A Christmas Chance: Met His Match

By Louisa Masters

Is there anything quite as magical as Christmastime in Paris? Not according to Paul, who goes out of his way every December morning so he can enjoy the festive decorations. It's his special quiet time—until the morning he scares off a pickpocket and meets tourist Jacob.

Jacob is in Paris to tour the Christmas markets, and he's definitely interested in getting to know Paul better. But Paul's a busy man, with no time for a relationship that can go nowhere… or so he thinks.

As the two embark on a holiday fling amidst the romance of Christmas in Paris, the only thing that can bring Paul down is the knowledge that it all ends on December 23.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Louisa Masters
• Release date: Dec 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781923035133

Louisa Masters

Louisa Masters started reading romance much earlier than her mother thought she should. While other teenagers were sneaking out of the house, Louisa was sneaking romance novels in and working out how to read them without being discovered. She’s spent most of her life feeling sorry for people who don’t read, convinced that books are the solution to every problem. As an adult, she feeds her addiction in every spare second, only occasionally tearing herself away to do things like answer the phone and pay bills. She spent years trying to build a “sensible” career, working in bookstores, recruitment, resource management, administration, and as a travel agent, before finally conceding defeat and devoting herself to the world of romance novels. Louisa has a long list of places first discovered in books that she wants to visit, and every so often she overcomes her loathing of jet lag and takes a trip that charges her imagination. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, where she whines about the weather for most of the year while secretly admitting she’ll probably never move.

Book preview

Chapter One

Paul would never admit it in a million years, but most days in December, he was at his desk so early because he liked to walk down the Champs-Élysée before the sun rose.

He had to go out of his way to do it—the Champs-Élysée was not on the route from his apartment to the Morel Corporation building, not even close—but he happily made the detour every morning, taking the Métro to Franklin D. Roosevelt station, strolling to the Arc de Triomphe, and then taking the Métro again to La Defense, where the Morel Corporation headquarters were. Very few of the shops were open so early, but their window displays still twinkled and sparkled. The lights in the trees guided him along, and for a short while, he could wander through a land of magic—unless he was jostled by a hurrying commuter or inattentive tourist. That broke the spell quickly.

Still, it was an experience he looked forward to every year. People rhapsodized about Paris in the springtime, but for Paul, Christmas was the best time of year.

As he strolled along, he took in the happy smiles of the early morning tourists and the impatience of the few locals who elected to come this way. The sky was slowly beginning to lighten on the eastern horizon, but it was still dark enough that the lights remained on. In fact, with as gloomy a day as was predicted, they just may stay on all day.

There was a small cluster of English-chattering tourists peering at the macaron trees in Ladurée’s window as he passed—and a casual-looking man who was edging closer to them in a seemingly nonchalant manner. Paul sighed. Why was there always someone who wanted to break the spell?

Watch your pockets, he warned the tourists. Heads turned. The wannabe pickpocket whirled, a snarl on his face… and froze. Paul smiled genially. He didn’t have to threaten to call the police—or make any threat at all. A gentleman he might be, but he certainly didn’t look it. The pickpocket took in his six-foot-five, broad-shouldered frame, his slightly crooked nose, and his rough-hewn features, and decided to try his luck elsewhere, disappearing into the crowd.

Several of the tourists clustered before the window were still looking around, confused, having missed the silent exchange, but one man met Paul’s gaze and smiled. Merci, he said with a truly terrible accent, but Paul smiled back anyway. As awful as it could be to have his native tongue butchered, it was better than those tourists who didn’t bother to try at all. Not that it really mattered to him—he spoke English, German, and Italian fluently, and could get by in Spanish. His skill with languages had been one of the things that had helped him land such a great job so early in his career.

And speaking of that job, this was not one of the mornings where he didn’t need to be at work so early. Lucien, his boss, had a meeting first