Mistletoe Kisses

Mistletoe Kisses Nicky Priest Contents Other Books by Nicky Priest Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 About the Author Other Books by Nicky Priest The Heartland Series Heart & Soul Mind & Soul Jason Harper Series Perception The Miller Family Series Unholy Trinity Unholy Desires Unholy Fears Unholy Passion Standalone Novels Somewhere Love Remains Takes You One Night Worth the Risk Standalone Novellas Chase the Knight Four Seasons Novellas A Winter Miracle Mistletoe Kisses Copyright © Nicky Priest 2023 Cover Design by Vanilla Lily Designs. Editor: Stephanie Farrant at Farrant Editing All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Chapter One Holly I love this time of year. It’s the only time when you can eat and drink whatever you want, whenever you want, and no one looks at you funny. This year, I will be hosting Christmas dinner for the first time, and in true Holly fashion, I’ve left everything to the last minute. Usually, doing that isn’t so bad when it’s just presents, alcohol, and the usual food shop. However, this year, I didn’t even think about all the extras I need, and now I’m stuck with no turkey for Christmas Day. I’ve been to every supermarket and every butcher I could find, and those that haven’t outright laughed at me have just told me they have none in stock. Apparently, I should have reserved one weeks ago. Reserving a turkey? Who knew that was a thing? In all my twenty-four years, Mum and Dad have always hosted Christmas dinner. I never gave any thought about the amount of planning that goes into it. I just turned up Christmas Day and everything was there. I volunteered to take on the hosting responsibilities this year, thinking it would be no big deal. I mean, how hard can it be? Mum does it every year. Clearly, I had no clue what I was getting myself into. Mum asked me if I was sure, even tried to talk me out of it more than once. I assured her I was a big girl and knew what I was doing. Then, just to make things even more interesting, Mum suggested we should all go up to the family cabin. Oh, it’s not as rustic as it sounds. We call it a cabin as it’s made of wood, but it has all the mod cons and is easily big enough to host all the family. I had hoped to do my first Christmas dinner in my own kitchen, but seeing as Mum has already told everyone we’re going to the cabin, that hope has been well and truly dashed. It’s now three days before Christmas and I’ve come up to the cabin to get things set up. The rest of the family—Mum, Dad, my two brothers and sister-in-law—are coming up Christmas Eve, when everyone has finished work. That gives me almost two days to decorate the cottage, get everything set up, and find a turkey. So, I’ve come into the local town and have one bag containing decorations, another with a load of vegetables, and a third containing several bottles of alcohol. After three hours, I’ve still not got a turkey. Huffing out a breath, I walk down the high street, hoping I’ll get lucky and find a shop I’ve not yet been to on my turkey hunt. I’ve no idea where else I can look. One thing I do know is there is no way I can ring my parents and ask for their help. Mum will be delighted to tell me she told me so without actually saying it. That woman’s face gives away what she’s thinking every time. She’d be a lousy poker player. As I walk, I look at every shop I pass, dismissing them all. Just when I’m about to give up, I spot a butcher’s I didn’t know was there. I throw up a prayer that they have a turkey big enough for six people. I push open the door and step inside, seeing a man at the counter waiting to be served. A man in a striped hat and apron comes out from the back, smiling at the both of us before asking the man, “What can I get you?” “I’m hoping you can save my life. I’ve had a last-minute change of plans and need a turkey. I know it’s short notice, but can you help?” “As a matter of fact, I can. I have one left. How many people is it for?” “Just the one.” “Well, as I said, I have one left, but it’s way too big for one person. It will probably feed around eight people. That's a lot of leftover turkey." Now, I know this man is in the same predicament as me, but he is just one man. I am looking to feed six people. If that turkey should go to anyone, it should go to me. “Erm, I’m sorry to interrupt. I couldn't help but overhear. I need a turkey too, and I have six people to cook for,” I say, leaving it there and hoping the two men get the hint. Both men turn to look at me, and I get a first glimpse of the man at the counter. Close-cropped dark hair, dark eyes, and a jawline covered in a smattering of stubble. As far as faces go, his is one I wouldn't mind looking