Title: Made For Mistletoe
Author: Nan Reinhardt
Genre: Sweet Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Book Blurb:
This Christmas he has big plans until he meets a beautiful distraction….
Army reservist Cameron Walker loves everything about the holidays in River’s Edge—celebrating with his big family and carving out more time to work on his custom design furniture in his studio. But when he meets a visiting artist and niece of a family friend, he’s eager to break his work plans for play. He knows first-hand life’s short.
Teacher and artist Harper Gaines is bowled over by the handsome and friendly finish carpenter she meets during her vacation. His admiration for her art and his enthusiasm for life light her up, and remind her of how much she’s been missing since her soldier husband’s death. But when she discovers Cam’s also a soldier, she retreats, unable to risk another loss.
Cam has never felt such a strong connection, and he won’t give up without a fight. But will Cam’s persistence and the magic of Christmas be enough to convince Harper to take a chance on them?
Excerpt:
“Mind if I walk along?” His shy smile didn’t completely disarm her, but she was intrigued, and she hadn’t been intrigued by anything or anyone for months.
“Okay.” She blushed, acutely aware of him—his height, his broad shoulders as he zipped his sweatshirt against the breeze coming off the river.
They walked in silence for a few yards, and Harper was grateful he didn’t feel the need to pepper her with questions. A flock of birds flew down over the river, swooped back up, and then in total unison headed south over the hills of Kentucky.
She grappled for something to say and finally came up with, “Did you go to Kentucky?” She lifted her chin toward the sweatshirt, which was a little tattered around the cuffs and the tie was missing from the hood.
“Only for a semester.” He lifted one shoulder. “Not so great with the books.”
Harper wasn’t sure what to say to that, but after a few seconds she nodded. “Well, that’s because you’re a craftsman.”
“What about you?” He ambled alongside her, but she could tell her leisurely pace was hard for him. His fingers curled and uncurled, and fitting his long stride to her shorter legs was clearly an effort. His big body emanated energy.
“University of Michigan.”
“Art?”
“That and el ed.” Harper kept her answers short, hoping he’d move on.
Cameron Walker’s interest seemed genuine, though, and his smile was the kind that drew people out. She reminded herself that he might have an agenda.
“How was that?” he asked. “Teaching art to little kids?”
“They can be very creative.”
“I’ll bet.” He chuckled. “Tell me your best kid artist story.”
He’s making me talk to him. I could just walk away, but that would be rude.
Unsure at all about what to say, Harper reached deep for her rusty social skills. “Best story?” She thought for a moment, sorting through memories that she’d tucked away in the back of her mind in the past ten months. Little Gus Franklin’s drawing of his mom came into her head. That one had been priceless. She could share it. “Um … one little guy in a kindergarten class once drew a portrait of his mother, and while I did figure out that her feet weren’t cloven hooves, but rather high heels, I couldn’t fathom why she had clouds around the bottom of her skirt.”
He quirked one blond brow. “Did you wonder if maybe she was, like … well, dead and in heaven?” He blushed furiously, obviously believing he’d just made a terrible faux pas.
Harper gave him a pass because he was only being friendly and snickered softly. “No, I knew she was alive. I’d seen her the night before at a PTA meeting.”
His brow creased. “So what were the clouds?”
“Farts.”
He stopped dead on the walkway. “Farts?”
With difficulty, she managed to keep a straight face. “Yup. Apparently Gus’s mom had gas frequently enough, it made an impression on him.”
Cameron laughed—a big free laugh that turned the heads of the people they passed. Heat filled Harper’s cheeks at the attention that was being drawn to them, but his pleasure in the story was so evident, she couldn’t help returning his smile … then laughing, too.
“That’s hilarious,” Cameron said after catching his breath.
Harper nodded. “Kids will always tell you more truth than you need to know.”
“Please say you saved that drawing, or at least took a picture of it.” He was walking backward now so he could face her, his expression curious.
“I did take a picture,” she confessed, “but I sent it home with him. I figured it was his problem to explain it to his mom.”
“Show me.” Cam stopped so suddenly that Harper found she was against his chest before she could catch herself. He grabbed her upper arms and steadied her.
That touch—his strong fingers grasping her biceps—and the musky male scent of him shot an arc of longing through her, but not for Cameron Walker. For Drew. She closed her eyes for a second as his dear face appeared crystal clear in her mind. Drew—sweaty and grinning as he waltzed in the back door after a beach run. He’d put his hands on her arms that day, then tugged her to him and danced her around the kitchen to some old Eagles song that was playing on the smart speaker.
“Whoa, sorry.” Cameron’s breath was so close she detected the scent of his toothpaste—cinnamon. “I guess I need brake lights.”
She wrenched away. They had nearly reached the bridge gate. She pointed up Cedar Crest Drive. “I’m going that way.”
He tugged the do-rag off his head and raked his fingers through his thick hair, then wiped the back of his neck with the bandana. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or tea? Holly Flaherty’s tea room is right up that way.”
Harper knew where Holly’s tea shop was—she frequented it now and again after the early morning walks she took before the rest of the town was awake. Holly was kind and circumspect, friendly but not prying, and also usually busy in the kitchen baking at six thirty A.M. when Harper stopped in for a to-go cup of tea. She rarely engaged in conversation, which suited Harper just fine. “I know the Tea Leaf.”
He peered down at her, then tilted his head. “So … wanna go?”
She shook her head, more to dispel Drew’s face and the memory of his arms around her than to answer Cameron. Tears burned her eyelids and she bit the inside of her lip. “No, I should get back. I’m helping in the quilt store today.” She swallowed hard and looked away from his eager expression. Her heart twisted in her chest. She desperately needed to get back to Aunt Mary’s. “Thank you, though.”
She stepped around him and fled up the hill toward Main Street and her safe haven, ignoring the Wait, Harper! that echoed behind her.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub):
https://www.bookbub.com/books/made-for-mistletoe-the-walkers-of-river-s-edge-book-3-by-nan-reinhardt
Author Biography:
Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today bestselling author of sweet, small-town romantic fiction for Tule Publishing. Her day job is working as a freelance copyeditor and proofreader, however, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. She can’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t writing—she wrote her first romance novel at the age of ten and is still writing, but now from the viewpoint of a wiser, slightly rumpled, woman in her prime. Nan lives in the Midwest with her husband of 50 years, where they split their time between a house in the city and a cottage on a lake. Be sure to follow Nan Reinhardt on Threads.
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