The Christmas Cafe - Softcover

Evans, Eliza

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593544560 ISBN 13: 9780593544563

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

Jingle all the way to Silver Bells, Wyoming, where love is a treat!

Clumsy, earnest baker Sylvie West has worked at the Christmas Café in Silver Bells, Wyoming, ever since her boozy eggnog fruitcake won the town’s annual holiday bake-off. Her forever happy place, the café complements her sweet, well-ordered life with her roommates: recently widowed Gramps and her yappy chihuahua-pug, Crumpet.

So, when Sylvie learns the café might be sold, she’s determined to save it the only way she can: by getting the Holiday Channel crew to set a scene at the café. She’s even met the film’s charming lead actor, Royce, thanks to Crumpet’s meddling. Between an unexpected acting gig, a booth at the Christmas festival, an appearance at the Christmas parade, and a budding romance with Royce, Sylvie has a lot on her plate. Good thing her old friend, gruff yet reliable Abe, has just come home to manage his parents’ goat farm—until she catches herself feeling a little too merry and bright in his presence. With some help from family, friends, Crumpet, and the goat farmer down the way, Sylvie’s plate might just be full of the sweetest treats she’s ever had . . .

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Eliza Evans pens heartwarming holiday rom-coms. When not writing, Evans can be found teaching Pilates or exploring the great outdoors. A lifelong Colorado girl, Evans lives with her husband, two sons, and two fur babies. The Christmas Café is her debut novel.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

"Sit." Sylvie West desperately waved an organic uncured pepperoni training treat at her one-year-old pug-chihuahua rescue puppy. "Come on, schnookums. Sit for mama."

Uttering a delighted growl, Crumpet went into a sly downward dog position, his teeth still clamped around Sylvie's favorite Christmas-themed bra. Considering it was a double D, it was a wonder the eight-pound pooch had managed to stealthily snatch it off the bed and make it all the way across the room by the time she'd turned around. As usual, Crumpet had deduced that Sylvie was getting ready to leave for work, and the puppy wasn't going to let her go without a fight.

"Two treaties, then." Sylvie upped the ante in her negotiations. Seeing as how she was already behind on holiday preparations at the Christmas Café, she didn't have time for yet another power struggle with her furry toddler this morning. "Now drop it. Drop the bra."

Another playful growl rumbled from Crumpet's throat, and she swore the puppy's furrowed eyebrows raised as if posing a silent question. What're you gonna do about it?

Welllll... she didn't know exactly. Maintain eye contact, the trainer had told her. Make sure the dog knows you are the authority figure.

Right. She was the authority figure around here. Or at least she was supposed to be. But every time she gazed into her pup's innocent, slightly bugged eyes, she turned to mush. Before she'd fallen in love with him at the shelter eight months ago, poor Crumpie had been neglected and abandoned. Left for dead in a box on the side of the highway. The first time she'd seen him in the pen, he'd cowered in a corner, resting his little chin on his paws and gazing up at her with the most forlorn expression. Coaxing him out of his shell had taken months-and a whole lot of gourmet treats. And now that he was living his best life, she didn't want to crush the dog's spirit. Even if it meant she had to sacrifice her good bras.

"Yip!" Crumpet gave the bra a good shake.

"You're going to rip it." Sylvie sighed and glanced around her cramped bedroom. The fluffy comforters and pillows had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now all the homey comforts she'd added gave Crumpet too many places to hide-he loved to wedge himself underneath the antique church pew under the window... or between her upholstered tufted headboard and the wall. And of course her door was open a crack, which meant she couldn't make any sudden moves or her beloved little wiggle butt would tear all through the house like a Tasmanian devil and probably chew her bra to shreds.

"You want a chewy stick, then? Or a cookie?" She'd baked a new set of Christmas-tree-shaped dog confections to sell at the café over the next three weeks. "I'll give you two cookies if you drop the bra right now."

At the mention of cookies, both of Crumpet's perked ears twitched.

Ah yes, she and this puppy had a lot in common. They would both do pretty much anything for a cookie.

"I baked them fresh last night," Sylvie taunted. "Remember? They're in the kitchen." She shuffled a step in the direction of the door, but the motion set Crumpet off. The dog bolted out of sight, her bra trailing behind him.

"Great." She rushed from her room down the narrow hallway in time to see Gramps walking in from the front porch with the newspaper. "Close the-"

Crumpet streaked across the room at Mach speed and sailed over her grandfather's plaid slippers on his way out the open door before she could finish the sentence.

"No!" Sylvie raced to her boots and shoved her feet into them.

"I'll go after him," Gramps offered, lumbering to the coatrack.

"That's okay." The last thing she wanted was for her seventy-nine-year-old grandfather to take a fall out there on the ice.

She frantically snatched her winter jacket off the couch. Who cared that she was wearing her Christmas flamingo pajama pants? Who cared that her red curly hair had likely tripled in size overnight? Her baby could get hit by a car! She had not rescued her little Crumpie Wumpie just to lose him like this.

Sylvie tore out the door. "I'm coming, Crumpet!" A blast of frigid mountain air muted the shout.

The sun had only started to peek above the snow-capped mountaintops to the east, highlighting the very farthest edges of the horizon with a soft pinkish glow. Most of the prairie-style bungalows on her street were still dark. "Crumpet!" She slogged through the fresh powder that had fallen overnight, searching the ground for footprints.

"Yip!" her puppy yelped from a house three doors down. "Yip! Yip! Yip!"

"I'm coming, baby!" Sylvie's boots skidded on the layer of ice under the snow as she veered to the left and blazed a path through her neighbor's yard. Honestly, if anyone in Silver Bells did happen to see her tromping around in her pajamas at dawn, they probably wouldn't be surprised. Growing up here, she'd managed to develop quite the reputation as . . . quirky.

"Yip! Yip!" Crumpet's delighted barks grew louder as he pranced and bounced, tossing her bra through the snow. Just her luck she'd ended up with a dog that loved bras more than tennis balls.

"This isn't a game," she called, slowly approaching. "Now sit! Stay!" Since those commands didn't even work inside the house, they likely weren't going to do much when her dog had gotten a taste for sweet freedom.

"I'm not kidding, Crumpet." She'd gotten close enough now that she could almost grab him. "Easy. Let's go home."

"Yip!" The dog assumed his favorite come and get me position-butt in the air, tail wagging.

Oh, for the love... Sylvie lunged, but Crumpet ducked out of reach at the last second-still managing to hold on to the bra-and darted into the street.

"No!" Stuck on her knees, Sylvie flailed to get up, managing to find her feet just as a car turned onto the block. "Stop! Oh, God! Please stop." Waving her arms, she sprinted into the road between Crumpet and the SUV, huffing and puffing.

The car came to an abrupt stop in front of her, and the driver's door swung open. "Are you okay, miss?" a man called.

"I'm-" Sylvie's jaw dropped when he climbed out of his car. The angled winter sunlight highlighted his tanned face and chestnut-colored hair, which had exactly the right amount of length and wave to make him appear both stylish and easygoing. Even from a distance she could tell his eyes were a sapphire blue... or maybe she only hoped they were because with his classic Hollywood jawline and the vintage wool coat he wore, otherworldly blue would complete the fantasy.

She pried her gaze off of him and glanced down at her pajama pants. Seriously? She was out here in her PJs with her hair a red storm cloud, and the universe had decided to send a Marlon Brando look-alike to the rescue?

She loved Marlon Brando. Her Grams had loved Marlon Brando too.

"Do you need help?" The man stepped away from the SUV. "Are you in trouble?"

"My dog," she said weakly. "He got out..." Before she could continue the explanation, her sweet, loving, butterball of a puppy trotted past her, lugging the bra along, and proceeded to jump up on the man's leg, begging for a scratch behind the ears.

Crumpet also had a thing for good-looking men. Another quality the two of them had common. Except, Sylvie wasn't quite as smooth as the dog in her greeting. "I'm so sorry," she sputtered, trudging closer to him. "I was chasing my puppy all over and I thought you were going to hit him." And, oh lord, now she was getting teary because even with all the hassles Crumpet had brought into her life, he was her best buddy besides Gramps and what would she do without him?

"I didn't even see the little stinker." The mystery man lifted the dog-along with the bra-into his arms and...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2023
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593544560
• ISBN 13: 9780593544563
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland