If You Believe in Love: A Christmas in Angels Glen story

By Luanna Stewart

A blizzard … Krista Rhodes has seen a few in her lifetime.

Snowed in for days … once, when she was a kid.

Stuck in a house with Dr. Dreamboat … never saw that one coming. Not only cute, he's also funny and kind and strong and how can she resist?

 

Eric Monroe has it all mapped out – drive cross-country to a new job with a brief stop to celebrate a buddy's engagement. A giant detour with a beautiful, witty, no-nonsense woman makes the journey more fun than he ever thought possible. And bonus – he's moving to her town.

 

Except, once she's back home, she has something she's got to do. Maybe. And he can't ask her to change her plans. Can he?  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luanna Stewart
• Release date: Nov 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781999246273

Luanna Stewart

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and historical romance. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband, one spoiled cat, and five hens.

Book preview

Chapter One

Thank goodness that was over. Krista Rhodes had driven through snowstorms before, but the last three hours were crazy. The rental car’s GPS promised the trip from the airport to the Eagle’s Nest Inn in Angels Glen would be one hour and ten minutes. No one had informed the disembodied voice about the raging blizzard.

One other car huddled under a marshmallow mound in the snow-covered lot at the side of the building. The other guests would be arriving in the dark if they didn’t get a move on. She adjusted her hat and pulled on gloves. The windshield was already covered. Crazy.

Blinking snow from her eyes, she dragged her suitcase toward the front door. The path recently shovelled was filling up before her eyes. The online brochure photos had obviously been taken during the height of summer. Somewhere under the mountain of snow were vibrant flowers and flowering shrubs.

Why couldn’t cousin Violet have a summer wedding? And this wasn’t even the main event, two months away on Valentine’s Day, of course. This was the pre-wedding retreat for the bridal party. When had that become a thing?

Krista trudged up the porch steps and pushed open the massive door.

Vi could be forgiven for insisting her pre-wedding party be held here. Subtle and tasteful bits of Christmas décor were everywhere. Fresh, fragrant greenery wrapped around the banister leading to the second floor, a small feather tree adorned with antique bird-shaped ornaments sat on a table, and potted red and white poinsettias provided pops of festive colour. Through the wide archway into the living room or parlour, the Christmas tree gleamed and sparkled. Every inhalation was like a pine and cinnamon scented hug of memories. Underneath the holiday embellishment was the framework, a large Victorian-era house, former holiday home of a long-dead steel tycoon.

A woman emerged from the shadowy hall. Oh, good. I was afraid the pass was closed. I’m Sally.

Krista pulled off her hat. Closed?

Snow like this, the pass closes. But you’re here, the others may still show up. Have you heard from anyone else in the party?

Krista rummaged in her bag and pulled out her phone. Shoot, I forgot to switch off airplane mode. As soon as she did, her phone went crazy with incoming texts. She opened the most recent from Vi. Oh no! Her flight was cancelled.

That the bride, dear?

Yes. They’ll be on a flight tomorrow morning.

Doesn’t mean they’ll get from the airport to here. Let me show you to your room. Your name?

Krista Rhodes.

The woman checked her computer screen. You’re in the Calligrapha room.

Is that another word for calligraphy? Krista hefted her suitcase and left the carry-on for Sally.

No, a type of beetle. One other guest arrived earlier, one of the groom’s friends, Doctor Eric Monroe, he’s in the Imperator room.

Krista followed as Sally climbed the carpeted stairs at a brisk pace, turned right on the landing and strode to the end of the hall. She flung open the last door on the left and hit the switch for the overhead light, a gorgeous hand-painted antique like those in a B&B back home.

Krista silently squealed with joy. Every bit of furniture held the patina of centuries. Art Nouveau inspired wallpaper, though fussy and busy, was perfect for the era. But the crowning glory was the sleigh bed covered with a poofy duvet and lots of pillows. Given the chance, she would spend every minute of her five days locked in this bower of tranquility. Imagine how many books she could read!

Sally set the bag atop a chest and opened a door next to the full-length mirror. Here’s your bathroom. You’ll need to let the hot water run for a few minutes. Generator is new, so there won’t be any trouble when the power goes out.

When?

It could happen with this much snow. She opened another door to reveal a closet. There are emergency lights in the halls and common rooms. We should have enough candles and lanterns for each room.

Krista was used to power outages, having lived in MacLeod’s Cove all her thirty-four years. The coast of Nova Scotia saw its share of nor’easters, along with the occasional hurricane. This all looks lovely. She draped her coat over the desk chair to dry.

There are drinks in the parlour. My phone number is posted at the desk. Don’t bother calling Julie, she’s in Florida. I’ll leave a printout of the room assignments there as well, in case I’m not here when—if anyone else arrives.

You’re leaving?

The ten minute walk home may take twice as long, and I need to get supper into my husband. Not to worry, Amos is here, you won’t starve. She stepped into the hall and closed the door with a click.

Amos must be the award-winning chef the brochure touted.

First order of business was the use of the compact bathroom. The toilet was a water-saving reproduction, but the other fixtures were genuinely old. She couldn’t wait to sink into the deep tub and sample the array of bath salts.

More comfortable and able to think clearly, she perched on the edge of the bed and scrolled through the other texts. All bad news. Two of the bridesmaids weren’t coming at all, issues with work or childcare. And the groom’s mother had a flare-up, no specifics given, and was bowing out. Krista sent a text to the bride’s group announcing her safe arrival.

A gust of wind blew snow against the glass, drawing Krista to the window. Swirls of white obscured the fading landscape, giving the illusion of floating within a cloud.

She yawned. Up at dawn to leave MacLeod’s Cove in time for her flight out of Halifax. Layovers in Toronto and Chicago. Capped off with a nerve-wracking drive through the mountains. She flexed her fingers, cramped from gripping the steering wheel of the rental car. Plus, her internal clock read four hours later, time for bed. She was tempted to nestle among the pillows and burrow under the duvet, but she should be sociable.

The long day on her own, the first in ages, had given her lots of time for thinking. And rethinking. But she was happy with her decision. The reaction would come after the holidays.

Chapter Two

Eric Monroe shut his laptop. Reviewing new patient files had been a good use of his unexpected free time, but he needed a break. Voices in the hall earlier suggested at least one other guest had arrived. He peered out the bedroom window overlooking the front of the property in time to see Sally trudge toward the street. Good thing she lived within walking distance and didn’t have to drive in the deepening snow.

He freshened up and stepped into the hall. Not a sound except the steady tick tock of the grandfather clock at the foot of the stairs. He might have been wrong about another arrival. He trotted down to what the brochure labelled the parlour. The fragrant fir tree in the corner sparkled with fairy lights and glass balls, most of which appeared to be antiques. A small fire crackled and snapped under the heavy, oak mantel adorned with a collection of snowmen of various vintages.

The drinks trolley, another antique, held a selection of wines and liquor, and the small fridge concealed within a dresser was filled with local craft beer. He selected a bottle of pale ale.

Standing in front of the fire, he un-muted his phone. A long list of text messages from the groom’s side delivered additional bad news. One of the groomsmen was cancelling, and everyone else was grounded. He’d be the only male guest tonight.

A man dressed in chef’s attire stepped into the room. Good evening.

Eric smiled in greeting. Looks like you’ll have an easy night. Flight delays. I’m Eric.

Chef Amos, pleased to meet you. The pass will be closed with this much snow. If they don’t get here in the morning …. He left the rest unsaid. I saw another car in the lot.

I heard voices in the hall a while ago, must be one of the women.

Chef Amos nodded. I’ll check back in a half hour, and we’ll go from there.

Eric moved to one of the tall windows above a window seat to watch the snow fall. Sacramento never got snow. His only experience with the white stuff was during skiing vacations where he experienced it up close and in his face every time he fell over.

But things were about to change. Not the wiping out on ski hills, that would continue. When he got to his new home, he’d have plenty of winters to experience the white stuff.

Hello.

He spun, a welcoming smile at the ready. His heart thudded. Tall, slender, hair the colour of warm caramel, and the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. With clasped hands, she glanced around as if not sure she was in the right place.

Hi, I’m Eric Monroe. He remained next to the window and raised his half-empty bottle. The bar is well stocked.

I’m Krista Rhodes. She went to the trolley and studied the wines.

Happy to meet you. We’re going to be neighbours.

She paused in uncorking a bottle of Riesling and glanced over her shoulder at him. Excuse me?

He stepped away from the window and leaned against the back of a sofa, close enough to be drawn in by her dark, blue eyes. Vi told me her cousin Krista lived in MacLeod’s Cove. I’m joining the local practice. On my way there after this gathering.

I heard Doctor Corkum was getting a new partner. Great news.

You can tell me all about my new town, including the stuff Doctor Corkum left out.

She laughed and poured a glass of wine. I’m sure he told only the truth.

It’s a slice of paradise?

Not perfect, but close. I’m biased since I’ve lived there my whole life.

He gestured toward the outside world. I was wondering how much snow I can expect.

"Nothing like this, unless it’s one of those once-in-a-hundred-years freak storms. About twenty years ago we had a storm called White Juan and got close to