The Comforting Christmas: Montana Dreams, #8

By Susan Hatler

A sweet boss romance that will make you believe all dreams can come true.

 

Michele enjoys waiting tables at the lake restaurant in her small mountain town, but longs to become an event planner. When the restaurant owner, Dylan, asks her to plan a holiday benefit dinner she knows this is her big chance.

 

With zero credentials, she worries she'll disappoint her workaholic boss. But spending time with him brings out his sweet side, and ignites feelings for him she's tried to ignore.

 

From a New York Times bestselling author, don't miss the chance to warm your heart like a cup of hot cocoa in THE COMFORTING CHRISTMAS.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hatco Publishing
• Release date: Nov 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223896203

Susan Hatler

SUSAN HATLER è una Scrittrice Bestseller del New York Times e di USA Today. Scrive romanzi contemporanei umoristici e sentimentali e racconti per giovani adulti. Molti dei libri di Susan sono stati tradotti in tedesco, spagnolo, italiano e francese. Ottimista d’indole, Susan crede che la vita sia strabiliante, che le persone siano affascinanti, e che la fantasia sia infinita. Ama trascorrere il tempo con i suoi personaggi e spera che anche tu lo faccia. Puoi contattare Susan qui: Facebook: facebook.com/authorsusanhatler Twitter: twitter.com/susanhatler Sito internet: susanhatler.com/italiano Blog: susanhatler.com/category/susans-blog

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

My current gig waiting tables at Danica’s wasn’t my dream career, but it had just helped me take a step in the right direction. Serving customers at this upscale restaurant wasn’t a bad job per se. I mean, the tips were good, the people were friendly and it kept me actively on my feet. But in my heart I had different aspirations than being a server at this charming restaurant on the lake in my small mountain town of Whitefish, Montana.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’d been enchanted by the idea of planning events . . . like a tea party, or a wedding, or a New Year’s Eve bash. No event would be too big or too small. I loved the magic that happened when people gathered around decorations and appetizers and themed cocktail napkins. Most especially, I wanted to be the mastermind behind such events.

Michele Griffin, Event Planner Extraordinaire.

I’d imagined a gazillion different business card designs with this title under my name—okay, maybe I’d have to leave the word extraordinaire off the title to be more professional. But, still. I always got the warm fuzzies when I thought about it.

Then, this morning, I was scrolling on social media while enjoying my morning coffee and my gaze locked on a blue-sky-and-white-cloud-fettered meme that read, If not now, when? Those four words immediately haunted my brain. At twenty-nine years old, why was I still waiting tables instead of pursuing being an event planner?

Actually, it didn’t matter why. There was no need to worry about why it had taken me this long to get it. I wanted to be an event planner, so now was the time to get after it.

With that in mind, I arrived early to work before my dinner shift and appointed myself the head of decor here at Danica’s. With Christmas mere weeks away, I went into the storage shed and sifted through boxes of long-forgotten holiday decorations. My boss wasn’t a scrooge or anything, so we did have a respectable Christmas tree in the dining room already. But it wasn’t nearly enough when my creativity was brewing.

Within a couple of hours, I had decked the place out with miniature Christmas trees trimmed with white and silver ornaments and lots of tinsel, mistletoe over the doorway, and fir boughs on the siding of the interior walls. The festive decorations added to the rustic, cozy feel of the space, and the holiday theme was boosted in spades by the steady snow falling outside.

Feeling proud of my hard work elevating the holiday cheer in here, I wiped my hands before changing into my black pants and black button-up shirt for my shift. As customers arrived, ordered, and left, the words from that meme replayed in my head: If not now, when?

As I cleared a table at the back of the restaurant—stacking plates on my arm like a pro—I thought back to my teenage years. I’d spent hours in the general store reading glossy how-to-entertain magazines I couldn’t afford to buy, while visualizing the parties I would throw once I had the friends, the time and, of course, the resources to do so. I imagined my life would be filled with backyard soirees and elegant luncheons.

That so didn’t happen.

Despite my social media boards full of hosting tips, I rarely had anyone over to the tiny apartment I rented, since there wasn’t a lot of space for entertaining in my cramped bachelorette pad. At this point in my life, maybe I should already own my own place, but that required more than my meager savings account allowed. Sigh.

Setting dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, I swiftly returned to the dining room and took an order from a customer who was eating alone while reading a book.

Hey, George, I said, to the regular I knew well.

Good evening, Michele, he said, without taking his gaze from the page.

The usual? I asked, unable to resist a smile, knowing he always ordered the pot roast.

If it ain’t broke . . .

No need to fix it. Pot roast coming right up, I said, slipping my notepad into my back pocket, before putting his order in with the kitchen.

As I walked back into the dining room, I overheard a couple giving compliments to the host on our Christmas decorations. A warm rush of pleasure flooded my chest at the smiles on their faces. Feeling proud that my efforts had been noticed, I took a few more orders with an even peppier skip in my step.

But one afternoon of decorating didn’t make me an event planner, so my excitement quickly faded. As I cleared another table, I found myself wishing my salary was big enough to purchase a house with enough space for the kinds of lavish parties I’d always longed to throw. So much for the glamorous life.

If not now, when?

Argh! I had to do more than embellish the holiday decorations at Danica’s. But, what?

I blew dark wisps of hair away from my eyes as our line cook slid a bacon burger onto the counter and rang the order-up bell. I balanced plate after plate on my arms as I weaved my way through the bustling tables, smiling at every patron whose eye I caught along the way. Being personable was a part of this job, and it played a big role in determining whether or not I got tipped at the end of a meal. Good thing I loved being social.

Since our town was so small, I knew most of the local customers by name. In addition to the locals, we served truckloads of tourists who came to visit Big Mountain for hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter. I smiled at a regular, who was a single mom and always brought coloring books and crayons for her two children while they enjoyed their Sunday dinner with us. Then I nodded to the elderly couple who often dined here and always held hands throughout every meal, still in love after all this time. So sweet!

When I turned around, I noticed Holly and Dave come through the front door and my heart warmed at seeing my favorite couple.

I loved Holly like a sister, and she had earned the title of best friend ten times over during the years I had known her. We had met in the local bookstore years ago when we had both reached for the last copy of a cozy mystery by our favorite author. That had sparked a long conversation about books and life that had never really ended. She was my closest friend and knew the most about me. Well, as long as you didn’t count my hairstylist, Delilah.

What was it about a hairstylist that made you want to tell them your life story and also listen to theirs? Huh.

Anyway, Dave was Holly’s perfect match, a real stand-up guy with a heart of gold. They had enjoyed their first date together here at Danica’s, and I had helped plot a surprise wedding for them on the back deck with its gorgeous view of Whitefish Lake. So romantic! They used to drop by the restaurant often for pie and coffee, but not since their babies had arrived. As I dropped off a double order of biscuits and gravy at a table, I saw them get seated at their favorite spot by the fire and then I scooted over in their direction.

I didn’t know you were coming in tonight, I said, sidling up beside Holly on her side of the linen-covered table. I tilted my head, giving her a knowing smile. How’s life treating you?

Not sleeping enough, but my heart is full, she said, holding her pudgy son, little Joe, in her arms. Adorable.

Hey, Michele. Dave nodded to me as he strapped an infant car seat onto the chair next to him that held their adorable baby girl, Sofia, who had been named in honor of Dave’s tough-as-nails and sweet-as-pie Italian

Reviews for The Comforting Christmas

[Andrea Author · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Waitress Michele dreams of becoming an event planner in her quaint mountain village. When restaurant owner Dylan recruits her to organize a charity dinner, she knows it's her big career break. Yet without credentials, she worries she'll fail her hardworking boss. As they collaborate, they grow closer, stirring long-buried feelings.

This sweet, low-angst short story offers romance and Christmas magic. It's a nice way to get in the mood for the holidays.

Thanks, NetGalley, for the ARC I received. This is my honest and voluntary review.