That Winter Feeling: Six Holiday Romances

By Wendy Dalrymple, Riley Smith and Imogen Markwell-Tweed

Get into the holiday spirit with That Winter Feeling, a holiday romance anthology from some of Bryant Street Shorts’ most beloved authors that has a little something to offer romance fans and Yuletide lovers of all tastes.

We open our anthology with two from Wendy Dalrymple: First, we head to the uber festive Candy Cane Lane to catch up with Christmas-loving Lizzy and the grinchy Max in Kissing Christmas Goodbye. Can Lizzy convince Max to join the neighborhood in their Christmas revels, even as her recently divorced ex-husband threatens to turn her world upside-down?

Then, in Miss Claus and the Millionaire, we travel to sunny St. Petersburg, Florida, where Nicole Myers, a nesting-doll maker with a heart of gold, meets Roman Regan, a merchandising executive who takes a special interest in Nicole’s dolls. Nicole accepts proposition under the condition that Roman helps with a toy drive and children’s Christmas parade — but is there more to the materialistic Roman than meets the eye?

Next, two novellas from Riley E. Smith: The handsome, devil-may-care Duke of Carlisle has an impending betrothal to a woman he knows nothing about. He decides to join his unseen bride’s family for the holidays disguised as a farmer to learn more about her, but his betrothed’s companion, Elinor Stafford, instantly sees through his disguise. She agrees to help the duke by agreeing to keep his secret — but what will happen when Carlisle realizes his bride-to-be isn’t someone he can happily spend the rest of his life with, and Elinor is? Find out in Twelve Days of the Duke’s Disguise.

Yule Love Me on Christmas is anything but your average Christmas romance. When Melody Bishop comes out to her parents, she is disinvited from Christmas until she agrees to marry a man. This difficult experience is disrupted when Melody’s co-worker crush, Aoife Winterson, invites her to spend the holidays with her family for a long winter celebration… not of Christmas, but Yule, the Wiccan observation of the winter solstice. To follow her heart, Melody will have to go against everything she was raised to believe and find a way into a new version of her faith that has room for her true self… and Aoife’s.

We end our holiday marathon with two stories from Imogen Markwell-Tweed. No-nonsense tech CEO Anthony Astor is thriving in business — his love life, not so much. A miscommunication with his mother leaves her ecstatic about the prospect of Anthony bringing someone home. But he doesn’t; so he develops a ruse instead, one in the form of his kind, clumsy intern, Ben McRobbie. Convinced that the gorgeous Anthony will offer him a full-time job if he can sit through a dinner with Anthony’s family, Ben gladly participates. But as the two grow closer, Ben struggles to remain professional behind the scenes of their fake relationship. The charming, endearing Boyfriends for Now is a heartwarming M/M romance about embracing love wherever you find it.

Finally, we join Audrey and Penelope in Apricot Jam, a queer romance about overcoming your past and embracing your passions. Penelope’s attitude is often a thorn in the side of her boss, the beautiful but uptight Audrey, and the two have little in common but their experience as orphans. A drunken kiss causes both women to question their assumptions about each other — but is Penelope willing to open herself up to love?

Bursting with holiday joy, warmth, humor, and passion, That Winter Feeling is a must-read holiday anthology for readers who can’t get enough of the Christmas spirit. ‘Tis the season!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Nov 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094432694

Wendy Dalrymple

Wendy Dalrymple crafts highly consumable, short and sweet romances inspired by everyday people. When she’s not writing happily-ever-afters, you can find her camping with her family, painting (bad) wall art, and trying to grow as many pineapples as possible. Keep up with Wendy at www.wendydalrymple.com!

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Cover Image for That Winter Feeling: Six Holiday Romances by Wendy Dalrymple, Riley E. Smith, and Imogen Markwell-Tweed

That Winter Feeling

Six Holiday Romances

by Wendy Dalrymple, Riley E. Smith, and Imogen Markwell-Tweed

BRYANT STREET SHORTS

©2021 Scribd

Published by Scribd, Inc.

All rights reserved

Cover design by Christopher Keeslar

ISBN: 9781094432694

First e-book edition: November 2021

Bryant Street Publishing

San Francisco, California

Table of Contents

Kissing Christmas Goodbye by Wendy Dalrymple

Miss Claus and the Millionaire by Wendy Dalrymple

Twelve Days of the Duke’s Disguise by Riley E. Smith

Yule Love Me on Christmas by Riley E. Smith

Boyfriends for Now by Imogen Markwell-Tweed

Apricot Jam by Imogen Markwell-Tweed

This story is brought to you by Bryant Street Shorts, a new publisher dedicated to genre fiction by emergent writers. We’re passionate about immersive works that represent our readers, reflect a wide range of experiences, and celebrate our fandoms.

Join our community of readers and writers by following Bryant Street Publishing:

Kissing Christmas Goodbye

by Wendy Dalrymple

Chapter One

Lizzy Wahl opened the blinds to her childhood bedroom window and winced at the early morning light. Sunbeams spilled into the east-facing room as they did every morning, assaulting her eyes like cheerful daggers. Growing up, Lizzy had hated the effect so much that she used her babysitting money to buy a pair of thick blackout curtains. Her mother had replaced the dark window treatments for the season with a pair of wonky red-and-green poinsettia print curtains that she had sewn herself.

The curtains weren’t the only things that had changed in her childhood bedroom since Lizzy had moved out nearly ten years ago. A massive sewing table overflowing with craft supplies, bows, wrapping paper, and projects occupied the area where her computer desk had once been, and a very expensive exercise bike that was never used stood in place of her dresser and mirror. Instead of her Spice World poster, her mother had hung an enormous framed photo of a kitten with angel wings and a halo. All in all, it wasn’t exactly the kind of space that made Lizzy feel comfortable. But the room still had her old queen-size bed, a door, a roof, Wi-Fi and air conditioning. For the time being, it would have to be good enough for her and Sophie.

Lizzy rested her chin on the windowsill, taking in the view of her old neighborhood once again. She was happy at least to awaken to the sound of squawking blue jays instead of the whirr of motors, honking horns, and the constant din of noise that always seemed to permeate the walls of her Bushwick apartment. Her life in Brooklyn had been a world away from this tropical suburbia she’d grown up in, and for a long time, city livin’ had suited her just fine. Lizzy had resisted coming home for so long, and truth be told, she’d still rather be cramped in a third-story walk-up than spread out in her family home. But it wasn’t like she had another choice in the matter.

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and Lizzy knew as she surveyed the block that she didn’t have much time to muse about her lot in life. Her father was probably already awake and rummaging around in their shed, pulling out boxes of lights, red-and-white striped painted archways, inflatable Santas, and illuminated reindeer. Lizzy had already resigned herself to a day full of front-yard decoration duties and hoped that her six-year-old daughter would be more enthusiastic about helping than she was. By that evening, every modest little home in their Pinellas Park, Florida, neighborhood would be lit up from roof to roof in spectacular Candy Cane Lane fashion.

As Lizzy continued to dread the hours of decorating ahead of her, the door to the old Lovelace house across the street burst open. A small eek of surprise escaped her lips and her shoulders tightened as she watched a figure emerge from the darkened entryway. The home had been abandoned for nearly two years and had quickly become an eyesore in their otherwise tidy little community. During that time, Lizzy’s father had decorated the property every holiday season with a half-hearted effort, installing a few inflatables in the yard and the customary illuminated candy cane arches down the sidewalk. Lizzy had expected to have to help decorate the abandoned home again to keep their uniform neighborhood holiday aesthetic going. This year, however, it looked like she might be off the hook.

Lizzy instinctively crept low, peeking just over the windowsill to get a good look at her new neighbor. A giant emerged from the darkness, filling the entryway with his height and girth. He was a lumbering hulk of a man dressed in black from head to toe, his arms and chest so massive and imposing that he had to turn slightly sideways to exit the run-down home. His hair was long and dark, twisted and gnarled as though it had been through a mosh pit ages ago and left to its own devices. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and a long, dark beard consumed his face and flowed across his chest. He slung a black sack over his back as he stomped toward a motorcycle parked on the side of the house, his boots thudding loudly against the pavement. He straddled the bike, and as the engine roared to life, Lizzy felt a gentle tug at her elbow.

Mama, Sophie whispered, staring out the window at the spectacle of the man. "It’s Krampus."

What?

Lizzy’s daughter rolled out of their shared bed and padded over to her iridescent unicorn backpack. She opened her bag, retrieved a large red-and-gold picture book, and immediately opened it to a bookmarked page.

See? she said, displaying the vintage illustration to her mother. "Krampus!"

Where did you get this? Lizzy said, eyeing the gruesome image. She had seen the beastly-looking yuletide creature before, but she couldn’t pinpoint where.

From Nana Greta, Sophie said, retrieving the book. She says that he’s Santa’s shadow. He comes to take away the bad children at Christmas!

I’m going to have a talk with your Nana Greta, Lizzy said, shaking her head in disapproval. Her soon-to-be-former mother-in-law was a generally sweet but at times eccentric woman. Sophie had a wild imagination as it was, and she didn’t need Nana Greta adding fuel to the fire.

You know Krampus isn’t real, right?

Santa’s real, isn’t he? Sophie argued.

She had Lizzy there.

Lizzy narrowed her eyes and tried to decipher whether or not six was too young or just the right age for the Santa talk. Besides, Sophie’s father would likely not be thrilled about Lizzy making a big decision like informing their daughter that Santa wasn’t real without his consent.

Well, that man definitely isn’t Krampus, Lizzy countered. He didn’t even have horns.

"Not ones that you can see," Sophie argued.

Lizzy shook her head. She knew she wasn’t going to win this round. Sophie was right though; there was something … uncanny about the similarity between the illustration in the book and the person across the street.

Lizbeth, are you awake?

The sound of her mother’s voice shook Lizzy from her thoughts about their unusual neighbor. Theresa Tucker’s twangy greeting echoed into her bedroom from the kitchen, causing Lizzy to have yet another nostalgic flashback. It was the same call to breakfast she had heard a thousand times before.

Comin’, Ma! she called out.

Lizzy sighed. Well, Miss Sophie, she said to her daughter. Better get out there and eat some of Grandma Theresa’s breakfast casserole.

Does it have meat? Sophie asked, scrunching her nose. Besides folklore and mythology, Sophie had also recently discovered veganism.

Most definitely, Lizzy said, pulling her daughter in for a hug. You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to.

Okay.

Lizzy secured her mass of auburn tresses in her signature ponytail, shuffled her daughter out to the kitchen, and steeled herself for yet another conversation about her parenting skills. She loved her family, but coming home always meant having to defend life choices that her mother and father often deemed alternative. Though her parents were certainly quirky and liberal in their own tastes and lifestyle, when it came to their only daughter, they could be downright conservative. Sophie’s newly adopted diet was sure to be a point of contention.

As Lizzy headed out the doorway of her bedroom, she turned and looked back toward the not-so-vacant home across the street. Her daughter was right; there was something odd about the imposing, unkempt man that had lumbered out of the old Lovelace place. And although Lizzy didn’t know it, she would find out soon enough.

Section Break

Krampus stuffs bad little children in his sack and beats them with switches, Sophie said matter-of-factly in between bites of oatmeal. Her grandma Theresa regarded her with a scowl, then shot a disapproving look in Lizzy’s direction.

Lizbeth Anne, what have you been teaching my granddaughter?

It’s not me this time, Lizzy said, taking a bite of breakfast casserole. Ian’s mom gave her a book.

Psh, Theresa said, waving her hand. I oughta give that woman a piece of my mind. Sophia Grace, you’re coming to church with Grandma Theresa this Sunday.

Theresa was a feisty fifty-eight-year-old version of her daughter, only with a cropped bouffant of dyed auburn hair. Though Lizzy and her mother looked similar on the outside, their personalities couldn’t be more different; Lizzy preferred to be passive, while Theresa Tucker didn’t think twice about speaking her mind.

Mom, you know we don’t— Lizzy started.

Oh yes you do, Theresa said, cutting her daughter off. As long as you’re under this roof, you come to church, and that’s that.

"Grandma Theresa, the man across the street is Krampus, Sophie said, crossing her arms. He looks just like him."

Ha, her grandma laughed. "Well, Max Ingle is a beast of a man, but I assure you, he is not some holiday demon."

You’ve met him? Lizzy asked, her interest suddenly piqued.

"Oh yes, awful man, Theresa said, taking a sip of coffee. He downright refuses to decorate. He’s going to ruin the continuity of lights on our entire block."

Well, maybe he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, Lizzy countered. "Not everyone goes to church on Sunday, Ma."

Do you know, your father offered to decorate the sidewalk with candy cane poles in front of his house? He wouldn’t have to do a darn thing, but he still said no. That man wouldn’t budge, Theresa sniffed.

Maybe we can bring him some cookies, Sophie chimed in.

Lizzy’s eyes narrowed. You just want an excuse to go see him up close, don’t you?

Sophie shrugged her shoulders. I know a vegan oatmeal cookie recipe, she offered. We could try to just be nice.

Lizzy pondered the idea for a moment as she finished her breakfast casserole. If she was being honest with herself, she would admit that she was just a little curious about their next-door neighbor, too. Lizzy’s parents had offered her services as the head organizer of their neighborhood Candy Cane Lane decorating initiative, since she didn’t have a job at that moment or anything else to do, apparently, so it was up to her to get everyone on the block on board. George and Theresa Tucker were the reason that their little neighborhood was on the map, after all; if her parents hadn’t started the holiday lights tradition and kept it going over the last four decades, Candy Cane Lane wouldn’t be quite the spectacle that it was. If anyone was going to get a stubborn neighbor to budge before their annual Christmas block party, it would have to be her.

Okay, Lizzy said. We’ll decorate today and make some cookies to bring over tomorrow. You have to help your grandpa set up the decorations out front first, though.

Deal.

Sophie grinned at her mother from ear-to-ear, her elf-like expression both melting Lizzy’s heart and stabbing it at the same time. With long, thick lashes and a head full of dark, glossy hair to match, Sophie was the spitting image of her father. Seeing her ex reflected in their daughter was something that used to be heartwarming to Lizzy, but now Ian’s expression staring back at her was almost heartbreaking. It was a feeling she was going to have to reconcile herself with sooner or later. Even though it had been months since she and Sophie’s father had parted ways, his betrayal was still fresh in her memory. She never, never wanted to misplace those feelings of hurt on her daughter.

As the three generations of Tucker ladies finished their breakfast, George Tucker stumbled through the back door, his brow already glazed with a film of sweat. Lizzy smiled and shook her head at her father and marveled at how much he still tried to emanate Clark Griswold after all these years. He was wearing his favorite Santa Needs a Beer T-shirt and carried a bundle of jumbled multicolor lights in one hand and a wreath in the other. Lizzy knew that her leisurely breakfast was coming to an abrupt end.

Okay, crew, her father said. Time to get a move on these lights!

Section Break

Mommy, can we go in the pool yet?

Sophie’s cheeks were pink and her sweaty bangs stuck to her forehead after a full morning and afternoon of outdoor work. It was three p.m. and approaching eighty-seven degrees; warmer than usual for that time of the year, but not totally out of the ordinary. Lizzy was used to it, but her little northern daughter was more adapted to wearing coats and gloves this time of year.

Sure, baby, Lizzy said, dusting her hands off on her pants. Probably going to be the last swim of the year anyway. Let me just finish helping Grandpa with these lights.

Lizzy stood back and admired the amount of work they had achieved that day. It would be a few hours until she could really enjoy the effect in the dark, but Lizzy knew that the combination of icicle lights, LED bulbs, and inflatable characters was bound to be impressive. Even though she wasn’t as enthusiastic about decorating the exterior of her family home as her parents were, the task made her feel nostalgic just the same. It was a tradition that she was glad to help keep up, especially since it brought her parents so much joy.

Just then a loud rumble pierced the air of the otherwise quiet community, followed by the backfiring, popping sounds of an engine. Soon enough, the source of the roaring, mechanical cacophony came into view as a dark figure on a motorcycle thundered down the street. Lizzy tried not to stare as her new neighbor pulled into the driveway across the street.

"Krampus," Sophie whispered, clinging to her mother’s leg.

Sophie, don’t worry, Lizzy said, stroking her hair. "He’s probably a nice man. He just… looks a little scary. That’s all."

Lizzy didn’t know if she was trying to convince her daughter or herself.

The dark figure dismounted from his motorcycle and slung his large black sack over his shoulder. He removed his sunglasses and glanced at the spectacle that was now the Tucker family home, regarding their decorations with a sneer. Even from a distance, Lizzy could make out the man’s eyes, two ice-blue pools of anger that popped out against his overall gloomy aesthetic. His cold gaze met Lizzy’s, and she realized she was holding her breath.

Hey, Mr. Ingle! she squeaked out and waved. Then she cringed and cursed herself, realizing how childish she must sound.

The man didn’t so much as blink or grunt or raise a hand of acknowledgment. Pretending not to hear her, he turned, looked away, and stalked toward the home. Lizzy immediately felt foolish and embarrassed, and then enraged. Behavior like that did not merit cookies, no matter how much Sophie wanted a closer look.

"That sonofa… she muttered under her breath, remembering that her daughter was nearby. Your grandma Theresa is right. He is not a nice man."

See? Sophie said triumphantly. Krampus.

Lizzy exhaled loudly. Let’s go cool off in the pool, kiddo, she said, throwing one last look of contempt across the street. I know I need to.

Lizzy shuttled her tired and overheated daughter into the house and toward their shared bedroom in search of bathing suits. Her phone was aglow on the bed, and Lizzy gritted her teeth, already knowing who was probably trying to reach her. The glaring red icon on her phone indicated a missed call and text from Sophie’s father, Ian. Lizzy rolled her eyes, not wanting to deal with him at the moment. She glanced at his message anyway.

We need to talk about Christmas. Call me.

The message was simple, but still felt like a punch to the gut. She knew what he was going to ask. They still hadn’t hammered out the conditions of their divorce and time spent with Sophie, and Lizzy had already had her for Thanksgiving. She knew Ian would want their daughter for Christmas, and that was a reality that Lizzy did not want to face yet. She had never spent more than a couple of days away from Sophie before, let alone during the holidays. Letting Sophie go was going to be more than hard for Lizzy. It was going to be an emotional disaster.

Found it, Sophie said, holding up her mermaid one-piece.

Okay, I’ll be right there, Lizzy said, forcing a smile.

By the time Lizzy had squeezed into her solid black vintage-style swimsuit, her mother and Sophie were already floating in the pool. Grandma Theresa had a frozen margarita in one hand and an umbrella in the other, with Jimmy Buffett’s Christmas album blasting on their outdoor speaker. Sophie was floating next to her grandmother on her own inflatable raft, eyes closed with an empty Capri Sun on her chest.

This girl is plumb tuckered out, Lizzy’s mother said, sipping on her lime green drink.

Yeah, that means we’re in for it tonight, Lizzy replied, lowering herself into the lukewarm pool. Sophie can be a little night owl.

Just like her mama. Y’all finished out front?

Yep, Lizzy said, dipping beneath the surface of the pool. She came back up for air, and wiped the chlorinated water from her eyes. Saw our neighbor, Mr. Ingle, again. I tried to wave and say hi. You’re right though, he’s an ass.

Well you know what they say, Lizzy, her mother said, draining the contents of her glass. A tiger can’t change its spots.

Lizzy frowned at her mother’s mixed metaphor and gazed at her sleeping, floating girl. She couldn’t help but think about what her life would have been like at that moment if Ian hadn’t gone and screwed everything up. She and Sophie would be back at home right now. They would be taking a chilly walk through Prospect Park and drinking hot chocolate, not floating in a pool. There were so many cold-weather holiday activities they were going to miss out on this year in favor of a Florida-style Christmas. No ice skating. No snow.

I think Ian is going to ask to have Sophie for Christmas this year, Lizzy said, leaning on a pool float. What am I gonna do, Ma?

Theresa paddled over to her poolside bar and poured a margarita for her daughter and a refill for herself. She handed the frosty tumbler to Lizzy and they clinked glasses as Jimmy Buffett crooned "Mele Kalikimaka" through the screened-in patio.

I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do, sweetheart, Theresa Tucker said, raising her glass. You’re gonna just take things one day at a time.

Lizzy sipped the tart, frosty beverage as the warm winter sun seeped into her skin. She gulped down the lump that began to rise in her throat as she watched her little girl blissfully nap and float in the very pool Lizzy had spent so many summers swimming in. Maybe she would let her daughter make cookies for their grumpy neighbor after all. Even though Lizzy’s life had essentially fallen apart, Sophie was the one bright spot left, and Lizzy was ready to do whatever it took to make sure Sophie had the same kind of magical Christmas she had grown up with. Sophie was the one thing she had left that gave her a reason to get up in the morning and keep trying. She didn’t want to have to share her daughter for a minute, and the very thought made her want to curl up in a ball and die.

Take it one day at a time.

Lizzy didn’t seem to have any other choice.

Chapter Two

Max Ingle hated Christmas. Even before the Incident he had never been a fan of the holiday. Max didn’t like crowds or parades. He didn’t like the way that decorations, food, and gifts were jammed down everyone’s throat from November 1st until January 1st. The consumerism. The greed. The singing. He was admittedly a grump, and getting excited over one night a year and doing all the work involved to decorate… it seemed like one big waste of time.

When he’d bought the abandoned Lovelace home at auction in the fall, it never occurred to him that the residence was located smack dab in the middle of Candy Cane Lane. The Candy Cane Lane that was featured numerous times on cable network holiday programs. Candy Cane Lane was an institution in Tampa Bay, and people traveled from all over the tri-county area to just drive through and ogle at a bunch of lights. Residents in his new neighborhood were highly encouraged to decorate for the event, and he wanted no part of it. All Max wanted to do was flip the house and get the heck out of there.

The Lovelace home had more than its fair share of problems. It needed a new everything; plumbing, electrical, roof. Not to mention new drywall, fixtures, and flooring throughout. Thank goodness it only had one bathroom because of course that needed renovating, too. It was a complete gut job and would likely take Max $30,000 and six months or more to complete, but he would net a nice chunk of change when it finally sold. Not that he was really in it for the money.

It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving when Max heard a knock on his front door. He wasn’t sure he’d heard it at first, as he was busy ripping out the countertops in the kitchen. No one ever came to visit him at his remodeling properties, so he wasn’t expecting anyone. He tried not to get friendly with the folks in the neighborhoods that he renovated in, though that didn’t seem to stop them from trying to talk to him.

Sweaty, frustrated, and covered in dust, Max opened the front door of his fixer-upper to the round, precocious face of a very small girl. She held a tray of cookies in her hand covered in red and green cellophane with a bow on the top and gazed at him batting a set of thick eyelashes underneath dark, wispy bangs. Her mouth hung open in a little O and she had to crane her neck to stare up at him.

Hi, the woman behind the little girl said. Max broke his gaze with the bewildered little girl and blinked, recognizing the waving neighbor from the day before. I’m Lizzy, and this is my daughter, Sophie? We… live across the street.

What can I do for you? he replied, crossing his arms.

These are for you, the little girl said, pushing the plate of cookies toward him.

Max took the cookies and looked at them, then looked back at the little girl.

They’re vegan, the little girl said, finally smiling.

Max continued to blink as he looked down at the tray of cookies, then back up at the little girl and her mother.

Actually, we wanted to talk to you about the Christmas decorations? the mother chimed in. I’m the head organizer of the Candy Cane Lane decoration committee, and I just wanted to let you know that if it was okay with you, we could put up some decorations and the traditional candy cane arches? You wouldn’t have to do anything, we would take care of it all.

I already told that guy across the street I don’t want anything to do with it, Max said, handing the cookies back to the little girl. Thanks, but no thanks.

I… I understand if you don’t… celebrate, it’s just…, Lizzy said, stumbling over her words. This Christmas lights thing, it’s important to the neighborhood. To the whole community, really.

Well, I’m not doing it, Max said, putting his hands on his hips. Maybe your little committee will get lucky and the people that buy this house will participate. But you’re gonna have to count me out this year.

You’re flipping this place? the woman asked, her voice sounding hopeful.

Yeah, Max said, eyeing the little girl again. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

Well, I gotta get back, I’ve got a kitchen to tear out.

With that, Max shut the door on his unwelcome guests and leaned up against it. He could hear a loud sob escape from the little girl’s throat through the door and the quiet murmurs of the mother consoling her.

He was an ass. He knew he was an ass. But it was the only way he knew how to be anymore.

Better to keep them far away from me.

Max opened up the fridge and cracked open a Stella, polishing half the bottle in one gulp. He needed to forget that he had just disappointed a sweet little girl and probably made an enemy of her good-looking mother. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the microwave door window as he finished his beer. How long had it been since he had a shave or a haircut? Six years? Max learned that time bled together and passed in a blur all at once when you kept busy and stayed dull around the edges.

Resigned to his own self-made misery, Max put on his Slayer Spotify station, picked up his sledgehammer, and set back to work. Demolition was one of the only things that made him feel any better, but these days, his renovation therapy wasn’t quite working as well as it used to. He started to take his rage out on the countertops and particleboard kitchen cabinets just the same.

Time to get back to work, he thought to himself, ripping out a chunk of laminate.

Time to forget.

Section Break

I told you… he’s the meanest man in the whole world!

Sophie sobbed all the way home from their neighborly cookie mission and then for a while longer on her grandparents’ couch. The little girl had spent the better part of the morning baking vegan oatmeal cookies, which, to Lizzy’s surprise, had actually turned out pretty good. Sophie had been so proud of her work and so excited to get a good look at the man she thought was Krampus that his refusal left her more than deflated. Lizzy hadn’t counted on the possibility that their grumpy neighbor would actually act like a beast.

I’m sorry, baby. Some people have no manners, Lizzy said, gazing out the front window. He’s missing out. Your cookies are delicious.

Can I have one? Sophie sniffed.

Sure, baby.

Lizzy went to the kitchen and fished out the special teddy bear mug she had always used when she was a kid. She filled the cup with hot chocolate and grabbed a cookie to help soothe her daughter. They sat together and watched Prancer as Sophie finally began to settle down, eventually falling asleep with a hot chocolate mustache.

I ought to go give that animal a piece of my mind, Lizzy fumed to herself. She stroked Sophie’s hair, feeling guilty for allowing her daughter to get so worked up.

She sleeping? Lizzy’s mother asked, plopping down on the couch next to a red-and-green hibiscus print pillow.

Yep.

I take it your meeting with Mr. Ingle didn’t go so well?

Not at all, Lizzy frowned. He didn’t even take Sophie’s cookies.

Hmmph, her mother said, shaking her head disapprovingly. This is not going to bode well for the block party. When Bay News 9 comes through this year, our neighborhood is going to be one house shy of decorations.

I know, Ma, Lizzy sighed. I can try to get him to participate again, but I don’t think it’s going to work.

Well, don’t put too much energy into it. Have you heard back from any of your job applications yet?

Lizzy shook her head. There’s not a lot of work designing retail window displays here. It was hard enough finding gigs in New York.

Well, you’re going to have to get something soon.

What about Sophie? Lizzy protested. I can’t just leave her. I’ll find something when school starts back up.

Lizbeth Anne, you’re making excuses again, her mother scolded. Now we told you that you were welcome to come home. We love having you and Sophie here. But you have been moping around this house for three months now and you haven’t done a darn thing.

That’s not true, Ma. I applied to get my teaching certificate. Classes don’t start until spring.

Right! So you have time to go make some money until then. At the very least, you need to get out there and meet some people, Theresa said, and fanned herself with a Southern Living holiday edition magazine.

Lizzie snorted. I’m too old to make new friends.

"Oh puh-lease, Theresa huffed. What I wouldn’t give to be thirty-five again."

At least you still have Dad, Lizzy said, a lump threatening to rise in her throat. She swallowed it down. The wintry image on the television of a little girl petting a reindeer in the snow began to shimmer under the tears welling up in Lizzy’s eyes.

Oh, Lizbeth, her mother said, rising from her spot on the couch. I know this isn’t easy, but it’s not good for you to hide in this house all day. If you came back here to rebuild your life, then you’re gonna have to start buildin’.

I know, Ma.

Theresa came in for a hug, wrapping her arms around Lizzy’s shoulders. Lizzy hugged her mother back, breathing in her signature holiday scent of peppermint Bath & Body works lotion.

Well, I won’t sit here all day and lecture you. The Porters are coming over later to try some of your pa’s mulled muscadine wine.

"Ma, Lizzy exhaled. Please tell me they’re not bringing Jimmy."

"I might have told them to bring James," her mother said, making a hasty exit to the kitchen.

Lizzy groaned.

He has a good job and a house in Cross Bayou! Theresa shouted from the kitchen.

He also wears his sunglasses on the back of his head! Lizzy shouted back. I’m not that desperate yet.

Theresa Tucker returned from the kitchen with two mugs full of eggnog, liberally dusted with nutmeg and certainly spiked with rum.

It’s not even December yet, Lizzy half protested, accepting the mug just the same.

It’s never too early for a little cheer, her mother said as they clinked glasses.

Lizzy gulped down the creamy, boozy beverage and glanced over at her sleeping daughter again. Her mother was right; she was stagnating. She was holding herself back. Even though she was surrounded by people who loved her, wrapped in a warm cocoon of holiday nostalgia, Lizzy just couldn’t seem to shake herself out of her self-imposed funk.

Just as Lizzy was beginning to accept her evening ahead filled with dodging awkward exchanges from Jimmy Porter, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Lizzy, please call me.

Ian again.

This time last year he had been sitting on that very same couch with her, getting drunk on her mother’s eggnog and watching Home Alone. This time last year Lizzy had been blissfully unaware of the way her life was going to dramatically change. She had been blissfully unaware of a lot of things.

You can’t keep ignoring me.

Lizzy tossed her phone on the couch in disgust. She knew she needed to call her ex and hammer out plans for the future for Sophie. She just didn’t want to. It was easier to take things one day at a time. It was easier to shield herself from the fact that there was no apartment to go back to. No job. No Ian. This was her life now, and the future was blank and open wide. It was a future she had never signed up for or wanted.

How was she supposed to move on and build a new life when the old one still took up so much space in her heart?

Section Break

You know, Lizzy, you should be a Glitzy consultant. It’s a great way to make an income from home.

Louise Porter’s Glitzy brand charm bracelets jangled at the Tucker family dining room table as she downed another glass of mulled muscadine wine. Louise was wearing her holiday bracelet collection, and her wrists were dripping with bejeweled snowmen, snowflakes, Christmas trees, and Santa charms.

Weezy, thas’ a great idea! Theresa Tucker said, drunkenly clinking glasses with her friend.

No thanks, Mrs. Porter, Lizzy said, trying to hide her disdain. I think I’m just going to go work at Target or something until I can get my teaching certificate.

Nonsense. Jimmy, can’ you find zumthin’ for Lizzy ta do in your office? Filing or zumthing? Stephen Porter suggested with a slight slur.

Lizzy and Jimmy looked at each other across the dinner table, mutually embarrassed by their parents.

That’s really not necessary, she said, smiling weakly. Jimmy looked back at her with an expression that bordered on relief.

Yeah, I would love to, he said. But real estate is slow this time of year. I really don’t have a lot to do.

The Carpenters’ Christmas Portrait album jingled in the background, with Karen singing about chestnuts roasting on open fires as the family dinner suddenly fell silent. Sophie was already in bed, and Lizzy wished she could climb in next to her and forget the whole awful evening. All night, the Tucker and Porter families had been conspiring to push their two single adult children together, without success. It was apparent to both Lizzy and Jimmy that no amount of spiced muscadine wine would be able to create any kind of chemistry between them.

The lights outside look great this year, Mr. Tucker, he said, trying to change the subject.

Why thank you, Jimmy, Lizzy’s father said with a hiccup. I think we’re just about ready for opening weekend festivities. Lizzy and I have been trying to get that jackass across the street to participate, but he’s being difficult.

Lizzy cringed at the mention of Max Ingle. She only had five more days to convince their burly, bad-mannered neighbor to let her family put up some sidewalk decorations before their annual block party. She also needed to do it without ripping the guy to shreds for making her little girl cry. Like everything else lately, Lizzy knew she was going to fail.

One house isn’t going to make that big of a difference, Lizzy said, shrugging. "We can’t force people to participate."

In thirty-seven years, not a single person in this neighborhood has complained, her mother said, refilling her glass. That man has no sense of community.

Lizzy bit her lip for the rest of dinner and then excused herself, offering to clean up the kitchen. It was a win-win for Lizzy; she got to help out and get good-daughter brownie points while hiding from the awkward, overly merry situation. By the time dessert and coffee had been served, it was apparent that James was tired of the evening as well.

Have you seen my mom’s purse? he asked, poking his head into the kitchen. "I think I need to drive them home. Your dad’s homebrew wine is strong."

Over there on the buffet table, Lizzy said, nodding toward the front door. She put her head down and furiously began scrubbing at the pan in the sink again.

Hey, sorry about my folks. They can be a little pushy at times.

Mine too, Lizzy said, chuckling a little.

But, uh, if you ever do want to, like, get some coffee or hang out or something, here’s my number, he said, slapping a business card on the counter. Goodnight.

Lizzy felt her chest begin to tighten at the prospect of hanging out with Jimmy Porter. The same Jimmy Porter who had caught her hair on fire with sparklers on purpose when they were kids. The same Jimmy Porter who had gotten No Fear tattooed on his bicep the moment he turned eighteen. The same Jimmy Porter who had acted like she was invisible up until now.

Lizzy continued to furiously scrub dishes and countertops until she heard the door close and was certain the Porter family had left. She wasn’t interested in dating or even being friends with Jimmy — or anyone, for that matter. The whole night had left her feeling even more closed off than before. Later, when she was certain that her parents had settled into bed, Lizzy wandered out to the front yard, contemplating whether or not to call her ex back.

It was nearly nine p.m. and her block was still and quiet, save for the electronic sounds of Silent Night coming from Ms. Domingo’s nativity scene two doors down. Candy Cane Lane was indeed a sight to see in the dark, with every house completely decked out in blue lights, white lights, multicolor lights, strobe lights, and every other kind of illumination under the sun. Lizzy took a seat on the swing attached to the live oak in her front yard and stared at her phone, not wanting to make the call. It had been a trying couple of days, and she was ready for a break from her family. She was ready for a break from it all.

Just as she was getting ready to go inside, a pair of headlights flashed around the corner, blinding her. She squeezed her eyes tightly together, annoyed and exposed. As she tried to blink her vision back to normal, Lizzy realized that the headlights belonged to a very large, very loud truck parked directly across the street. Heavy metal music blared inside the cab, barely muffled by the windows. The owner cut the engine and opened the door, and Lizzy already knew who the annoying, noisy vehicle belonged to.

Lizzy watched in silence as Max Ingle’s massive boot emerged from the driver’s side of the truck and thudded onto the pavement below. Just as before, he was a mass of dark clothes and dark hair as he lumbered toward the house with a black sack on his back. He turned slowly and looked over his shoulder as he put the keys into the front door of the old Lovelace house, and for a brief moment he and Lizzy made eye contact in the dark. She could barely make him out, but she was sure she was bathed in Christmas lights and knew that she had been seen.

Instinctively, Lizzy raised a hand to signal hello. It was weird enough to be caught sitting on her front lawn at night, and even weirder to have a staring competition with her obviously hostile neighbor across the street. Still, Lizzy couldn’t help but wave and try to be courteous. Again, Max Ingle turned away, opened his door and closed it behind him without giving her a single, solitary ounce of recognition.

Lizzy’s face began to burn hot and angry in the dark. Life kept throwing insults at her left and right. Now this guy, too? It took Lizzy everything in her power not to slam her front door closed as she entered her parents’ quiet, darkened home. She decided to take a shower to try and calm her nerves, but her mind wandered back to her ex-husband and Jimmy and Max Ingle again.

Maybe I’m just a jerk magnet, she thought to herself.

Lizzy tried to remember a single boyfriend or man in her past who had actually been kind to her, and she struggled to come up with an example. Whether it was boys like Jimmy Porter that teased her for being fat as a kid, strangers like their ill-mannered neighbor, or men like her husband who left her for someone else, Lizzy seemed to always find herself surrounded by jerks. She was tired of it. She was tired of everything.

Sophie was still blissfully asleep as Lizzy entered their shared room. She looked down at her daughter, angelic in the glow of the multicolored bulbs outside. Lizzy had always loved falling asleep illuminated by Christmas lights from November until January. The rest of the year, her room felt dark and cold without red and green lights shining in from outside. Lizzy knew that she couldn’t share a room with her daughter forever. She couldn’t deal with jerks forever either. It was time to change.

We’re going to be okay, baby, she whispered, wrapping an arm around Sophie. You and me are going to be just fine.

Chapter Three

We agreed to alternate holidays.

Lizzy’s phone was hot in her hand and sweaty against her ear as she paced on her parents back porch. She had only been on the phone with Ian for a minute, and the conversation had already become tense. She bit down on a fingernail as she listened to him speak, trying to keep her last shred of self-esteem as it hung from a thread.

"Is she going to be there?" Lizzy said, forcing down the golf-ball-sized lump in her throat.

Ian fell silent on the other line for a moment.

Yes.

Hot tears welled up at the corner of Lizzy’s eyes and the golf ball returned. She knew it. Of course she would be there. And Lizzy had known that this was exactly how she would react. After everything that had happened, Lizzy at least wanted to keep her dignity. These were the feelings that Lizzy had been avoiding. The reality that Lizzy had been avoiding.

Umm, she croaked out, swallowing past the golf ball lump again. Don’t you think it’s too soon to… introduce our daughter to new people?

No, Ian said, already clearly annoyed. My family deserves to spend time with our daughter too, you know. Don’t twist this and make it all about you.

Lizzy squeezed her eyes shut. Her temples were already throbbing.

Nothing had been finalized in their divorce yet. There was no official custody or visitation schedule yet. But Ian was depositing money for the both of them into her checking account every two weeks, and she knew that if she wanted to continue paying for her cell phone and keep saving to buy a car, she was going to have to play nice. Still, the idea of being without her daughter for Christmas gutted her. Sophie was the one thing that kept her going every day. What would be the point of Christmas if she wasn’t there?

I’m just going to miss her, Lizzy said, allowing a sob to escape her throat. "I know she needs to see her family. I just… I need my daughter."

Ian sighed on the other line, and dutifully waited for a moment as Lizzy tried to calm herself down.

"I’ll pick her up the morning of the twenty-first and have her back to your parents’ house by the afternoon of the twenty-seventh. You had her for Halloween and Thanksgiving. You know this is only fair."

I know, I know, Lizzy sobbed again. This is just hard.

Ian grew quiet again on the other line. Lizzy heard a woman’s voice murmur in the background and tried to settle her emotions again.

We’ll be just down the road at my mom and dad’s. It will be fine.

Fine, she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Thank you, Lizzy, Ian said.

Okay, bye.

Lizzy hung up before another sob burst from her chest. She had known that this was coming. She had been dreading it for weeks now, but still, the reality of having to relinquish Christmas with her daughter was a hard pill to swallow. Ian’s family was also local, so Lizzy at least knew she would be nearby. But without her daughter, Lizzy just knew that Christmas wouldn’t be the same. It would be downright depressing.

After she had allowed herself a good cry, Lizzy moved on to the reasoning stage. It was only December 1st. She had another twenty days at least to spend with her daughter and cram in every bit of holiday cheer they possibly could. Sophie would be around for the Candy Cane Lane block party. They could go do the North Pole train ride and see Santa at the mall. There would be lots of baking and shopping and crafts. They would still make the best of it.

Still, the prospect of being alone on Christmas stuck in Lizzy’s heart like a lump of coal. Sure, she would have her parents, but they were busy with their own lives. All of her friends were back in New York or busy with their families. For Lizzy, it looked like she was in for a very sad and lonely Christmas indeed.

Section Break

Mama, Krampus is back.

Lizzy looked up from her book, her legs dangling from the bench swing. Sophie had been practicing going up and down the driveway on her bike, teetering back and forth on her training wheels. Her little eyes narrowed underneath her unicorn helmet as she watched the massive, noisy truck pull in across the street. The rumbling engine and booming stereo cut through the quiet of the afternoon, creating a stark contrast to the otherwise festive neighborhood decor.

I told you, he’s not Krampus, just a mean man, Lizzy said, shaking her head.

Lizzy eyed the back of the truck as Max pulled into the driveway across the street. The flatbed was filled with sheets of drywall, two-by-fours, five gallon buckets, and a variety of other hardware supplies.

All of those home renovation materials are gonna take a while to shuttle into the house, Lizzy reckoned to herself. Maybe I can catch him off guard.

A massive black boot swung out of the truck as heavy metal music spilled out of the cab. Lizzy knew it was time to make her move, but she sat frozen on the swing, watching the spectacle fold out in front of her. The driver cut the engine and the heavy metal music died, finally bringing silence to the neighborhood again as a dark giant of a man stepped down onto the pavement.

Mr. Ingle! Lizzy squeaked. She cringed again at the childlike tone in her voice, but it was too late. Oh, Mr. Ingle, can I have a word with you?

Before he could say no, Lizzy forced herself off the swing and hurried across the street with a nosy Sophie close behind. The owner of the massive truck sighed at them as he realized he was being bombarded. With two trunk-like arms folded across his chest, he leaned up against his truck and braced for the verbal assault that was coming his way.

Max.

Huh? Lizzy said, startled. She had been half expecting him to just walk into the house and ignore her all together.

You don’t have to call me Mr. Ingle. Call me Max. What do you want?

"Oh… Max, she said, shoving her hands in her back pockets. I, well. You’ll have to excuse me for trying again, but I was wondering if you would be willing to come to a compromise."

Max raised a thick, dark eyebrow and briefly relaxed. He looked down at Sophie, who mirrored his crossed-arm stance and scowl. For a moment, the corner of his mouth turned up as he regarded the little girl. But only for a moment.

Hey, little girl, I’m sorry about the other day. I was in a bad mood.

"That’s because you’re mean, like Krampus!" Sophie said, jutting out her lower lip.

Ha! he said, genuinely smiling this time. Lizzy blinked, startled at the way a smile changed the entire look of his face.

You’re a Krampus fan too? he asked, leaning down to Sophie’s level.

Yes, I know all about him, she said, propping her hands on her hips. "My Nana gave me a book and he looks just like you."

Max shook his head and ran a hand through his beard.

"Yeah, I guess I do look a little scary. Well, I promise you I’m not Krampus. Just cranky, that’s all."

Mr. Ingle — Max, I’m sorry, we’re not trying to take up your time, Lizzy cut in. As I said, I was hoping we could come to a compromise? About the lights?

Well, I don’t think there’s going to be a compromise. No means no, he shrugged.

Our block party is this Saturday, she explained. At least three news crews will be by to film the event and probably two hundred or more cars will be driving through. I was wondering if you would allow us to put up the illuminated candy cane arches on the sidewalk just for that night?

Lizzy’s pulse raced as the words spilled from her mouth, but she had managed to get out her proposition before he said no again. Max stood there, one eyebrow cocked as he looked back and forth between Lizzy and Sophie.

We’ll take them down that night. I swear, Lizzy continued to plead.

Max sighed and scratched the back of his head.

I gotta get this stuff inside, he said, walking past Lizzy.

Will you at least think about it?

Lizzy was begging now, but she knew it might be her last chance. Her nasty neighbor had finally softened thanks to Sophie, and she wanted to capitalize on every ounce of her daughter’s cuteness while she could.

I guess, he said, and shrugged, grabbing a piece of drywall. I’ll think about it.

Oh, that’s so great! Lizzy said, relieved. I’ll leave you alone now. Please consider it. You would be making so many people happy.

Mmpph, he grumbled, and turned to the load of supplies in his truck.

Bye, Krampus! Sophie yelled, and skipped back across the street.

Lizzy stole a glance at Max Ingle one last time as she followed Sophie back home. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could detect the hint of a smile beneath his shaggy beard.

Maybe there’s hope she thought to herself. Maybe we’ll get through to this guy after all.

Section Break

The rest of Lizzy’s week was a whirlwind of phone calls, planning, coordination and footwork, all in preparation for the Candy Cane Lane block party that weekend. She needed to confirm that the three major news stations would be on the scene to help promote the neighborhood, and she needed to call the police department to confirm that they would have officers available to direct traffic in and out of the neighborhood. She also needed to pick up and place promotional signs all over town, as well as make sure everyone on all four city blocks had everything they needed for their candy cane sidewalk arches. It was a lot of work to do, but she was happy to volunteer and have something to keep her busy.

The overall effect of Candy Cane Lane at night was stunning, and Lizzy could see why it was important to make sure every house participated. By Wednesday night, more cars than usual were already starting to wind through their neighborhood to take in the varying light displays, and the season had just begun. The Gearhardt family had a Charlie Brown themed yard, complete with a Snoopy Santa and sad little Christmas tree. The Colliers had a life-size nativity scene. The Ramirez family made their entire yard look like a winter wonderland somehow, and even had snow on the roof. It was simply breathtaking to drive block after block and see how each house interpreted the holiday. Every house but one, that is.

Lizzy had been too busy that week homeschooling Sophie, making phone calls, and trying to sneak in some holiday fun to think much about Max Ingle. She was still worried that his brief flash of goodwill toward men was going to be forgotten when she asked him again about decorating. As she and Sophie worked on a gingerbread house together that Thursday afternoon, she started to feel guilty about being so pushy.

It’s just lights, she reasoned with herself.

He has a right to not want to participate, though.

As she and Sophie were putting the finishing frosted touches on their gingerbread house, Lizzy’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

Hey it’s James Porter. Free tonight?;)

"Moth-er!" Lizzy yelled from the dining room table.

Whut? Theresa Tucker said, emerging from the kitchen. She was wearing her favorite Mrs. Claus apron and held a glass of eggnog in one hand and a whole raw chicken in the other. The sight was so ridiculous, Lizzy forgot to be angry with her mother for a moment.

What are you doing?

"I’m making eggnog chicken for dinner. I got the recipe from Southern Living. They said to serve it with a holly berry gravy but that just sounds disgusting."

Did you give Jimmy Porter my phone number?

I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Theresa smiled, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

I don’t want to date right now, Ma, Lizzy called back. And even if I did, I wouldn’t go out with him.

Oh nonsense, Theresa called back, clanging around in the kitchen. You’ve been working so hard, you need to go out and have some fun! I’ll babysit Sophie.

Lizzy and Sophie eyed each other from across the table. Sophie snuck a gum drop in her mouth.

Don’t worry, you don’t have to eat Grandma’s eggnog chicken, Lizzy whispered, giving her daughter a wink.

Lizzy’s phone buzzed again and another text came through from Jimmy.

Dinner at Wing House?

She cringed and tossed her phone back on the table. It had been months since she went out and did much of anything, let alone spent time with another adult her own age.

Maybe it won’t be so bad, she reasoned with herself.

Lizzy knew that she needed to make a move forward for herself if things were ever going to change. Dinner out with someone, even Jimmy Porter, might be a good start. A job, her teaching certificate, a place of her own… those things would all come into place eventually. But for now, Lizzy knew it was time to step out of her bubble. It was time to take a chance.

Ma, are you sure you can babysit tonight? she called out, holding her phone in her hand. Jimmy’s text blinked back at her expectantly.

Yes, for Pete’s sake, Lizbeth Anne! her mother called back.

Lizzy texted back.

Sure. I’ll meet you there.

She shook her head, still not certain whether or not she was making the right call. Sophie stared back at her across the table from behind their lopsided gingerbread house, her face covered in frosting.

Sure, Lizzy thought to herself. What have I got to lose?

Chapter Four

Max Ingle was a man who made a lot of mistakes. In life. In home renovation. Just mistakes in general. He knew that about himself, and after nearly forty years, he still hadn’t learned how to take that part of himself in stride. Through lots of trial and error, Max had come to the conclusion that the best way to avoid the backlash of those mistakes was by keeping to himself. The less people you have in your life, the less people there are to hurt or disappoint. This method worked… most of the time.

The little girl and her mother from across the street had been taking up residence in his mind all week. As he chipped up old tile and hauled out wheelbarrows full of outdated fixtures and damaged drywall to the rental trash container in the backyard, their proposition continued to nag at him. He knew that if he just told them why he was so against Christmas lights, the whole situation would be dropped. They might even leave him alone and never bother him again. But bringing up the past was too hard for Max. It was something he preferred to push down, especially around this time of year.

The old Lovelace house was coming along, and Max was beginning to see the final look of the place take shape. It was a modest bungalow, only a little more than a thousand square feet with three bedrooms and a bath. Max preferred to take on small homes to flip; they were usually cheap at auction and didn’t take long for him to fix up on his own. He didn’t really have an eye for design, and put in the same color paint, the same cabinets, and the same countertops and flooring in every home he rehabbed. It was hard work, lonely work, and it was risky at times. But renovating homes seemed to be the only thing that he felt capable of doing to make a living; it was the one thing that kept him sane.

Max tried not to think about the type of people who would buy his houses. His properties were usually sought after by young families just starting out, couples with a toddler in tow, ready to strike out on their own. He was hands-off when it came to the selling part of the business, opting instead to let his buddy Jimmy deal with the showing and the hand shaking and the numbers. When it came to finally unloading his flipped houses, the end result was out of sight and out of mind.

It had taken nearly a month, but by the first week in December, Max finally had almost the entire house completely gutted, right down to the studs. He would leave the bathroom for last and set up camp on a blow-up mattress in one of the back rooms. It wasn’t too uncomfortable and he was able to save time and money by living in the property as he worked on it. But there were no creature comforts, and no kitchen to cook in, even if he’d had the mental energy to figure out what to make. So, with a major milestone behind him, Max showered and headed out to the one place where he knew he would be able to find a little bit of happiness.

The sun had already set by the time Max emerged from his shell of a house. His temporary neighborhood was annoyingly lit up all around him with colorful Christmas lights, ridiculous inflated lawn ornaments, and candy cane arches as far as the eye could see. He looked across the street at the house where the little girl and her mother lived and felt a pang of guilt. After all this time, he should be able to move on and just let them put up their dang lights. He should just be able to let the past go. But the holiday season still struck terror and anger into his heart, no matter how many years had passed.

Max hopped into his truck, turned the engine over, and blasted his stereo system. Crunching guitars and thudding bass flowed through him, erasing the earwig Christmas song he had heard earlier that day at the hardware store. If he had to listen to George Michael loop over and over about giving away

Reviews for That Winter Feeling

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These authors do not know how to write.