The Christmas Trolls: Christmas Past, Present & Future Novellas, #1

By Dawn M. Turner

A Contemporary Christian Romance novella

THE PAST BECOMES A GIFT FOR CHRISTMAS

Rosie Ellison and Peter Reynolds have been friends all of their lives, with never a romantic notion between them. Until a pair of mischievous little Christmas trolls exact an unexpected toll...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn M. Turner
• Release date: Dec 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201950989

Dawn M. Turner

Dawn lives in the high desert of Southern Arizona with her husband of over 20 years and a variety of furry and feathered critters. She enjoys photography, crochet, scrapbooking, spinning her own yarn from wool and alpaca, beading and jewelry-making, and lots of reading. When not doing those things, she writes romance, romantic-suspense, women's fiction under the name Dawn M. Turner, and medieval and urban fantasy with a Christian worldview under the name D.M. Turner. She took first place in the Contemporary Romance category, as well as winning the Grand Prize, in the 2011 Writers on the Storm Category Five Writing Contest.

Book preview

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Thursday, December 15, 2016

Hamburg, Arizona

"So, how are things going with Callie? Twenty-five-year-old Rosemary Rosie" Ellison put the final icing touch on the snowflake sugar cookie in the pie plate in front of her and glanced at her best friend Peter Reynolds, who scowled at his own pie plate as though it had offended him. He’d come up the mountain from Sierra Vista to help decorate a mountain of sugar cookies for a town Christmas party taking place Saturday afternoon. Hopefully the task hadn’t been what put such a sour look on his face.

Wrong. Terribly wrong, he grumbled.

What happened? She grabbed the next snowflake.

Not a thing.

She chuckled.

His frown transferred from the work before him to her.

I’m sorry. She covered her mouth with the back of the hand holding the pipette of blue icing. I shouldn’t laugh, but you sound so disgruntled that nothing happened.

It’s not even close to funny. Peter shook his head, leaned back, and eyed his work. Then he turned his pie plate and pushed it toward her. What do you think?

Rosie studied the simple round cookie he’d drawn a picture on. Uh, cute elf.

He grimaced. It’s a reindeer.

Oh.

Peter flipped the plate back around and studied it. I’ve never been any good at this sort of thing. As you may recall, I flunked art in middle school.

Try something less ambitious. She pushed a pair of glazed, blank-slate cookies toward him. Like a snowflake or star.

Those are boring. He moved the mutant reindeer to one side and laid a snowflake on his plate. Pipette filled with red icing in hand, he went back to work. Anyway, Callie and I had a date last night. I told her I was coming up here tonight, as well as tomorrow evening and Saturday, to help you get about ten thousand cookies ready for the annual town Christmas party.

Ten thousand? She snorted. A bit of an exaggeration. We’re only doing about a thousand. Maybe twelve hundred. At least she hadn’t had to bake them. A few of the other ladies had taken care of that part. Others had put on the initial coat of glaze.

"Only, she says, he muttered, shaking his head. As though decorating a four-digit count of anything is no big deal. Peter raised his brows and grinned at her. I’ve always suspected you were demented."

Rosie laughed. Okay, so what happened with Callie? Did she get mad at you for coming up here? He’d dated women in the past who’d felt threatened by his and Rosie’s friendship. No matter what either of them said to allay fears, it hadn’t done a bit of good.

No. She didn’t even care.

She sat back in the chair and frowned, mulling his words. Okay. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s a good thing, right?

Not really. Well… yeah, but— He waved the pipette in the air. Is it truly too much to ask for a little jealousy?

Men are so weird. She shook her head and returned to drawing lines on the snowflake cookie. You’ve never been happy when a woman you dated was jealous if you spent time with me. Now you’re upset because one isn’t? What kind of sense does that make?

It’s not that I want Callie to be jealous. I don’t. Peter rotated the pie plate and kept decorating. I just see her apathy as a sign.

Of what? The impending apocalypse. His dour demeanor certainly implies it.

Hardly. He shot her a disgusted frown. Then again, maybe that was about the cookie. I keep waiting for a sense of rightness to fall into place.

Rightness?

"You know what I mean. Talk to a bunch of people, and you’ll hear over and over and over again about how right it felt when they’d found the person they’re married to. Chase and Jordan are a good example."

Chase and Jordan Donovan had been married for more than twelve years, having met right there in Hamburg. They had five children, with number six expected the day after Christmas. Chase worked for the forest service monitoring the national park land surrounding Hamburg. Jordan was a part-time assistant at the city’s library, having been at the job for years. She took the children to work with her or left them with her grandmother.

Rosie shrugged. "Maybe it doesn’t work that way for everyone. Some people know each other for years before something clicks, so I’m not sure rightness immediately after meeting someone is necessarily the most accurate thing to go by. Do you like Callie?"

I guess so.

She grinned. "You guess so? Shouldn’t you know so, if you want the relationship to turn serious? I mean, do you really want to end up married to someone you don’t even like?"

She’s nice enough, I suppose. It’s just… there’s no… connection, I guess. No spark. He sighed. Frankly, I find myself zoning out when she talks. Doesn’t seem to matter what we’re discussing. I just can’t pay attention.

Ah. She nodded. Definitely problematic. No spark and no connection and horrible conversation equaled a doomed relationship. Irretrievably so. A chuckle worked its way to the surface. So, you’re telling me you’re disappointed that you don’t love a woman you can’t have a conversation with and feel absolutely no real attraction to?

It sounds stupid the way you say it.

Crazy actually. Rosie grinned. But it’s okay. I love you just the way you are. Missing marbles and all.

Very funny. He chuckled then shook his head. Enough. Peter set aside the snowflake and reached for a green-glazed Christmas tree. What about you?

What do you mean?

You haven’t had a date in forever.

Rosie snorted. "I’m not the problem. I live in a town that’s predominantly retirees. I realize young women dating older men is kind of a thing these days, but sorry. No. It’d be too much like dating my dad or grandfather." She shuddered theatrically.

Peter laughed.

The last guy even close to our age who asked me out? Forty-year-old Dave Moore who runs the dry cleaner. Six months ago he came onto me. He doesn’t care for me, but I’m one of the few single women in town under sixty. He’s looking for someone to deal with his two kids so he’s free to party. I’m not even close to being that stupid. She shrugged. Unlike you, I’m quite content with my life. Mostly.

Really? His brows rose. You’re happy being single every Valentine’s Day? You’re content having no one to share the joys and tragedies in your life?

Valentine’s Day is overrated. She grimaced. Okay, so she hated being single on days when the emphasis on couples was so strong, but… her issue, not everyone else’s. Besides, making a stink about it wouldn’t change the situation. It is what it is. Unless and until God decided otherwise. As for the joys and tragedies, I call you. She grinned. What more do I possibly need?

It’s not the same.

Sure it is. She pointed the blue pipette at him. "You’re someone, and you’re important to me. How is it any different?"

We don’t love each other. At least, not that way.

"Is there some rule saying we have to love each other that way to offer support in bad times and celebrate the