Her Mistletoe Man. Carolyn Greene
“The first Christmas kiss of the season is good luck,” Tucker said, pointing to the cluster of greenery that dangled above them.
“Really?” Ruth said doubtfully. “I never heard of that tradition.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted. “I just made it up.”
He touched his mouth to hers then, the movement brief yet decisive. And more than a little pleasurable.
When their lips parted, she met his gaze. Her clear, golden-brown eyes appeared to be smiling, as if she had enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.
The first Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. As far as he was concerned, it was indeed a lucky kiss.
He lifted his head to thank his lucky stars—and the little green ball of leaves that dangled over their heads.
“Oops, I was mistaken,” he told her without a hint of remorse. “That’s not mistletoe…it’s holly.”
Her Mistletoe Man
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To my agent, Ruth Kagle, who is beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. Thanks for believing in me.
Books by Carolyn Greene
An Eligible Bachelor #1503
Her Mistletoe Man # 1556
Previously Published as Carolyn Monroe:
Kiss of Bliss #847
A Lovin’ Spoonful #912
Help Wanted: Daddy #970
has been married to a fire chief for more than twenty years. She laughingly introduces herself as the one who lights the fires and her husband as the one who puts them out. They are a true opposites-attract type of couple and, because of this, they and their two teenagers have learned a lot about the art of compromise.
Coming together…mentally, physically and spiritually. That’s what romance is all about, and that’s what Carolyn strives to portray in her highly entertaining novels. Says Carolyn, “I like to think that after someone has read one of my books, I’ve made her or his day a little brighter. You just can’t put a price tag on that kind of job satisfaction.”
The flashing neon light from the sign outside Tucker Maddock’s Alexandria, Virginia, office window seemed to assault him in one-second intervals with its disgustingly cheery message.
Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas.
Yeah, right. He hadn’t had a merry Christmas since…well, there was no need rehashing all the losses he’d endured during what was supposed to be the happiest season of the year. The overtime work did little to ease the discomfort that gripped him lately. As a corporate executive, he was one of the best decision-makers in the business. His troubleshooting skills frequently attracted the attention of corporate headhunters who regularly approached him with employment offers at competing companies. He only wished he could clear away the troubles in his own life as effectively as he did on the job.
Last year had dealt him the final and most difficult holiday blow when a Christmas Eve tragedy had taken the lives of Chris, his best friend, and Chris’s parents. They’d been like his own family. And now he missed them. Wanted to be close to them. Wanted to fill the aching, gaping hole in his spirit with their memory.
Tucker stood and began clearing his desk. The flashing sign filled the semidarkened room with its alternating green-and-red eerie glow. The light seemed to pulsate within him, filling his mind and soul with its unwanted message. Filling his heart with an insatiable urge to be with the loving family who had opened their hearts and home to him.
The heck with this. If he couldn’t be with them, he could at least return to the place that held their memory. Tucker dashed off a note to his secretary, then opened a drawer and swept his forearm across the surface of the desk, effectively clearing it of papers, folders and scribbled notes. He would sort them out when he got back. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to open another card, smile at another caroler or wallow in the home-and-hearth happiness that was supposed to pervade the season.
If he didn’t get away from all the tinsel and glitter and glad tidings in the city, he was going to go crazy. And at times like this, he’d found it was best to follow his heart…follow it back home to Willow Glen.
He’d have to sleep somewhere. It might as well be here.
Willow Glen Plantation had seemed like a mansion to him the first time he had visited the massive house. It still impressed him with its sprawling front lawn, welcoming circular driveway, broad veranda, cheerful turrets and dormer windows. After spending the happiest times of his life here from age ten until college,