Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Not knowing when the snow would start, she decided to take her Jeep rather than walk. Bodhi always preferred being on foot and complained the entire two-minute drive into town.
“We could have walked,” he said, as Wren struggled to find a close parking space. “At this rate, we’ll park farther away than home.”
“Enough, Dad.” She spotted a small opening by the bank. “I didn’t want to walk home in the snow.”
“You act like we’re getting a blizzard. It’s only going to be three inches.”
“Greyson said eight.”
“He’s wrong.”
She wasn’t getting caught up in another one of their silly debates. For some reason, Greyson always took issue with the way Bodhi did things, predicted the weather, and didn’t show up for events in her life. With only one parent left, she tried not to dwell on the negative and simply focused on the things she and her dad shared.
“Astrid’s probably already there.”
Astrid, her eccentric aunt on her dad’s side, was extremely close to Bodhi and equally strange to outsiders. Wren was used to both of them and hardly noticed their quirkiness. It was likely that the locals found Wren just as odd.
She didn’t expect the Hawthornes to attend the tree lighting. Losing their mothers during the holiday season always made the sweetness of Christmas a bit bitter.
The anniversary had already passed, but for some reason, they all associated the loss with the holidays. That first Christmas without their moms had been the absolute worst. Something Wren didn’t like to think about. But unlike the Hawthornes, she tried to rewrite the sad memories with new traditions. It didn’t always work, but when it did, she remembered for a split second just how magical Christmas could be.
When she and Bodhi got to the crowded end of town with the enormous tree, it became hard to hear anything over the speakers blasting Christmas carols. Her father smiled and pointed as they worked their way through the merry crowd.
The music swelled with holiday cheer, and the locals gathered like toys on a shelf, beribboned in festive scarves and hats, bouncing anxiously for the show to begin.
The stage beside the tree had bleachers for the local choir. Uplights illuminated the podium where Mayor John Locke would make his speech.
As soon as they made it to the front, Mayor John Locke appeared with a big smile and waved as the crowd cheered. Every year, he grew out his full white beard for his upcoming role as Santa Claus. The carolers, dressed in robes and elf-ear headbands, gathered behind him.
“Happy holidays, Hideaway Harbor!” Mayor Locke bellowed, and the crowd echoed his enthusiasm with a great big cheer. It took a few moments for the mayor to gain control of the pandemonium, but it was all in good fun. “Alright, alright,” he said, raising his gloved hands to settle the crowd, his cheeks red from the cold or, more likely, the cider. He flashed a wide grin and clutched the podium. “Settle in, folks. I promise to keep this short and sweet.”
Wren tucked her hands deeper into the wool-lined pockets of the shirt Greyson had loaned her as snowflakes floated like confetti beneath the glow of the harbor lights. The scent of the nearby bakery mingled with the warm, cinnamon-spiced aroma of pecans roasting at a vendor cart nearby.
The music lowered, but the crowd hardly quieted as children laughed and played underfoot. For some, it was the first time they’d caught up with neighbors since October’s pumpkin carving contest.
Parents hushed their children and looked up at the stage expectantly, waiting for the main event.
“I want to start by thanking each and every one of you for your incredible generosity during last week’s fundraiser,” the mayor continued. “Because of your kindness—and a shocking amount of hand-knit cat blankets—we raised over two thousand dollars for the sanctuary at The Haven.”
A cheer erupted, followed by a few “meows” from the teenage boy Wren recognized as the drama club president. He was wearing reindeer antlers and elf ears.
Wren smiled, and Bodhi waved over a paper cone of roasted nuts.
“The sanctuary’s new outdoor catio will be built next week, the lowest contract bid going to none other than Greyson Hawthorne.” The mayor paused to look for Greyson, but when he didn’t see him in the crowd, he continued speaking. “Let me tell you, these kittens and cats will be living their best life come spring.”
The locals laughed.
“Now, as for what’s ahead—brace yourselves. Keeping with Hideaway Harbor tradition, our goal is always to upstage the prior year’s festivities.”
The crowd cheered and whistled with abundant town pride. Mayor Locke grinned, his pearly teeth flashing within his thick white beard.
“Local author, Jocelyn Collins, is hosting a ticketed event at Hook, Wine, and Sinker next Thursday, and she’s requested all of Hideaway Harbor’s brave—or foolish—single men to sign up. In hopes of raising money for the upcoming library renovations, Jocelyn has arranged for fifty romance readers from her local chapter to come to Hideaway Harbor to find their holiday hero. Where is Jocelyn?”