It is delightful on Sugarplum Way + Giveaway
SUGARPLUM
WAY by Debbie Mason
Part of the Harmony Harbor series
will be published on
October 31, 2017 by Forever.
Goodreads | Mass Market: $7.99
| eBook: $5.99 | ISBN: 9781538744154
____________________________________________________________________________________
"Heartfelt
and delightful!" -RaeAnne Thayne, New York Times bestselling author
Romance
writer Julia Landon knows how to write a happily-ever-after. Creating one for
herself is a whole different story. But after a surprising--and surprisingly
passionate--kiss under the mistletoe at Harmony Harbor's holiday party last
year, Julia thought she might have finally found her very own chance at true
love. Until she learns her Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broodingly Handsome has sworn
off relationships. Well, if she can't have him in real life, Julia knows just
how to get the next best thing....
Aidan's
only priority is to be the best single dad ever. And this year, he plans to
make the holidays magical for his little girl, Ella Rose. But visions of stolen
kisses under the mistletoe keep dancing in his head, and when he finds out
Julia has written him into her latest novel, he can't help imagining the
possibilities of a future together. Little does he know, though, Julia has been
keeping a secret that threatens all their dreams. Luckily, 'tis the season for
a little Christmas magic.
About the author: Debbie Mason is the USA
Today bestselling author of the Christmas, Colorado and Harmony Harbor
series. Her books have been praised for their "likable characters, clever
dialogue and juicy plots" (RT Book Reviews). When she isn't writing or
reading, Debbie enjoys spending time with her very own real-life hero, three
wonderful children, two adorable grandbabies, and a yappy Yorkie named Bella in
Ontario, Canada.
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Aidan smiled that slow, sexy smile of his just before he
lifted his gun and fired. The glass shattered, and the.
. .
A shrill beeping sound pulled Julia out of
the story. Startled, she jumped. Her initial thought was that she’d put on the
teapot and had forgotten to turn off the burner. She blinked and opened her
eyes. She’d been trying to get deeper into her character’s point of view by
typing with her eyes closed. It hadn’t worked as well as she’d hoped. But it
had ensured that she didn’t see the smoke . . . Smoke! There was smoke filling her living room. Again.
Duckety,
duck, duck, duck.
The annoying voice on the smoke detector
bleated fire, fire.
“Julia, open the damn door!”
Frantically
searching under the papers littering her desk for her cell phone, she ignored
the voice. Though she was impressed. It was amazing how real Adrian sounded.
Like he was right outside . . . Wait a
minute. He was calling her name,
not Gillian’s. Crap, it was Aidan. Double crap, she knew why he was here. She’d
thought she’d have until morning to face him.
“Hang on!
I—” She heard a loud bang at the same time she found her phone. “I’m coming!”
she called, running to the outside entry door as she punched in the assigned
number for the alarm company.
At the same time she realized there was no
dial tone, Aidan kicked in her door. It bounced off the wall and the hulking
shadow of a man filled the open doorway. If she hadn’t recognized his voice,
she’d be terrified. Given the intimidating expression on his face, she wondered
if maybe she should still be afraid.
Fire, the smoke detector bleated again. Right,
fire, smoke. “Hurry, I need your phone!” She
made grabby motions with her fingers.
He looked
at her like she’d lost it and strode into the room. “Your alarm is connected to
the station. They’ll be on their way. Where’s the fire? Do you have an
extinguisher?”
“No, no, I
don’t need the fire department. I need your phone.” She rushed forward. He
didn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation, and she began patting
him down.
He reached
in his pocket, punching in a code before handing her his phone. Of course his
would be password protected.
“Thanks,”
she said to his back as he prowled around her apartment, no doubt looking for
the source of the smoke. “Um, I think my nachos are on fire.”
She made a face at his muttered, “You have
got to be shitting me.” And then went to look up the alarm company’s number on
her phone, only to realize she couldn’t access it because her cell was dead.
“Duck.”
She raced to her desk searching for the
alarm company’s business card while muttering to herself, “I need the number.
Where would I put the number for the alarm company? Laptop. Of course.” Laptop, no! It was on and open for him
to see. She slammed the lid shut at the same time the oven door bang closed.
Aidan strode from the kitchen wearing her
burned oven mitt and carrying a charbroiled tray of smoking ash. “It’s usually
on the unit,” he said dryly before heading out the door.
Which went to prove that the man didn’t
miss a thing, even her half-whispered conversation with herself.
At the return of his heavy footsteps, she
turned her back to her desk, attempting to use her body as a shield. Widening
her stance and her arms, she wrapped her fingers around the edge of the desk
and leaned back in hopes of concealing any evidence of her book from his
all-seeing cop’s eyes.
He glanced
at her and then did a double take. She thought she heard a muttered, “Jesus,”
before he retrieved his phone from her hand and continued across the living
room, dodging a basket of laundry, a box of decorations she’d yet to put up on
the tree, and a half-eaten bowl of cereal.
Wondering what was with the double take,
she looked around. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Sure her place
was a little messy, but he was a guy. He probably wouldn’t even notice. She
thought of something he might notice and looked down.
Yep, that was probably the reason for the
look. It was obvious she was cold, and her body-hugging black T-shirt read
“Santa’s Favorite Ho” with the jolly old elf ho, ho, hoing, paired with
black-and-white plaid flannel sleep pants.
When Aidan reached the other side of the
living room, he placed the cell phone between his shoulder and ear and raised
the window. “Yeah, it’s Aidan Gallagher. The call from 232 Main Street is a
false alarm. That’s her. Five times, is that so? I’ll tell her, thanks.”
“It wasn’t
five false alarms. It was four.” She faced her desk to quickly bury a paperback
copy of Warrior’s Kiss and her
contract for Warrior’s Touch under
some paper and turn her notepad upside down while doing a visual search for any
other incriminating evidence.
“Doesn’t matter. You still broke the record
for false alarms in a six-week timeframe. Dispatch says Mrs. Rosenbloom had
three.”
“Are they charging me?”
“No” He answered his ringing phone and then
bowed his head. “Hello, Dad. Yes, she’s fine. Is that right? Nachos. No,
smoke’s not too bad. Okay, I’ll do that. Don’t remind me,” he grumbled and then
disconnected.
Whatever his dad said to Aidan didn’t
improve his already not-so-happy mood. She really didn’t feel like talking
about the suggestion she’d made to Harper and why. Fending off his probing
questions would be difficult, and she wasn’t exactly equipped to handle him
tonight. She was tired, and her throat had passed sore an hour before.
“I
really appreciate you dropping by, but it’s late, and I have an early day.” She
forced a smile and moved to see him . . . out her broken door. She barely
managed to stifle an anguished moan. She couldn’t face the thought of dealing
with repairing the door tonight.
He lifted his chin to the left of the
kitchen. “Is that your bedroom?”
She ignored her inner hussy who yelled who needs a bed and suggested Julia
throw herself on the floor at his feet. Her inner hussy was way more optimistic
about their chances of getting lucky tonight.
“Yes, but I don’t see . . . What do you
think you’re doing?” she said as he walked over and opened her bedroom door.
Umm, more like shoved it open. The clothes that had been hanging over her door
this morning had fallen off when she closed it, and she’d been running late.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me
what you said to Harper and why. You’re tired? Fine, you can talk to me from
your bed while I fix your door.” He looked around her bedroom. “If we can find
your bed.”
She grabbed a pink lacy bra off the
doorknob and held it behind her back. “I’ve been busy. I haven’t had time to
tidy up.”
“What, like in a year?”
“Very funny. I’m sure your room isn’t any
better.”
“Sugarplum, my bedroom didn’t look this bad
when I was a kid.”
She kind of liked that he called her sugarplum
but could do without the sarcasm. She scooted past him to scoop up her bras and
panties and any other embarrassing items that were lying on the floor . . . and
on the bed . . . and on her dresser. And half sticking out of her nightstand
drawer! As breezily as she could, she moved to the front of the nightstand in
hopes of blocking his view. “It’s a little smoky in here. Maybe you should open
that window too?”
She smiled. He sighed.
As soon as his back was turned, she
thigh-checked the nightstand drawer closed. Only it didn’t close. Instead it
acted like a rocket launcher, and her fluorescent pink vibrator sailed through
the air to land with a splash in the goldfish bowl sitting on the bench at the
end of her bed. Her mouth fell open, and then she covered it, releasing a
muffled, “I’ve killed Eric and Ariel!”
Aidan looked from the fish bowl to her and
started to laugh, a deep rumbly sound that she would have enjoyed if it wasn’t
at her expense and if . . . “It’s not funny! My fish are drowning. Save them!”
That made him laugh harder, and his
shoulders started to shake. “Death by vibrator. Not a bad way to go.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say, Aidan Gallagher.” She cautiously removed the vibrator from the water, her shoulders sagging in relief when Erik and Ariel swam to the surface. “And FYI, this is not a vibrator. It’s a personal massager.” She rubbed it against the back of her neck. “See, you should try it.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say, Aidan Gallagher.” She cautiously removed the vibrator from the water, her shoulders sagging in relief when Erik and Ariel swam to the surface. “And FYI, this is not a vibrator. It’s a personal massager.” She rubbed it against the back of her neck. “See, you should try it.”
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