Christmas Inn Love: The Black Bear Inn: Coming Home for Christmas Series, #4

By A.J. Nighthawke

     Christmas Inn Love is the fourth book in the Coming Home for Christmas Series. Any of these books can be read as a standalone.
     In this heartfelt romance, Gracelyn has been abandoned by the only family she ever knew. Now alone, she finds that she's had a family this entire time. That is what she wants more than anything - a real home. She's never celebrated any holiday or even had anyone to remember her birthday. With a lot of prayer and courage, she drives halfway across the country to meet her father's parents. There's a problem, though. As soon as Gracelyn arrives, nothing goes as planned. Her grandparents want nothing to do with her.
     Gracelyn's heart may be broken but she finds an unlikely ally in the gentle giant, Judge Hamilton. Can he keep the girl with no one and nothing to lose at the Black Bear Inn? The two just might end up surprising each other. You never know what the magic of Christmas will bring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.J. Nighthawke
• Release date: Nov 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393458555

A.J. Nighthawke

There is nothing like a good story that leaves you feeling warm and cozy inside. Here is my promise to you - Within the pages of my books, you will never find anything vulgar or inappropriate. My goal is to leave you encouraged and happy. Who doesn't like a happy ending? You may find a little drama, maybe a touch of suspense. Some of the characters might even face hard challenge's but a sweet kiss, and a happily ever after is a must.

Book preview

Christmas Inn Love: The Black Bear Inn

Coming Home for Christmas Series

© 2020 A.J. Nighthawke No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For more information, contact

A.J. Nighthawke

[e-mail]

All rights reserved

Cover: Pixabay

ISBN: 9798567962602

Published by: A.J. Nighthawke

Printed in the United States of America

Christmas

Inn

Love

The Black Bear Inn

Coming Home for Christmas Series

Book 4

By

A.J. Nighthawke

Table of Contents

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Preface

Gracelyn

My heavy eyes blur as they squint to see the tiny map on my cell phone. I’d been on the road for nearly twenty-four hours, meaning that my eyelids felt like toothpicks were holding them open now. My peculiar mother moved the two of us at least three times a year while growing up, making me one of those rare conundrums of a child who never had a home. I was all wings and no roots, and it was the roots that I wanted more than anything. My soul yearned for nourishment that could only be found by finding a family.

It’s been almost three months since my mother decided to skip out on me, leaving me a three-month lease to fulfill along with the last month of my college classes. I still have no clue as to why she left or where she went. I can only blame it on her hippie tendencies and the fact that she was tired of living in Oklahoma. We had been there the longest because I was working on finishing my classes and earning a degree.

The lease was finally up, and I had earned my bachelor’s degree in culinary arts. It might sound horrible for me to say, but my life felt a little easier since Mom had left. I guess it is because there is no one to babysit, and it left me free to move anywhere I wanted. I can’t help but wonder how my mother plans to get by because the two of us had been living off of my income while I kept up a full-time college load.

It stung my heart that my own mother stole the little nest egg that I had worked so hard to save up. She knew that I had plans on finding a job after college and moving out on my own. I guess she figured that she would beat me to it. That woman only left me broke, exhausted, and a note that held only four sentences, neither of which was, I love you. Come to think of it, I never remember her saying those words in the last nineteen years.

If I hadn’t earned my associate degree in high school and several scholarships, I’d have never had a chance at a culinary degree. After Mom left, I had to sell every piece of furniture to make the rent until I could graduate.

When going through the apartment, I found the small, ornately carved wooden box. I remember it well because I was smacked if I even looked at it. Since Mom was gone, she wasn’t there to stop me from peeking inside. There is no doubt she left in a hurry because this one box was the one that she kept close. While the two of us moved from small town to small town, this box was the one thing that always moved with us.

The night I garnered enough courage to open it, I wept like a baby. That box held the evidence of a family I never knew. After the initial hurt of my mother’s decision to hide this information from me, then came the emotions of feeling cheated and angry.

You know, when Mom first left, I prayed every night that she would come back for me. After I opened the wooden box, I wanted to move where the woman would never find me again.

The first thing I did was research, mapping out my family tree. She had told me that my father was dead, and the newspaper clippings in the box proved it.

I’d never seen a picture of my Dad or even heard my Mom describe him, but when my eyes landed on the few photos in that box, I knew it was him. I looked just like him.

Reed Murray died before I was ever born. The most shocking information, though, was that his parents, my grandparents, were still alive. I had a family this entire time, and my mother hid it from me.

Wanting to do right by this, I took a week to pray about this before making any decisions on what to do. The last thing I needed was to make decisions based on my emotions, and believe me, I had ALOT. After feeling led by the Lord to reach out, I googled the number of Whitt and Edna Murray.

My grandfather went silent when I mentioned my mother's name. Whitt didn’t have a nice word about the ‘crazy’ woman their son had married. He totally dismissed the idea that their only son had a child. I attempted to explain my bizarre childhood, my mother, and the wooden box.

I think Whitt was as much at a loss as I was. He still didn’t believe that there was even a possibility that I was his granddaughter, and part of me didn’t blame them. If I was in his position, I’d think I was crazy too. Whitt must have had a slight doubt that he could be wrong, though, because he did insist that I come for a visit. This is why I am on this long highway heading to Jonas Ridge, North Carolina, with everything I own packed in the back seat of this truck.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I groan, seeing that the Black Bear Inn is still two hours away. Snow flurries are sticking to the grass here, and I’m sure it’s worse on up the mountain where I’m heading. Rolling down my window to let the cold jolt me to attention, I drop the gear shifter into drive and pull back onto the highway.

‘Lord, please help me to be brave. Keep me tucked safely under Your wings.’

Chapter 1

Gracelyn

The Black Bear Inn is a massive log cabin. The huge windows let a warm glow illuminate the structure to where I’m sure the residents in the valley can see it. Large wooden beams and bulky timber give the structure an impressive and intimidating look.

Taking a moment to send up a prayer and collect myself, I open the wooden box and peek at my Dad's picture. Deciding to leave my luggage, for now, I step out into what looks like four inches of snow. 

Walking to the huge-timbered front porch, I’m second-guessing coming here. What if they hate me? What if they are worse than my mother? What if I’m a scandal for them?

Do I knock? No, I don’t think so. If I’m a guest, then I’m supposed to just walk in and tell them my name, and they will show me to my room. I’m unsure because I’ve never stayed in a place this nice.

Pulling out my cell, I recheck. Sure enough, this is the name of the place and the same address Whitt sent me. He instructed that I check in The Black Bear Inn and then call him once I was settled.

My cold fingers wrap around the door handle, and I step inside. This moment is monumental, and it’s a little overwhelming because meeting my grandparents might change my life. It would mean that I would have someone to share holidays with.

The huge foyer is open and grand. This place should be in a magazine. Warm earth tones and shellacked timbers are throughout what looks like a large living room. Carved black bears are ornately engraved into the massive beams creating beauty that could rival an artistic masterpiece. It is exquisite!

A sweet-looking middle-aged woman strolls into the room with a steaming mug of warm liquid. Her blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun, and her kind eyes land on me.

Good afternoon, she chirps, sitting her mug on the small desk against the wall. Do you have a reservation?

Yes, Ma’am, I reply. I think so. My name is Gracelyn Barrett.

The woman’s pretty smile falters, but she recovers from her shock within a second. This woman had not only heard of me, but she had been filled in on why I was here. For some reason, that has me on my haunches. I don’t like the uneasy feeling in my gut.

Just a moment, dear, she says, heading to her phone. I wander around just inside the foyer, admiring the impressive room as the woman talks in hushed whispers.

It’s nearly fifteen minutes before she calls me over to her desk. Is there something wrong? I ask, feeling that the fifteen-minute hold-up is a little rude. My gut is definitely telling me to run now.

Ms. Bar... she starts, but her words are cut off when the front door opens.

A policeman and a behemoth of a man stomps inside. The one so large, he has to duck his head to keep from hitting the doorframe. His coat and chestnut-brown hair are covered with snowflakes as he brushes them onto the floor. The giant’s angular jaw and five o'clock shadow add to the dominance and presence rolling off of him. The beast growls just before bottle-green eyes lift to lock with mine.

Ms. Barrett? the policeman questions, pulling my attention back to the officer. It hits me then why the woman behind the desk made me wait fifteen minutes. She was calling in the muscle.

My heart shatters. The overwhelming feeling of betrayal is painful, but I won’t show these strangers. God knows by heartbreak, and He knows my struggles. I’d driven all this way to meet my grandparents, only for them to call the police on me. I’d done nothing wrong.

Yes? I answer, arching a brow and growing annoyed.

I’m going to need you to come with me, the policeman insists. The large man beside him gives a little rumble, and the deep sound causes a shiver to zip down my spine.

Why would I need to go anywhere with you? I question, and my irritation is pretty clear.

I’m going to need to ask you some questions, he explains, and when he sees that his statement is not enough to