Holiday Titles excerpts
Shopping for Christmas
Chapter 1
Imani Robinson was a hero. Like a mail carrier, braving the elements through flash floods, dodging ice pellets, and lathering sunscreen to shield against the shooting sunrays. Yeah, Imani risked her life so that folks could eat.
She delivered food, including chips and fish for game night, medicine to the sick, old-fashioned mama recipes—soup, juice, and aspirin—for cold and flu symptoms. She even served as nursemaid in a way, tending to babies’ needs for diapers, milk, and food.
To pay for grad school, she had joined the ranks as a personal grocery shopper. Without a social life, shopping gave her human interaction. Customers ordered through the Home Delivery app. But she would walk away from it all in two months with a master’s in public health.
Now, it was time for Imani to give back—not the tips—in another way to remind others that Jesus is the reason for the Christmas season.
Shuffling ideas in her head, Imani let her mind drift to one delivery that changed everything. It started with a familiar alert.
“You have reached your destination.”
Imani remembered the story-and-a-half house’s curb appeal. Three gabled dormers hinted that a bedroom occupied the upstairs. A plush green lawn resembled a golf course. Twin pots with yellow and purple pansies stationed on both sides of the door won her over. She sighed and patted her chest. Something about the color combination was whimsical.
From the sidewalk to the sage door, which blended seamlessly with the charcoal brick exterior, its charm beckoned outsiders to come for a peek.
She stopped gawking at the house to read the customer’s instructions: Drop off the order, which meant she would leave the bags on the porch, take a photo to confirm delivery, then leave.
Imani weighed down her arms with as many plastic bags as she could carry and headed to Brandon J.’s porch for the drop-off. The door cracked open as if there was something sinister behind it. Two excited children appeared, drooling for their goodies. They were adorable.
“Did you bring chocolate?” asked the younger child, a girl with warm brown skin that complemented her little brown doe eyes.
“Ah . . .” Imani mentally scanned the items ordered. It seemed like everything but that was on the list. “No, sweetie.”
The little girl pouted and eyed the bags, strained with cookies, chips, frozen pizza, and juice. The latter, by the way, was getting heavy.
What parent allows their children to eat this stuff? Imani wondered. Didn’t they know that childhood obesity increases the chances of developing type 2 diabetes?
A public health crisis.
Water, frozen vegetables, fresh lettuce with a few toppings, and chicken drumsticks seemed an afterthought.
As Imani was about to hand each child a bag to relieve her load, another presence filled the gap. A perfect specimen of God’s handiwork commanded the doorway. The tall, dark brown, muscular man distracted her. Too many words were scrambled in her head to describe him. Even his uncombed, thick black hair, which fade-cut into his trimmed beard, was fashionable.
He eyed the bags, then the children. “What did you two order?” He lifted a silky black eyebrow and jammed his fist on his waist.
Sexy but intimidating.
“Everything,” Imani mumbled as the children stood frozen, not answering.
Acknowledging her for the first time, his features softened. “Sorry. I left these two alone for five minutes, and this is the damage they caused. Need any help?”
“Brandon, right? Yes, please,” she said, verifying that he was the customer, then began to relieve her arms of the dead weight, which he passed to his children to take to the kitchen.
He stepped outside into the crisp spring weather in his house slippers, sweat shorts, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Shivering for him, Imani pulled her thick, hooded cardigan tighter. Maybe overkill for May. He took the lead in walking to her car and shook his head at her trunk’s contents. “This is all mine?”
The expression she gave him was his answer. Brandon seemed truly surprised by his children’s activities.
Imani’s next delivery, which was smaller, was in her backseat.
Brandon swiped the remaining bags and heaved the two water cases as if they were pillows. Imani blinked in disbelief as his muscles protested their entrapment.
“That was impressive. It would have taken me at least three more trips.”
He shrugged off her compliment. “You’d think since they ordered all this food, they would be here to help.”
Right! Imani kept that comment to herself. If she criticized his parenting skills, he might remove her tip from the order. She snapped a picture of Brandon and his groceries.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, and happy eating. If you’re satisfied with my selections, I hope you’ll give me a five-star review.”
“You’ve earned ten stars.” Brandon nodded and closed the door as Imani heard him yelling, “Aja, Tyler, don’t think about opening any of this junk. . . .”
Imani snickered, but she hoped he wouldn’t be too harsh with them. He was probably a great dad and husband.
The house, the husband, and the kids. Some women had it all. If only Imani could order a practicing Christian for a husband, she would put him in her shopping cart for delivery.
##
The shopper’s understated beauty briefly distracted Brandon Johnson when he came to the door. His security camera had alerted him that a visitor was coming. He’d assumed it was his delivery without checking the video. The ridiculous number of bags reminded him of a trash dumpster or an unsupervised shopping spree. Home training prevented him from reprimanding the children in front of company.
Brandon retraced his footsteps to his state-of-the-art kitchen, which offered a panoramic view of the great room, dining room, and deck. The builder’s former display house was stocked with premium upgrades that enticed future homeowners to buy from this developer.
The decorator hadn’t missed a detail, from the porcelain floor tile that complemented the front door’s sage green to the pearl-gray cabinets that matched the white crown molding throughout the house.
Neighbors called it a wife’s haven. Brandon didn’t have a wife—yet—to share it with.
Aja, five, and her brother, Tyler, who was seven, stopped ransacking the grocery bags that littered every available space on the L-shaped granite counters and stared up at him.
Crossing his arms, Brandon feigned a snarl. Six feet four inches tall and 230 pounds, mostly of solid muscle, would make others tremble. He couldn’t intimidate them.
Aja and Tyler used their innocent expressions as weapons as they competed with him in a stare-off duel.
Brandon mustered a roar. “What did you two order while I took an important call? I said add one treat apiece to the shopping cart and hit send. That poor woman had to bring all that stuff to our door.”
Wait. This was about scolding his niece and nephew, who’d been left in his care while their parents, Brandon’s older brother and sister-in-law, Kyle and Stacey, were away at a conference.
“I know, but . . . we kept seeing pictures they said we could add to our cart.” Aja’s lips quivered, pleading their case.
Lifting his shoulders, Tyler twisted his mouth. “Yep, that’s what happened.”
Brandon wasn’t falling for it. “Who is supposed to eat all this food?” He pulled out party-size bags of chips and spied two six-packs of mini juices, in addition to the two cases of bottled water that Brandon had ordered, which the poor woman had had to carry.
No, they didn’t. Oreos, his favorite as a child, but he refused to be tempted as he rummaged through the bags for the drumsticks he’d planned to bake.
“We are, Uncle Bran.” Aja gave him a dimpled smile like her mother’s. Her thick Afro puffs complemented her chocolate skin. She resembled a baby doll. Aja had him and her daddy wrapped around her finger.
“But we’re staying until the weekend, and we can’t starve,” Tyler reminded him. His resemblance to Brandon was so strong that strangers mistook him for his son.
“Unless I put you two out.”
Aja ran up to him and squeezed his waist in a bear hug. “But you love us.”
“Mm-hmm.” He hugged her back. “True, but I’m not falling for this. Your parents will have a fit if I let you eat this junk food. Pick out a couple of treats to keep, and the rest goes to a homeless shelter.”
Aja shrieked in horror. “You can’t give them junk food!” She threw his words back at him. “It’s unhealthy.”
The girl’s theatrics didn’t faze Brandon as he squinted. “Not working. I’m going to put the chicken and the rest of the food I ordered away, then we’ll look up a shelter or food pantry.”
They groaned their disappointment as Aja stomped away, pouting and mumbling that he was unfair.
Shame on Brandon. Never, ever shop online with those two again.
What was Imani’s story? The gold sweater she wore highlighted her fair, flawless skin. Unless her red St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap belonged to her father, brother, husband, or boyfriend, the woman was a baseball fan.
Brandon hadn’t wanted to stare at the shopper, but he had to admire her beauty. He appreciated her sculpted features, including those cheeks and lips.
He couldn’t wait to place his next order.
Christmas Dinner
Chapter One
“What am I doing here?” Darcelle Price asked herself as she bundled her coat tighter against the December chill and exhaled the cold air from her nostrils. The outing—daddy and daughter time—had been forever
canceled.
Harold Price had been a wise man who had guided
Darcelle through life’s various tests and triumphs. He instilled values in her to always stand up for herself and let no one take advantage of her in any situation—whether personal or private.
When she mentioned needing a new vehicle, excitement lit his eyes as he announced he would accompany his thirty-two-year-old single daughter on a car-buying spree.
“We’ll scope out the Black Friday deals. If we don’t find a steal, we’ll wait until around Christmas when the dealerships are desperate to clear inventory for the new year.”
So, there she was, standing on a car lot—at almost Christmas time—with big red bows arranged on car hoods,
twinkling lights looped on massive trees in the lobby, and Merry Christmas signs flashing in store windows. The stage was set for holiday cheer.
Darcelle wasn’t feeling it.
A link was missing.
Daddy had always been there for her. Faithful.
Committed. Loving. The qualities the man she married better bring to the table, a boast that was hard to fulfill. When she was old enough to date, Darcelle realized not many men could measure up to her father.
She blinked away the moisture from her eyes, and everything came into focus. She was surrounded, drowning in an ocean of cars that seemed ready to charge at her any minute.
Darcelle couldn’t keep the thoughts of her father at bay as she moved aimlessly from one vehicle to another with enticements to “drive your Christmas present” home. Memories flooded her like a tsunami.
So many monumental memories.
The week before Thanksgiving, her father had died of a heart attack. The Prices buried him on Black Friday. A dark day in the lives of his widow, three daughters, and two grandchildren he left behind to mourn. And Darcelle had mourned and was still grieving.
“This was such a bad idea,” she concluded. “I should’ve never come. I can’t do this.”
“Have any questions?” Jake, or maybe it was John—the salesperson assigned to hound her for a deal—startled her.
Tucking away the memories into a private place, Darcelle straightened her shoulders and practiced a smile. She spun around to face the man for the second time since she’d arrived at the dealership.
While she shivered under her thick wool coat and cap, he wore a thin jacket halfway zipped and no head covering. Gel fortified his hair against the wind. The crooked grin on his round face and oversized glasses angled on his narrow nose were annoying.
“Not yet.” Darcelle was pleasant, but couldn’t wait to sneak away as he turned to retreat.
But wasn’t that why she left her apartment?
To escape the solitude?
Darcelle had been holed up there for days. Either
refocus or put off making a purchase, she chided herself. Her dad had advised her that her current seven-year-old car wasn’t worth a new transmission.
“Daddy, what should I do?” she whispered as if he could hear her.
Footsteps approached behind her. Gritting her teeth, she had no smile for this guy—again.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” a baritone voice asked over her shoulder.
He wasn’t the same guy. His words weren’t rushed or pushy. Had the other guy called in reinforcement to up the pressure?
She sighed and twirled around, then she steadied herself against a nearby car. How could she smart off at a man who towered over her five-foot-six-and-a-half-inch stature and whose handsome face was worthy of a second glance?. He was nicely dressed in a long wool coat, and a hat—a Fedora custom designed for his face. His sales bonuses were clearly well invested. His smile mesmerized her.
Mischief danced in his eyes and hinted of a tease. Okay, so he thought he could flirt his way to a commission?
Darcelle wouldn’t be intimidated. Lifting her chin, she held her ground. “Like I told the other salesman, I’ll let you know when I make up my mind.”
“I doubt it.” Instead of a retreat, he rocked on his heels. “I’ve been watching you from over there.” She turned in the direction he pointed. “And I thought—uh-uh, she’s not interested in buying.”
His eyes no longer danced but softened. “I’m Evanston Giles. Friends call me Evan. Nah, I’m not a salesman.” He scrunched his nose. “Can never trust those guys.”
Exactly.
A kindred spirit.
Relaxing her shoulders, Darcelle confessed. “You’re right. Although I need a vehicle, my heart’s not into it at the moment. I can’t, not without my dad.” Her voice cracked. Better leave now before she broke down in front of this stranger—well, Evan. She moved to step around him.
“Hold on. Your dad might be running late.” Evanston took a chance to detain her longer.
“He’s not.” She shook her head. The disappointment in her eyes, along with the pool of tears, tugged at his senses. “My father died.” Her words faded to a whisper.
Usually, an articulate person, Evanston had a word for every occasion. Not this time, struggling to say something besides, I’m sorry.
She stared past him in a trance. “Seems like last night, but it was last month.”
A slight breeze felt like a punch to his gut. What? “Sorry for your loss.” He said it anyway. Still in mourning,
the lady shouldn’t be making business transactions in her state of mind. “Do you need a car?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugged and began to walk away. “My father was supposed to make sure I got the best deal.”
Problem solved. Evanston could recall features on most models that would put a salesperson to shame. Plus, he was a master at negotiation. “I can stand in the gap, but you’ll have to tell me your name.” Without asking for permission, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a car as if they were friends after five minutes.
Stunned, she opened her mouth as if to protest his forwardness but didn’t. “Darcelle Giles.”
“A beautiful name for an alluring woman. I’m not flirting—yet. Stating the obvious.” He smiled. Okay, he was flirting, which surprised him. He hadn’t dated since... No need to think about past regrets.
Her lips curved into a faint smile until she chuckled. With twinkling clear Christmas lights as a backdrop, her face glowed as if the sun were overruling the sunset. “My dad told my mother he wanted his girls to have beautiful names.”
So, there was more than one from where this beauty came. Stay on task. “Tell me about your father.”
“His name is—was—Harold.” She swallowed and sucked in a deep breath. Evanston silently willed her to relax and regain her composure. It worked because she continued. “He was smart, funny, and a family man. When it came to his three daughters, he was a force to be reckoned with.”
“No sons?”
“Nope. I’ve never seen him angry until my older sister got pregnant—twice.”
He whistled. Evanston couldn’t imagine the fallout. He clicked his teeth as if he were scared. “Yikes.”
A memory must have jolted her mind because Darcelle smirked. “You better believe it. Daddy renewed his gun permit. It took prayers and pleading for him not to do anything he would regret.”
“I like him already.” He admired any man who would protect his family. He had heard of a shotgun wedding, but Evanston had never seen it play out. Suddenly, he felt an allegiance to this larger-than-life family man. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.” Digging into the oversized pockets of her coat, she pivoted to the left, then to the right as if she were a model. The bold color had gotten his attention from across the car lot, along with the riding boots and a cream cap that couldn’t trap her mass of curls. She was definitely dressed for the elements. In a different setting, he might have mistaken her for a model at one of the many cars shows he attended.
He tapped a finger against his lips and faked a frown. “I don’t know if I saw any purple ones.”
She jutted her chin, and a dimple appeared. He zoomed in on her freckles—three of them. “You didn’t say a car. I like maroon or a cranberry shade.” Her eyes became bright with expectancy.
Evanston pumped more information out of her like the make, model, and price range. “Let’s see if we can find those features in your choice of colors. He pointed to a Ford. She shook her head.
“Okay.” He steered her toward a Hyundai and read off what it was equipped with.
She squinted as if she was considering it. “I’m not feeling this one either. Not enough horsepower and Apple CarPlay is a must.”
“Ooh, woman,” he teased, “you’re going to be a hard sale.”
She giggled. “Daddy would be proud.”
When she hovered near a Buick crossover, he played the part. “This one has automatic high beams and emergency braking—I’m thinking about your safety. You have to admit the big green bow is setting the maroon shade off —” he patted the hood— “plus, this would make your dad happy.”
“It’s cranberry.” The sparkle in her eyes revealed he had picked a winner.
Darcelle glanced over her shoulder. “Uh-oh. Here comes Jake, John, or whatever his name is.”
“I’ll handle him.” Evanston stepped closer in a protective stance.
The salesman extended his hand for a shake and introduced himself as Jake. He grinned with a hopeful expression. “So, folks, what do you think? Want to take it for a test drive?”
Evanston looked to Darcelle who shook her head. “I drove one of these a month ago when I needed a rental. Smooth ride.”
“Okay. Let’s talk numbers, Jake,” Evanston used his no-nonsense tone.
Darcelle blinked as if she’d remembered something and pulled Evanston aside. “I can take it from here. I didn’t mean to take you away from your car shopping.”
He chuckled as Jake waved them forward. “I didn’t come to buy.”
“What? Why are you here?”
Good question. Was it serendipity, or as his mother always said, the Lord ordering his steps? Why would the Lord be interested in his movements? Not that Evanston was a bad person or anything. It’s just that he wouldn’t get a perfect church attendance award.
Evanston stopped overthinking it. “I’m a car enthusiast. The dealership’s magnificent Christmas decorations made me look and, on a whim, I decided to stop and check out the new models.”
“Yeah,” She glanced around, “I think the light display beckoned to me to stop here too.”
Okay, was that a coincidence—or the Lord causing this detour? He pondered it while falling in step with Darcelle.
### End of Free read. Click to purchase.
Christmas Greetings
I’m being stalked. Saige couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Daniel heading toward the greeting card aisle in Target. The man couldn’t be missed. She guessed he had to be about six-foot one, two, or three. She was never good at guessing heights.
With rich, brown, African skin, Daniel resembled actor Lamman Rucker, with a dash of something extra. His walk was an attention grabber, turning heads, including hers, with every step.
Didn’t he say he was going to get something to eat anyway? In contrast to Walgreens, the aisle at Target was starting to become congested with potential customers. More than she could handle. That was the good news; the bad news was nobody had purchased any of her cards. They were hidden, though, which could be the reason that none had been sold.
Dismissing Daniel, Saige did a little stalking of her own—potential customers.
“How many have you sold?” his deep voice whispered close to her ear, sending goose bumps down her arm.
It was at that moment Saige knew she regretted singling him out in the first place. “None—yet.” She gritted her teeth in sudden aggravation. “But I’m about to try.”
“Need any help?” His childish expression reminded her of a little boy pleading to do a chore to earn extra allowance money.
So, the brother had charm, did he? Saige released the annoyance that was building and smiled. The two of them working in cahoots would only look suspicious. She could only imagine security suspecting them of being shoplifters or worse. “That’s sweet, but no thank—”
“C’mon, you’ve made my day,” he insisted as more customers wandered into the aisle.
“If you want to help, then tweet or post about the cards on Facebook.” Why did she feel that Daniel was infringing in her territory? This was getting crazy.
“Already done. I sent it out on the way over here. Well, actually, while I was still in the parking lot. You know we’re not supposed to drive and text.” He snickered, and that was the first time she noticed his goatee was trimmed with precision around his full lips, as if serviced by a sculptor. “It was a worthy cause. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Mr. Washington, you’ll only be a distraction.” She pivoted to walk away, but stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “To other women,” she added, scrutinizing him from the rim of his hat to his polished shoes—or boots.
“Right.” Daniel released a hearty laugh, and then disappeared into the next aisle. Was she relieved or disappointed? Saige didn’t have time to give it much thought as she cozied up to a mother holding a baby. As she was about to pitch her rehearsed speech, Saige could feel a presence behind her. Lord, please don’t let it be security.
Finally, with curiosity that would kill any cat, she turned to find Daniel behind her, engrossed in one of her cards, as if it contained a book of words instead of a few sentences. Then, all of a sudden, he began to ask women for their advice on whether they would buy it for themselves. Glancing her way, he winked.
Maybe Saige was the one being played. Daniel was a natural interacting with people. Surely his relationship with his family wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be? A few minutes later, Saige admitted defeat in her well-thought-out covert operation. While Daniel was distracted with some flirty females, Saige made her escape to her final pit stop.
Her friend, Maxi, would never believe how her evening played out. She hoped her other friends didn’t have any distractions like Daniel Washington.
Saige didn’t return home until after ten that night. She was exhausted and came to the realization that she could never be a sales rep. The rejection—she took it personally. However, the customers who did take her cards lifted her spirit. Then there was Daniel, who fascinated her, but confused her at the same time. Although she didn’t see a ring, Saige wondered if he really had nothing better to do with his time than tag along beside her.
After making half a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich for a snack and pouring a glass of Eggnog, she said her grace, and then called her best friend after the first bite. She wanted to find out how it went on the other side of town.
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