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Betty Jo Writes
Gracie is shopping for a Christmas tree, when she runs smack into Merett, her High School hero and his seven-year-old daughter. Seeing he’s not the happy-go-lucky guy he used to be, she’s determined to restore the gift of optimism he gave her fifteen years ago. But can she return his hope without losing her own?
Gracie has worked hard to rise above her impoverished background, and she still wants to take care of her sisters. She's an event decorator now, and she remembers the man and the family who made a difference in her life when she was a child. Might this man become more than just a bygone holiday hero? Can he overcome his own confusions and concerns?
Merrett is widowed with a 7 year old daughter. There's a Christmas ghost, a cat named Spook and a dog named Dumbbell. Something for every reader!
When she was younger she’d been a fool for swarthy sex appeal and a winning smile. Now she’d prefer an ambitious man with clean-cut good looks who was ambitious and dependable. If she was in the market for a relationship, which she wasn’t. She had a new business and home and was starting life over in the town she’d left twelve years ago.
Lingering over an expensive white pine, Gracie inhaled its aroma and fingered its soft needles. She didn’t want to overspend, but Christmas was special. Maybe if she bought just one tree...no...the Larrabys had two when they owned the house that was hers now. And she loved traditions.
Moving to another section, she circled each tree, checking for bare spots and comparing her height of five and a half feet to theirs. She found one the right size with a lower price tag that would do for the stairway landing, but she really wanted that first white pine for her parlor. Returning to circle it again, she looked up at its graceful branches.
Smack. Her face hit cold leather and her head cracked against a firm chin. She swayed from the impact. Strong hands steadied her, and she looked up into jade green eyes and gasped. It couldn't be... He raked his hand through his hair in a gesture she remembered well. Merett.
"Merett Bradmoore." She had to say, taste, savor his name. His face was thinner, making the high planes of his cheekbones more prominent, but otherwise, he’d barely changed in fifteen years. His dark hair, parted on the side, still tumbled onto his forehead, begging to be pushed back.
He lowered thick lashes to narrow his gaze on her, and she blinked, hoping he approved of what he saw as much as she did. "Gracie."
He looked even more handsome than in high school, and a nervous laugh caught in her throat. "I can’t believe we ran into one another again."