Because we’re all in the holiday mood, here’s a snippet from this year’s Dickens Holiday Romance addition, DON’T MESS WITH THE MISTLETOE, out now in print and e-copy. Books make great gifts, kids – for the romance reader on your list and you!
I love when siblings tease one another because there is such a wealth of history behind it. In this snippet, Michael’s sister Abra goes all out in the tease-department.
When his sisters walked into the diner five minutes later, he had his answer.
“I need your help,” he said without preamble as he sidled up to their table, two glasses of ice water and menus in his hands. He plopped them all down on the countertop.
“Shove in,” he commanded Sasha.
His sisters looked up at him, eyes questioning, then at one another. Abra’s left eyebrow rose to kiss her hairline, while Sasha stifled a laugh as she moved so he could sit next to her.
With the privilege of birth rank and the dry sarcasm her book fans adored, Abra spoke first. “Good morning to you, too, little brother. We’re good, thanks for asking. Both a little tired, but that’s to be expected in our ready-to-pop-states. And how are you on this fine, cold day?” She took a sip of her water.
Exasperation drilled through him. While Sasha ultimately let the laugh go, Michael’s jaw clamped down so hard his back molars whacked against one another. He’d for sure be using the bottle of Ibuprofen Amy kept in her desk sometime today.
He fisted his hands on the table then opened and flexed them a few times as he told himself to keep calm. “Listen. I’m in a bind.”
Both their teasing smiles dissolved.
“What’s wrong?” Sasha asked, at the same time Abra said, “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” He explained about the late hours and the way things were looking back at the house. Dragging a hand through his hair the knowledge it was a month or so behind a cut just added to the list of things needing tending in his life.
“I don’t know how mom manages to run this place and keep the house looking so good. In addition to the baking she does for here, which I haven’t done, just FYI, because –hello! – I have no idea what to do and no time to do it even if I did.”
“I can help with that,” Sasha said. “I’ve got mom’s pie recipes at home. I’ll bake a few today and have Steve bring them by in the morning when he heads to the hospital.”
“Thanks, Sash.” He looked across the table at Abra.
“What?”
“Think you can stop by the house and run a load or two of laundry for me? I’m not asking you to clean the place up. I don’t want you lifting anything, but I need,” he glanced furtively around them, “stuff. I haven’t done laundry since I’ve been here and I’ve run out of everything.”
“And by everything you mean underwear?” she asked.
“Jesus, Abs. Keep your voice down, will ya?”
“You wearing repeats?” she asked, having difficulty keeping the laugh from ringing in her voice, “Or are you commando underneath those pants?”
Embarrassing him had been her full-time job when he was a teenager. Six years older, Sasha always felt she needed to look out for him as a kid. When he grew seven inches between his twelfth and thirteenth birthdays and had started towering over her, she’d decided taking him down a peg or two was her lot in life as a big sis. As adults, she still felt the need to exert her birth order status.
Heat rose up his neck at her question. The fact Julia happened to arrive at their table, her order book poised in her hand, at the same moment made him want to dissipate into a plume of mortified smoke and dissolve away. No way she hadn’t heard Abra’s question.
Intrigued? LOL I hope so.
Peggy Jaeger, Author 