Second Chance Santa: A Holiday Romantic Comedy <— SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE!
“...When my ex-girlfriend sneaks into the Santa line at Riverside Mall to scope me out — I know what she’s after. Answers.
Why we haven’t talked in ten years. Why I’m dressed like Santa. What I don’t expect when I see her again is to flood with memories...”
So I received a few excerpts and exclusive stuff too, and I’m choosing it all! LOL!!! Let’s have fun with this one, shall we?
P.S. Let’s start with an exclusive for us!!! 😀
1977 was the year I almost gave up on Santa Claus.
I was seven years old, and the topic of Santa was hotly contested among the second graders in my class. My friends were sharply divided in the real and not-real camps.
On Christmas Eve that year, I decided to stay up late and see for myself. I fired up a flashlight and read books, walked around my dark room, and pinched myself over and over to stay awake.
In Texas, Christmas weather can be literally anything. We’ve worn shorts and flip flops some years. Other times, ice and sleet bring traffic to a halt. That year we had thunderstorms. The rain complicated my plans to listen. Was that a branch falling or could there really be a sleigh landing on the roof?
I heard voices and thought — aha! It’s my parents! I knew it! I opened my door to sneak down the short hall to the living room. All I needed to do was get to the end and peer around the corner and I would have my answer.
I pressed myself along the wall, inching across the hardwood floor in my bare feet. The rain intensified and I wasn’t sure anymore that I had heard voices. But there was definitely someone moving around in the living room. The truth was about to be mine!
I arrived at the end of the hall and was about to peek when the wildest flash of lightning lit up the whole house. The storm was so close that thunder boomed instantly, shaking the walls. I jumped straight in the air and ran back to my room. I dove under my covers and knew this had happened because I was about to look.
I decided that Santa was real and I wouldn’t question it ever again.
I turned fifty last year and yes — Santa is still the real deal for me.
I hope you enjoy my perspective on the holly jolly (hot!) one in Second Chance Santa.
Rory’s tone is tough as she says, “It’s been a long time since I saw you last.” She pokes my belly pillow. “You’ve gone soft.”
“Maybe I’ve had a lot of milk and cookies lately.”
She shakes her head. “I never thought I’d see you like this.”
“You were the best of the best! What happened?”
“You act like being Santa is the worst thing that I could do.”
She hesitates. My mind floods with images of her from a decade ago. Tousled hair in the morning. Sleeping in my bed. I’m not sure I ever got over her. “Are you in town long?” I ask.
“I live here.”
I control my expression. Rory’s back in L.A. and I didn’t even know. I used to know everything about her, including the exact spot that made her scream. I swear it’s the memories talking when I hear my own treacherous voice say, “Meet me this weekend.”
Rory’s about to answer when a sharp-eared kid yells, “What about Mrs. Claus?”
I don’t even hesitate. “She wants to see my North Pole,” I call out, enjoying the snort-laugh I get out of Rory.
The kids chorus, “Show her! Show her!”
Rory is losing it. She keeps trying to straighten her expression, but she can’t hold it. “You’re terrible,” she squeaks out.
“Same as I always was.” I lean close to her ear. “By the way, there is no Mrs. Claus.”
“Santa, is that a dare?” We’re in a room below the Christmas stage. The elves have all gone home.
He holds out his red velvet jacket. He’s already stripped off the fake belly, revealing flat, hard abs. A throaty growl escapes him. “Make me the happiest Santa on earth.”
I accept the jacket and put it on. “What else?”
“Everything off,” he says. “Everything but the jacket. And the heels.”
I finger the soft fur. The mall is closed. Even so, what he’s suggesting is crazy. But it is old Mack-and-Rory. Getting wild in unexpected places.
Mack senses my hesitation. He’s testing the boundaries to see if any bit of old Rory is still beneath my lawyer persona.
He leans against the lockers, a smirk on his face. “Since when have you ever been afraid of a little risk?”
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