скачать книгу бесплатно
Unexpected Angel: Unexpected Angel / Undercover Elf
Kate Hoffmann
One realistic department store Santa. Two genuine Christmas miracles. Who said Christmas was just for kids?Unexpected Angel by Kate HoffmannAlex Marrin knows his seven-year-old son, Eric, wants a perfect Christmas– the way it used to be before the divorce. Heck, the kid's even put in an order with Santa! But when beautiful Christmas consultant Holly Bennett shows up on their doorstep, Alex can't help wondering if she's the answer to Eric's prayers–or his?Undercover Elf by Kate HoffmannAspiring reporter Claudia Moore is looking for her big break. And when she hears about a store Santa who really grants children's wishes, she thinks she's found it. Only, she never dreamed she have to go undercover–as an elf, of all things! And if that wasn't bad enough, she finds herself falling in love–with the very man she planned to expose….
Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!
Duets Vol. #41
Bestselling Harlequin author Kate Hoffmann kicks off with a special Christmas Double Duets this month. This writer never fails to “thrill us with light-hearted humor, endearing characters and piquant situations,” says Romantic Times Magazine.
Duets Vol. #42
Talented Jill Shalvis also presents her own fun-filled Double Duets this holiday season. “Get ready for laughs, passion and toe-curling romance, because Jill…delivers the goods,” says reviewer Kathee Card.
Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!
Unexpected Angel
Undercover Elf
Kate Hoffmann
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Unexpected Angel (#uabbce543-e086-592a-9e8a-db11bd900479)
Chapter 1 (#u924f3e37-7d45-501c-9e9e-a4c25060bcab)
Chapter 2 (#u9a406b5e-803b-5683-9f25-95be454c927b)
Chapter 3 (#u3ec74565-6d75-5a68-be60-42cd0b7bfa02)
Chapter 4 (#ucc9a6fc8-2cf3-5358-91c9-10fa8024e6d9)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Undercover Elf (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 2 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Unexpected Angel
Kate Hoffmann
“I had to get my angel back.”
As the conductor blew his whistle, Eric’s dad crouched down beside him. “Holly has to go home, son. Her train is leaving.”
“No,” Holly murmured. “I can stay until Christmas.”
Holly and his dad stared at each other a long time. Eric frowned. There was something funny going on here. Holly was staring at his dad the same way that pest, Eleanor Winchell, stared at Raymond, the new kid in school. And his dad was staring at Holly the same way Eric’s best friend, Kenny, stared at Eric’s Michael Jordan rookie card.
Kenny wriggled his eyebrows. “Kissy, kissy.” He laughed, puckering his lips.
Eric looked from his friend to the two adults. Could his Christmas angel be falling in love with his dad? “You really think so?” he asked Kenny.
“Hey, I was the one who broke the news to Raymond about Eleanor Winchell. I know all about guys and chicks. And your dad definitely has the hots for your angel.”
Eric thought about that for a moment, then grinned. “Cool!”
Dear Reader,
Another holiday season is here, and since I finished all my shopping last summer (I wish!), I decided to add my devoted readers to this year’s Christmas list. But what do I get for the reader who has everything? Nothing I found seemed right, especially with so many tastes to take into account.
In the end, I found a present I hope everyone will like—not one, but two new stories filled with romance, humor and a lot of Christmas cheer. Unexpected Angel and Undercover Elf feature all my favorite Christmas fantasies—a small town blanketed by sparkling snow, sleigh rides at sunset, an endless supply of home-baked treats (in fiction, they’re calorie free!) and not one, but two handsome men to share it all with.
So consider Alex Marrin and Tom Dalton my gift to you. Curl up in front of the fire with some hot apple cider and a plate of those calorie-free Christmas cookies you’ve been trying to avoid, and enjoy!
Happy holidays,
P.S. I love to hear from my readers. You can write to me c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9, Canada.
Books by Kate Hoffmann
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
731—NOT IN MY BED!
758—ONCE A HERO
762—ALWAYS A HERO
795—ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT
With special thanks to Faye and Charles McDaniels, who shared their love of horses with me and gave me a peek inside the stable doors.
1
IT WAS ALL EXACTLY as he’d remembered it. The little candy cane fence, the gingerbread cottage with the gum-drop roof, the elves dressed in red shoes with jingle bells around the ankles, and the tinsel-trimmed Christmas tree. Eric Marrin’s heart skipped a beat and he clutched his mittened hands to still the tremble of excitement.
He peered around the chubby kid standing in front of him and caught a glimpse of the man he’d come to see, the man half the kids in Schuyler Falls, New York, had come to see this night. “Santa Claus,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.
As he stood in line waiting to take his turn on Santa’s lap, he wondered whether his name was on the “nice” list. Eric made a quick mental review of the past twelve months.
Overall, it had been a pretty good year. Sure, there’d been the time he brought the garter snake into the house and then lost it. And the time he’d put his muddy shoes in the washing machine with his dad’s best dress shirts. And the time he’d gotten caught down at the railroad tracks squashing pennies on the tracks with his best friends, Raymond and Kenny.
But in the whole seven and a half, almost eight, years of his life, he’d never done anything naughty on purpose—except maybe for today. Today, instead of going straight home from school, he’d hopped a city bus with Raymond and jumped off right in front of Dalton’s Department Store. Riding the city bus alone was strictly against his dad’s rules and could result in punishment harsher than anything he’d seen in his life. But, technically, he hadn’t been alone. Raymond had been with him. And the trip had been for a very good reason. Even his dad would have to see that.
Dalton’s Department Store was considered by everyone in the second grade at Patrick Henry Elementary School as a shrine to Santa Claus. From the day after Thanksgiving until the hours leading up to Christmas Eve, children flocked though the shiny brass revolving doors and up the ancient escalator to the magical spot on the second floor where Santa and his minions reigned supreme.
Raymond claimed that a meeting with Dalton’s Santa was much better than a visit to any other Santa in New York. Those others were all just “helpers,” pretenders dressed up like the real Santa to help out during the Christmas rush. But this Santa was special. He had the power to make dreams come true. Kenny even knew a kid who’d gotten a trip to Florida just because his dad had lost his job right before Christmas.
Eric reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter. He’d used his very best penmanship and sealed the note in a colorful green envelope. He’d even added some of his favorite smelly stickers to decorate the outside, just to make sure the letter stood out from all the others. For this was the most important letter he’d ever written and he’d stop at nothing to make sure it got into Santa’s hands.
He watched as a little girl in a blue wool coat slipped her own letter into the ornate mailbox outside the Candy Cane Gate. She’d sealed it in a plain white envelope, addressed in sloppy crayon. Eric smiled. Surely her letter would be passed over for his. He closed his eyes and rubbed the lucky penny he always kept in his pocket. “Don’t mess up,” he murmured to himself. “Just don’t mess up.”
The line moved forward and Eric shoved the letter deeper into his pocket. First, he’d plead his case with Santa, and if the opportunity presented itself, he’d slip the letter into Santa’s pocket. He could imagine the jolly old man sitting down at dinner that night and tucking his glasses into his pocket. He’d discover the letter and read it immediately.
Eric frowned. If he really wanted to do the job right, he’d come down every night after school with a new letter each time. Santa would have to see how important this was to him and grant his wish. Maybe they’d even become best friends and he’d invite Eric over to play at the North Pole. And he could bring Santa to school for show and tell! That old sourpuss, Eleanor Winchell, would be so jealous she’d have a cow.
Of course, Eleanor had read her letter to Santa out loud in front of Miss Green’s class, a long recitation of all the toys she’d need to have a satisfying Christmas, the pretty dresses she’d require. She’d also informed the class that she planned to be the very first in line to give her letter to Santa once the Gingerbread Cottage opened for business at Dalton’s.
Secretly, Eric hoped that Eleanor’s letter would get lost in the shuffle, and that she’d fall through the ice on the Hudson River and she’d be swept downstream to torment some other kids at a grade school in faraway New York City. She was greedy and nasty and mean and if Santa couldn’t see that from her letter, then he didn’t deserve to drive a magic sleigh! Eric’s wish for Christmas didn’t include a single request for toys. And his Christmas wish was anything but selfish; it was as much for his dad as it was for himself.
Two years had passed since Eric’s mom had walked out. He’d been five, almost six, years old and Christmas had been right around the corner. The stockings were hung and the tree decorated and then she’d left. And everything had turned sad after that.
The first Christmas without her had been hard, mostly because he thought she’d be coming back. But last Christmas had been even worse. His dad hadn’t bothered to get a tree or hang the wreath on the door. Instead they’d left Thurston, their black lab, in a kennel, and flown to Colorado for skiing. The Christmas presents hadn’t even been wrapped and Eric suspected Santa had passed them right by because their condo had a fake fireplace with a really skinny chimney.
“Hey, kid. You’re next.”
Eric snapped his head up and blinked. A pretty elf, dressed in a puffy red polka-dot jacket and baggy green tights, stood at the gate and motioned him closer with an impatient expression. Her name tag said Twinkie and he hurried up to her, his heart pounding. He was so nervous he could barely remember what he wanted to say.
“So,” Twinkie said, “what are you going to ask for?”
Eric gave the elf a suspicious glance. “I think that’s between me and Santa,” he replied.
The elf chuckled. “Ah, the old Santa-kid confidentiality agreement.”
Eric scowled. “Huh?”
Twinkie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”
He shifted back and forth between his feet, then forced a smile at the elf. “Do you know him pretty well?”
Twinkie shrugged. “As well as any elf,” she said.
“Maybe you could give me some tips.” He opened his pocket and showed her the envelope, making sure that she saw his name scrawled in the upper left corner. If Santa didn’t remember who he was, he’d be sure Twinkie did. “I really need him to read my letter. It’s very, very, very important.” He pulled a bright blue Gobstopper out of his other pocket. “Do you think if I gave him—”
She studied the envelope. “Well, Eric Marrin, I can tell you this. The big guy doesn’t accept bribes.”
“But, I—”
“You’re up, kid,” Twinkie said, pushing him forward, then quickly turning to the next person in line. Eric approached slowly, reviewing all he planned to say. Then he crawled up on Santa’s lap and drew a steadying breath.
The smell of peppermint and pipe tobacco clung to his big red coat and tickled Eric’s nose. His lap was broad and his belly soft as a feather pillow and Eric leaned closer and looked up into the jolly old man’s eyes. Unlike the elf, Eric could see that Santa was patient and kind. “Are you really him?” he asked. Some of the kids at school claimed that Santa wasn’t real, but this guy sure looked real.
Santa chuckled, his beard quivering in merriment. “That I am, young man. Now, what’s your name and what can I do for you? What toys can I bring for you this Christmas?”
“My name is Eric Marrin and I don’t want any toys,” he said soberly, staring at a coal-black button on the front of Santa’s suit.
Santa gasped in surprise. “No toys? But every child wants toys for Christmas.”
“Not me. I want something else. Something much more important.”
Santa hooked his thumb under Eric’s chin and tipped his head up. “And what is that?”
“I—I want a huge Christmas tree with twinkling lights. And I want our house all decorated with plastic reindeer on the roof and a big wreath on the door. I want Christmas cookies and hot cider. And Christmas carols on the stereo. And on Christmas Eve, I want to fall asleep in front of the fireplace and have my dad carry me up to bed. And on Christmas Day, I want a huge turkey dinner and cherry pie for dessert.” The words had just tumbled out of his mouth and he’d been unable to stop them. Eric swallowed hard, knowing he was probably asking for the impossible. “I want it to be like when my mother lived with us. She always made Christmas special.”
For a long moment, Santa didn’t speak. Eric worried that he might toss him out of the Gingerbread Cottage for demanding too much. Toys were simple for a guy who owned his own toy factory, but Eric’s request was so complicated. Still, if Raymond was right, this Santa was his best shot at granting his Christmas wish.
“My—my mom left us right before Christmas two years ago. And my dad doesn’t know how to do Christmas right. Last year, we didn’t even have a tree. And—and he wants to go skiing again, but if we’re not home, we can’t have a real Christmas! You can help me, can’t you?”
“So you want your mother to come home for Christmas?”
“No,” Eric said, shaking his head. “I know she can’t come back. She’s an actress and she travels a lot. She’s in London now, doing a play. I see her in the summer for two weeks and she sends me postcards from all over. And—and I know you can’t bring me a new mother because there’s no way you can make a human in your toy factory. Not that I wouldn’t like a new mother, but hey, I know she won’t fit in the sleigh with all those toys and you’d never be able to get down the chimney carrying her in your sack and what if my dad didn’t like the kind you brought and—”
“What exactly do you want?” Santa asked, jumping in the moment Eric took a breath.
“The best Christmas ever!” he cried. “A Christmas like it used to be when my mom was here.”
“That’s a pretty big wish,” Santa said.
