Candace Shaw - A Chase For Christmas

About the Author CANDACE SHAW writes romance novels because she believes that happily-ever-after isn’t found only in fairy tales. When she’s not writing or researching information for a book, you can find Candace in her gardens, shopping, reading or learning how to cook a new dish. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her loving husband and their loyal dog, Ali. She is currently working on her next fun, flirty and sexy romance. You can contact Candace on her website at candaceshaw.net , on Facebook at Facebook.com/authorcandaceshaw , or you can Tweet her at Twitter.com/candace_shaw .

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Preston Chase perused the bakery display case and all of the tasty desserts in his view in Sweet Treats Bakery. Everything from decadent chocolate pastries to creative and too-beautiful-to-eat cupcakes seductively screamed his name. His sister was the owner and head pastry chef, so he knew whatever he selected would be delectable. But like his dating life, he couldn’t settle on just one.

Glancing up, he met his baby sister’s angelic but impatient stare. “Quick rushing me, Tiff. You have any more sweet potato pie?”

Wrinkling her nose, Tiffani Hollingsworth sighed deeply. “No, and I don’t want to see another sweet potato anything until next Thanksgiving. I think I baked over two hundred of them in the last three weeks. I’m trying to perfect an eggnog-flavored cupcake. Your nephew insists that I do so.”

“Mmm, that sounds good. I’ll volunteer to do a taste test when they’re available, but for now—” he rested his light brown eyes back on the desserts in front of him “—I need something. Everything looks so delicious.”

“You can have more than one,” she suggested. “While you decide, tell me more about your Winter Wonderland project, and how I can assist.” Leaving her spot behind the counter, she trekked over to the door, locked it and flipped the sign on the glass to Closed.

A sincere smile reached his face at the mention of his upcoming project for the children at the Coretta Scott King Children’s Hospital in downtown Atlanta. Having been a patient there as a child with leukemia, Preston now visited the children there with his service dog, a golden retriever named Hope, who was trained to add a little sunshine to their day.

“I’m having two events on Christmas Eve. One is during the day for the children who can’t leave the hospital, and the other is at night for the children who are still patients but go back and forth for treatments as well as the ones who are in remission. My team worked overtime on the planning, and I developed a new video game in honor of the event. Each child will go home with one along with their Christmas wish list choices. That way I can relieve a little stress on the parents.”

“You’re such a sweetheart,” she said as she counted the money and credit card receipts from the cash registers. “I’ll donate all the cupcakes and goodies you want.”

“Thank you, and I’ll have an éclair.” He pointed to his favorite dessert and said drily, “Just wanted to try something different.” Shrugging, he checked his watch. He needed to head home and prepare for his Friday night date.

Grabbing the tongs, she placed half a dozen into a yellow-and-white-striped box that matched the awning over the door of the bakery. “You select the same dessert every time, Prez.” She paused as a sarcastic smirk crossed her face. “Just like your choice in women. They’re all carbon copies. And you wonder why you haven’t found Mrs. John Preston Chase III yet.”

Chuckling at her saying his whole name, Preston slid the box off of the counter. “Sis, when I tried something different—” he nodded his head toward the Paint, Sip, Chat Studio next door “—I got shot down. It’s like she’s immune to me.”

“You can forget it. My best friend just isn’t interested,” she reminded him. “She prefers someone a little more low-key, not living his day like it’s his last.”

“I like to be free and spontaneous. You know that. ‘Live in the moment’ is my motto.”

Tiffani smiled sweetly. “I know, Prez. Going through what you did as a child, I can’t say that I blame you, but my girl just isn’t into you.”

“Mmm... I wouldn’t say that.”

A movement through the window caught his attention, and his eyes rested on the person in question. Blythe Ventura jumped out of a black truck parked between her studio and the bakery and darted around to the bed, where a medium-size Christmas tree lay wrapped in twine. She unlatched the tailgate, pulled it down and tugged on the tree.

Her jeans-clad hips and rounded butt were provocatively accentuated as she slid the evergreen a quarter of the way out before stopping and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. After sighing, she attempted to try again but halted as a frustrated expression crossed her sweet, makeup-free face. Her natural black curls were pulled up into a bouncy ponytail on the top of her head, which enhanced her beauty even more. Huge gold hoops hung from her ears and hit her cheeks every time she shook her head back and forth. Quite a few multicolored bracelets encircled her right wrist. The black sweater fit snug over her perky, plump breasts that jiggled when she tugged on the tree, and his smile grew wider with every passing second at the glorious sight.

Blythe was indeed a sexy, beautiful, independent woman he’d admired from afar for over a year. However, whenever he attempted to flirt or ask her out, she’d laugh as if it was the funniest joke she’d ever heard. And while most of the time he was teasing her, Preston did find her alluring.

Setting the box on the counter, he walked toward the door and unlocked it. “I’ll be back.” Winking, he left Tiffani shaking her head wearing an oh-boy-here-we-go-again expression.

Sinking his hands in his coat pockets, he strode to Blythe, who started to pull the tree again, only to stop and mumble a curse word.

“Hi there,” he started. “Need some assistance?”

She jumped a tad and rested her brown doe eyes on him. “Hey, Preston. I didn’t realize you were there.” She backed away from the truck. “I’d love some help. Thank you,” she answered sincerely in a deep, raspy voice with a Brooklyn accent. “If you get on the bed, I can pull it out while you push.”

So many sexual innuendos entered his brain as he pressed his lips together in a smile to keep from sharing them. Usually he tried his best to be a gentleman and respectful with her since she was his sister’s best friend. And even though she shot him down, Blythe was always cordial and pleasant with him. They weren’t friends per se, but they were cool, and he appreciated her being a great friend to Tiffani.

Glancing at the tree, he saw it wasn’t much bigger than the one he’d recently carried into his parents’ home. “I’ll grab it. You just open the door to your studio and tell me where you need me to place it.”

She did as requested, and a few moments later, it stood tall in the window of the lobby. Circling the tree, she cut the twine with a pair of scissors while he stretched the branches out. Afterward they both stood back and admired it.

“It’s beautiful,” he complimented her. “I see you’re falling into the holiday spirit the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Yep. I visited Tiffani this afternoon to grab a croissant sandwich, and Christmas music played in the bakery, reminding me I need to decorate the studio.” She ran her fingers along the tree. “I love this time of the year. So festive and family-oriented.”