Kissmas Wishes (Love In All Seasons #3) - Frankie Love Page 0,88
it’s my workshop too ya know.”
Pride swells through me. I love the fact my one and only son is taking up my trade. He is an even finer carpenter than me.
“I know, Uncle Tanner,” she says with an adorable voice of exasperation. “The rule is no touching.”
Sugar kneels down and kisses Lucy’s cheeks. “Merry Christmas, Lucy.”
“Merry Christmas, Grandma.”
“Now you two be quick. Breakfast for dinner is almost ready.”
“Why is this the tradition?” I hear Tanner ask as I leave through the back door with Lucy.
I smile, chuckling to myself remember that first Christmas Eve with Sugar all those years ago. Once inside the workshop, I flip on the lights and take Lucy’s hand. “’Kay sweetie, your gift is over here. The one that is wrapped up.”
“This is for me?” she asks, eyes big. She walks over to the package and unwraps it carefully. She gasps when she sees what I’ve made her. “A baby cradle for Julie?” she asks, placing her baby doll in the miniature cradle that I carved, sanded, and painted pink and white.
“Do you think she likes it?” I ask, knowing the answer by the look of pure joy in my granddaughter’s eyes. Tucked in the cradle is a small quilt Sugar made, and Lucy tenderly tucks her baby doll in.
Tears prick my eyes. I may be getting old, but damn, I can’t help but get sentimental this time of year. Sugar and I dreamed for so long of creating a family that would have a legacy, and that we would be lucky enough to watch our kids grow up, knowing my own parents were not so lucky. And somehow, we’ve made it though. We beat the odds and came out ahead. We’ve come out together.
“It’s perfect, Grandpa,” Lucy says. “I love it. And I love you.”
She wraps her arms around me, and I hold her tightly, the miracle of Christmas still not lost on me.
~The End~
About
Home Is Where The Beard Is
You could call me a Grinch.
But instead of green fur, I grew a beard and a brooding attitude.
Sure, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder — but we all have our issues.
I live in the woods. Alone. That’s the way I like it.
Until this December.
When Maple St. Claire knocks on my cabin door and everything changes.
I may be a grump, but I’m a sucker for sweet things.
And this girl? I’ve been in love with her since I was six years old.
It’s the season for miracles and maybe just this once I’ll get the present I’ve wanted all my life:
Maple St. Claire in my arms under the mistletoe.
Dear Reader,
It’s Christmas and I was feeling generous… so I gave you not one, but two virgins.
That’s right, this filthy-sweet romance features an alpha hero who is saving himself for his one and only… and a sweet as sugar heroine who’s been dreaming of this moment all her life.
They’re both about to get a really good Christmas gift!
xo, frankie
Filson
With my shirtsleeves rolled up and an axe in the air, I slam the blade down, splitting the chunk of wood in two. I wipe my forehead with the back of my arm, assessing the stack of firewood. More than enough for the rest of the long-ass winter that’s ahead of us here in the Northern Cascade Mountains. Hell, there’s already a few inches of snow at my feet.
I turn, hearing tires crunch against the freshly covered gravel of the driveway. A car is pulling up and my springer spaniel, Sammy, starts barking. “It’s okay, girl,” I say, burying the axe in the stump, the thick scent of pine trees and the smoke from the chimney swirling around us. The tires come to a stop and I wonder who would be coming out here today when the forecast predicted a flurry of snow for later this morning.
I live about thirty minutes from town in a mountain cabin that I built with my own two hands. Hell, it’s not like there was anyone else to help me knock those timbers together. Didn’t need anyone’s help either. Never have. Never will.
When the car door swings open and a pair of feet hit the snow, I call for Sammy to stay by my side, trying to figure out who might be coming to these parts. There’s only one man I’m hoping to hear from soon and I don’t think Asher Martin would be so stupid as to show up on my property.