When the Heart Finds Christmas

By Annalisa Russo

Isn't it enough Cleora Butterfield has agreed to be her enormously pregnant BFF's back-up birth coach? Does she really have to repeat last year's disastrous New Year's Eve blind date with Ross Hollister—one of said friend's favorite people—even if the man is smokin' hot? She has enough on her Christmas platter with planning and delivering the annual holiday pageant for her 5th and 6th graders.

Ross returns to the charming small town of Green Earth, Minnesota to get away from the rat race in New York City, where he babysits his celebrity clients. He longs for the peace and quiet the Christmas season can deliver here. So being Cleora Butterfield's plus one isn't in his plans—even if the woman is exquisitely tempting.

If Melah, a celestial messenger, doesn't step in, Ross's long-held secrets and Cleo's badly broken heart might get in the way of any hope for a Christmas romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781509222872

Annalisa Russo

Annalisa Russo is a midwest girl who grew up in an overpopulated first generation Italian family in the burbs of Chicago. Along with a passion for reading and writing, Annalisa enjoys gardening, cooking for company, and frequently invents reasons for traveling. The mother of two grown children, she now shares her home with a narcissistic cat named Buster. She loves hearing from readers so check out her website at www.annalisarusso.com.

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Hello, Cleo, he said in an even tone. "I see you survived your ordeal. Run into any more snowbanks lately? I haven’t gotten any 911s from you."

She looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

Ross! I didn’t see you there.

She pushed her cart toward him, hips sashaying, eyebrows lifting, relishing the battle—not demure, not biddable, not simple.

Having fun with Jillie and Tris? She cocked a hip and set one hand on it. Is Sadie still crazy about her ‘Unca Ross’ this year? She grabbed the bottle of wine out of his hands and glanced at the label.

He grinned around his clenched teeth. She seems to be. Of course, I’m crazy about her, too.

What’s not to like? The kid’s great. Tristán won the lottery with that one.

Ross shuffled his feet. No argument. Gee, Cleo, something we agree on. Go figure.

She handed the bottle back to him. Nice nose, bold, full-bodied, with a velvety finish—good choice.

Are we talking about the wine? he questioned, raising one brow.

Then she smiled, and her face changed from alluring to softly beautiful. The effect was stunning—the flawless complexion plumped pink by the cold, her lips soft and inviting, her eyes as dark as obsidian and surrounded by the longest lashes he’d ever seen. A one-of-a-kind face. A classically beautiful face. Why hadn’t he ever noticed the softness before?

Because she had never smiled at him.

Praise for Annalisa Russo

ANGEL LOST, ANGEL FOUND by Annalisa Russo was one of the winners of the 2016 International Digital Award Contest for historical romance.

~*~

Books by Annalisa Russo

Available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

RAGS TO RUBIES

A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

~*~

The Cavelli Angel Saga

Book One: AN ANGEL’S REDEMPTION

Book Two: AN ANGEL HEALED

Book Three: ANGEL LOST, ANGEL FOUND

Book Four: ANGEL BOY

(Also available in a boxed set with special prequel.)

~*~

The Green Earth Christmas Series

Book One:

ALL HEARTS COME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Book Two:

WHEN THE HEART FINDS CHRISTMAS

When the Heart Finds Christmas

by

Annalisa Russo

Green Earth Christmas, Book 2

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.

When the Heart Finds Christmas

COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Johanna Shapard

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 Tina Lynn Stout

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2018

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2286-5

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2287-2

Green Earth Christmas Series, Book 2

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To big families everywhere—

more fun, more stories, more memories

All God's angels come to us disguised.

~James Russell Lowell

Prologue

It’s me, Sir, Melah.

~/~/~/~

Uh-huh…okay. You want me to help a woman named Cleora Butterfield with an important decision. I gots it.

~/~/~/~

Hey. I think I know her, Sir. Drama teacher, Green Earth, Minnesota, right? Is that why you thought of me, Shug? (Oops…did I just call Him Shug?)

~/~/~/~

Sorry, Sir. I’m on it. Consider it done. I’ll pass by there right away.

~/~/~/~

No, Sir. I wouldn’t think of missing Christmas.

~/~/~/~

What’s that?

~/~/~/~

But, Sir, I only put two little dings on the sleigh. Jillie Magee ’n’ me, we only went by one place—

~/~/~/~

See, Sir, I was tryin’ to get Jillie outta her funk, there bein’ no snow and all. And the horses, well…‘Laissez les bon temps rouler.’ 

~/~/~/~

Okay. No sleigh. No horses this time. Mind if I pass by N’awlins and get me a coffee regulah and a beignet?

~/~/~/~

Bring back a dozen? Will do, Sir.

~/~/~/~

Uh-huh…I’m fixin’ to go now. Wish ole Melah luck.

Chapter One

Sometimes friendship sucked. Especially if you were sitting in the middle of the floor watching images of a live birth cascade across a giant wall screen, as a favor to your best-ever friend. Cleora Butterfield glanced around at the small crowd of engorged pregnant women and their childbirth coaches and their radically different facial expressions—ranging from gloriously, insanely happy to pale and mildly sick.

Cross-legged beside Jillie Magee—now Jillian Solano—Cleo bit into her bottom lip as she watched. How on earth do they push that thing out? It was impossible, right? No, of course not. Women did it every minute of every hour of every day. Some did it squatted in a field, or so they’d been told by the perky instructor.

After two hours of different methods of delivery and all things birth-related, how to know when you’re in labor, and what you should do when—or if—your water broke, Cleo was the one who needed something for pain management, not Jillie. And now a representative of the hospital, with a deceptively carefree smile, explained the benefits of delivering your baby at the hospital—uh, yeah, hello. She’d definitely draw a line in the sand if Jillie and Tristán decided to have their baby at home.

The child would be Jillian’s first, but Cleo’s other BFF, Melissa, already had one child—pretty little five-year-old Wendy. So, once upon a time, Mel had morphed into Humpty Dumpty and completed the birth process. Cleo didn’t want to think about it anymore. She couldn’t think about it anymore. Nope. She’d cover her ears and sing la-la-la until the thoughts disappeared from her brain.

This was her last class, thank the Lord. Jillian was only weeks away from D-Day, as Cleo had come to think of it. Delivery was supposed to happen in late December or early January, and she had agreed to be there with Jillian’s husband, Tristán Solano—aka Trystan Sol, former heartthrob and lead keyboardist for the popular band Last Bluff—and Jillie’s childhood friend.

So…this is it, right? Last class?

Yep, but the hospital has a Soon-To-Be-Big-Sister Program, Jillie said. We can bring Sadie in ahead of time to see my room and view the new babies, get her used to the feel of a hospital. Of course, Mom and Dad will take care of her during my stay, but we don’t want her to be afraid.

Nice program. Though I suppose Tristán is used to all this. He went through it before, with Sadie.

Actually, no. He wasn’t there for her birth. He didn’t even know about Sadie until her mother called and told him to come to the hospital. She was packed and ready to leave when he arrived. She told him he had a daughter and walked out.

What a shock, Cleo thought, to find out on the same day you were a father and a single parent. But at least one of you has had experience caring for an infant. She thought back to the screaming, slimy, tiny people who had popped out in the video. But I suppose they’re all different. He lucked out with Sadie.

Yep. We both did. Jillie eased herself into a kneeling position. I think they have refreshments in the Relaxation Room.

Cleo glanced through the double doors to the pastel-colored walls and comfortable furniture. Framed pictures of gurgling Gerber babies and their ecstatic moms covered the walls. Fresh flowers adorned low tables. Muzak played softly in the background, soothing and cheerful. It gave her the willies.

How about I treat for pie and coffee at Nola’s Diner? We could be there in five minutes. She lent a hand to help her friend stand up, and then took a deep breath. She was determined to stay upright and not barf on her new Louis Vuitton shoes.

Oh. That sounds like fun, but I thought you had a date tonight with the coach. Jillie reached for her warm woolen pea coat, slid her arms through, and held it closed over her potbelly.

Cleo knew Jillie’s opinion about Coach Lindell. The wrinkled nose along with the tone of her comment spoke volumes. Later. I’ll give Zach a quick call and push the time back an hour. Decaf coffee for you, wine for me. Make it a bottle of wine and a few shots of tequila. Do you want to call Tris?

No, he knows I plan to have you drop me off in the driveway, so I can sneak away to the grocery store first and not alert Sadie. I’ll be home before she goes to bed, but I need to pick up a few items for tomorrow. Jillie turned away, lowered her gaze, and cleared her throat. Ah…did I mention Tristán invited Ross Hollister to spend Christmas with us again this year?

Cleo grimaced. Tristán’s friend and former New York agent had been her blind date for last year’s New Year’s Eve party. To say the date was an astounding disaster would be an understatement. The man rubbed her the wrong way—arrogant, full of himself, carelessly rude.

Hmm. So Mr. Fancy Pants has lowered himself to come back to Green Earth, Minnesota. I’ll try to contain myself. Cleo held open the door, and Jillie squeezed through.

I think you’ve misjudged Ross. Sadie is crazy about her Unca Ross, and Sadie is a good judge of character.

The kid also loves blue popsicles. There’s no accounting for taste.

Chapter Two

The windshield wipers on her small compact struggled to keep up with the gigantic snowflakes that came out of nowhere and piled up to obscure Cleo’s view. Her hands clenched the steering wheel, white-knuckled, as she tried to stay on the road. Fortunately, she’d talked Jillie into staying home and not going for groceries after Nola’s. She was almost ready to pull over herself and sit it out.

Zach hadn’t been happy she asked to delay their date an hour. Not a check in the patience-is-a-virtue column. But surprisingly, she wasn’t very upset when he canceled, and what did that say about her? But she hadn’t really felt like sitting at a sports bar while he cheered on the Minnesota Vikings—at least not on a school night.

She punched the defrost button and swiped her mittens across the inside of the windshield glass. At least Jillie was safe at home in the arms of her family, and she only had another mile to go. If the weather would just cooperate for a few more minutes, she’d make it home unscathed. Her compact car crawled along the snowy road as the fat flakes flew sideways and trees bent to the force of the wind.

Cleo would remember later to be furious at the truck that pulled out in front of her at a crossroad without pausing at the stop sign. She slammed on the brakes and felt her vehicle’s back end slide to the right. She tried to steer into the slide and cleared the truck’s bed by sheer inches as it sailed past—and kept going. The compact spun around twice before ending up in an embankment facing the opposite way. The truck disappeared in a flurry of snow. Jerk!

Cleo’s heart beat a staccato in her chest. She forced herself to let go of the steering wheel and take a few deep breaths. Okay, I’m good, she said out loud. No injuries, no dents in the car, no one is hurt. Except that moron, if I ever find out who he is. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

The car turned over when she tried to start it, and the heater purred warm air. At least her vehicle wasn’t damaged. She tried to gently drive out of the embankment and failed. When she kicked it up a notch, the front tires spun ineffectively in the snow. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she shoveled her back tires out.

After the first snowfall, like most Minnesotans, Cleo always threw a shovel in the trunk, along with a snowmobile suit, a couple of old rugs, and kitty litter. Not that she wanted to dig herself out, but she’d be hard pressed to get roadside assistance to pull her out at this hour. She could always call Tristán, or as a last resort, Zach, but maybe she could manage the job herself. After all, she wasn’t helpless.

She rolled down a window and stuck out her head, catching flakes on her hair and face. The wind had subsided, but the snow still fell steadily to the ground, the kind of picture-perfect snowfall she’d prefer to observe from the inside of her cozy living room.

She opened the door slightly to see the snow had piled up to the bumper behind the back tires. The front set appeared fairly clear. She could do this. She rolled up the window, pulled up the hood of her long coat, and wrapped a red woolen scarf around her neck twice to cover half her face.

She was eyeing her Louis Vuittons and wishing she’d also set a pair of boots in the trunk when a black SUV pulled up to the side of the road. The driver put on his hazard lights and got out of the car. She checked him out in her rearview mirror. The snow obscured a good look at the man, but she could see he wore jeans, boots, and a heavy jacket. Tall, over six feet, she guessed, and young enough to garner her attention.

Are you okay? the voice asked when she rolled down her window—only two inches at this point.

Ah, I’m shaken, but fine…now that I’ve gotten my breath back.

Deer?

Nope. The two-footed kind—in a truck.

He leaned one gloved hand on the roof of her car. Don’t tell me they left you stranded here on a night like this.

Yep. Blew through the stop sign and didn’t even check to see if I was all right. Quite the gentleman. Cleo laughed.

The man frowned, rubbed at the glass of her window with his glove, and bent down to stare in at her. Hey, I know you. You’re Cleo, Jillie’s friend.

Cleo decided quickly any friend of Jillie’s was a friend of hers. She rolled the window down the rest of the way—and groaned. Of course, it had to be Ross Hollister. But she sucked it up and responded, Hello, Ross. I didn’t recognize you. I was at a birthing class tonight with Jillie, and she mentioned you were spending the holidays with them this year. How are you?

Just peachy. And I suppose I should help you get out of this snowbank or Jillie will never forgive me.

Cleo’s teeth clenched. Don’t bother, she said. I’ve already called…someone. Only a little white lie. The last thing she needed was to be in Ross Hollister’s debt. He had stopped and been glad to help, before he noticed she was the person stranded. She’d spend the night in her car and freeze to death before she gave him the satisfaction of being her knight in shining armor.

He straightened up. Forget it. In this weather, it’ll be hours before they get to you. He strode back to his vehicle, opened the driver’s-side door, and grabbed a woolen cap off the seat. I suppose you have the requisite equipment in your trunk for this type of inconvenience. Most people from this godforsaken part of the universe usually do. He pulled the hat down low on his forehead.

Don’t bother yourself. I can shovel myself out. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.

Just pop the trunk and see if, for once in your life, you don’t shoot yourself in the proverbial foot.

He rounded the car and waited until she popped open the trunk. Darn it anyway. Why him? But she soon realized, as she sat in the warmth of her car while Ross shoveled, no one had passed by on