Jennifer Snow – Love, Lies and Mistletoe (страница 1)
This small-town sheriff has big-city secrets
As a detective in New York, Jacob Marx had been deep under cover in a drug cartel...until a bust went terribly wrong. Now posing as a good guy is proving even tougher. Since the force sent him to Brookhollow to lie low as a deputy sheriff, he’s been struggling to stay detached from the townspeople. Especially Heather, the gorgeous, high-heeled bartender at the local pool hall who asks too many questions. Tempted as he is, he can’t allow himself to connect with her or anyone else. His career and safety are at stake. Of course, a little flirting couldn’t hurt... Could it?
“Well, there you go. Longest eight-minute ride of your life,” Jacob said.
Heather unbuckled her seat belt and faced him. “Aren’t you going to stay to help decorate the tree and see the lighting?”
He really had nowhere else to be. Technically, he was on duty. And technically, this was his important assignment today. “I guess I could stay for a bit.” He shut off the car and reached for his gloves in the backseat, just as she went to grab hers.
Their heads butted and she jumped back. “Ow.”
He laughed. “Sorry. You stay there. I’ll get the gloves.”
Instead of handing hers over, he held one open for her.
She sent him a funny look as she slid her hand into the soft cashmere, then she held her other hand up for the second. “I’ll pretend that wasn’t totally awkward,” she said as she opened the door.
He touched her arm, stopping her.
She turned back in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just want to say thank you...for making the effort.” He wasn’t exactly making it easy for people in town to get to know him, and she could have continued ignoring him like everyone else.
“No problem...but I’m going to be gone soon, so you’ll have to step up if you want people around here to accept you.”
And what if he only wanted acceptance from the one person who was leaving soon? Then what?
By now, it’s probably obvious just how much I love writing holiday-themed romances. The first book in this small-town series is about finding love during the Christmas season, and I thought it was fitting to end the series on the same note. Heather and Jacob’s story is the final book in the Brookhollow series, and it was definitely bittersweet to write the final sentence. I have spent two years in this small town that has come to life on the page, with characters who feel like friends and story lines that I’ve always wanted to write.
I hope you will enjoy this slightly suspenseful conclusion to the series and fall in love with Heather and Jacob as we say goodbye to Brookhollow.
All the very best this holiday season from my family to yours. I hope love, peace and happiness find you wherever you are—small town or big city.
xo
Jennifer
Love, Lies & Mistletoe
Jennifer Snow
JENNIFER SNOW lives in Edmonton, Alberta, with her husband and five-year-old son. She is a member of the Writers Guild of Alberta, the Romance Writers of America, the Canadian Author Association and shewrites.org. She is also a regular blogger on the Mills & Boon Heartwarming Authors site and is a contributing author to Mslexia, WestWord magazine and RWR. Her 2013 holiday romance, The Trouble with Mistletoe, was a finalist in the 2014 Golden Quill contest and the Heart of Denver Aspen Gold contest. More information can be found on her website, jennifersnowauthor.com.
For all of the Brookhollow fans who have followed the series—laughed and cried along with me and who continue to show a level of love and support that I could only have dreamed of—thank you!
I can never say it often enough—thank you to my wonderful agent, Stephany Evans, who was the first one to believe in this series. And a special thank-you to editor Claire Caldwell, who offered valuable feedback on this story, along with my editor Victoria Curran. As always, this book is stronger because of you.
Contents
“IS THAT THE one that got away?”
Jacob Marx placed his cell phone facedown onto the bar and glanced over his shoulder where Heather, the pool hall’s bartender, was so close, strands of her long, dark brown hair rested on his shoulder. The scent of peppermint filled his nose. Huh, must be a holiday thing—last month she’d smelled like pumpkin spice. Not that he paid much attention; he just rememb “Sweet for the sweet.” ered how it had left him craving a Starbucks pumpkin spiced latte.
“No,” he said, turning his attention back to the rum and Coke he’d been nursing for an hour. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but sitting at the bar beat being alone every evening, thinking about the life passing him by in New York. He’d done that enough in his first few weeks in tiny Brookhollow, New Jersey, located right between Nowhere Land and Boringsville.
Heather went around the bar and set down a tray of empty beer glasses. “Are you sure? ’Cause it would explain a lot,” she said, stacking the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
Jacob picked up the phone, and closing the photo of his sister and eight-year-old nephew, he tucked it into his pocket. “Yeah, like what?” He leaned forward on the bar. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, but the talkative brunette was likely to tell him what she thought anyway.
“Like why you’re such a—”
“Heather, we need another round on lane four.” Candace, the waitress working the bowling alley side of the local hot spot, passed them carrying a food order from the kitchen.
The smell of the hot wings on the tray tempted Jacob to place an order of his own, but checking his glucose monitor, he decided not to mess with his currently stable blood sugars.
“I’ll be right back,” Heather said, filling a tray with beers from the mini-fridge behind the bar.
“Take your time,” Jacob mumbled. He’d rather not spend his evenings at the pool hall when he wasn’t on duty, but, unfortunately, in a town as small as this one, there were few options. Other than this pool hall/bowling alley/movie theater complex, the only other bar in town was the Green Gator, a karaoke joint. And he’d rather have his eyes poked out than go there.
He watched Heather carry the drinks to the bowling lane and collect the cash from the under-forty league members. The teams were practicing for their annual holiday bowling tournament, which had been so well-advertised and talked about all over town that anyone would think it was the Super Bowl.
A holiday bowling tournament was creating an excited buzz. Man, this town couldn’t possibly be more boring.