MISTLETOE SEASON
Author: Michelle
Major
ISBN: 9781335477026
Publication Date:
October 26, 2021
Publisher: HQN Books
Buy Links:
Social Links:
Facebook: @MichelleMajorBooks
Instagram: @michellemajorauthor
Twitter: @michelle_major1
Author Bio:
USA Today bestselling
author Michelle Major loves stories
of new beginnings, second chances and always a happily ever after. An avid
hiker and avoider of housework, she lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains
with her husband, two teenagers and a menagerie of spoiled furbabies.
Book Summary:
Spend the holidays in Magnolia, North
Carolina, where two lonely hearts find exactly what they need for Christmas.
Anji Fieri needs a man for Christmas—at
least, according to her mother. What she really needs is to grow her fledgling
catering business. Partnering with Magnolia’s Firefly Inn holds promise, but
when her mother falls ill, Anji’s drawn back to the family restaurant.
Balancing work and her eight-year-old son, there’s no time for romance... until
Anji runs into Gabriel Carlyle.
Temporarily helping at his grandmother’s
flower shop, Gabriel's plan isn't to stick around, especially after he runs
into Anji, one of his childhood bullies. Sure, she’s all grown up and gorgeous
now, and when they find themselves under the mistletoe, their chemistry is undeniable.
But it’ll take more than a Christmas miracle for Anji to break through the
defenses of Gabriel’s well-guarded heart and find a love built to last.
1
ANGI GUILARDI LET herself out of Il
Rigatone, the restaurant her family had owned in Magnolia, North Carolina, for
the past thirty years, and locked the door behind her. It was nearly eleven at
night, and a brisk December wind whipped down Main Street. Although she should
be wearing more than a white button-down, now stained with smatterings of red
sauce, Angi welcomed the gust of air. At least it blew away the smell of
sausage and tomato paste that clung to her like a barnacle.
Scents that seemed to be infused into her
at this point, bringing back memories of years of a childhood spent in and out
of the restaurant. It had been a long day, so she needed a shower and a glass
of wine in equal measure.
She started toward her car, parked around
the corner, but the sound of a door slamming nearby caught her attention.
Downtown Magnolia rolled up the sidewalks early on a weeknight, so she didn’t
expect anyone else to be out and about. She arched a brow at the woman
approaching.
“Are you stalking me?”
Emma Cantrell gave an impatient snort as
she moved closer. “That’s what it feels like, but it wouldn’t be necessary if
you’d return my calls or answer messages.”
Angi turned to fully face her business
partner—now former partner. “I’ve been busy,” she said, trying to make her tone
dismissive. Instead, the words reeked of desperation.
“How’s your mom?” Emma asked gently, her
annoyance with Angi temporarily put aside because, clearly, Emma was a good
person. Too good for Angi to be ignoring her the way she had.
“Equally weak and ornery.” Angi dropped
the oversize set of keys into her purse with a jangle. “The doctor says two
more weeks, and then she can slowly begin to resume her normal activities.”
“Like running Il Rigatone?”
“We don’t know yet if she’ll ever return
at the same capacity.” Angi bit down on the inside of her cheek until she
tasted blood. “It doesn’t matter because I’m running it now.”
“But only temporarily,” Emma insisted. Or
suggested, like saying the words out loud would make them true.
Oh, how Angi wanted them to be true.
She gave a small shake of her head. No
more time for fanciful thoughts or big dreams about making her life her own.
Unable to meet Emma’s sympathetic gaze, she looked across the street to the
storefronts decorated in festive holiday cheer.
Colorful twinkle lights danced in the
darkened window of the hardware store, and she could make out the shadow of
garland wound through the sign for the dance studio. Boughs of greenery with
bright red bows hung from every light post on either side of the street.
Magnolia had gone all out on the holiday cheer this year.
Too bad Angi didn’t feel much of the
holiday spirit. Sure, she’d gone through the motions of assembling the fake
Christmas tree that had graced the corner of the restaurant’s small waiting area
each December for as long as she could remember.
During a lull in customers yesterday, she
and one of the waitresses had pulled out the totes of decorations from the
storeroom, but nothing managed to conjure up the magic of the season. Not for
her.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” she told
Emma, thankful her voice remained steady. “I’ve got calls in to a couple
caterers in the area to see if they can—”
“I don’t want another caterer.” Emma
stepped forward. “You’re it, Ang.”
“I can’t...” She swallowed when a lump of
sorrow lodged in her throat. “I should never have deserted my mom in the first
place. If she hadn’t been working so much and upset about me as well, maybe the
heart attack wouldn’t have happened.”
“Sweetie, you aren’t to blame for that.”
“She almost died,” Angi insisted, needing
to make it clear. “Less than a year after my father. She collapsed in the
restaurant’s storeroom, and I wasn’t here.”
“You were at the inn.”
“Having a grand old time, not a care in
the world. My mom was fighting for her life, surrounded by employees until the
EMTs got there, and I wasn’t with her. When she needed me the most—”
“Stop.” Emma held up a hand. “I remember
that day, Angi. It was the McAlvey wedding, complete with the bride’s niece and
her tiny Irish dancer friends pounding away on the parquet floor we assembled
in the backyard. You made food for over a hundred guests. Plus lunch baskets
for the Thompson reunion and their picnic at the beach. Five of the six online
reviews that came from those two events mention the food being a highlight. You
care a lot, so don’t pretend otherwise. Not with me.”
Emma still didn’t get it.
“I should have cared more about my mom.
The way she did when I needed her. She looked so pale, Em.” Angi crossed her
arms over her middle, squeezing tight. “I kept waiting for her eyes to pop open
so she could start ordering me around or give me some kind of guilt trip, but
she was still in the hospital bed with the monitors beeping and the smell of
antiseptic permeating everything. She needs me now, and I can’t let her down.”
“What about letting yourself down? What
about your happiness?”
Angi sniffed. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It should.”
“I’m sorry,” Angi said again.
She’d met Emma in the spring when the
other woman bought an old mansion in town with a plan to turn it into a
boutique inn. Emma had had her share of setbacks, but Angi admired her
dedication to her dream. She also knew that leaving behind her old life had
cost Emma her relationship with her mother.
Angi’s mom had been outspoken in the way
only Italian mothers can manage when Angi walked away from the restaurant to
partner with Emma on the inn. But Angi assumed that her mom would get over her
disappointment. That they’d find a way to bridge the emotional distance between
them. She loved her mom, even if Bianca Guilardi could be overbearing and
autocratic. The willful matriarch had good intentions.
But they never got the chance to mend
their fences because, a month earlier, Bianca had suffered a massive heart
attack that led to double bypass surgery. In an instant, all of Angi’s plans
changed.
She’d moved from her cozy apartment back
to her childhood home, along with her ten-year-old son, Andrew, in order to care
for her mom. She’d also stepped in at the restaurant, and in doing so, she’d
left Emma in a pinch.
For that, she felt sick to her stomach
with regret.
“If you can’t find someone to take care
of the holiday events, I’ll still manage it,” she offered now, absently
thinking about ways to clone herself.
“You can’t do both.”
“I will.”
Emma sighed. “My intention for tonight
wasn’t to guilt you into more work.”
“Come on, I’m a master of guilt.”
“I know.” Emma gave her a pointed look.
“That’s why I don’t want to add to it. I thought we were friends—business
partners, as well. But you cutting me off as a friend is what hurts.”
Cue the remorse, Angi thought. She didn’t
need anyone to lay it on her. She could do that very well for herself.
“It seems like all I’m doing lately is
disappointing people. You and my mom.” She hitched a finger at the restaurant.
“The staff who can tell I don’t want to be there. Andrew.”
“Wait. What’s going on with Andrew? I
know you’re an amazing mother. That kid thinks the sun rises and sets on his
mommy.”
Angi’s throat tightened again at the
thought of her sweet, awkward, lanky string bean of a boy. He was everything to
her, and now he was struggling and she didn’t know how to make it stop.
“He’s being bullied at school,” she
confided. As difficult as it was to talk about, she appreciated the flash of
supportive fury in Emma’s dark eyes.
“Give me the kid’s name.” Her buttoned-up
friend spoke as if she were some kind of avenging angel.
“I don’t have it. Andrew won’t say
anything, and his classmates are keeping quiet, as well. But he came home with
a split lip and scrapes on his hands. I talked to the teacher and met with her
and the principal. They said all the right things, but kids can be such jerks.
Maybe if we lived in a bigger town or someplace where differences were more
accepted, it would be easier for him to find his way. I hated growing up in
Magnolia, and now I’m doing the same thing to him.”
Her nails dug into the fleshy part of her
palms, and she welcomed the pain. At least it distracted her from the telltale
scratchy eyes that foretold a bout of tears. She wasn’t going to break down in
the middle of the sidewalk, even if it was deserted.
“How is it possible to hate it here?”
Emma shook her head. “It’s idyllic.”
“Not for the Italian cannoli princess,”
Angi muttered.
“Is that like a Midwestern Corn Queen at
the state fair?”
“Not exactly. Never mind. My point is
that I’m screwing up in every aspect of life. I’m sorry I ghosted you, Em. We
are friends, but I didn’t want to admit that I was ditching the inn. You gave
me the new start I wanted, and I can’t keep up my end of the bargain.” She let
out a humorless laugh. “Here comes the guilt again.”
“I didn’t give you anything. You earned
your place in our partnership, which I refuse to believe is over. At least
until your mom fully recovers and we see what happens next. I’ll find someone
to help with the nitty-gritty food prep and serving, but I’m going to take you
up on your offer to manage things for the holidays. As long as it’s not too
much. We can reassess in the new year.” She enveloped Angi in a gentle hug and
couldn’t have known how much it helped. “Either way, the friendship stands.”
“Okay.” Angi couldn’t help but agree. She
wasn’t ready to let go of her dream, even though she knew she had to. She
dashed a hand over her cheeks. “Do you believe in Christmas miracles?”
“Not really.”
“Me neither,” Angi agreed with a wry
smile. “But I sure could use one.”
Excerpted from Mistletoe Season by
Michelle Major. Copyright © 2021 by Michelle Major. Published by arrangement
with Harlequin Books S.A.
