A Sharla Brown Christmas

By Ev Bishop

Christmas shouldn't be the loneliest time of the year…

 

Finding herself in a run-down apartment in a bad part of a new-to-her town, where she has no family and no friends, single mom Sharla Brown is down in the dumps and thoroughly discouraged. Hoping to cheer herself and others, she decides to throw a community Christmas Eve party—and receives a heartbreakingly negative initial response.

 

If you're looking for a feel-good holiday romance, featuring a single mom and single dad, that can be enjoyed in one cozy afternoon or evening, you'll love A Sharla Brown's Christmas!

 

This story grabbed me in the first paragraph and would not let go. I was so rooting for Sharla to pull off a miracle. The characters were just so personable that I felt like I knew them. A heartwarming story that is just as good as all the Hallmark Christmas movies! – Bernadette Cinkoske, reader

 

Read more from USA Today bestselling author Ev Bishop:

SOUL SISTERS AT CEDAR MOUNTAIN LODGE SERIES
Christmas Sisters - PERMA FREE - by Ev Bishop, Tammy L. Grace, Violet Howe, Judith Keim, and Tess Thompson  

Christmas Kisses by Judith Keim

Christmas Wishes by Tammy L. Grace

Christmas Hope by Violet Howe

Christmas Dreams by Ev Bishop

Christmas Rings by Tess Thompson

RIVER'S SIGH B & B SERIES

Wedding Bands

Hooked

Spoons

Hook, Line & Sinker

Silver Bells

Reeling

One to Keep

The Catch 

 

STANDALONES

Bigger Things

A Sharla Brown Christmas

 

WRITING AS TONI SHERIDAN

The Present

Drummer Boy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Winding Path Books
• Release date: Oct 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781772650266

Book preview

Chapter 1

‡

The dark night was cold and dismal with heavy clouds that blocked all starlight and spewed a mix of rain and snow. Sharla’s Toyota shuddered under the blustery assault. All she wanted to do was turn around and keep driving, but she had nowhere else to go.

Grinding to a halt and killing the engine, Sharla pulled her jacket’s hood up, wrapped her scarf tightly, then climbed out of her little sedan. A biting wind threw slush into her face and shrieked through the leafless trees and desolate evergreens surrounding the nearly empty parking lot. Gnarled old trunks and branches groaned and swayed under the storm’s onslaught—and sounded a lot like she felt. She looped her grocery bag over one arm and helped her eight-year-old daughter Tegan out of the back seat.

Huddled together, she and Tegan minced across the icy pavement toward the bleak apartment complex. Their new home. Sharla tried not to wince at the thought, the same way she tried not to observe how the windows in each of the three buildings looked like row upon row of blank staring eyes and that the equally dark glass doors seemed like sad, gaping mouths.

Hey, called a low voice from the shadows. It was quiet and flat, not overtly aggressive—but Sharla jumped regardless. Rats. She’d been hoping to avoid the greeting party who pretty much lived in the shadows by the door, but no such luck. Three young males lounged by the entrance, outside the feeble glow of the caged light bulb mounted above their heads. Late teens, or maybe younger—it was hard to tell because of the oversized sweatshirts they wore, hoods always up—they were still intimidating. Tonight she supposed she should be happy. There were only the three. Often there were six or seven.

Hey, she muttered back. There was no point, after all, in being openly rude and she hoped that by responding to them whenever they talked to her, she earned a little respect, didn’t show fear.

So is that your sister or what? asked the second of the boys, indistinguishable from the first in nearly identical garb.

By that he obviously meant Tegan. Sharla was almost amused. Almost. The kid was, what, trying to gage her age to decide if he should hit on her? She was probably old enough to be his mother.

My daughter. She stabbed her entry code into the badly worn key pad. It looked like it should be gummy and gross, but was surprisingly clean. The door opened just as the kid said, Cool.

Yeah, Sharla agreed, feeling the whole conversation was a bit nonsensical. Have a good night. Then she and Tegan were inside, the heavy door stuttering shut behind them.

Why are those teenagers always outside alone in the dark? Tegan asked as Sharla released her grip on her.

Why, indeed? Sharla thought. I don’t know. She shrugged. Maybe they’re waiting for their moms to come home so they can help carry the groceries or something.

There was half a beat of silence. Then Tegan’s merry laugh tinkled like a bell. "Oh no, Mom. I don’t think that’s it at all."

Sharla sighed, but she was tired of worrying about the teens. She had no way to help them. Oh no? she mimicked. Well, I think I should tickle you. She waggled her fingers in mock menace.

Tegan, forgetting the boys exactly the way Sharla intended, shrieked and took off down the hallway, over a carpet so shabby it had a path-like wear line down its center. Once upon a time—a very, very long time ago, from the looks of it—the carpet had been black and gold. Now it was gray and beige everywhere except for at the very edges where it met the dingy stucco walls. Again, the best thing that could be said for it was that it was clean. Sharla chased her giggling daughter past locked doors she rarely saw people enter or leave, till they reached their own unit.

Once inside, in keeping with her neighbors, Sharla locked their door too and slid the deadbolt for good measure. Tegan, oblivious to anything except that it was warm inside and her mom had promised to make spaghetti for dinner, ran to get her dolls, giving Sharla a detailed recap of the newest plot in her complicated play life.

Sharla got the ground beef and onion frying, then listened to her voicemail with an increasingly deep frown. Though she was smart enough (by now) not to get her hopes up, she still couldn’t completely prevent a small tense ball of disappointment from forming in her belly.

Two more potential landlords who were sorry to inform her that her application had been rejected.

And then, miracle of miracles, Jackson Jeffrey’s harried voice filled her ear. Her current landlord had finally deigned to return her latest calls. Wow. A crackle of static made parts of his message difficult to understand, but an apologetic—if slightly terse—note came through loud and clear. As I said in response to your last message. If someone calls me, yes, I’ll provide a good reference. You pay on time. You’re clean. You’re quiet.

There was a scraping sound, like a chair dragging across the floor, and the static in the recording ceased. Also, I’m sorry to confirm that your suspicions might be correct. It can be harder to get a new place when this is your address. It’s unfair and unfounded now, but Valley Estates and its tenants still have a bad rep.

Sharla stirred the browning meat viciously. So she wasn’t paranoid. She really was being discriminated against, just like she and her mother had been when she was a kid. She tried to tell herself that the tears filling her eyes were triggered by the fragrant onions.

And one more thing, came the landlord’s final growl, you don’t need to keep calling me with complaints. You’re unhappy here. I get it. I wish you good luck in finding a new place.

Good luck. Right. Because that was something she’d had a lot of lately—

Stop it, she commanded herself in a whisper. Just stop it.

Sharla took a deep breath and tuned into Tegan’s happy burble, coming in a steady stream from the small living room. Apparently her dolls were having spaghetti for dinner, too. When art imitates life! It made her smile and shake her head at herself. In all the crucial ways she did have luck, had been—was—blessed.

Yes, coming to this small town from Vancouver was an adjustment, but a worthwhile one. The cost of living was way less here; eventually she’d be able to buy her and Tegan a house. Sure, she wouldn’t have taken this apartment, sight unseen, if she’d known locals considered it a slum—but she hadn’t known and couldn’t do much about it now. Besides, if she couldn’t manage to get them a new apartment, it would motivate her

Reviews for A Sharla Brown Christmas

[Linda Bordenave · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A cute romantic Christmas story about love and friendship. Really enjoyed the book.