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Christmas At Prescott Inn
Cathryn Parry
She’s back in his life…But will they end up under the mistletoe?Emilie O’Shea and her figure-skating troupe find themselves homeless…until a Christmas miracle lands them at a quaint inn in New Hampshire. Emilie is excited—then she discovers the inn’s Scrooge-like owner is her ex-fiancé, Nathan Prescott.With help from a little boy, an adorable cat and her skaters, Emilie helps Nathan find hope in the season…and hope in their future
She’s back in his life...
But will they end up under the mistletoe?
Emilie O’Shea and her figure-skating troupe find themselves homeless...until a Christmas miracle lands them at a quaint inn in New Hampshire. Emilie is excited—then she discovers the inn’s scrooge-like owner is her ex-fiancé, Nathan Prescott. With assistance from a little boy, an adorable cat and her skaters, Emilie helps Nathan find hope in the season...and hope in their future.
Cathryn Parry writes contemporary romance from her home in Massachusetts. Her Mills & Boon novels have received such honors as a Booksellers’ Best Award, HOLT Medallion Awards of Merit and several Readers’ Choice Award nominations. In her free time, she loves figure skating, planning as many vacations as possible and pursuing her genealogy hobby. For more information about upcoming releases and to sign up for a new-book-alert email, please visit her website at cathrynparry.com (http://www.cathrynparry.com).
Books by Cathryn Parry
Summer by the Sea
The Undercover Affair
The Good Mom
The Secret Between Them
Secret Garden
Scotland for Christmas
The Sweetest Hours
Out of His League
The Long Way Home
Something to Prove
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Christmas at Prescott Inn
Cathryn Parry
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 9781474094733
CHRISTMAS AT PRESCOTT INN
© 2018 by Cathryn Parry
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Version: 2018-11-30
She gazed at him softly, shaking her head. “Nathan, what’s become of you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve turned cold.”
Had he? Well, she didn’t know what had been going on with him since they’d parted, either in his life or in his heart.
There was so much he couldn’t tell her. About his inn failing, about the fact that his finances were on the ropes, about the feelings he still carried for her...
“I was concerned,” he admitted, “when I saw on the news that your cruise ship had hit a reef. In fact, I checked my phone that day to see if you’d called me.”
Shoot. He hadn’t wanted to admit that.
“I thought of you that day, too,” she said softly.
She had?
“Thank you for your thoughts,” she continued. “But the best you can do for me is to help us be successful with our show. Come on, Nathan, it’s Christmas. Think about the kids.”
He was thinking about the kids. She had no idea.
Dear Reader (#uac2e84fe-b41b-52ce-b716-65d03335780d),
Welcome to Christmas in New England!
For my first Heartwarming novel I wanted to write a holiday story about hope, healing and second chances at love.
Emilie O’Shea is a professional figure skater who’s left homeless just before Christmas. Concerned about the young cast of international performers in her care, Emilie takes the only offer of employment she can find: travel to wintry New Hampshire to present their holiday spectacle at a resort in the mountains. The catch? The resort is owned by Nathan Prescott, the man who broke her heart two Christmases ago.
Nathan Prescott has put his unlikely romance with Emilie behind him. Nathan, a consulting accountant, never expected to fall for a free-spirited performer with few family roots. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she refused to accompany him home when his life’s goal finally came to fruition: he was able to buy back Prescott Inn, the resort founded by his grandfather.
But the hotel has too many empty rooms this holiday season, and finances are tight. Nathan’s cost-cutting endeavors have earned him the nickname Mr. Scrooge. Only Emilie seems to be able to lighten his heart, even as her figure-skating troupe upends his staid plans and breathes life into his world again.
Can he prove to her that she’s worth more than his business to him? Dare he hope that this time, she’ll choose to stay?
Enjoy the show!
All the best,
Cathryn Parry
To Otis, who sat with me through every book, every late-night session, every sunny afternoon on the back porch.
You were a very special cat, and a true member of our family. You’ll be forever missed.
Contents
Cover (#ua3e4f93a-1623-5658-8605-7f74ed5d7f85)
Back Cover Text (#u43db7a4e-d623-5e73-9b7e-5874d88cce30)
About the Author (#u86693ae6-8197-54d4-bf54-bbba36bc861e)
Booklist (#ua1830589-d389-5b2b-8b06-f251a96b460c)
Title Page (#u78bee99a-3be9-5d52-bc5a-86db47bc23b2)
Copyright (#ud5d8331f-d582-582d-8d8a-bd333e91e1e1)
Introduction (#u83157048-b199-5a26-9e7b-a8c136ba6670)
Dear Reader (#ufe029c02-d211-5d32-b24f-cdb79976d82e)
Dedication (#uca2e7dc0-066f-5beb-bc6b-3c0171f785e6)
CHAPTER ONE (#u87638b7d-3080-527a-88c3-8f5b29ea7351)
CHAPTER TWO (#u8e21a489-6694-5986-98c3-2ae02925b2ce)
CHAPTER THREE (#u5ee493f0-59bd-5e48-8cdd-632db9e55a7b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u988f21ef-fcf1-58c5-a44c-b3e01e3a5e09)
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 FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EXCERPT FROM FAMILY BY DESIGN BY CALLIE ENDICOTT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uac2e84fe-b41b-52ce-b716-65d03335780d)
CHRISTMAS ARRIVED AT Prescott Inn the day after Thanksgiving.
Nathan Prescott stepped into the lobby just in time to see two workers erecting a large blue spruce tree. The sharp smell of pine needles wafted to his nose. The annoyingly upbeat jingle of seasonal music—Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas”—met his ears.
Nathan frowned. He didn’t mind if Christmas never came this year.
The inn’s rooms weren’t filling up. Expenses were excessive. He was worried about his investors’ meeting tomorrow and what they would decide. They’d already threatened once to shut down his line of credit.
Nothing could be worse than that.
Gloom descended over his heart.
“A cup of warm spiced cider, Mr. Prescott?” His front desk clerk held out a mug that steamed with the scent of apple and cinnamon. She gave him a tentative smile.
Nathan just shook his head and continued walking toward his office.
As he strode past the stone fireplace, the commotion of tree-decorating and decking-the-halls continued around him unabated. He scowled as a worker brought in a crate of red poinsettia plants.
More money spent—expenses his investors expected him to be cutting. But as he opened his mouth to refuse the delivery, a movement behind the lobby couch caught his eye.
Nathan paused. A dark-haired boy, about six or seven years old, popped up his head. A look of terror appeared in his hazel eyes.
He recognized the boy as one of the kids from the homeless shelter. During the winter months, Nathan housed some families with young children from the shelter. This particular boy had moved in with his mother the week before Thanksgiving. His mother never seemed to be around—working, Nathan supposed. He’d noticed the boy because he always seemed interested in what was happening around the inn.
As I was at his age, Nathan thought.
Nathan should have kept walking. But the small portrait of his grandfather, Philip Prescott, seemed to wink down at him and ask him to stay.
The boy flushed and pointed to a round, red Christmas ornament. “It fell down,” he stammered to Nathan, retrieving the delicate antique and carefully placing its metal hook around a sturdy branch of the spruce tree, cut down from a forest on the mountain. Both Nathan and the boy stared at the partially decorated tree. It still needed lights. And a star for the top, but the decorators would get to that.
