Frosty the Snowman by Mimi Barbour

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Chapter One excerpt – 2016 Love Christmas Collection – Frosty the Snowman – by Mimi Barbour

Ice shards blew against the Cessna’s windshield and vision became limited. The previously relaxed pilot suddenly changed to a man with a mission. Tension ramped up and the earlier warm atmosphere turned cold as fear constricted throats unable to swallow.

“We’re going down aren’t we?” Hali Gibson’s voice hadn’t risen from her normal tones. Not even a little. But inside, hidden deep in her emotions, lived a wild spirit that screeched and then whimpered. I don’t want to die! Not yet. Not now!

Clutching the leather panel in front of her as if by sheer want and personal influence, she could force the noisy plane back up into the blanket of white sleet that had suddenly appeared, she clung and bit back her screams.

The pilot bellowed over the plane’s roar. “I’m afraid so. Hold on! Up ahead, there’s a frozen lake we might use as a landing strip. Maybe we’ll make it.” He aimed his voice toward her and issued orders. “Just don’t panic.”

“I never panic.” She screamed back, her eyes feeling like they were protruding two inches from their sockets.

That got his attention but just for a second. His expression fierce like that of a warrior pitted against an enemy larger than life, he yelled, “Brace yourself!”

In comparison to her own instability, she noted the giant-like man behind the controls appeared ridiculously steady. As if he’d force-landed his small Cessna in the middle of the frozen Alaskan outback any number of times. He kept speaking into his earphones giving their particulars and using the word “Mayday” to get attention.

It had certainly gotten hers. Who could blame her for thinking two voices might add more impact. Her screamed maydays certainly had more force than his.

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With only a thin layer of plastic between them and the thickened white sleet that enveloped the small aircraft unexpectedly, the fragile windshield seemed totally inconsequential.

For a few seconds, Hali wished herself back in the small airport in Ketchikan and pictured a sock in her mouth stopping her from insisting she needed to be his passenger. Why in hell had she fought so hard to be here now? God must be punishing her for being so pushy.

Hali listened to the roar of the small engine working as hard as it could, fighting against the elements of nature. She decided that when one faced death, seconds lasted longer, which gave people time to reflect. Why me, Lord?

Forced to endure, she tightened every muscle in her body and prepared to meet her maker.

A humming noise from the pilot caught her attention. Watching him previously manoeuver the small plane, she’d seen the skill it had taken to manipulate the controls, hold the aircraft steady and if sheer will could force this bird through the white wall of hell, he’d be the one to do so. But damn, did he have to sing them to their demise?

What the…? The guy was singing Frosty the Snowman. Of all the crazies in the world, trust her to beg this particular Looneytune to let her come with him just so he could serenade her last moments on earth with a children’s Christmas carol.

Without realizing she would, her voice melded with his only she used the words. If it helped calm his nerves, she was all for it.

On the other hand, he hadn’t yielded to their dilemma, in fact, quite the opposite. As if in hand to hand combat with the devil himself, he fought like a man possessed. Continuing to fly blind, the control panels delivered instrument readings he needed to keep the plane from plunging out of the sky.

Tipping from side to side didn’t help her nerves whatsoever. The harsh roaring of the engines revved to ear-splitting levels. Hali supposed the reverberation had increased because of their escalating descent.

The sudden howling going on from the crate in the rear of the plane ripped at Hali’s soft heart and guilt hit her hard. Because she was a wuss for driving long distances alone, she’d decided to take this bush plane into the wilds of Alaska from Ketchikan to Juneau rather than drive the 300 miles to deliver her cousin’s new puppy. Now, because of her cowardly decision, the gorgeous animal would most likely die

My fault. All my fault. At the airport, after she’d been bumped from the regular flight, she’d beseeched this pilot to let her and the dog come with him. Seems there’s a pecking order in Alaska. If you owned the Airlines, you were first in line and could change the route anytime you wanted, even if Christmas was only a few days away.  Which left paying customers angry but forced to wait for the next flight.

Hali, unexpectedly stranded, had pleaded with this man to no avail. In her excitement, she’d even dropped her suitcase which had flipped open, scattering her belongings everywhere. Like a gentleman should, he’d helped her collect her property, had handed her over underwear, sweaters, even her going-away gift from the girls at the office, which had softened his stubborn expression slightly, but he’d still refused her pleas.

It hadn’t been until the person who’d originally bumped her had his say and a large chunk of money changed hands that the tall man had agreed to the arrangement. Within a few minutes, he’d rounded her up, got them belted into the place and they’d taken off.

Now she was locked into a sardine can, with a complete stranger controlling her life and—go figure… she’d begged to be here.

While her mind was travelling through time, the pilot had pulled off a miracle. They were speeding along a stretch of ice, hovering slightly above the ground. Battered on both sides, the winds didn’t like being robbed of their prey.  As the man in charge searched for a place to safely set the little plane down, he fought to keep them from tipping.

With visibility much better at this low altitude, up ahead, Hali saw what he did. There was a sheltered bay surrounded by trees. The lake looked to have less snow. And, cleared from the driving winds, the visible frozen surface invited them to drop in and stay a while.

Singing louder, blended in with sobs of joy, Hali swiped at her eyes, blinked repeatedly and watched the pilot set the plane down as gently as the buffeting wind would allow. Finally, he drove it closer to the shore and brought them to a complete halt.

In seconds, he’d turned off the motor. As if the turning of the key stopped their nightmare, it cut off their mingling voices also.

Hali watched him drop his face into his now shaking hands. Without realizing her intentions, she reached over to touch, pat, wishing she could hug. Finding her own hand enveloped in a tight grip, she didn’t move. For her, connecting in this way with another human being was a normal action and so she allowed them these magical moments before voicing her relief. Truthfully, she’d choked up and words wouldn’t be forced through clogged emotions.

Mimi Barbour

Mimi is a New York Times, USA Today & Award-winning Best-selling author who’s sold over 500,000 copies of her books world-wide. Her five romance series include: The Vicarage Bench/ time travel at it’s best, Angels with Attitudes / angels love romance, Vegas / fast-paced plotting, Elvis / make a song a book and her

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Sleigh Ride by Katy Walters

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Chapter One excerpt – 2016 Love Christmas – Sleigh Ride – by Katy Walters

Chapter One

Shafts of light shone through the delicate leaves of the silver birch tree, tracing lacy patterns across the dusty path.  Sophia Vale lifted her head to the sweet trebles of birds high in the branches above her. It was an idyllic morning, and more so as she came upon a patch of medicinal herbs.  Lungwort was the most beneficial for her mother’s congestion. Relieved, she plucked them from the vibrant  green grass placing them with the plants of elderberry and wild rosemary. Now she could make tisanes to alleviate the crackling congestion on her mama’s chest, and ease the cackling cough. She wished she could afford the services of a physicker, but his fees were well above their modest means. In fact the stipend they did have, covered only their food and shelter of a dilapidated but well-loved cottage.

The scent of the wild herbs wafted through the verdant bushes to a silent watcher. Hiding behind the thick trunk of  horse chestnut tree, Lord Jude Hawley gritted his teeth, as he peered through the thick leaves. She was indeed a picture, in her simple gown and villager straw hat framing her pale olive face, the dark eyes glittering amber in the light. The white muslin contrasted with her ebony hair flowing in waves to her tiny waist. She often wore it down thinking she was unobserved in her woodland habitat. As she neared, he stepped from his hiding place, his heart rippling at her nearness. ‘Miss Vale, you should not walk unescorted through these lonely paths. Some scoundrel could be waiting behind the bushes ready to ravish you.’

‘Such talk sir, how indiscreet. Have you no sense of propriety?’ she asked with asperity.

‘Hmm, I think only for your safety, my sweet girl.’

‘Truly, my lord.’ She smiled lifting those beautiful eyes to his. ‘I am quite safe here with only the birds and the fawns as my companions. You should repair to your own place my lord; you will begrime those exquisite clothes.’

Not picking up her veiled sarcasm, he preened, struggling to lift his treble chin above the immaculately folded cravat. Hurriedly, he smoothed down the blue superfine frock coat, as he endeavoured to tug down the high cut of the cloth over his barrel of a belly. Simpering, he squawked, ‘I am fit to swoon with your sweet praise. Praise from an angel alighted on my unworthy path.’  Foppishly, he flourished a silk handkerchief dangerously near her face; as he posed pointing his foot, the ugly knotted veins pushing through the fine silk stockings. ‘So my apparel pleases you?’

Sophia took a deep breath. He reminded her of a fat old wood pigeon bending his tail feathers to his intended victim.

Well he would not be jumping on her back. ‘Tis clear your valet spent hours fixing your cravat. ‘

‘Hmm, I follow Gronow and Beau Brummel to the tee y’know.’

‘Hmm yes, it looks like it. But those satin shoes are not fitted for such rough terrain my lord. You should turn back before you ruin them.’

‘Be that as it may my angel, I risk all for one sweet word from that delectable mouth, ‘Now I am here, pray let me escort you to your door.’

‘My Lord, I am not in hurry to repair to my home, and had bethought to search for more herbs.’

‘Hmm, then let me aid you in your endeavour.’

Sophia tried to hide her irritation; he just would not desist from following her. Wherever she went these days; it seemed he was there. Seeing him proffer his arm, it would have been rude to ignore the gesture, yet she had an excuse.

‘Sir I can hardly carry this basket and take you arm.’

Smirking, he bellowed, taking them from her, ‘hah my little dove. I am ever at your service. She wanted to tug them back, but that would be foolish and paltry.  Sighing she took his arm, at least his hands were now engaged, so he could not slink one around her waist.

Feeling more in control now, he looked down at her head just below his shoulder. She was so petite, with such a slender figure and the palest of skin. He never stopped admiring her dainty hands and feet. How would she react if she knew his innermost desire was to feel her long slim legs crossed over his back. Smiling at the thought, he said quietly, ’Have you considered my offer?’

‘Ah – I would prefer to talk on other subjects my lord.’

‘Surely you cannot refuse. See now, you have need of a physicker, but you have to make do with these wild concoctions.’ He looked disparagingly at the fresh herbs in her basket.

‘I think they are far more beneficial than cutting, or leeches, my lord. A tisane of these herbs will loosen my mother’s cough. By nightfall, she should rest easy.’

‘Pon rep, I just don’t understand you Sophia.’

She stiffened at his use of her familiar name.

‘Miss Vale if you please, my lord.’

Stopping, he gripped her upper arms with his pudgy hands, turning her gently to face him. ‘Pray, give me an answer, put me out of my misery. I would go down on bended knee, but these silk stockings are costly. I offer you anything you desire, a beautiful house, garden and a gardener to grow all the herbs you wish.  Why you could have an orangery, grow pineapples, oranges and the most exotic of vegetables.  You need not dirty those dainty hands. Why I will even house your mother and little sister in a cottage on the estate. I will see they both have the finest care.  As my mistress you will have the world at your feet. I would bow to your every command.’

‘Except for your silk stockings I daresay.’

He ignored her quip, ‘As my mistress you would live in luxury, with a fine settlement bestowed upon you.’

‘My lord you insult me. How can you even think I would succumb to your offer. You blatantly abuse me with your sordid words.’

‘Abuse? Why I would not lay a finger upon that most delicate of skin, the skin born in heaven, nor would I utter one word to offend those most delicate shell like ears.’

‘Really, you threaten to debauch me sir, and for that I cannot forgive you.’

‘Debauch you? How so, I offer you my love, my heart; when I offer you a house, carriage, jewels?’

‘I have a cottage  my lord, which I love. I am quite happy with my mother and my sister. The only thing that mars my idyll is you.’

Stooping he kicked a tuft of grass on the side of the earthen path. ‘Well I have news for you m’dear. ‘

Without another word he took out a roll of parchment waving it impatiently  beneath her nose. ‘Read it.’

Katy lives on the South coast with her husband and a loving hyper friendly dog who likes to greet and lick everyone on sight. She has a BA Hons (Psych) BA Eng.Lit. MA in Religion and Mysticism and a Hon Dr. Science for research into pain control.
She was a psychologist and hypnotherapist before changing direction for full time creative writing, Her main genres are historical romance, crime and science fiction.

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RIGHT NAME, WRONG MAN

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RIGHT NAME, WRONG MAN: What’s a girl to do when she whispers another man’s name in her fiancé’s arms? Had she said Steve or… Yves? He was no longer the Yves, mon amour, of years ago. Would going to Paris help her forget the French doc, her 1st love? But Yves never forgot an organ he removed from a patient or a woman he dated. A romance in France. http://tinyurl.com/85o4wg7

Copy (2) of N Y T RNWM 6 7 2015

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