Finding Love on Christmas Vacation: Finding Love in Special Places Series, #1

By Stacy Eaton

Finding Love on Christmas Vacation is a short story and part of Stacy Eaton's Finding Love in Special Places Short Story Series.

Lucy dreads spending Christmas at her father's cabin, especially since this is the first year he won't be there. When she shows up and finds a window broken and forest critters inhabiting the cabin, she's forced to stay in a nearby cabin with Maverick.

Maverick arrives this year earlier than usual, hoping to finally meet his long-time friend's daughter, Lucy. What he didn't expect was to find his friend had passed earlier in the year and the woman he had longed to meet mourning his passing.

Maverick and Lucy hit it off instantly, but will her father's final wish push them apart instead of bringing them closer?

 

Finding Love in Special Places Short Story Series are quick, sweet, to slightly warm reads with adult language and are under 20,000 words each.

Finding Love on Christmas Vacation 
Finding Love on the Summer Surf
Finding Love with Dear Santa
Finding Love with a Champagne Toast
Finding Love on the High Seas
Finding Love on a Dude Ranch
Finding Love at the Farmer's Market

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stacy Eaton
• Release date: Dec 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201495831

Book preview

Finding Love on Christmas Vacation

FINDING LOVE ON CHRISTMAS VACATION

STACY EATON

NITEWOLF NOVELS

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Finding Love in Special Places

Do you love holiday romance?

About the Author

Also By Stacy Eaton on Ebook

Copyright 2018, Stacy Eaton, Nitewolf Novels

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

 The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real events or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

CHAPTER 1

LUCY

Ifinally put my car in park and stared out the windshield. My four-hour drive had taken eight thanks to miles of bumper-to-bumper traffic, multiple car accidents, a visit to the garage to get my tire and rim replaced, and the storm that loomed overhead—half a day early.

I blinked my bleary eyes and pushed open the door. After collecting my purse and backpack, I trudged through the seven or eight inches of fresh snow toward the front door of my father’s cabin—correction, my cabin. I frowned. Oh, who was I kidding, this would always be my father’s cabin.

When I reached the porch, I stared at the front door. It was the same color it always had been: cobalt blue. For some mysterious reason, I had thought it would look different, somehow reflecting my loss. To me it had always been an odd choice for the front door, window trim, and flower boxes that ran along the small front porch. My father said that the color reminded him of my mother, and I had to accept his words at face value as I barely remembered her. She died when I was six, and with twenty-six additional years of life filling my brain, I only had vague memories of her left.

A pain seared through my chest. I didn’t want to forget my father. He had only been gone two months, and already, the sound of his voice seemed to have faded. I didn’t want to lose anything of his.

I set my two items on the porch and returned to the car to get my suitcases. It was more of an excuse to avoid entering the cabin—and the memories.

Once all my items were on the porch, including the wooden box that held my father’s ashes, I withdrew the key from my pocket. With shaking fingers, I reached for the lock and paused. As much as I wanted the warmth of indoors, and to surround myself with my father’s favorite things, I wasn’t sure I was ready.

Stop being a pansy, Lucy, and open the damn door! I chided myself. I shoved the key into the lock, and with two quick turns, I twisted the lock and then the knob and pushed open the door. The scent that hit me was not what I’d been expecting, and I wrinkled my nose. Yuck, talk about stale and musty and gross—yuck!

Normally, when I arrived a few days before Christmas, the house smelled of evergreen, hot chocolate, and my father’s musky cologne—maybe a little cinnamon or wood smoke mixed in. Today, it smelled rank, and maybe a little bit lonely. I stared into the darkness on the other side of the threshold, afraid to take the next step.

The wind howled behind me and pushed me forward as if my father were urging me on. It’s just a cabin; there are no ghosts in here. There were only happy memories of our Christmas vacations since I was an infant. I threw a hand out and swiped along the wall to find the light switch. I clicked it on and off—nothing.

Well, crap! All thoughts of my father and ghosts forgotten, I stepped inside and shuffled carefully toward the small kitchen area where I knew my father had kept flashlights in the first drawer. I heard rustling in the back of the house, but I figured it was the wind.

There was just enough light coming from the open door to make out the larger pieces of furniture, but I had no idea if there was anything lying haphazardly on the ground. I doubted it; my father had been a neat man.

I shivered as I approached the kitchen. It was really cold in here, colder than I had imagined it would be. I reached the drawer as I heard something scurry across the floor, and stuck my hand inside to find a flashlight quickly. The first one didn’t work; I dropped it back inside the drawer and went for another one as I heard a heavy thump.

My heart began to race as I realized I was not alone in the cabin. The fact that I was exhausted from the day of travel and emotional at being here added to the adrenaline burst that flooded my system. My hands shook as I grasped the second flashlight and lifted it to the sound of another thump. I pushed the button, and a thin beam of light landed on the door as the jean-clad leg of a man came into view. A squeak left my lips as the light beam flickered and then went out.

Lucy? a man’s deep voice called from the door.

Yes, I replied as my heartbeat practically exploded out of my ears.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.