скачать книгу бесплатно
A Little Bit of Holiday Magic
Melissa McClone
All widow Grace Wilcox wants is a fresh start for her and her young son Liam. When her truck spins off the icy road, her rescuer turns out to be the hottest fire-fighter in Hood Hamlet, and even wary Grace can’t say no to his offer of help!Bill Paulson has stuck to his no-dating rule so far this Christmas, but having Grace in his home is testing his chivalrous side to the limit! Her little boy is melting his heart, even asking for a new daddy from Santa… But Grace has already loved and lost one hero.Can she really let herself get close to another… ?
A new family…for Christmas?
All widow Grace Wilcox wants is a fresh start for her and her young son, Liam. When her truck spins off the icy road, her rescuer turns out to be the hottest firefighter in Hood Hamlet, and even wary Grace can’t say no to his offer of help!
Bill Paulson has stuck to his no-dating rule so far this Christmas, but having Grace in his home is testing his chivalrous side to the limit! Her little boy is melting his heart, even asking for a new daddy from Santa.…
But Grace has already loved and lost one hero. Can she really let herself get close to another?
“Maybe Christmas magic brought you to Hood Hamlet last night.”
“Maybe.” She spoke with a wistful expression on her face. “Or maybe it was an angel.”
“Christmas is a time for miracles, but I haven’t had much experience with angels except the snow kind,” Bill said. “I’ll stick with magic.”
“You do that.” She glanced at Liam. “I’m going to stick with my angel the next time I need a Christmas miracle.”
Bill wouldn’t mind sticking with her.
Whoa! Where had that come from?
He wasn’t up for sticking with anyone. Not for more than a night. Maybe two if they had fun together.
Maybe the temperature had dropped more than he’d realized. Time to head inside and warm up. He was thinking nonsense right now. “The snow’s picking up. Let’s warm up inside and make ourselves some hot cocoa. We can check if there’s an update on your truck.”
Her soft smile kicked his gut with the force of an ornery mountain goat. He forced himself to breathe.
Something was at work here. Not magic. Physical chemistry.
That would explain the way he felt. But he couldn’t fool around with Grace—no matter how appealing the thought might be.
Dear Reader,
When I decided to write more stories about a group of volunteer mountain rescuers on Mount Hood, I kept the order of heroes/heroines in my head. After Jake Porter in the first book, I’d write Sean Hughes, Leanne Thomas and then Bill Paulson. After writing Sean’s story I was kicking myself that I’d married off Tim Moreno before Jake’s book began. In Leanne’s story, Firefighter Under the Mistletoe, I added a new character—Dr. Cullen Gray—so I could write another story, because I wasn’t quite ready to leave Hood Hamlet.
I’m ready now. The time has come to say goodbye to the brave men and women of OMSAR and the quaint Alpine-inspired town of Hood Hamlet, Oregon.
I always knew Bill Paulson’s story would be the last book in the series. Bill has been one of my favorite characters, always up for a good time or a laugh, often at his own expense. This Christmas the confirmed bachelor finds more than he bargained for after he helps a young widow named Grace and her three-year-old son, Liam. But with a little Christmas magic—something Hood Hamlet is known for—you never know what might happen!
I want to thank all the readers who fell in love with Hood Hamlet and its inhabitants the way I did. Being asked whose story I was writing next gave me such a great feeling. I must admit typing The End in this last book was a bittersweet moment. Although each book in the series stands alone, I’ve tried to give updates on some of the previous couples and characters.
I hope you enjoy your visit to Hood Hamlet!
Melissa
A Little Bit
of Holiday Magic
Melissa McClone
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last thing MELISSA MCCLONE ever thought she would be doing was writing romance novels. But analysing engines for a major US airline just couldn’t compete with her ’happily-ever-afters’. When she isn’t writing, caring for her three young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea, her cats, and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being renovated. Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life hero husband, two daughters, a son, two lovable but oh-sospoiled indoor cats, and a no-longer-stray outdoor kitty that has decided to call the garage home.
Melissa loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 63, Lake Oswego, OR 97034, USA, or contact her via her website: www.melissamcclone.com.
In Memory of Elizabeth Brooks.
Thank you for the wonderful memories and always
believing I could be a writer.
Special thanks to: Karyn Barr, Roger Carstens,
Alice Burton, Lori Freeland, Lisa Hayden, Terri Reed,
Jennifer Shirk, Margie Lawson and her
Nov. ’12 Fab 30 class.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE (#u6cabbe81-c669-5cfc-bafc-e6d25a632ce6)
CHAPTER TWO (#u1374f630-6886-542d-9049-c10903ef2e4d)
CHAPTER THREE (#u808b1f5d-15e8-5d5c-a355-07118f60a3b5)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
PLEASE, TRUCK. DON’T die on me.
Grace Bad-luck-is-my-middle-name Wilcox gripped the pickup’s steering wheel tighter, as if willpower alone would keep the sputtering engine running in the middle of a blizzard on Mount Hood. A CD of cheery Christmas carols played, but frazzled nerves kept her from singing along.
The tire chains crunched on the snow. The wipers’ frenetic back-and-forth struggled to keep the windshield clear of falling snow. The engine coughed, a croupy-seal-bark sound.
She raised her foot off the accelerator.
A gut-clenching grinding noise shook the cab, confirming her fear.
Forget reaching the Oregon coast tonight. The truck wasn’t going to survive the drive over Mount Hood.
Stranded in a snowstorm with her three-year-old son.
Shivers racked her body, a mix of panic, fear and bone-chilling cold. The heater had stopped working an hour ago. Her fleece jacket and knit gloves weren’t enough to keep her warm.
Grace pressed on the gas pedal, praying for a miracle. She glanced in the rearview mirror to the backseat of the truck’s extended cab.
Liam slept in his car seat with his head on a blue stuffed elephant named Peanut, and his body covered with sleeping bags and blankets.
A ball of warmth settled at the center of Grace’s chest. Liam—the one bright light in her otherwise dark life. The reason she kept going. “I hope you’re having sweet dreams, baby.”
Because reality sucked.
Except when you were a little kid and trusted your mom to keep you safe.
And she would keep him safe. That was her job. Though she was failing at being a good mommy tonight.
Liam must be exhausted. It was nearly eleven o’clock, hours past his bedtime, and they’d spent another long day on the road, their progress hampered by harsh winter weather.
“Looks like Astoria will have to wait one more day.”
Her voice trembled from the cold, disappointment, fear.
If only we were there now.
The small northern Oregon coastal town, about a three-hour drive from Mount Hood, would be their home. She could make a new life for herself, and most especially, Liam.
With only one working headlight, Grace struggled to see the road due to the wind-driven snow.
The engine clanked and rattled and thunked.
She needed to find a place to stay the night before the truck gave out. She glimpsed something, a pole. No, a sign.
Grace made out the words Hood Hamlet. An arrow pointed right.
She had no idea what Hood Hamlet was—she assumed not a Shakespeare character in a hoodie—but anything had to be better than being stuck on the side of the road in this freezing weather all night. She flipped on the blinker, even though no one else was crazy enough to be driving in these conditions, and turned right.
Deep snow. A foot more than was on the highway. No tracks.
The truck plowed ahead, slowed by the road conditions and her nerves. The snow muffled the sounds of the tire chains, but the disturbing engine noises increased in frequency and volume.
Not good.
White-knuckled, she clutched the steering wheel as if it were a lifeline.
Hood Hamlet, please don’t let me down.
The snow and darkness, pitch-black except for the one headlight, made seeing more than a foot or two ahead impossible.
She leaned forward, squinting, trying to see.
The windshield fogged on the inside. Frost built up on the outside.
A T in the road lay ahead. But no sign to direct her, nothing to let her know she was close to Hood Hamlet.
Right or left?
Grace chose right. That turn seemed easier to negotiate with the road conditions. She eased the steering wheel toward the passenger’s side.
The truck skidded, sliding sideward.
Air rushed from her lungs. Her fingers dug into the steering wheel. “No. No. No.”
Turn into the slide.
Hadn’t Damon told her that when she was learning to drive? Wait. That was for front-wheel drive cars, not his truck.
She turned the steering wheel the other way.
The truck straightened.
Grace glanced back at Liam, who was still sleeping. “Maybe our luck’s changing.”
The truck slid again.
She tried to correct, but the vehicle spun in the opposite direction. Round and round, like a merry-go-round with afterburners.
Her pulse accelerated into the stratosphere.
The world passed by in slow motion, appearing through the windshield wipers like blurry photographs.
Trees. Snow. More snow.
Round and round.
