Whyhad I agreed to write a Christmas romance? Andwhyhad I agreed to get it to my editor on January second?
My publisher was going to be releasing it the following year, but he needed it soon so there was time for editing, cover design, and marketing. Which I understood; I had written and released dozens of books at this point, but somehow this story was coming as more of a challenge than others.
Probably because I had never written a Christmas romance before. I’d done hockey romance, love at first sight, enemies to lovers, and even a monster romance for fun one Halloween. But something about a fluffy holiday love story did not work with my muse, which annoyed me to no end. I didn't like feeling out of control, especially when an entire publishing house was waiting on me to deliver.
Footsteps sounded behind me, and then Jonas's warm hands found my shoulders, rubbing gently.
“That feels amazing,” I said.
“You're pushing yourself too hard,” he replied softly.
I sat up to face him, making my office chair squeak. “I have to get this done in eight days, and I still have a quarter of the book left.” My heart sped up with my panic.
He took my hand, pulling me to the cushy white chair in the corner of my office. Then he sat down and tugged me onto his lap.
I let myself be held by him as he stroked my arm and said, “Do you remember when you wrote that hockey romance?”
I nodded. That book had practically flown from my fingertips.
Jonas said, “We went to an entire season's worth of NHL games. You were in the locker room, talking to players, interviewing the coaches, schmoozing reporters who interviewed players. You were listening to podcasts all the time. But as far as I can tell, you haven't gotten into it with this book like you have with others.”
I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my head on his shoulder. “You're right.” He was usually right, even if I didn’t like to admit it all the time.
He squeezed me back. “You've had problems with Christmas for as long as we've been together. I feel like you tolerate the season, but you don't enjoy it.”
My eyes started to sting with tears, and I nodded. I didn't know how I'd gotten to be in my forties and still was affected this much by my upbringing. I hadn't seen my mom since I was sixteen years old. At least my dad and I had made amends before he passed away the year before. I cherished the relationship I’d gotten with him, but now that was over.
“Maybe I just didn’t get the Christmas gene,” I sniffed.
Jonas tilted his head to the side. “Well, I've haddecadesof Christmases to practice enjoying the season. So what if we do a crash course on Christmas?”
I gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not sure I have time. You know I have to write ten thousand words by the first, right?”
He shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “So you could stay here and bang your head against the keyboard–literally–or you could come get inspiration with me… Or, you know, you could tell your editor you didn’t get it done in time.”
“Yeah, because she'll be totally happy with that,” I replied.
He chuckled. “You're the talent, darling.”
I shook my head, sitting up in his lap. “What did you have in mind?”
Now he was smiling excitedly. “Go put on your ugliest Christmas sweater, that one Birdie gave you a few years back. I'll be waiting in the car.”
My editor would kill me if she knew how behind I was and now going on a crazy adventure. But how could I turn down a chance to go on an adventure with the love of my life? “I guess a day couldn’t hurt.”
He grinned. “A day is all we need.”
I gave him a kiss before getting out of his lap and going to the bedroom. I changed out of my pajamas and went to my closet, tugging out the sweater that made me look like a Christmas tree when I put my arms above my head. I had barely managed to wear it for the night that Birdie gave it to me because it was just so ridiculous. But I was also relieved to be spending time with Jonas and getting away from the computer and the story that simply refused to fall into place. So I finished getting dressed and went out to the driveway.
California winters were mild, so Jonas was sitting there with his window rolled down, and “Here Comes Santa Claus”was blaring over the speakers.
“You're lucky you’re cute,” I said over the music.
He waggled his eyebrows. “That’s why you agreed to come along, right?”
“Partially?” I teased.
He smiled at me as I went to the passenger side and got in. “So where to first?” I asked.
