Blurb:
It’s Christmas time, and Eriah Jameson has returned home to
restart his family’s business. Due to his wild child past, no one is friendly
or welcoming to Barrow Haven’s black sheep.
Aylin Myers lost her job when Eriah’s father took ill. She knows Eriah needs
her help getting his business up and running again, but she doesn’t trust him.
If he fails, she knows it will dishonor his father’s memory. And Aylin knows
that at Christmas, it’s the right thing to help your fellow man—no matter how
wretched he might be.
As Aylin gets to know Eriah, she sees a side of him Barrow Haven never saw. That perhaps the black sheep has changed for the better. Still, can she be sure this side of Eriah is real, and not just a facade he’s perfected over time to get his own way?
As Aylin gets to know Eriah, she sees a side of him Barrow Haven never saw. That perhaps the black sheep has changed for the better. Still, can she be sure this side of Eriah is real, and not just a facade he’s perfected over time to get his own way?
Excerpt:
The black sheep
of Barrow Haven was back in town. Tall, with dark hair that fell in waves to
his collar, and blue eyes she couldn’t help notice. He’d aged a bit, but she
definitely recognized Eriah Jameson.
What was he doing
in town? The last she heard, after causing a tornado of destruction, including
robbery, assaults, and vandalism, he took off for parts unknown. His mother,
who was always there to clean up her little boy’s messes, remarried, and moved
somewhere…Hawaii, she heard. As far as Aylin knew, for all of his
troublemaking, somehow Eriah Jameson didn’t have a criminal record.
“Did you graduate
from Chase Academy?”
Sure, she
thought. The Chase Academy, a twenty thousand dollar a year school for rich,
troubled teens.
“No, I was a good
girl.”
“I’m sure I’ve
seen you before.”
She crossed her
arms over her chest. “Possibly you looked down when you were walking across the
wet floor I’d just scrubbed at your father’s funeral home.
His cheeks
visibly colored. “I’m sorry, I—”
She waved a hand.
“Forget about it.” She really didn’t want to speak with him unless he was a
paying customer. “Can I help you with something?”
His eyes scanned
the meager amount of goods still
available on display. “I have a step-sister I need to buy a Christmas
gift for.”
“How old is she?”
“How old? I don’t
know…fifteen, sixteen, maybe.”
She selected a
lace-covered vial of perfumed oil, uncapped it, and passed it to him. “It’s
called ‘Winter’s Warmth’.
He swiped the
vial under his nose. “What are you’re wearing? I can’t help notice it.”
“It’s called
‘Fairy Tale Fantasy.’” She placed her hands on the counter before her, and
leaned closer to him.
He moved his face
within a few inches of her neck, and she became acutely aware of his breath
against her skin.
“That’s
absolutely lovely.”
“I’m out of the
fragrance, actually. I have more at my home workshop. I can create something
special for your sister, if you prefer. You can stop by.” She handed him a
business card from a small crystal dish.
“Thanks.” he
looked at the card. “Aylin. What an unusual name. I’ll…” He stopped speaking,
his eyes fixed on her display of antique photography. “Is that my family’s
funeral home?” He pointed.
“It certainly
is.” She looked back at the turn-of-the-century cabinet card with a handsome
man—presumably Eriah’s great, great grandfather—standing in front of the newly
opened Jameson Funeral Home. It was one of her favorite photographs of her
collection, made more special since she worked for so many years at that
particular funeral home. “I love it.”
“Could I see it?”
he asked.
Generally, she
didn’t let anyone touch her photographs— especially since he wasn’t wearing
appropriate gloves. But what could it hurt? In the spirit of Christmas, she
would let him see the photo up close. She plucked it from the display and
handed it to him. Just the admiration in his blue eyes as he looked at a piece
of his family history, made it worthwhile.
“Can I buy this
from you?”
So much hope in
his eyes, and in his voice. She carefully extracted the photograph from his
grip. “It’s not for sale.”
Before he could
reply, a pair of hands, with long red fingernails, latched possessively around
his arm. “Can we go now, Riley? I’m cold, and I need a drink. There’s nothing
worthwhile here.”
Aylin hated when
grown women used a baby voice to get their way. This one was tall, decked out
in designer clothes, and made up like a Vegas showgirl. Aylin already despised
her snotty attitude.
And she called
him “Riley.” His name wasn’t Riley, she was sure. It was Eriah. She wouldn’t
forget an unusual name like that.
“I’m busy here.
Could you wait a minute, please?” he asked the bossy blonde, obviously his
girlfriend. She wore no wedding ring, and from the amount of jewelry dripping
from her, she’d wear a rock on her finger as big as a baseball if they were
engaged.
She stomped her
foot, and her lips formed into an unflattering pink pout. “I want to go!”
He looked at
Aylin, rolled his blue eyes, and mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to her.
She shook her
head, and turned back to her display without another word. She hated having her
time wasted, and these two were probably made for each other— vapid, spoiled,
entitled, and arrogant.
She boxed up the
leftovers of the day. Eriah left town years earlier, along with his bad
reputation, and hadn’t been seen since. Any shred of fondness for him by the
people of Barrow Haven evaporated when he didn’t bother to attend his father’s
funeral.
She shook her
head again. Rich people.
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Author Bio:
Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author.
Her passions in life include books and hockey along with
Victorian and Edwardian era photography. Natalie contributes her
uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia.
She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her
next book and adding to her collection of 19th century post-mortem photos.
Visit
Natalie-Nicole Bates Online!
