All I Want for Halloween Is You

By Elizabeth Myles

This Halloween, lose your heart in Hillingham Hollow...

Welcome to Hillingham Hollow, a wholesome Texas suburb where romance abounds and real magic is rumored to be in the air.

Book 2: All I Want for Halloween Is You

After a hiatus of nearly four years, Iris’s favorite musical obsession, rock band How to Make a Wolf Howl, are stepping out of semi-retirement to make a special, one-night-only appearance in her hometown of Hillingham Hollow.

The show sells out in under ten minutes, but Iris, a vivacious twenty-one-year-old college intern with a can-do attitude, is determined to get in. She’ll do anything, even agree to spend the weekend with a handsome stranger in exchange for the chance to buy his extra ticket. How bad could it be, right? The guy’s hot, and, at the end of the weekend, she’ll get to live out her heart’s desire—seeing Wolf Howl rock the house. But when her date devolves into disaster, and her plans to finagle the concert pass unravel, she’s left with no choice but to accept defeat. She’ll never get into that Wolf Howl show now.

Heartbroken, Iris collides with Clark, a thirty-year-old accountant from her office, who offers to buy her a consolation dinner. Iris knows nothing about Clark other than that he’s quiet and serious, and her other co-workers think he’s a weirdo, but with the coveted Wolf Howl show now a bust, she decides she’d rather spend her evening hanging out with yet another stranger—even a weird one—than slink home and brood about her sad luck.

At least Clark is kind and mannerly, and the more Iris learns about him...the more she likes him.

Content advisory for Book 2: All I Want for Halloween Is You: This story contains sexual references, sensual kissing, sensual touching, and discussions of trauma.

SERIES DESCRIPTION:

Twenty-year-old Autumn Joy Alejandro is getting married.

Somehow, the former Hillingham Hollow High homecoming queen and recent Harvest Festival Pumpkin Princess has managed to land one of the world’s most eligible bachelors, twenty-eight-year-old Gothic rock singer Corvin Covarrubias. When the tall, dark, and extraordinarily handsome star escorts his new bride-to-be back to the suburbs for their highly publicized wedding, all of Hillingham Hollow is immediately entranced.
Autumn Joy is sweet and friendly, known for her almost angelic levels of kindness and generosity. Corvin is just the opposite, a worldly international celebrity with a dour image and devilish reputation, rumored to be a real-life vampire. The unusual pair captures the locals’ imaginations, and soon speculations about their alliance are swirling.

According to many hopeful Hillingham singles, the “marriage of light and darkness” taking place in the heart of their community will be a charmed event, guaranteeing every guest their own happily-ever-after.
Follow along as the weekend’s Halloween carnival extravaganza unfolds, and passion ignites throughout the ’burbs. Some couples will reunite after years apart, while others will meet for the very first time. All will be unexpectedly thrown together for one fun—possibly enchanted—wedding weekend, in which supernatural forces may or may not play a part, but romance is certain to manifest...

MORE ABOUT THE SERIES:
•Halloween Hearts is a New Adult small-town romance series. Some of the books contain fantasy/paranormal elements.
•Each novella is approximately 50,000 - 65,000 words in length and can be read as a standalone book.
•The stories range from sweet (kisses only) to a bit more sensual (see individual book descriptions for details)
•These books can be enjoyed in any order. The titles are as follows:

Book 1: A Kiss at Halloween (Max and Kaelin) Now available
Book 3: Halloween is the Time to Say I Love You (Reese and Jessye) Coming July 2022
Book 4: I’ll Be Home for Halloween (London and Clea) Coming August 2022
Book 5: All My Halloweens (Corvin and Joy) Com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Myles
• Release date: Jun 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005190675

Elizabeth Myles

Elizabeth Myles enjoys reading and writing lighthearted romance. Her favorite stories feature sweet heroines and noble heroes. She is a graduate of Lone Star College-Tomball and the University of Houston. Her prize-winning short fiction appeared several times in Inkling: The Creative Arts Magazine of LSC-Tomball, and her novel, Fear and Laundry, received a notable entry honor in the teen category of Shelf Unbound Magazine's Writing Competition for Best Independently Published Book. Shelf Unbound subsequently included Fear and Laundry in a special contest issue spotlighting the work of “some of today’s best indie authors.”Elizabeth’s other works include the paranormal romantic comedy series The Sharpest Kiss and the contemporary/paranormal series Halloween Hearts.Elizabeth and her handsome husband, Steve, live and run together in Texas. When she is not writing, Elizabeth can be found reading, cooking, or baking, often while listening to Nine Inch Nails and other rock music. She enjoys watching sci-fi and horror movies, and her favorite television shows are Supernatural and The X-Files. Connect with her at elizabethmyles.com, and for alerts about new releases, please sign up for her mailing list here: https://elizabethmyles.com/mailing-list/

Book preview

All I Want for Halloween Is You copyright © 2022 Elizabeth Myles

Cover and other images by Steven Myles using photos from Unsplash and Pixabay. Big Set of Dividers by starline on Freepik.

The cover image of this novel is used strictly for literary and illustrative purposes, and any models depicted in the cover image bear no relationship whatsoever to this work of fiction or to any of the characters or events depicted herein.

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 any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book or any part thereof by any means whatsoever, without written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

HOLLOW HAPPENINGS

From Hollow Happenings, the community newsletter of Hillingham Hollow, Texas

A ‘Joy’-ous Occasion in Hillingham Hollow: Former Hillingham High homecoming queen to wed celebrated doom-and-gloom rock musician in what many are dubbing a ‘marriage of light and darkness.’

By Lenore Shelley (@lshelleyhh, [e-mail])

Local entrepreneur, multi-industrialist, and noted philanthropist, Alistair Banes Alejandro III, held a press conference with his family in attendance on Monday to announce the engagement of his daughter, Autumn Joy Alejandro, age 20, to Corvin Covarrubias, age 28.

Ms. Alejandro, known as Joy, graduated from Hillingham High School in 20-- and will be familiar to Hollow residents not only as that school’s homecoming queen, but also as Hillingham Hollow’s own Harvest Festival Pumpkin Princess, and Miss Kettle Corn Celebration (a.k.a. Kettle Corn Queen) two years running.

Six months ago, Ms. Alejandro made global headlines when her relationship with internationally renowned model/actor/singer, Covarrubias (stage name, Vlad Harker) became public. The couple reportedly met while Ms. Alejandro, a film student at UT Austin, and Mr. Covarrubias, lately the lead singer of gothic rock band, Cold Glass Coffin, filmed a short segment together in the upcoming major motion picture Re-Vamp! The film, directed by up-and-comer Scout Remington, is a musical mash-up of the classic novella, Carmilla, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and the long-running horror comic book series, Ace Van Helsing vs. The Fiends of Professor Nosferus.

Alejandro III confirmed Monday that his daughter will marry Covarrubias in Hillingham Hollow, and that a three-day festival, featuring a volunteer-run charity carnival and a trio of rock concerts, will mark the occasion of the wedding, taking place in Hillingham Park on Sunday, October 27th, 20--. All events, with the exception of the final concert by multi-award-winning rock group (and personal friends of Covarrubias, the band’s former lead guitarist), How to Make a Wolf Howl, will be free and open to the public.

How to Make a Wolf Howl, who have been on an indefinite hiatus since the release of their Greatest Hits collection in 20--, will play live for the first time in nearly four years on Sunday, October 27th, 20-- at the Vintage Meadow Civic Center. More than five thousand tickets to the show, made available online directly following Alejandro’s press conference, sold out in a reported nine minutes and twenty-two seconds. However, wristband passes, hand-delivered exclusively via horse-drawn carriage alongside Ms. Alejandro and Mr. Covarrubias’ wedding invitations this week, will allow an additional ~600 personal guests (every member of Ms. Alejandro’s high school graduating class, plus one guest each) entry to the event.

**Carnival organizers seek dozens of volunteers to build and run booths for a variety of local charities; please see sidebar for information on where and how to apply. See next page for concert schedule.**

flyer_20220522wedding_invitationmap_20220524

CHAPTER ONE

I Want to Believe

The Acray-Sys Software campus in Vintage Meadow Lake, a suburb of Houston, Texas

Friday, October 25th

IF EVER THERE was a time I wished I had been born a year later, it was after I read that article in Hollow Happenings about Autumn Joy Alejandro’s upcoming wedding.

I mean, yeah, sure, having been born later would mean I was now only twenty years old instead of twenty-one, and there’d be places I couldn’t go and things I couldn’t drink yet, but it would also mean I’d probably have graduated from Hillingham High School with Joy and gotten a free ticket to see my favorite band of all time, How to Make a Wolf Howl.

Instead, I’d graduated the year before Joy had, and while I knew her well enough to say ‘hey,’ I hadn’t been invited to her wedding and reception and—most importantly—The Big Concert. Not that I could blame her for failing to invite everyone she knew. That was a heck of a lot of people, and while Joy’s father and fiancé were both filthy rich, even they were limited in how much they could shell out for a single party. Alejandro III and Covarrubias were already paying for about six hundred lucky boys and girls—everyone in Joy’s graduating class, plus their guest—to go to the show. The rest of us would have to make do with the carnival on Main Street and the free concerts in the park on Friday and Saturday nights. Unless we could somehow finagle another way into the show on Sunday.

And believe me, I’d been working on finagling.

How to Make a Wolf Howl’s record label had released a few thousand tickets to the public, but those had been snatched up quicker than anyone could shout scalper. Three different radio stations had also hosted giveaways, all of which I had faithfully entered…and failed to win. Since then, I’d been stalking StubHub every day, hunting for a ticket I might be able to afford, but with all my credit cards so close to being maxed out, there was just no way. It was beginning to look as if I were SOL, destined to spend the weekend at home, nursing my sick roommate, Pauline, along with my disappointed heart. At least until Pauline recovered from her bug and went to the wedding, like she was bound and determined to do.

Not that Pauline knew Joy any better than I did. She was my age and had gone to a different high school than me and Joy, but the romance of the whole affair had gone straight to her head.

This is probably the closest any of us will ever come to attending a royal wedding, Iris! she’d exclaimed to me after she’d heard about the ceremony. Repeatedly.

I guessed she was right. Joy was the Harvest Festival Pumpkin Princess and Kettle Corn Queen, and Corvin had once released an album called El Rey Vampiro, which I supposed made him the unofficial king of all vampires. All I knew was that, while Pauline was freaking out about the nuptials, I was obsessing about getting myself into that Wolf Howl concert. The closer the night of the show crept, the more fixated on it I became, to the point where, on Friday morning—roughly fifty-six hours before the Civic Center was scheduled to throw open its doors for the show—I got so distracted, I completely botched something on a work project. Nothing major, really, just a small mistake—an email I forgot to send out—but nevertheless…important. According to my boss, fundamentally important.

Oops.

Ms. Vega? If you would sign here, please…Ms. Vega?

Hm? I glanced away from the bay window of the corner office—outside of which all I could see were more generic, square white buildings identical to the one in which I currently sat—to find the HR lady staring at me with tired eyes. She leaned across her desk, holding out a pen, and from the expectant look on her face, she was waiting for me to do something.

Um, I’m sorry. I swallowed, fidgeting with the name badge clipped to my lanyard. But, what’d you say?

She huffed out a breath and pointed with her pen. I need you to sign this form, to confirm you’ve understood what we’ve discussed here today. You do understand it, don’t you, Ms. Vega?

I glanced at the sheet of paper she wanted me to sign. The top corner displayed the familiar Acray-Sys Software logo, and underneath that were printed my name and title: Iris Vega, New Products Intern. Below that sat a big block of typewritten text. Angry text. My supervisor’s latest litany of complaints about me. A few phrases stood out more starkly than others: missed deadline, forgot to send, SECOND time, EXTREMELY disappointing. The paper was bright yellow, which meant it was my second official warning about being a total screw-up.

Only one more to go, I thought, holding my breath. One more strike, and I was probably out of here for good, if not ousted from Acray-Sys entirely, then at least out of the New Products department. If I was lucky, maybe they’d only bump me down to the mail room. My lips twitched at the thought. My parents would love it. They’d spent all that money on my education, and now here I was, a blink away from washing out of my very first internship. Commendable, Iris, highly commendable. All of Mom and Dad’s friends would be pea-green with envy.

Yes, I understand. My voice was meek and guilty as I accepted the pen from the HR lady and scribbled down my name. If I screw up again, I’m out on my—

The HR lady, who had curly, graying hair and whose name, according to the nameplate on her desk, was Suze Porter, gave me a sharp look.

Well, I course-corrected, I might lose my internship.

Suze sat back. Her gaze was a hint softer as she regarded me. I’m confident that won’t happen, Ms. Vega, as long as you can keep your attention more focused from now on. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you?

Yeah. Sure, I can. Thanks. I slid the write-up across the desk and stood up, straightening my pencil skirt.

Try and have a nice afternoon, she advised as I left.

Thanks, Suze, you too.

I tottered on my high heels to the elevator bank, where I pushed the Down button and stood back to wait. The polished steel doors showed me my reflection: long, dark hair and coppery skin, a well-put-together outfit that looked suitably professional. But my large brown eyes gave me away. They looked young and vulnerable in my worried face, and they were brimming with anxious tears.

No, no, no, I chanted inside my head as my vision began to blur, don’t you cry, Iris. You can’t cry at work! What would Dad say?

The elevator doors slid open and, thank goodness, the car was empty. I stumbled inside and mashed the number for my floor, followed by the Close Doors button about twenty times. When the doors finally shut, I leaned against the wall and dragged in a deep breath. I held my eyes open wide and fanned my face furiously. By the time I’d reached my floor, my eyeballs had stopped stinging, and I felt more confident about holding back the flood. Still, I kept my head ducked as I hurried back to my department, so no one would see the chastened look on my face.

When I neared my cubicle, my footsteps slowed. There were about fifty things pinned to my task list for this afternoon, and if I knew what was good for me, I would collapse into my chair in front of my pair of giant monitors and dive right into one of them, rather than risk another tongue lashing for slacking off. But after what had just happened to me, I knew I was in no frame of mind to tackle anything new. My thoughts were too scattered. I needed at least one good, strong cup of coffee in me first. Yeah, just one cup to rein in my focus, and then I could come back here and whip through the afternoon’s assignments like a boss. I veered away from my cube, took a turn around the corner, and scurried down the hallway.

In the breakroom, a few people loitered at round tables, clicking away at laptops and thumbing through their cell phones. I ignored everyone and headed for the stepladder leaning in a corner. I dragged the ladder in front of the coffee cup cabinet and climbed up. Objectively, the shelf wasn’t high, but to me, pretty much everything was a stretch. I was five-foot-four and a quarter…if I happened to be wearing two-inch heels.

I swung open the cabinet door and peered inside, searching for my cup. When I found it, I narrowed my eyes. Great, someone had pushed my mug all the way to the back again. Talk about a stretch. Thanks, guys. I sighed and pushed up on my toes, extending one hand as far as it would go.

After a few fruitless passes, I managed to hook one finger over the lip of my mug and scrape it forward a few inches. At the same time, I felt the stepladder wobble under me. Fear clenched my stomach, and I dropped back onto my heels to steady myself. As my hand jerked back, the mug tipped over, spun toward me on its side—and dropped out of the cabinet. I grabbed for it and missed.

A long, horrified gasp hissed out of me as I watched the mug tumble through the air. Right when I was sure I was about to watch it shatter into smithereens, someone else’s much longer arm swiped out in front of me and saved it. I watched, startled and fascinated, as the mug’s rescuer held it up to me like an offering.

Whoa, I breathed, gathering the cup from his large hand. Nice reflexes. Thank you!

You’re welcome, Iris.

For a moment, I stared at the mug sitting in my grip and felt flooded with gratitude that it hadn’t fallen. I knew if it had hit the counter or the tile floor from this height, it would have been done for—and also that I would have been devastated. I loved this mug; it was a souvenir from Fouke, Arkansas, with the words I Want to Believe, printed under a likeness of the Boggy Creek Monster. I’d bought the cup on eBay, from a guy who lived in Fouke. If I lost it, I’d probably never get another one. Not unless I trekked out to Fouke myself and purchased one from their Monster Mart. I dreamed of making a trip like that, but given how dirt poor I was—and how much debt I would probably be in for the next seven decades or so—it was unlikely to ever come true.

I turned my wide-open eyes to the person who had rescued my mug, prepared to thank him again, but the words stalled on my lips. He’d used my name, so I’d expected to know him, but I had no idea who he was. He had a badge clipped to his belt, but it was turned around so I couldn’t read the name on it. I glanced at my own badge and saw that it was flipped around, too.

Hey. How’d you know my name? I blurted out.

The guy’s brows knit together, as though the question confused him. You’ve worked here for over six months. You’re an intern for Tanesha Rosenthal in New Products.

I felt my eyelashes swishing rapidly. Yeah. That’s right. I’ve worked here for over six months. And yet I have no earthly idea who you are.

I climbed down the stepladder and looked him over again, wracking my brain to try and place him, but nothing clicked. If I’d ever met this guy before, I didn’t recognize him. Probably because there was nothing remarkable about him. He could’ve been anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five years old, had dull brown hair and drab brown eyes, and the same pasty-white computer tan most of the other guys in the office sported. He dressed the same as all of them, too, in dark slacks, a white dress shirt, and dark tie. The only things that stood out about him were his black-framed glasses—which were kinda stylish—and the fact that his clothes were messy. His tie looked as though he’d knotted it in a hurry, and his shirt wasn’t tucked in all the way. Also, his hair needed a trim and looked as though he hadn’t brushed it this morning. Or this month. If you’d Googled the phrase cubicle nerd, his picture likely would’ve popped up.

And yet…he had rescued my mug!

As far as I was currently concerned, that made him my freakin’ hero.

I touched his sleeve, feeling new tears, this time of happy relief, spring to my eyes. Thank you, I sniffed with a smile. "Thank you for saving my mug. It’s my favorite. If it’d broken, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. After the horrible day I’ve had today…well, I probably would have had a breakdown, hahaha. You totally saved my sanity." I flashed him another big smile, gave his arm a little pat, and then let him go.

The stranger tilted his head, watching me without a flicker of emotion in those muddy brown eyes. A heartbeat passed, and then he turned on his heel and strode across the room.

A dubious feeling sprouted in my belly as I watched him go, wondering if I’d crossed a line with that impulsive arm-touch, maybe committed some kind of personal space infraction that would earn me another trip to Suze Porter’s office that afternoon. But then the guy stopped near the door and opened a different cabinet. He brought out a box of Kleenex and came back to me, holding out the tissues like a second offering.

Oh, I said, understanding, thank you! I snatched out a tissue to wipe my eyes. As I blotted my lashes, I aimed another smile at my hero, trying to encourage him to talk some more, but he only stood there, watching me. Saying nothing.

I snatched out a second tissue and blew my nose. You know, I began as I turned aside to toss the Kleenex into the trash can, you’re very thoughtful. I appreciate… But my sentence trailed away to nothing, because when I turned back, the guy had abandoned the tissue box on the counter and taken off. I watched, bewildered, as he disappeared out the breakroom door—and never once looked back at me again.

CHAPTER TWO

Everyone Knows

IRIS, WHAT’S GOING on? Did you get written up?

The message blinked in my chat box while I was trying to finish up a stupid report. It was from Roxanne, my friend who worked in Finance. I typed back,

How do you know about that?

Roxanne: Please, you know how it is around here. Word spreads fast. Someone said they saw you going up to HR. Plus, Tanesha’s been complaining about some email that didn’t get sent out on time. Dana said she’s been given more of your work because you ‘just can’t seem to get your act together.’

I rolled my eyes. Really. Well, Dana can just—

But of course I couldn’t type what I was thinking. I deleted it and wrote,

Everything’s fine, Rox. I’ve got it under control.

Roxanne: Uh-huh.

Jer and I can meet you in the lunch room in 5, if U want to commiserate.

I thought about it for maybe half a second before telling her I would be right there.

_____

It’s not that big a deal, Iris. Jerry patted my shoulder. It’s not like Tanesha’s going to fire you. He, Roxanne, and I were standing in a huddle in the corner of the empty lunchroom, where I’d filled them in on my latest debacle with my miserable boss. They had already known most of it, thanks to the rumor mill. Which only made me feel worse, knowing everyone had heard about my stupid mistakes.

How do you know she won’t fire me? I demanded of my friend. I’m still on probation. All I need is one more write-up, and Tanesha can let me go without batting an eyelash. There’ll be nothing I can do about it. Nothing. And you know she’ll refuse to give me a recommendation. Which means I’ll never get another internship, much less a real job. I’ll be a failure, Jerry, a complete and utter failure at the age of twenty-one!

Jerry’s eyes bugged in response to my outburst, and his lower lip pushed out. Look, all I’m saying…Well, I think you’re overreacting a little.

I glared at him.

Roxanne glared at him, too.

Jerry held up his hands in surrender. Never mind. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Your reaction is perfectly calibrated to the situation, Iris. The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

I sighed and edged past him and Roxanne, pulling out a chair at one of the tables and dropping into it. I positioned my phone where I could see it, so I’d know if my boss sent me any new messages. The last thing I needed was to miss out on something else Tanesha considered a number one priority. Roxanne and Jerry both hurried over and sat across from me.

Don’t listen to him, Iris. Roxanne hooked her thumb at Jerry. Like he said, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He has no idea how to comfort a person.

That’s true, I don’t. Jerry nodded. Just ask Marianne.

Your poor, poor wife, Roxanne sighed at him. I don’t know how she’s managed with you for, what is it, now? Twelve years?

Fourteen, he said, as if he couldn’t believe it, either. And I agree, the woman’s a saint. He pressed his hands together in supplication.

I shook my head at both of them and sighed, No, Jer’s right, Rox. I am overreacting. I know I am. And this write-up was totally my fault, too. I’ve just been so distracted lately—and it isn’t even over anything that important. Not to anyone but me, anyway.

Roxanne fixed her gray eyes on me. Are you talking about that How to Make a Werewolf show again?

It’s How to Make a Wolf Howl, I corrected, but yes. I know it seems frivolous, but they’ve been such a huge influence on me. I know everyone says stuff like this, but in my case, it’s true: that band practically saved my life when I was a teenager.

I know. Roxanne pursed her lips and gave a grave nod. She cut a quick glance at Jerry. We both know.

Everyone knows. Jerry nodded, too, and held out his palms. His tone was flat, discouraging elaboration.

I smirked at him. Don’t worry, Jer. I’m not going to tell y’all the story again.

Everyone who knew me at all was already well aware of my obsession with How to Make a Wolf Howl, and familiar with my reasons for adoring them. There was no use getting into it again. Suffice it to say, I’d been a fan since middle school, when Corvin Covarrubias had still been