A Trashy Christmas Romance

By Sinnamon Carnelian

Holly Jolly Cromwell hated Christmas after being born on it. Everything about it annoyed her. The repetitive music. How it took over November and smothered Thanksgiving. Those creepy elves that were supposed to watch the children and make sure they were nice and not naughty. Most of all, she was sour over the fact that she could never celebrate

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sinnamon Carnelian
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798869011633

Book preview

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Copyright © 2022 Sinnamon Carnelian

All rights reserved.

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

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Independently Published by Sinnamon Carnelian

Cover designed by: GetCovers

Contents

1. Fifty-Eight More Shopping Days

2. Long Island IcedTea

3. The Incident

4. Fall Festival

5. Tiramisu

6. Sledding

7. Thanksgiving

8. Black Friday

9. Fill In Mom

10. Peppermint & Ginger Snapped

11. Christmas Eve

12. Christmas

About the Author

Books By This Author

Chapter 1

Fifty-Eight More Shopping Days

November is that magical time of year when the clock strikes midnight on Halloween and everything changes from black and orange to red and green. All the vampires, witches, and monsters vanish just like that, replaced by creepy elves on shelves and my family's ugly Christmas tree. No more dangling bats and spiderwebs, just balled up lights that never want to work right and shedding garland. The worst of all is the music. The same five classic songs play on loop everywhere, along with that one that everyone obsesses about because they want to be the person the singer is singing about. No one really knows what the hell happened to Thanksgiving because of the stupid parade on the television and the mass exodus of crazed shoppers the day after. I could not care less about any of it.

There is a damn curse set on us children born on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. My cousin, who was my age, was named Eve because she was born on the twenty-fourth of December. Then there was the joke my parents played on me by naming me Holly with Jolly for my middle name for being born on Christmas day. My brother has never let me forget how I ruined his Christmas that year. He could not open his presents until our parents returned from the hospital the next day with me. Of course, baby me stole the show that year and he has made my life hell each year since. He stole, hid, or broke my toys for many years. It only got worse as we got older, and money came into the picture. Our four much younger siblings were caught in the crossfire by him, not me. I grew up, and he never did.

That change in the year should have made people more thankful and jovial, but they seemed to never take off their Halloween masks and were just nasty. Working customer service sucked all year round. Working customer service at that time of year could suck my Holly Jolly jingle balls. I did not need that job with my current contract to code for an up-and-coming indie game company. Yet there I was at the check-out counter of the bookstore in the strip mall. Every dollar helped to buy presents for my siblings, parents, grandmothers, uncle, aunt, and cousin. I may have disliked that holiday, but I did it for my family. Although, I could feel myself slip a little more each year.

Cranky customers made the day worse knowing I was the one to help decorate my parent's house, that I no longer lived in and had not lived in since I was twenty-two. Friday night meant a family dinner and November first meant putting up the tree. I contemplated different ways to break my foot so I could sit it out.

Does this book have dragons in it? An older lady dropped a thick blue hardcover book on the counter before me.

Yes, I answered after glancing at the big blue dragon on the cover.

Are you sure?

Yes, ma'am, I answered after glancing at it again.

Do you carry any books that aren't satanic or blasphemous? She scoffed.

We have a Christian section right over—

There's romance, Amish, harlots, and a Mormon book over there! She folded her arms and cut me off as I went to point her in the section's direction. Not very Christian like.

How-How-Why-Why…. I stuttered, trying to keep my composure. We-We-We have bibles?

I'll take my business elsewhere! She stuck her nose up at me after she looked at my left hand, then back up at my nose ring. I'm sure that Christian store up the road will have true Christian books.

Happy Holidays! I said my required greeting and goodbye when she pushed on the front door.

It's Merry Christmas! She turned around and snapped at me, then slammed the door behind her. It was not December. Thanksgiving was still weeks away, but it was already starting.

Me: Do you have a sledgehammer?

Eve: Kitty might, why?

Me: Do you want to break my foot so I don't have to put up the Christmas tree or cook dinner?

Eve: No, you're supposed to go out with us tomorrow night. No broken feet for you!

Me: Fine!

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Both of my parents worked on Fridays, and that is how the tradition of me making dinner every Friday night began. I get off work in time to rush between the middle school to get Todd and Patty, then to the elementary school for Markus, the baby of the family. My least favorite was the high school pickup for Olivia. The students were somehow better drivers than the parents, and it was a madhouse to get in and out of that place. Luckily, or because they knew it was the only way I would pick all of them up, I got my parent's old mini-van when they got Mom a new one.

After the five of us survived the trek back home, it was time to make dinner. The school system stopped sending homework the year after I graduated, but I still reaped the benefits since I did not have to help my siblings with it. With a family as big as ours, dinner had to be large amounts and sometimes easy to make. Pasta was normally my go to, and garlic bread was a must. I always added a side salad so I could pretend to be healthy.

By the time food was ready and I got Olivia, Todd, and Patty to drag the Christmas tree and decorations out, our parents and eldest sibling arrived. Huxley was six years older than I was, which put him in his mid-thirties since my thirtieth birthday was the following month. Even into our adult years, we did not get along. It was mainly him being an ass while I tried to be civil for the sake of our parents and siblings. My mother had a bad habit of standing up for him over anyone else, and he was crowned the golden child by Olivia, Todd, and Patty.

Then there was Tabitha, his wife. She was as bad as he was and quickly joined the 'Holly ruined Huxley's Christmas' game. They even purposely sat me away from family during their wedding reception; joke was on them when our siblings came to sit with me. I was the older sibling that was involved in their lives even if it got annoying being mom number two some days. Thank the lucky stars above they did not want children and my older brother announced he was getting a vasectomy during my college graduation party. He had no idea it was the best present he could have ever given me.

Al dente is how professional chefs serve their pasta, Tabitha commented as she started her second helping.

Yeah? I mumbled. When did you go to culinary school?

I'm a banker. I go to plenty of fancy restaurants, she said.

The garlic bread is a little overcooked. Huxley sighed as he grabbed his third piece.

You know, I think next Friday you two should cook, I said with a grin. Show us all these mad cooking skills you both swear to have.

We have real jobs. Cooking Friday night dinner is your job, Huxley said.

I have two jobs, and if my coding job doesn't count as real, how do I make as much as you do? I turned my head slightly and batted my eyes at him from across the table with an innocent smile in place. "The bookstore is just