A Grandal Christmas: Barren Fall Shifters, #1

By Christin Lovell

Savannah

Jaded? Who me? No. I wasn't jaded. I was scarred from a series of bad dates with men I still wished I could sucker punch, even though I knew that wouldn't make me the better person. Okay, so maybe I was a little bitter, but more than anything, I was disappointed. Who didn't want to be swept off their feet by love into a beautiful romance that was strong enough to last a lifetime? I wanted it, but I didn't trust myself given my muddy track record. So, I dutifully gave up on dating, and men, and potential disasters with everyone. And I was happy enough in my little bubble…until I decided to get my first real Christmas tree, nearly had a catastrophe with it in my driveway, and he came to my rescue.

And ladies, he is Grandal Harvey, and he has me all effed up.

 

Grandal

After so many years of looking and coming up empty handed, I'd given up on ever finding my true mate – the one woman who could bring balance and peace to my bear and me. It was a random act of kindness that led me right to her, but I couldn't say I was ready for her. I'd had years to prepare for her – too many years, yet I still wasn't there.

But I damn sure wanted to be. Savannah Bristal was everything I wanted and more – extra curvy and extra sweet. I wanted to get past my own BS to make it work with her.

They say this is the most magical season of the year, and I definitely needed some magic, because I would never forgive myself if I lost the true mate I'd been waiting decades for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christin Lovell
• Release date: Dec 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223189886

Book preview

¹³a If we are faithless, he remains faithful;

2 Timothy 2:13a WEBC

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A GRANDAL CHRISTMAS

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CHAPTER ONE

Savannah

The cold air pierced my lungs as I sucked in a deep breath, planted my off-brand boots on the ground shoulder-width apart and heaved with all my might, lifting the fir tree off my vehicle’s roof right as the wind kicked up and sent the tree straight out of my hands and onto the street.

Dammit! I am definitely adding more upper body sets to my workout routine after this. I felt like a weakling, yet I wasn’t. I had sturdy legs with nicely built quads...surrounded by a layer of fat that made my thighs permanently touch. I had made good progress with my body over the past year, especially my booty. It wasn’t a fat and perky Kardashian booty, sadly, but I’d gained some inches in it. None of this was helping me with this darn tree right now though.

To be fair, the weight distribution of the tree seemed to be working against me, but I lived in an older neighborhood with one-car garages and short driveways, yet plenty of yard space. I lived in a desirable area just on the outskirts of the city limits, in part because no two houses were the same. The home beside mine was two stories with five bedrooms, a pool and a jacuzzi in the backyard; their house had a carport to the right of their garage and a modified double driveway. The home on the other side of me had a double lot, a guest house in the back, and an addition that made their single-story home triple the square footage of mine. My neighborhood had charm, and every home had its own character. It was walkable. The older trees dotted along the roads to offer picture-perfect shade without disrupting foundations.

I bought smart. I bought the smallest, cheapest home in the hottest zip code, and had taken my time updating it while the value continued to soar. My single complaint about my home was that only one car fit in the driveway when the garage was in use. Of course, I didn’t have many people over, so I suppose this was a pointless gripe.

Spotting a car in the distance, I rushed to gather my first real Christmas tree before it became mulch. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to heft this time around. I hadn’t realized how much the height of my vehicle, although it was just a sedan, and the angle helped me. The guy at the lot told me to wear gardening gloves to avoid getting cuts, especially since I was a rookie, but I wondered if that was helping or hindering my cause right now.

I glanced up as the SUV slowed. Thankfully, there were no cars coming the other way, so they could drive around me and the tree. My heart still beat quicker though, my anxiety deciding that now was the time to remind me that it still had the ability to debilitate me. I wrapped my hands around the base of the tree trunk and lifted. I knew the guy at the lot had muscles for days beneath his layers, but did they really come from hefting trees this small?

I’d purchased a mid-size tree; it was five-foot-something with an extra thick trunk. It was just as wide as me too – okay, so IRL the tree was wider than me, but there were definitely days that I felt that big. It was a constant mind-fuck, no matter how much I worked out and tried to fuel my body with good stuff. Clearly, there was a substantial difference physically between me and Mr. Muscles at the tree lot, because he easily wrangled every inch of the branches into some sort of netting and tied it to the top of my car like it weighed no more than a toddler.

The woman slowed her SUV, watching me struggle to get a good grip on the tree base through her passenger window. I offered a smile and a nod, like I did to everyone who felt the need to study me. It unnerved people when they were looking at me purely to judge my size and choices. It was the best defense mechanism I’d come up with, because normally people weren’t brave enough to continue doing it after they’d been seen.

The moment her vehicle was out of sight, I breathed a sigh of relief, dropping the tree back onto the cement. I looked at the rope on the ground by my car. Maybe I can tie the rope around the tree trunk and pull the tree? I wasn’t sure how the branches would fair being dragged on the cement, but it was better than throwing all of my money away by leaving the tree where it was on the road, slumped sadly on the street, about a foot from the base of the driveway. I officially understood why every Hollywood movie depicted two people carrying the Christmas tree inside. Ugh.

I grabbed the rope and got to work wrapping it around the tree base a few times, weaving the bottom branches into a few rounds for stability, before I wrapped the other end around my right glove, trying to give myself additional leverage. To my utter joy, the stupid thing moved. This was actually working.

But darn if this wasn’t the first and last year that I was ever buying a tree instead of using my trusty faux flocked, cashmere tree that I’d bought on clearance four years ago. There was no going out in the cold, trying and failing to negotiate a decent price on something that was going to litter my floor, needed to be hauled in and out, plus watered and kept alive for weeks.

I had just gotten the tree fully on my driveway when a truck came over the hill in the distance, going the opposite direction of Mrs. Nosey SUV. The weight of the tree caused the rope to tighten around my hand, crushing my palm. I winced, coming to a stop at the same time as the truck. I swallowed as I caught sight of the male putting his vehicle emblazoned with ‘Grand Hardware’ followed by ‘Barren Fall’ and ‘Family Owned Since 1962’ on the passenger door in ‘park’ along the side of the road. I held my breath as he stepped out of the vehicle.

My heart skipped a beat before it damn near jumped out of my chest, beating harder than ever as the man came into view. He was large, and the epitome of masculine, and could give Mr. Tree Lot a run for his money. He had a full beard, and normally those weren’t a turn on for me, but damn if his didn’t make him more appealing. Dark hair peaked beneath the rim of the beanie on his head. His eyes were brown swords, piercing my heart as it galloped in my chest cavity.

What the effing heck is wrong with me?! I don’t react to men like this, no matter how good they look. I’d learned the hard way that they weren’t worth my time. Not all men; just the ones that I seemed to attract. And one look at him in his roughed up jeans, clean boots, and flannel button up over a waffle knit shirt hugging pecks that gave my tits a run for their money, told me that I was not going to be his type.

He seemed to sniff the air, his nostrils flaring several times as he approached. That was odd behavior. Maybe he would be my type after all, as I seemed to attract weirdos with fetishes. Effing heck.

He gave me a crooked smile, and my shoulders relaxed a bit. Hello. Mind if I take over? Or at the very least, help you carry it? You’re damaging the branches, and by the looks of it, your hand. He didn’t move past the top of the tree, respecting my personal space.

The men I dealt with typically didn’t respect boundaries. Funny enough, I didn’t want him to respect my boundaries. There was something about the way he carried himself as he approached me that was confident and sexy, without being too much. Ugh!

He cocked his head, doing his best to maintain eye contact.

It took me a moment to realize that I hadn’t responded to him. I had been too busy soaking him in. As much as I would have loved a picture of a man like him on my desk to look at regularly, it would be too much of a distraction...like now. I would get lost in his dark eyes and tanned skin.

At least let me hold the top end of the tree, so you’re not dragging it.

Uh. I glanced at the tree and then my front door. It wasn’t a long trip, but did I really want a stranger in my space? As nice as he seemed, and as sexy as he was, you could never be safe enough as a single woman these days.

My brother, Jesse, lives two doors down. He jutted his chin towards the house I almost bought before this one came on the market. I remembered touring the three bedroom, two bathroom home with a lot of quirky details, like a swinging door between the kitchen and dining room. The guys who bought the house did so much work on it in such a short period of time that I swore they were flipping it rather than making it into a home.

When I didn’t say anything, he continued, I can call him to come out, if that would make you feel better. He started to reach into his jean pocket.

No.