Sick of tending to everyone else’s needs around the holidays, divorced barmaid and granny Sandra ferries it from London to Belfast. All she wants for Christmas is some peace with a romance story in front of a roaring fire in a remote Irish castle. What she gets is a most unexpected Christmas present from her friends at Bell’s—A 1Night Stand with a young Irishman.
Can she hack it in the real world of romance, or are life’s complications and treacherous snowstorms best left to the pages of a book?
Newly widowed Ardan Draighean owns Ballygalley castle. Once run as a hotel with his late wife, the stone building now serves as a home for him and his son. After hearing about Madame Eve’s matchmaking skills, he contacts her in search of the perfect match. Although much older than him—by fifteen years—Sandra is his ideal woman. He be damned if he’ll let a good story get in the way of his happy ever after with her.
Hot winter kisses are all this couple needs to stay warm this Christmas, but will the heat stay long after the magical season of mistletoe has finished?
Slowing the vehicle to a crawl, he prayed his mid-renovation Alfa Romeo would hold out. He would have used the four by four, but his mother had borrowed it.
His passenger leaned against the window with her mouth wide open, her breath heavy. Damned woman slept, out like a log. How could he apologize for the terrible first impression he must have given her? Stupid digital books and noisy bar. He despised the bustle of the city, but he hadn’t meant to take his impatience out on her. Amy often said he had low tolerance levels. Guess she’d been right.
Amy, his wife, had died on Christmas Eve two years earlier. He kept her pink blanket on the back seat where she always threw it no matter which car they used. “Living out in the sticks,” she’d say, “means you have to be prepared for anything. This blanket could be the difference between staying alive or freezing to death if the car ever breaks down.” He didn’t have the heart to throw the precious keepsake out or stash it in the attic.
Reaching to the back—keeping his sight focused on the road ahead—he felt around for the cover. His digits landed on something soft and he yanked it to the front and brought it to his nose, searching for some semblance of comfort. The scent of her still wedged in the thick softness. The faint, but distinct waft of her favorite flowery perfume filled his nostrils, and his memory hurtled back to when she insisted on knitting the thing. Her little side smile, the sparkle in her violet eyes—as if it were yesterday.
His heart lay heavy. A sigh escaped him and steamed up the window.
Sandra shivered, and her knees knocked together. The poor lass was freezing. Instinct made him want to cascade his treasured knit over her, but his mourning for his dead fiancée made him pause. “Damn it, Amy wouldn’t want her ta catch her death.” He placed the blanket
on her knees and lifted it around her shoulders. Without the harsh din of Laverty’s and her crass tongue to bug him, she was stunning. Naturally pretty. Shame about her foul cockney mouth.
Born n bred Brit, JoAnne Kenrick grew up in a wee sea-side town in North Wales and has enjoyed a variety of vocations such as holistic healer, window dresser, and ghost tour guide. Having lived in Wales, England, and Scotland with her dear family, she finally escaped the dull British summers to reside in sunny Australia. After two years, they moved to the States where she endured three harsh winters in Minnesota. She now lives in North Carolina with her husband, two kids and two puddy cats. When they aren't demanding her attention, or jumping on her head, she strums away on the keys of her little laptop, creating worlds and adventures she could only ever dream of. Come across the pond and faraway....with JoAnne Kenrick! Get exclusive sneak peeks at her new and upcoming releases by signing up to her quarterly newsletter here: http://tinyletter.com/joannekenrick