Friday, October 18, 2013

12 NA's of Christmas cover reveal!

Look at all the pretties!

I am very pleased to be a part of the 12 NA's of Christmas.

What is the 12 NA's of Christmas?

Want more about us? Check out the website!

12, best selling New Adult authors got together and decided to each write their own Christmas novella. Some have characters from their full length novels and some (like me) have a whole new cast of characters for you to fall in love with.

And here's my story...

*** This book is proud to be a part of The 12 NA's of Christmas ***

12 New Adult Novellas. 12 Best Selling Authors. November 2013.

Etta Davis didn't have showing a house penciled into her Christmas plans, but with the other realtors already off enjoying their holiday, she'd been stuck with the task. It wasn't all bad though, the house up for grabs used to belong to the family of her high school sweetheart, Andrew Larson. Though now dilapidated, thanks to its current owners, it still held the power to bring back forgotten memories and turn the routine showing into something else entirely. Particularly when Andrew shows up, wanting to buy the house. Now Etta must decide whether a second chance is worth taking the house, and her heart, off the market.

Add it to your GoodReads today

And how about a little teaser?

Ghost of Christmas Past

I believe it was Thomas Wolfe who said “you can’t go home again.” Obviously Mr. Wolfe’s dad didn’t have a massive heart attack while he was away at college, forcing him to  move back home to help out. Which is exactly why I’m stuck spending another Christmas Eve showing houses. Real Estate seemed like a safe career, that would keep me around to help my mom, but I didn’t expect the housing market to crumble so bad.
The snow fell heavily around my Toyota, blanketing the entire neighborhood in a white sheet. As the snow crunched under my tires, I cursed myself for answering my co-worker’s desperate call.
"Myra, it's Christmas Eve, who even wants to see a house on a holiday?" I asked. Not that I really had anything better to do on Christmas Eve. Mom was visiting her sister in Florida and without a family of my own, I was stuck staying at my sister’s. If I had to hear one more realtor joke from my brother-in-law, I would probably gouge his eyes out with one of the icicle lights from the Christmas tree.
Myra never answered my question. She was too busy yelling at her kids after I heard the sound of shattering glass, so she blurted out the address almost too fast for me to write down, and was off the phone.
"Figures I'd be going back to my old neighborhood on Christmas," I muttered, glancing down at the directions. When Pine Hill subdivision was built, it was the Mecca for all the suburban families south of St. Louis; with its never ending sidewalks, cookie-cutter two-story homes, and plenty of yard space for all of the neighborhood kids to run around in.
That was before the economic down turn. Now Pine Hill was just like every other subdivision in town: rows of foreclosed homes with overgrown bushes and paint chipping from the wood siding. The particular house that I was showing had been on the market for almost a year and was one that I was very familiar with. It was the house of my high school boyfriend, Andrew Lawson.
The very guy whose heart I broke when I moved to California for school and didn’t want a long distance relationship. I could have gotten back in contact with him when I moved back to Missouri, but it just didn’t seem right. I couldn’t go running back to him and expect everything to stay the same. So I cowardly did everything I could to avoid him. I never went back to all of the places that we used to hang out in high school and tried never to show houses in Pine Hill. That was before I found out his parents moved not too long ago. A lot had changed in the past two years.
Driving down his old street was like going back in time. I could see my sixteen-year-old self, walking down the sidewalk on a hot Missouri day, my legs freshly tanned from spending all day at the lake, just hoping Andrew would stop his basketball game and take one look at me. When he finally did catch a glance he'd usually stop his game, sweep me in his arms, and give me a hard kiss on the mouth, right in front of all of his friends and the neighbors. For good luck, he always said.
I sighed. That was ages ago. Other men rarely looked at me and certainly not the way Andrew used to. I broke it off with Andrew right after graduation. I was headed to college and he planned to stay and take over his father's business. He begged me to stay, pleaded that I could go to school somewhere closer. Of course I didn’t listen. Why didn’t I listen? Now I was living in my mother’s basement and working on Christmas Eve. I was really moving up in the world.

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