Snowed In For Christmas: A Fun Feel-Good Holiday Romance Novel - Kimberly Krey Page 0,3

comments like that.”

“Oh, hush.” They might not be on a video chat, but mentally, Easton could see Chantelle’s eye roll.

He hovered his thumb over the device, ready to say goodbye and disconnect the call, when his sister spoke up once more.

“You know something?”

“Yeah?” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

“This really might be it, you know? You doing this interview, this show…it might be how you find your match.”

How he finds his match. Easton tried to make the comment settle into his mind. Tried to make it fit into the box of things he believed in, but there was no way. He’d have better luck forcing a square peg into a triangular slot. But that wasn’t what Chantelle wanted to hear, and he didn’t want to provoke an argument. “Maybe,” he forced himself to say. “See you in a few days.” He disconnected the line before he could hear any hint of satisfaction from his optimistic-sounding reply.

Irritation pushed through him like a life force. Adding angst to every movement as he tossed soup cans, dried jerky, nuts, and drink mixes into his pack. An airtight container sat on his counter—the cinnamon rolls his neighbor left him. Beside that stood the jar of moonshine peaches another neighbor, Jerry, handed out each year. Easton wasn’t sure what the guy used to make his moonshine, but those peaches sure packed a punch.

May as well take them along too. There would be plenty of water on the grounds, so he grabbed a refillable canteen and flung open the door to his garage.

The sight of his rugged looking Jeep earned a reluctant grin. Dang, he loved that thing. It was the one luxury he’d allowed himself, allowed since it helped him get around on the grounds no matter the weather or terrain.

Perhaps the next few days wouldn’t be ruined after all. Sure, his sister had won this one, and now, for integrity’s sake, he’d have to at least do the stupid interview. But Easton wouldn’t let that spoil his weekend on the snow-covered ground with nothing but the fox and cougar to greet him.

Once he settled on the best approach, he’d focus on the wonders ahead of him. The peace and tranquility he’d enjoy as he spent the night in one yurt after the next throughout the campground.

But for now, he decided, as he settled behind the wheel, he’d tackle the pesky little chore that sat in his way: What was the best way to botch an interview for becoming one of America’s next TV bachelors?

Chapter 2

Four interviews down and one to go.

Ivy let that encouraging truth seep into her mind as the plane touched down. Just out the window, beyond the tarmac, a thick layer of white, puffy snow covered the ground from every visible angle.

The overhead announcement gave passengers a quick weather report that matched the image, along with the go-ahead to take her phone off airplane mode, something she wasted no time doing. The small device pulsed and buzzed with a slew of incoming texts. She assessed the damage—thirty-eight text messages. Only the Ingles family text group could tally up that many texts within a forty-minute flight.

Yet before she could scroll through them, her phone started to ring.

Nancy, the screen read. Great. Nancy was the other gal gunning for the position she hoped to score. The woman matched Ivy’s eagerness to get the job, and was close to her skillset too, but one thing they didn’t have in common was Nancy’s out-of-bounds behavior when it came to getting what she wanted. Which meant Ivy had to really watch her back.

“Hi there, Nancy,” Ivy said, bringing the phone to her ear.

“I’m all done,” the woman gloated.

Of course she was. Ivy could picture her wrapping her signature wad of green gum around her finger as she spoke. “And get this...” she said, her loud gum-chewing enhancing the mental image. “I even snuck in an extra.”

Ivy’s eyes went wide. “An extra? You can’t do that.”

“Marsha gave me the clear. I snapped a pic of him at the airport after telling him a little about the competition, and Marsha liked the look of him so she said if I could get him to fill out the paperwork and sign the contract, we could put him in the final fifty. Well, fifty-one now.”

“That’s…” Annoying, she wanted to say. “Awesome.”

“I know it is. And you should see my interviews. I have got some live ones, I’m telling you. These guys are pouring their hearts