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Prologue
~ FREYA HANSEN-ADLER ~
“It’s a formula, Mason,” I find myself explaining to my husband for the third time, even though he’s barely read past the fourth chapter in the romance novel I’m writing.
With diminishing patience, I continue, “I need to have—”
He lifts his hand, peering at me from behind my manuscript.“I know the formula.This is the third romance you’ve written.Girl meets boy.Girl has some reason she can’t be with boy.Girl gets over it and has amazing sex, multiple times, each time including at least six pages of foreplay.Girl falls in love, because who wouldn’t?He’s got abs, loves kids and puppies, and has more stamina in the sack than he should, considering he saves the world on an everyday basis.”
“Haha,” I say with measured sarcasm.
“You know I’m right.Then something pulls boy away.They get over it and have their happily ever after.”
“Yes, and it’s—”
“—the formula.I get it.I just don’t buy the snowman scene, Freya.No grown man and woman build a snowman together.It doesn’t happen.Especially if the guy is a SEAL.”
“But it has to be in there.Remember, this is a holiday romance.The formula has more ingredients than the standard romance.”
“And building a snowman is one of them?”
“Absolutely.Everyone knows that.”I sigh, my shoulders deflating.“Every holiday romance has a couple building a snowman together, and I’m not out to try to reinvent the wheel.Snowmen lead to snowball fights—”
Mason cuts me off.“Another thing adults don’t do.”
My lips form a tight line, and my eyes narrow before I proceed.“And snowball fights lead to tumbling into the snow in a warm embrace.Lips are close together.BAM—they kiss.”
“There are a million other ways to get them to kiss.Like this.”He leans toward me and presses his lips to mine.They graze gently along my mouth, just a whisper of pressure at first, almost like a tease.Then his fingers thread into my hair and he angles my face, deepening his kiss as he does, making that same fire spark inside of me as though it’s the first time I’ve felt it.
He parts my lips, and I can taste the minty toothpaste he just used.I love that I know exactly what brand he uses.I love that I know how he squeezes the tube from the top rather than the bottom.And I love that I know if this kiss lasts any longer, I’ll let him toss my manuscript aside and plunder me thoroughly.
He eases his face barely an inch from mine and his eyebrows rise.“See?Easy.No snowman needed.”
“There has to be a snowman.And the couple needs to bake something together.Like Christmas cookies or pecan pie or gingerbread.”
He practically recoils.“What Navy guy bakes gingerbread?”
“Every Navy guy trapped in a holiday romance.You bake together, then you have a food fight.”
“A food fight?What?Are your characters six years old?”
“Thirty-something.And I don’t mean a huge one.Just dabbing some frosting on each other’s noses.Or maybe brushing a little flour off their cheeks when they’re done baking.”
He looks visibly repelled.“Remind me to never get trapped in one of your holiday romances.Sounds like hell on earth.”He frowns, looking at the stack of papers in his hand.“What else did you stick in here?Christmas caroling?”
I feel my face brighten.“Oh, that’s brilliant!”I snatch the papers and red pen from him for a moment and jot down, “Add in a caroling scene.”
“This poor SOB.What other horrors do you have planned for this guy?”
“Fire in the fireplace.Decorating a tree.And family.There always has to be lots of family, preferably the meddling kind, that pushes the two together.”
“Meddling.”He cocks his head.“So you’re writing yourself into this romance novel?”
“You’re just full of jokes today, Mason,” I remark, unamused.“And I don’t meddle.”
“What about Harris?”He arches a knowing eyebrow at the name of our friend.
I cringe slightly, caught.
