t want to. My life was busy and on track.

Better to Give

by

K. K. Weil

Christmas Lites

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.

Better to Give

COPYRIGHT © 2016 by K. K. Weil

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 Debbie Taylor

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, 2016

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1064-0

Christmas Lites

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To Zelma, who had nothing but gave everything.

Chapter One

Jenna

I should have been in a good mood. Not on the verge of popping like an overinflated balloon.

The community center was a pandemonium of food, games, and songs. Hot chocolate and cinnamon filled the air. Children giggled as they built gingerbread houses and devoured the ingredients. Carols blasted from the overhead speakers—the same carols stores had been playing for weeks. Wasn’t there some kind of consensus about how early was too early for those?

Everywhere around me, people buzzed with excitement. I could recognize it was a wonderful time. I just couldn’t feel it.

I dragged one foot behind the other until I reached my designated spot. The beverage table. Shimmering, silver tinsel dangled from it, reminding me of a snowman’s vomit. I took my place behind the table and ladled myself a cup of eggnog wishing it was spiked with Irish whiskey. A few glasses of that would have made the night a lot more bearable. As it was, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide under my covers until January first. I fantasized about doing that every year.

Mama, look what I made. Nora approached the table holding up a pinecone and beaming with pride. Rainbow glitter splattered the pinecone. Excess glue dripped from all sides.

It’s beautiful, honey. You’re so talented. I spooned another cup of eggnog and held it out to my daughter. Want some?

She scrunched her freckled, button nose—the one I couldn’t resist kissing since the moment she was born five years ago. No, thanks. Is it okay if I go outside and help the other kids put ornaments on the tree?

Sure. I nodded. Just don’t leave the group.

Nora skipped away with the pinecone in her hand.

In years past, I’d avoided this party. Nora and I had our own, quiet day-after-Thanksgiving tradition with leftovers. This year, though, Carrie begged me to come. She was short on volunteers. Besides, it would be great for Nora, she’d said. I was more than reluctant, but couldn’t refuse the friend who helped me out so often.

Naturally, Carrie was right. This was good for Nora. There was no reason she should miss out because of my stress.

Throughout the rest of the year, I was able to put on a good front. I could mask the fact that I was barely surviving paycheck to paycheck. There were even times I socked away a little cash, so if Nora asked for something I didn’t have to break into a cold sweat deciding whether to buy her a toy or a snack. Or add to my already insurmountable credit card debt.

This, though, was the season of excess. When children counted down the days until they got their year’s supply of new stuff. When holiday parties ran rampant, and you had to bring a dish everywhere you went. And when my regular clients didn’t have time to come to Quick Snips to get their hair cut because they were too busy running around, taking care of their own holiday insanity.

In my town, the insanity began every year on this day with a huge holiday kick-off.

I served drinks for about an hour, trying to distance myself from the other moms, who blathered on about the urgency of buying the latest game systems before they sold out. Last I checked, each of those game systems had a $400 price tag. I prayed Nora hadn’t heard about them.

Have you been hiding behind this table the entire night? Carrie scurried over. Come out from behind there. People can serve themselves now. Go. Mingle, have fun. Carrie tipped her head. Blonde curls bobbed around her face and her Christmas ball earrings glimmered.

I’m helping out, like you asked. I forced a small smile. I didn’t want to give any indication about how hard it was to be there, but I didn’t want to move either. The table provided my protection. Once I came out from behind it, I’d have to socialize and feign interest in where people were flying during their winter vacations.

Well, your work is done. Carrie extended her hand and extracted me from behind my barrier. Eat something. For potluck, the food’s pretty good. Besides, it’ll make Devon happy if he sees you eating. He’s always complaining that you’re too skinny.

I laughed and shook my head. In their late twenties, Carrie and Devon were only a few years older than me, but sometimes they seemed more like parents than friends. I was grateful for them, though. They often watched Nora after school while I picked up extra shifts at the salon. Once Nora was out of kindergarten and got more homework, I’d have to be home to help her. For now, Carrie was my lifeline.

Okay, okay, I’ll go eat, I conceded. Just come and show me what’s good.

We made our way down the buffet table. Carrie was discreet as she apprised me of all the latest town gossip. I’d nicknamed her Mrs. Mayor, because she knew everyone and everything that went on in Nyack, our New York suburb about an hour north of Midtown, Manhattan.

By the way, did you see that new dad? Carrie held out her manicured hand to stop me from scooping the potato surprise onto my plate.

No. Who?

Carrie