Nancy Thompson - Texas Christmas

ALL SHE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS...

Busted! When Pepper Merriweather’s superwealthy daddy is arrested for fraud—and the family fortune is kaput—just before the holidays, Pepper suddenly finds herself in need of a job. Despite her high-society connections, no one wants to give her a chance—no one except gorgeous billionaire recluse Robert Macintyre.

When he proposes a position that comes with more strings attached than a symphony orchestra, Pepper knows it’s an offer she should refuse. But beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, Pepper knows she has what it takes to rise to the challenge—but does she have what it takes to keep her hands off her irresistible new boss?

The woman was smart. She had quick wit and a sharp take on life. She also happened to be incredibly beautiful.

Her looks were simply a bonus.

He extended his hand. “Welcome aboard. When can you start?”

She shook his hand. “Tomorrow?”

“Great. Do you have time to stop by HR to do the paperwork right now? That way we can get the formalities out of the way.”

They paused by his office door and he could smell her perfume—a hint of roses and spice. She smelled so good, he had to resist the urge to lean in.

Brand me inappropriate all day long.

Now that he’d brought her on board, he would be able to put his business hat back on and be her boss. Strictly her boss, which meant no fraternizing.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy looking at her.

Dear Reader,

The James Lane Allen quote “Adversity does not build character—it reveals it” was a big inspiration for this story. I started thinking about what it would be like to start over after losing everything. Even more so, what would it be like to have it all and lose everything?

That’s what happens to Pepper Merriweather, the heroine of Texas Christmas, the third book in the Celebrations, Inc., series. When the collapse of her father’s empire leaves a stain on the family name, Pepper has no choice but to start over and rebuild her life. In doing so, she discovers she’s capable of a whole lot more than she originally thought possible.

When society turns its back on Pepper, Rob Macintyre knows she isn’t responsible for her father’s sins. With his help, Pepper learns that losing everything is the start to excavating what is important.

I hope you enjoy reading Texas Christmas as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please drop me a line at nrobardsthompson@yahoo.comto let me know what you think.

Warmly,

Nancy Robards Thompson

Texas Christmas

Nancy Robards Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON

Award-winning author Nancy Robards Thompson is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.

This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Grainger,

whose thoughtful critiquing and generous sharing

helped make me a better writer.

You will be missed, but never forgotten.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Prologue

Maya LeBlanc dusted the batch of white chocolate truffles with a sprinkle of crushed pink rose petals and edible gold dust. As the glittering potpourri rained down from her fingertips, she infused it with a love wish.

The rose petals represented passion and romance, of course. The gold dust, which shimmered in the sunlight that streamed in through the window on the stucco wall above Maya’s marble-topped worktable, was for prosperity. And, as if the fine golden powder were in cahoots with the intention at the heart of her handiwork, it shimmered and winked up at her conspiratorially.

Europeans had a long-standing love affair with edible gold. Alchemists believed it was good for the heart. Royalty adorned fruits and other delicacies with it to sustain the health of their hearts. The Elizabethans created sumptuous banquets by adding edible gold dust to fruits such as oranges, grapes, pomegranates and dates and figs.

But Maya’s creation was intended for loftier purposes than feeding royals; it was meant to conjure true love.

Ardent, passionate love.

The thought warmed Maya from the inside out, and she smiled with quiet satisfaction as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Yes, this was a particularly beautiful batch of chocolate. However, just who would receive the dozen bonbons wasn’t quite clear...yet.

The answer had not yet revealed itself, but it would come in due time. Of that, Maya was sure. There was no mistaking that the winds of love had danced around her this morning as she’d walked down the ancient cobblestone streets of St. Michel on her way to open the shop. When the winds had called her to action, there was no resting until she’d filled the heavenly order. She wouldn’t rest until she’d done everything in her power to bring the intendeds together.

Whoever these intendeds might be.

Excitement, shimmering as brightly as the gold dust, shook her. Finding the lucky couple who belonged to these chocolates would be the reward for her hard work.

But first things first. Right now, she had to finish her work. Since the truffles weren’t quite set, she pondered whether or not she should add another element...or two, perhaps? Maya surveyed the bunches of twine-tied dried herbs and flowers hanging from wrought-iron rods suspended above her workbench. There was lavender that had dried to a wiry grayish-purple, looking like veins that stood out on an old crone’s hand. Lavender denoted purity, silence, devotion and...caution.

Non. It didn’t fit. Maya’s intuitive heart insisted that that this batch of chocolat was intended for true love that thrived on passion. Lovers whom fate would send careening toward each other; a lovely collision resulting in two hearts becoming one. She sighed in breathless delight, her hand fluttering to her heart.

Caution would never do.

Her gaze lingered on several fat bunches of rosemary that were bound so tightly they bristled out like small hedgehogs. Rosemary signified remembrance. While it was a sweet sentiment, it didn’t quite fit this order, either. Besides, the robust fragrance would overpower the delicate rosewater she’d used in the recipe.

Non. She gave her head a resolute shake. Rosemary wouldn’t do, either.

She purposely averted her gaze from the bouquet of dried yellow chrysanthemums because that flower meant love slighted. It wasn’t as if merely looking at the flowers would infuse the chocolates with bad juju, but when crafting an aromatic enticement for something so delicate as l’amour du cœur, one could never be too careful.

Maya, of all people, knew that. As a third generation chocolatier and un marieur—a matchmaker—she listed chocolate and love, not necessarily in that order, as her passions. But chocolate paid the bills and afforded her the pleasure of answering the call when the winds of love blew in, summoning her to work. It was a challenge she couldn’t resist, and she wouldn’t rest until her job was done.