Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
As a native New Yorker, I’ve always dreamed of my name in lights on Broadway. But when my Army officer brother calls in a favor, I wind up in Hawaii to help his family while he’s deployed.
A winter in paradise doesn’t sound too bad until I become the substitute choir teacher at a middle school near the base. Wrangling a bunch of tweens while planning the annual school holiday lights festival is a far cry from playing Peter Pan.
Enter Merrick “Merry” Winters, the school’s grumpy but hot shop teacher. I can win over any audience, but Merry’s a tough sell. And I need his help to make the festival successful.
The more time I spend with Merry, the less grumpy he seems, and the more I like the guy. He’s the third generation of a legendary North Shore surfing family. He’s committed to raising his twin boys on the island as a single dad. And like me, he doesn’t have time for an inconvenient but undeniable attraction.
As disasters pile up, the only holiday magic Merry and I seem to be making is with each other. What starts as a harmless fling becomes the only present I want under my tree.
If I want this romance to last past New Year’s, I have to decide which dreams are truly worth chasing.
Can Merry and I catch a wave for a future together before the sun sets on this holiday season?
A brand-new holiday romance from the author of the beloved The Geek Who Saved Christmas starring two middle school teachers in over their heads in an opposites-attract, fish-out-of-water romance. Deck the Palms features a slightly grumpy single dad and a sunny city slicker navigating family dynamics amid holiday small-town romance vibes with a side of Hawaiian sunshine. Guaranteed low-angst, feel-good, happy ending with a heaping helping of holiday spice!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
One
Welcome to November, ohana! It was lovely to see so many of our middle school family members at our Autumn Festival. Now, the countdown begins for our annual Lights Festival. Mrs. Crenshaw is on a medical leave of absence, but never fear! Our holiday extravaganza is in excellent hands…
NOLAN
I stared down at the colorful newsletter distributed to students during last period and sent to parents via email. As someone who’d enjoyed a rocky relationship with reviewers, I tried to believe any press was good press. However, Principal Alana was testing that belief by way overselling my talents for a job I’d only learned about twenty minutes prior.
“Are you sure you want a substitute in charge of something so important?” I asked Principal Alana. She had arrived at the choir room shortly after the final bell sounded, undoubtedly to prevent my escape with the students and ensure my attendance at the holiday festival planning meeting.
“First, you’re not just a sub. You’re a Broadway star.” The principal was barely over five feet with long dark hair piled on her head. Many of the middle schoolers were bigger, and indeed, she didn’t look much older than the eighth graders. However, the principal had a voice worthy of commanding a fleet. “You’re exactly the shakeup this festival needs after years of the same script.”
“Star might be pushing it,” I said demurely. Sure, my resume was full of production credits, and if we counted Off-Off-Broadway, a few leading roles, but no one in New York would ever mistake me for a star. Perhaps things were different in Hawaii.
“Second, I’ll be honest, we don’t have a ton of other options.” Principal Alana continued her forthright attack on my resistance. Unlike the cushy New York private high schools where I encountered stiff competition for my substitute teaching and voice-lesson gigs, I’d apparently been the only applicant for the role of substitute choir director and drama teacher at this public fine arts magnet middle school. It was a sobering thought.
Impervious to my glum thoughts, Principal Alana plowed ahead. “Merry Winters will help, of course, but Merry lacks your flare. However, you can count on the industrial arts students to deliver whatever decorating vision the two of you arrive at.”
Merry Winters. I immediately visualized the industrial arts teacher as a kind, gray-haired British hippy lady. Probably ever so slightly butch, what with the woodworking classes, but churning out domestic projects like cutting boards and candlestick holders. Good at set construction, but seeking the guidance of a plucky Broadway star for this holiday festival.
And yes, I was exactly vain enough to love that vision.
“Lucky for you, I’m a praise wh—junkie, and all that ego stroking worked.” I winked at Principal Alana, narrowly avoiding calling myself a praise whore in front of my boss for the next two months. “Lead the way to this meeting.”
“How was the first day of classes?” she asked as we navigated the wide hallway lined with lockers, artwork, rules and reminders, and varied club and activity announcements.