Shannon Stacey - Mistletoe & Margaritas

2011

Dear Reader,

In December 2010 we published our first set of three holiday collections. I hoped at the time it would become a Carina Press tradition, and Im pleased that we were able to do this again in 2011.

This year, I invited four amazing authors to participate in the contemporary holiday collection. Between them, Jaci Burton, HelenKay Dimon, Alison Kent and Shannon Stacey have decades of writing experience and have published books their fans have adored. I knew these four authors would bring together holiday stories that would capture our hearts and take us away from the holiday craziness for a few hours. And did they ever!

Im thrilled and proud to share the heart-wrenching and wonderful holiday stories of the Holiday Kisses collection with you. I hope you love A Rare Gift by Jaci Burton, Its Not Christmas Without You by HelenKay Dimon, This Time Next Year by Alison Kent and Mistletoe and Margaritas by Shannon Stacey as much as I did. These are stories and characters that will live on for you, long after youve read the last page.

Im incredibly pleased to make these stories available to you both individually, and as a collection, and I hope you fall in love with them just as I did!

We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

Happy reading!

~Angela James

Executive Editor, Carina Press

www.carinapress.com

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When Justin McCormick was fourteen, a dirt-bike crash had put him in the hospital for two weeks, but even three broken bones and a concussion hadnt hurt as much as loving his best friends widow did now.

And yet, here he was, parking his truck next to her geriatric Volvo and walking up the exterior staircase to the apartment over her landlords garage, just like hed gotten back on that dirt bike. Knowing there was a chance hed get banged up again, but willing to take the risk.

Unlike with the dirt bike, though, there wasnt any chance about it. Justin knew hed get banged up again every time he showed up on Claires doorstep. He knew it would hurt, but even if he didnt have an empty Dunkin Donuts bag full of crumpled-up receipts he had to drop off with her, he would have stopped by. He always did. Because they were buddies. Instead of weakening after Brendans accident, their friendship had only gotten stronger.

Claire opened her apartment door to him just as he reached for the knob, her pale blue eyes alive with excitement and her long, blond ponytail swinging as he flashed her the friendly smile hed been perfecting since the day they met. A friendly smile so perfect, in fact, Claire had never guessed-through two years of dating Brendan and three years of marriage and two years of widowhood-how Justin felt about her.

You brought me doughnuts?

Receipts. He handed her the bag and laughed when she scowled at the contents.

Work disguised as doughnuts? Thats just mean. She walked over to the corner of her apartment that served as her office and tossed the bag on her desk. I should give Moxie your sandwich.

The massive tortoiseshell cat in question wound between his feet, pausing to headbutt his shin before Justin picked her up and scratched between her ears. You dont even like doughnuts that much.

I like them more than I like handfuls of filthy, torn receipts youve scrounged from under the seat of your truck.

Watch it or Ill start to think bookkeepings not your true calling.

Of course it is. She gave him a smile that would have struck him dumb if he didnt have so much experience resisting it. There are only so many jobs I can do in sweatpants.

He set Moxie on the couch and moved toward the kitchen in search of the food Claire had said would be waiting. The only thing she did better than keep books for local small-potato contractors was cook.

Since hed warned her this would be a quick stop, Claire had thrown together some sandwiches. But they were thin-sliced honey ham with Swiss cheese on homemade whole wheat with butter and spicy mustard, just the way he liked it.

She knew how he liked everything and most of the time knew what he was thinking before he even said it out loud, but she didnt know how much he loved her. It puzzled him sometimes. He couldnt see how, unless she was refusing to see it. Maybe she did know, but shed never feel the same and the pretense preserved their friendship.

While dumping some chips onto her paper plate, Claire looked at him and asked, How are things going withTrish, was it?

Yeah, Trish. But we broke it off a few days ago.

You mean you broke it off. The look she gave him was a familiar one, full of womanly disgust. What was wrong with her?

She wasnt you. It wasnt going anywhere. I did us both a favor.

When she reached over and touched his arm, it took all of his willpower not to pull away. At the rate youre going, youll run out of fish in the sea, you know.

She was a touchy-feely kind of person, always touching his hand or grabbing his arm or resting her hand on his shoulder, with no idea how agonizing it was for him. He felt the warmth of her palm through his shirt and he ached to feel it against his bare skin.

We still on for Friday? he asked, even though hed told himself earlier in the day he was going to tell her he couldnt make it.

Yeah. Since my only niece is turning three, I cant back out.

Do you mind if we take my truck so I can stop and have the tires changed? Since well be going through Manchester anyway.

Thats fine, but if youre driving, Im paying for the gas. Pizza tonight?

Yeah. Tuesday night was always pizza night. Pizza and pool at the local pizza house on the night least likely to have a bunch of kids running around. It had been a tradition forever-just Justin and Brendan in the beginning. I have to pick up the contract for plowing that new plaza, so Ill swing in and pick you up.

Taking a bite of her sandwich, she stretched her legs out under the table. Her ankle brushed his, but she didnt pull it back. She just rested it there, comfortably and without any clue it was slowly killing him inside.

He had to cut her loose.

Not totally, maybe, but he needed to put some distance between them. Hed been telling himself that for months, as her natural humor and joy for life gradually overwhelmed her grief and she became more like the Claire hed known-and loved-for years.

No matter how often he told himself to distance himself, though, he couldnt bring himself to do it. The thought of not having Claire in his life anymore hurt. And the question he couldnt answer was whether living without her or continuing to live as her best friend hurt more.

Nothing made Claire want to bust out the butt-wiggle dance like snowflake graphics dancing across the weather forecast grid portion of the evening news. The snowflakes were a couple of days away and they werent going to amount to much, but it was a start.

Snow meant plowing and plowing meant shed get to see more of Justin. He was a roofer by trade but, like a lot of guys whose work crapped out during the winter months, he plowed snow to make up the difference. Since his house was in the middle of nowhere and most of his client base was in town, hed crash on her couch for power naps between plow runs. And, if she didnt have any work backing up on her desk, shed ride along and keep him company while he cleared driveways and parking lots.