Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Moody
Living in Christmas Town doesn’t make me a fan of the holidays. Quite the opposite. In fact, eleven months out of the year, I’m perfectly happy running my bookstore in peace and quiet. Of course, that changes in December when it’s mistletoe madness and mayhem. Ugh.
But this year, there’s a new cowboy in town and it’s not as easy to grumble about…anything. I admit, Hudson is handsome and hunky, but everyone knows I’m not myself till January, so he’ll have to buzz off and charm someone else.
Bah humbug.
Hudson
Moving to California wasn’t in my plans. I could use the change of scenery, though, and the ranch is a good investment. That’s not a sneaky way of saying I’m hiding from my past…no siree. I’m following a new path to a new town, that’s all.
And so far, so good. Except…my attraction to the nerdy bookstore owner is throwing me off my game.
Look, I’m not interested in anything other than a casual hookup. But Moody is a mystery and I want to know more about the adorable geek with a sunny disposition who turns into a holiday grump every year.
For some reason, he feels like home away from home. December may be the last month of the year, but something tells me this is our beginning.
Moody’s Grumpy Holiday is an MM grumpy-sunshine, romantic comedy featuring an adorkable geek, a hunky cowboy, and a little seasonal humbug.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
HUDSON
“The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason.” —How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, Dr. Seuss
Sunlight sparkled on the ocean like a golden curtain across the deep-blue water. The sand was warm and palm trees swayed in the light autumn breeze as seagulls surveyed the scene, prepared to swoop in for the kill or to claim an errant piece of crust from the trash. Someone blasted “Good Vibrations” from their car radio as they cruised Pacific Coast Highway, and you know…it was kind of perfect. Like a movie set or a photo shoot for a travel brochure.
I hated it.
The fact that my ex-fiancée thought a California beach resort would have made a great honeymoon spot for us was yet another missed red flag. I wasn’t a beach guy. At all. I loved mountains, valleys, and rugged wilderness. I loved being on the range, riding horses, minding cows, mending fences.
Don’t get me wrong, there was no denying the beauty here. It was fucking stunning. But it was too…lonely. Or maybe that was just a reflection of my current state of mind.
On that depressing note, I tipped my Stetson, hopped into my rental truck, and headed north, veering inland on Highway 154 toward Santa Ynez and Oak Ridge Ranch.
I’d done some homework and had recently been in touch with one of the owners regarding their aggressive expansion plans. They were looking for investors, and I was looking for…something of my own. A purpose? Nah, that sounded desperate. A new direction, maybe.
My mom worried that I was lost, and maybe she wasn’t totally wrong, but I wouldn’t have made the trip west if the business opportunity hadn’t been interesting. The fact that I was staying at the honeymoon getaway that never happened was a weird one. But Kylie was last year’s news. It was time to move on.
And since I was here, I figured I’d do a little sightseeing and check out the coastline, the local wineries, and get this…a place called Christmas Town in the hills that boasted a ginormous year-round Christmas tree and supposedly had the best homemade chicken noodle soup in the state. Or maybe the country. Sold.
The craggy incline was beautiful with hearty brush giving way to tall eucalyptus trees. When the highway narrowed abruptly in a series of hairpin turns, I lowered the volume on an old Johnny Cash classic as if that might help me concentrate.
Visibility sucked. Tendrils of fog gathered on the horizon, and within a mile, I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of the hood. I white-knuckled the wheel with sweaty palms, cursing Kylie, California, and my pride for staying at the five-star hotel she’d booked.
I could have stayed near the ranch, but I hadn’t wanted to lose my deposit. Smart, right? Not so much. I was exhausted, hungry, and in very real danger of wrapping my rental around a tree.
I didn’t mind a little combat driving, but I’d have preferred to be at home in the Rockies on familiar roads in my own truck. But this was me trying to prove I was fine. This was me trying to come out on top and—
“Christmas Town, next off-ramp.”
Oh. Okay.
I followed the signage, exited the highway, and turned right onto Reindeer Lane.
No joke.
The two-lane road was lined with evergreens and deciduous trees bright with orange and yellow fall foliage. A few cottages with generous porches were tucked in between the trees and shaded by a layer of mist. The effect was picturesque and welcoming.