Terri Reed's Blog, page 24

Announcing the Book Tour for A Family Under the Christmas Tree by Terri Reed!

Come along on my virtual book tour. I'd love to see some friendly face as we stop along the way. Below is a list with links to all the stops.
On Tour with Prism Book Tours.
Announcing the Book Tour for A Family Under the Christmas Tree By Terri Reed
December 11th: Launch
December 12th:
Reading Is My SuperPower
Katie's Clean Book Collection
Falling Leaves
Zerina Blossom's Books
December 13th:
i blog 4 books
Bookworm Lisa
Mommabears Book Blog
Rockin' Book Reviews
December 14th:
Jessica and Gracie's Tree
Mel's Shelves
Kathleen Denly
December 15th:
Kindle and Me
Getting Your Read On
Paulette's Papers
December 16th:
Christy's Cozy Corners
Tell Tale Book Reviews
December 18th: Grand Finale

Yuletide Peril-Chapter Six

Chapter Six      Impatience rocketed through Jon as Kyle conferred with his team, then Kyle said into another mic that would be picked up by the small earpiece in Tabby’s ear, "Go ahead and get on the bus. A brunette in a jogging suit will get on with you. She’s one of ours."         Tabby stepped onto the bus, paid the fare and moved down the aisle to an open seat next to an elderly man wearing a plaid sports coat and a brown fedora on top his balding head.         The bus began to move. Tabby’s cell rang again. The tinny sound echoed in the van.         "Yes?"         The muffled voice said, "So far so good. Get off at the next stop."         A few minutes later the bus halted and Tabby got off.         Why had the kidnapper made her take the bus for only a few blocks? Jon’s breath stalled. "Where’s her protection?"         Kyle was frantically talking to his people, trying to get someone else close. "Stacie can’t get off or they’ll make her. Michael, where are you?"         "Riding up as we speak," came a man’s reply.         "Shift to your right, Tabby," Kyle said softly into her earpiece.          She did, showing a man getting off his bicycle for a drink of water.         Jon’s breathing eased. He hated being on the sidelines like this, depending on others to protect the woman he loved.         The astounding thought ricocheted around his head and landed with a sharp pang in his heart. He did love Tabby. He had for a long time, but just hadn’t wanted to see it. He hadn’t wanted to mess up the relationship between them. What a fool he’d been.         "Now what?" Tabby said into the phone.         "Go inside the church," the voice said.         Tabby pivoted so the camera had a great view of the big, redbrick church. A tall white–tipped steeple with a black–faced clock embedded in the brick rose toward the sky.         Jon’s stomach dropped. If she went inside the church they would lose her for sure.…         Tabby stared at the beautiful old church as trepidation crept up her spine. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering how her guards were going to follow her inside. She doubted the kidnappers would buy a random cyclist deciding he needed to pray.         "What are you waiting for?" the voice on the other end of the cell phone said.         Realizing the kidnapper was watching her sent a ribbon of fear unfurling through her veins. She forced herself to stay calm as she moved toward the wide double doors. The right–side door of the church swung open.         Into the phone, she said, "Is my sister inside?"         The line went dead.         Tabby debated whether to continue to hesitate and jeopardize her sister’s life or to go in. She couldn’t wait for the Trent team to find a way to follow her inside; she had to make a decision. She decided to take her chances. Her sister’s life depended on it. She stepped through the doorway.         The door slammed closed, the loud sound reverberating like shock waves cascading over her flesh. Someone slid up behind her and jammed something hard against her ribs. A gun!          She jerked as terror slammed a fist into her gut. She’d walked into a trap.         "Don’t make any noise," a man’s voice said near her ear.         The duffel bag was ripped from her fingers. Her arms were bent back behind her and secured with something thin and tight. A soft fabric bag was placed over her head and cinched around her neck. Panic stole her breath as the oppressive material clung to her skin. She thrashed about, trying to get loose and in the process dislodged the earpiece. It fell somewhere inside the confines of the bag.         "Stop it," the man demanded, giving her a violent shake. "Let’s go."         She couldn’t make out the interior of the church through the dense material as she stumbled along behind the man. Her thoughts raced. Was her sister even alive? Would this man kill her and take the money? Would she never get to see Jon again? That thought more than the others sent a fresh wave of despair and anxiety rushing through her. She didn’t want to die without telling Jon how much she cared about him.         Practically dragging her, the man led her through the church and out another door. The cold air outside didn’t penetrate the inside of the bag. She grew dizzy from her own carbon monoxide. She was pushed into the backseat of a car.         "Hurry up. Before someone sees," a second male said in a thick Spanish accent.         Tabby squirmed to a better position so that the camera concealed in the button of her coat could capture what she couldn’t make out. She took shallow breaths, hoping to conserve her air. The first man got into the car and slammed the door shut. The driver started the engine. The car vibrated with an irregular rumble as if the vehicle needed a tune–up or something. The driver accelerated and made several turns. Feeling disoriented and overheated from the hot air blowing through the car vents, Tabby had no idea which way they were headed.         She sent up a silent prayer. Lord, please keep me safe. Let Jon find me and Beth. Alive.…         "It was a trap!" Jon slammed his fist into the dashboard. "I should never have let her do this!"         Tabby was now at the hands of her sister’s kidnappers and it was his fault. He should have insisted on making the drop and not putting Tabby in danger. If anything happened to her… He couldn’t bring himself to even think it or he’d go mad. "Can’t you make this bucket of bolts go any faster?"         "Any faster and they’ll make us," Kyle replied in a calm, controlled voice as he drove, weaving his way through the midday traffic and keeping the dark blue sedan in sight. The soft bleep of the red blip on the monitor indicated Tabby’s movements. They could hear her shallow breathing and the men’s conversation through the small mic.         Jon’s cell phone rang, making him flinch at the shrill noise. Boy, his nerves were shot. He pulled the phone from his pocket and pressed the answer button. "Yes."         The same muffled voice he’d heard coming over the line on Tabby’s phone, filled Jon’s ear. "Now we have both sisters. We want another hundred thousand. Tomorrow. Same time, same place. And don’t get any bright ideas about involving the cops." The line disconnected.         Jon relayed the message to Kyle.         "This is good," Kyle said.         "Good! Are you nuts? They have Tabby now." Fear and dread clawed at his throat.         "As long as they think they can get more money out of you, they will keep the sisters alive," Kyle said. "Hey, didn’t you say Tabby lived in Newton?"         "Yeah," Jon said as his gaze snagged on the passing scenery. With a little shock he realized they were following the kidnappers back toward Tabby’s neighborhood. When they headed down her street, Kyle pulled to the curb and killed the lights.         Stunned, Jon watched as the kidnappers’ car turned into her driveway and disappeared into the garage. "They are going to Tabby’s place!"         "Do you know the layout of her house?" Kyle asked.         "I do." A spurt of hope jolted his heart rate.         "Good. Because we’re going to rescue your assistant and her sister."

Yuletide Peril Chapter Five

Chapter Five      Jon walked out of the Newton Community Church building and into the mid–morning air still humming the last song the band had played. Who knew churches had bands with electric guitars, electric piano and mean drums? Tabby’s church was nothing like the one his mother had dragged him to when he was a kid. Mom’s church had been somber and depressing with hymns sung to an out–of–tune organ and uninteresting sermons.         Today had been a different experience. The pastor had talked about setting one’s hope in Jesus rather than the material items of this world. A theme Jon had heard before, yes. But the presentation of the message wasn’t one of judgment and condemnation for having material possessions, but rather that this world’s pleasures could be gone in a heartbeat. Whereas hope could never be taken away. For some reason Jon found that very comforting.         "Thank you for coming with me," Tabby said as she slipped her arm through his. "I really needed that today."         He smiled at her, liking the way the winter sun touched her golden hair as they made their way across the parking lot to his sedan. "I enjoyed it. I might come with you again if you’ll let me tag along."         She beamed. "Of course you can. I’d love that."         And for some reason pleasing her pleased him.…         Monday morning Tabby was a nervous wreck. All night she’d dreamed of Beth, the dreams mixing with old memories and awful scenarios. She awoke feeling more anxious than ever before. She couldn’t eat the wonderful scones Mrs. Marsh served. Even the gourmet coffee didn’t appeal.         Jon was on the phone talking with the bank when the man from Trent Associates returned. Tabby wasn’t sure what to make of the young man with his nearly white hair and tanned skin. He looked like he should be out catching a wave on some tropical beach rather than sitting on Jon’s couch.         Yesterday when they’d explained the situation, he’d jotted down notes in a notebook much the way the two homicide detectives had when they’d questioned her and Jon about the dead man in Jon’s suite.         Shuddering at the memory, Tabby now asked, "Do you think the kidnappers killed that poor man?"         "Most likely. Though why…" Kyle shrugged his wide shoulders. "Maybe he was motivation to get you to cooperate."         "It worked," she mumbled. "What about the security guard?"         "The police found him unconscious in the janitor’s closet," Jon said as he joined them in the living room. "Someone hit him from behind."         "Poor man," Tabby said.         "The bank will have the money ready by eleven," Jon said. "What’s the plan, Kyle?"         "This is how we’ll play it. Once you get the cash, I’ll rig it with a tracking device," Kyle said.         Tabby frowned. "Won’t they expect that?"         Kyle grinned. "They’ll never find it."         "Are you sure?" she asked. Worry that something would go wrong and her sister would end up dead gnawed at her stomach.         Kyle gave her a patient look. "I’ve done this many times. Trust me. There’s no way they’ll find the device. Plus, you’ll be wearing an audio wire and a video camera."         Jon took her hand. The warmth of his skin next to hers was reassuring and calming. "So then we’ll go wherever the money ends up and find her sister?"         "In theory. But we’ll also have a team of people in place to follow the pickup person." He handed Tabby a manila envelope. "Here’s your phone back. I made some modifications so we can hear the conversation when they call and also do a trace."         "This is all so overwhelming," she said, feeling a tad light–headed.         "We’ll get through this," Jon reassured her.         "So when they call, what do I do after I get my instructions?" she asked.         "Oh, you won’t be taking the call," Jon said. "I’ll be making the drop."         "But they’re expecting me. I don’t want to put Beth at risk."         "They won’t be surprised to see me since they already know I’m providing the money."         "They said I had to be the one," she said, hating the thought of something happening to Jon, too.         "I’m not letting you put yourself in danger," he said, his tone adamant.         "Isn’t that why we called Trent Associates, to minimize the danger?"         "She’s right," Kyle interjected. "It’s better if she makes the drop."         "I don’t like it," Jon said as he ran his free hand through his hair.          "There’s no way to control the situation. We should call the FBI."         Jon’s obvious upset and desire to protect her touched and pleased Tabby deeply. She squeezed his hand. "I trust God will protect me."         Jon met her gaze. Worry reflected in his dark eyes. "I wish I had that kind of faith."         "You could," she said softly, sensing the need to tread lightly. She didn’t want to push him to believe. He needed to want it from his heart. "God is waiting for you to invite Him in."         For a moment Jon stared at her as if trying to comprehend her words. Then he brought her knuckles to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. "Let’s hope your trust isn’t misplaced."         "It’s not," she whispered, her eyes riveted to his well–formed mouth.     Longing to lean closer and kiss him hit her like a blast of winter air, shocking in its intensity. His gaze held hers, his eyes darkening as if he could read her thoughts. Heat rose up her neck but she couldn’t look away.   For a second she thought he moved, his head dipping slightly.         Kyle cleared his throat, shattering the moment into a million pieces.         Whoa. She really had to get a grip. Jon was her boss. And getting involved with him was not on her list of goals in life. No matter how much her heart wished otherwise.…         "Please, be careful," Jon said to Tabby before she left the safety of the plain white van parked a half a block from the Fenway Park T stop. The thought of something happening to her sent dread and anxiety rushing through his veins. His stomach was a mess of knots and his shoulder muscles were pulled so tight he could barely move.         She gave him a small smile that barely wobbled. "I will."         Admiration for her brave front galvanized him to capture her hand and pull her close for a kiss. She gasped slightly before melting against him. He put all the worry and affection clogging his veins into the kiss. When finally he eased up, he rested his forehead against hers. "Come back to me."         Her blue eyes were a bit glazed as she touched his cheek before stepping away.         From the cab of the van, Kyle said, "Can you hear me, Tabby?"         She touched her ear where a small, flesh–colored receiver had been inserted in her ear and nodded. "Yes." Squaring her shoulders, she turned away. "Here we go."         Jon fought the urge to rush after her as she walked down the block. Instead, he closed the side panel door and then slid into the van’s passenger seat.         Kyle sat in the driver’s seat and was talking into a small mic. "She’s heading to the stop. Jay, you got her?"         A man’s voice reported back, "I’m on her."         To Jon, Kyle said, "Jay’s cover is a homeless guy Dumpster diving."         A video monitor with feed from the microscopic camera embedded in the button of Tabby’s coat gave them a clear view of anyone approaching Tabby. Off to her left a man digging through the trash could be seen.Tabby stood at the top of the steps leading down to the subway platform. People moved passed, but no one came within reach of her. Then her cell phone rang. Inside the van it sounded close enough to touch.         Her voice shook slightly as she answered, "Yes."         A muffled voice instructed her to get on the approaching bus going north on Park Drive. The line went dead.         Jon’s heart sped up. He didn’t like this twist. Too much could go wrong.

25 Days of Christmas

Happy December 1st.
Do you watch the Hallmark channel Christmas movies?
I watched one today as I worked out and it was such fun.

Broadcasting Christmas starring Dean Cain and Melissa Hart. Two news broadcasters who previously were in love fight for a position as a morning talk show host that they both want. Ultimately finding what made them like each other so much in the first place.

I loved it. This movie hit all the right notes. A great romance arc. Likable characters with enough conflict to keep things interesting.

My favorite quote--"Handsome men are nothing but trouble."

Yuletide Peril Chapter Four

Chapter Four      Jon had to get her out of this house. It wasn’t safe here. "Come on," he said, coaxing her to stand. "You’ve got to pack a bag. You’re not staying here."         She drew back. "I’m not going to let them run me out of my home."         He admired her fire and determination, but he wasn’t going to be waylaid. "They obviously have a video feed somehow connected in here. Who knows how long they’ve been watching you. Are you really okay with that?"         Straightening her shoulders, she shook her head. "No, I’m not."         "Grab enough clothes for the rest of the week," he said as he propelled her toward her bedroom.         At the door, she paused and glanced back at him. "Where will I stay?"         "We’ll figure that out. Later," he said, giving her a meaningful look.        He didn’t want to reveal too much in case the caller had audio as well as video into the small house.         Understanding crossed her pretty face and she hurried down the hall. A few minutes later, she returned to the living room dressed in well–worn jeans that hugged her curves and a maroon Boston College sweatshirt. She carried a pink-and–brown–striped duffel bag that was bursting at the zipper. Her blond hair had been brushed out and was now held back with a black headband.         Liking this casual side of her, so unlike her normal buttoned–down work demeanor, Jon smiled with approval as he took the duffel from her hands.         From the front entryway closet she grabbed a long black wool coat and then slipped her sock–clad feet into a pair of tan Uggs. "Ready?"         Jon opened the door. "After you."         They left her house and walked around the corner to where he’d parked his sedan. Once they were in, with the engine running and the heater cranked high, Jon said, "We need to call the FBI."         "No! They’ll kill her if we do."         Jon had figured she wouldn’t go for calling in the Feds. So he proposed another option. "Then we have to call Trent Associates."         She frowned. "The personal security company? We don’t need a bodyguard."         "The Trent team does more than just guard people," he said. "Tabby, we need some reinforcement here from people who are trained to handle situations like this."         She considered for a moment. "You’re right. But you have to make it clear, no cops."         "Understood." He drove them out of Newton and back toward downtown Boston.         When he pulled up to the parking garage for his high–rise condo, Tabby said, "I’m not staying here."         He pressed the automatic opener attached to his sun visor and drove inside. "Yes, you are. This place is totally secure."         She looked a bit panicked. "But I can’t stay with you."         "Why not? I have tons of room and, besides, Mrs. Marsh will love doting on you." He could just imagine how delighted his live–in housekeeper would be to have his assistant in residence since the two women worked so well together organizing his life.         He shifted a sidelong glance at his companion. Oh, yeah, Tabby already had a special place in Mrs. Marsh’s heart. Bringing her home was going to make his housekeeper’s year. He’d just have to be careful that he didn’t let his lovely assistant get too embedded into his heart as well.…         Minimalist furnishings in soft earth shades and the replicated impressionist masterpieces adorning the walls of Jon’s condo brought the same calming serenity to Tabby they always did as she followed Jon inside.         A woman in her late sixties bustled out from the kitchen. She blinked at Tabby a moment before a smile burst on her lined face and shone in her kind green eyes. "Miss Grant!" Mrs. Marsh gave Tabby a bear hug. "So good to see you." She turned to Jon and gestured to the bag in his hand. "Guest room?"         "Yes," Jon said. "Tabby will be staying with us for a few days."         Mrs. Marsh clapped her hands in delight. "Wonderful. You take that bag on in and I’ll be there in a moment to ready the room."         "Please don’t go to any trouble," Tabby said, a bit overwhelmed by the welcoming response of Jon’s housekeeper.         "No trouble at all," Mrs. Marsh replied. "Are you hungry? Jon usually comes home from these functions starved because he tends to forget to eat with all his talking."         Tabby laughed. "Yes, he does do more talking than eating. And yes, I’m hungry."         Mrs. Marsh led the way to the kitchen where the center island counter was covered with all the fixings for sandwiches. "What would you like?"         "Oh, I can make my own," Tabby said quickly.         Mrs. Marsh sighed. "Self–sufficient, just like Jon. Well, I’ll leave you to it while I put fresh sheets on the guest bed." She bustled out, her ample hips swaying with each step.         Taking advantage of the moment alone, Tabby closed her eyes and bowed her head to pray. Lord, please watch over Beth. And let us get her back safely. Thank you for Jon and his willingness help. I would be so lost without him.         In so many ways. Spangler Sports Management had become the center her world revolved around. But at the core was Jon. Always Jon.         Admiration and affection filled her. She knew if she wasn’t careful the protective barrier she’d built around her heart would crack and she’d find herself longing for the impossible. Jon’s love. He was a playboy and her boss.          Two very good reasons to keep emotion and sentiment from entering their relationship.         A whisper of movement beside her let her know she was no longer alone. She quickly finished her prayer with a hasty amen and then lifted her gaze to find Jon staring at her, curiosity in his dark eyes.         "I’m sorry. You were praying. I didn’t mean to interrupt."         "No worries," she said and reached for a plate.         "Were you praying for your sister?"         "Yes." She bit her lip. "I hope she’ll be okay until we get her back on Monday."         "You don’t trust God will keep her safe?"         Guilt pricked at her. "Of course I do. It’s just… It’s hard not to worry."         One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. "That I can understand."         "I was also thanking God for you and your generosity." The revealing words were out before she could censor them. She held her breath and waited for his reaction.         For a moment he looked taken aback and then pleased. "Okay. Wow."         Tears of gratitude gathered at the back of her eyelids. "I really am grateful, Jon."         He held her gaze, his dark eyes warm and penetrating. "You’re welcome."         The moment stretched as something elemental arced between them. A smoldering flare glowed in the depths of his eyes. An answering flame ignited within her. Her heart jolted and her pulsed pounded. Extremely conscious of his magnetic appeal, she forced herself to look away and fumbled with the sandwich fixings. Getting caught up in the moment wasn’t a good idea.         "I’m starved," he said and reached past her to take a plate, a sliced roll, and began building a sandwich. "I called James and he’s sending someone over tomorrow afternoon."         Keeping focused on her task, she forked a pickle from the jar and laid it on her plate. "You and James served in the army together, didn’t you?"         "We did."         "Was he an MP like you?"         Jon paused. "How did you know I was an MP?"         "It’s my job to know everything about you, Jon," she replied as she finished making her sandwich.         He arched an eyebrow. "Everything?"         Her cheeks heated at his suggestive tone. "Well, everything that is pertinent."         "Hmmm. I wonder," he said and took a bite out of his sandwich creation.         Not sure what he meant and determined not to ask, she said, "Tomorrow morning I want to go to my church service. Will you come with?"         He choked on his sandwich. "Uh, sure."         She took a bite of her sandwich to hide a satisfied smile. She hated that it took her sister’s kidnapping to bring this opportunity about, but she wasn’t going to waste it. Jon had always declined her invitations to church. But he’d said he’d go with her tomorrow and that could only be a good thing.

Yuletide Peril Chapter Three

Chapter Three      For a moment Jon was quiet. Then he hit the button on the elevator control panel and got the car moving again. "Okay, this is what we’ll do. You go to your car and drive home. I’ll wait a few minutes and then meet you there. Unlock a back window."         "But what if the person is watching?"         Jon’s smile was grim. "Don’t worry. No one will even know I’m around."         Uncertainty arced through her as the doors to the elevator slid open. She’d never felt so out of control and vulnerable.         Jon put his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "I’ll be there soon. I promise."         Knowing that to Jon a promise was unbreakable, she nodded and gave him a smile full of gratitude for sharing her burden. "Thank you."         He walked her to the exit. "I’ll make sure you reach your car safely before I go back upstairs."         Glad to have him watching her back, she hurried out of the building and across the parking lot to where she’d left her coupe. The cold winter air had a bite to it that sent chills rattling over her. As she slid into the driver’s seat of her car and started the engine, she silently sent up a prayer that she wasn’t making a mistake by not going directly to the police.         And that trusting Jon didn’t get them all killed. Or fatally wound her heart.…         Jon parked his sedan around the corner from Tabby’s small Cape Cod–style house in Newton and walked around the block before approaching. This late at night the deserted street was peaceful and pretty with a new dusting of fresh winter snow.         And there weren’t any out of place vehicles with occupants keeping watch over Tabby’s place.         Tugging his navy wool overcoat tighter, Jon kept to the shadows as he moved along the hedges to the back of Tabby’s house. He found a bedroom window unlocked, easily gained access and entered. Silently, he made his way down the dark hall, grateful his leather–soled shoes didn’t make noise on the runner beneath his feet. The soothing fragrance of vanilla and sweet flowers hung in the air. Scents he associated with his assistant. Her office held the same fragrances.         He entered the living room where he found Tabby sitting ramrod straight on the couch in her evening gown, her cell phone in hand and notepad and pen at the ready. So typical of his lovely assistant. Always prepared.         She must have sensed she wasn’t alone. She jerked around, her eyes widening as she opened her mouth to scream, which came out a soft yelp when recognition bloomed on her face. Her hand went over her heart. "You startled me. Boy, you’re quiet."         Good to know his military training wasn’t rusty. He removed his overcoat and laid it on the back of a nearby chair.         "They haven’t called yet," she said as she returned to her vigilant posture.         His heart twisting at her obvious upset, he sat beside her and took her hand. "We’ll get through this."         Her big blue eyes teared up. "I feel so bad for her. She was always troubled when we were kids."         "Tell me about her," Jon prompted, hoping to keep her mind off waiting.         "She and our father fought constantly. If he said the sky was blue, she’d insist it was red. And there was no reasoning with her. I remember one time, about a year before she ran away, my parents took her to see a doctor. When they came home, she was so subdued and compliant. It was weird." She shuddered. "Years later I found out the doctor had put her on lithium for manic depression."         "She’s bipolar." He knew little of the disorder other than it was manageable with medication.         "That was the diagnosis." Sadness entered her eyes. "Unfortunately, her forced peacefulness only last a few days. She refused to continue with the drug, which at the time was the only option. She flew into a rage. Destroyed the house. My parents found me hiding in the closet. And I never saw her again."         Sympathy squeezed tight in his chest. "I’m sorry. That must have been very scary."         "It was. But what was worse was after Beth left, my parents—" She shook her head. "I don’t know. They sort of imploded. We lost the house. Their marriage fell apart. Though they’ve remained married, they aren’t a couple. If that makes sense."         "Like they were going through the motions, but not really feeling it?" Oh, how well he understood. "My parents were like that. They stayed together until my little sister graduated from high school and then called it quits."         She squeezed his hand. "That’s hard."         "Yes." He still felt the sense of loss, like something precious had died when his parents divorced.         They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts when the cell phone in Tabby’s hand trilled. She jerked as if the instrument had bitten her.         "Steady now," Jon said. "Take a deep breath and let it out."         She did as instructed.         "Good. Now when you answer it, push the speaker button."         She did. "Hello?"         A disembodied voice, clearly disguised to prevent determination of gender, said, "If you want your sister alive, bring a hundred thousand dollars in cash to the T subway stop at Fenway Park."         Tabby’s eyes widened. "I don’t have that kind of money."         "Get it from your boss," the voice said.         With a quick glance at Jon, Tabby said, "I can’t ask him for that much cash."         "Sure you can, considering he’s sitting right next to you."         Jon’s gut clenched as he met Tabby’s shocked gaze. How did they know he was there?         Unnerved, Jon looked around, searching for some way the caller could be watching. Though nothing looked out of place or odd, somehow the caller must have planted a video feed.         Jon nodded to Tabby and motioned for her to answer affirmatively.      She shook her head and mouthed, "No."         "Come on, make a decision," the voice demanded.         "Why do you think my boss is here?" Tabby asked.         "I told you. I’m watching you. I have eyes everywhere."         Jon spoke up. "You’ll get your cash. How do we know you really have Beth?"         They heard movement on the other end. A moment later, a weak female’s voice filled the air. "Tabby? I’m so tired. What’s happening?"         Tabby gasped. "Beth, are you okay? Have they hurt you?"         More movement and then the muffled caller returned. "She’s unhurt and alive for now. Bring the cash to the stop by tomorrow morning and don’t forget your phone."         "I don’t have that kind of cash on hand," Jon said, his mind racing. They’d have to call the police and get a stakeout on the T stop. "The earliest would be noon on Monday. I’m sure it will take the bank a few hours to release that amount of money."         "Noon on Monday or she dies. And no cops!" The line disconnected.         Tabby’s pale complexion made Jon suspect she was in a bit of shock. He took the phone from her hand, turned it off and laid on the coffee table. He drew her to his chest and slipped his arms around her. She began to shake. Protective instincts surged and a wellspring of tender emotions rose in his chest, nearly choking him.         Oh, no, he was going to a place he’d sworn he’d never go with any woman. He’d do what he could to get her sister back. And in the process he would protect Tabby only because it was the right thing to do. Or so he tried to convince himself.

Yuletide Peril Chapter Two

Chapter Two      "That’s all I can tell you about my sister," Tabby said to the homicide investigator, who’d introduced herself as Detective Carlucci. "I didn’t see or talk to the man. I don’t know what he wanted to tell me."         "Any idea where your sister might be staying?" the detective asked.         Tabby gave a negative shake of her head. "I don’t. Since I hadn’t heard from her again I figured she’d moved on."         "When she contacted you, what did she want?"         Still feeling the sting from the visit, she sighed. "Beth was having a cash–flow problem and asked if I could help her. I gave her what was in my purse, which wasn’t much. Then she was gone. I really don’t know anything more." Tabby glanced toward the suite where a gurney with a sheet draped over the dead man was being wheeled out. "Do you know what killed him?"         "Blunt force trauma to the head."         Turning her attention back to the detective, Tabby asked, "Why would someone do that? Who is he?"         "It’s my job to find out." Detective Carlucci flipped her notebook closed and dug out a business card from the side pocket of her tailored, expensive–looking suit jacket. "If you think of anything else, give me a call."         Taking the card, Tabby nodded. "I will."         The detective moved to confer with her partner, a tall, blond–haired man with sharp, vivid green eyes that seemed to take everything in at once.         "You okay?" Jon asked as he came to stand beside her, his handsome face full of concern. The crispness of his white dress shirt against his olive skin made his square jaw and high cheek bones more pronounced. Tonight he’d swept his dark hair back in a controlled style that complemented his tailored black suit, though she much preferred the more tousled way he normally wore it.         She resisted the urge to lean against his broad shoulders for comfort. He was her boss. And that was a line she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cross. Not even because of a dead man.She shivered. The creepiness of the turn of events made her skin crawl.         "You’re cold. Here," Jon said and draped her wrap around her shoulders.         "It’s just so sad. Who do you think killed him? And what did he want to tell me?"         "I don’t know. But the police will figure it out. Let’s get you home."         "But the guests!" She didn’t relish rejoining the party and having to field questions, but doing so was part of her job. "We can’t just leave."         "Don’t worry. I’ll come back and make sure everyone’s had a good time," he said, his dark eyes alive yet so tender as his gaze touched her.         The unmistakable buzz of a cell phone on vibrate reverberated around them. Jon patted his breast pocket. "Not mine."         "It’s mine," she said, gesturing to the blue beaded evening bag dangling from the crook of Jon’s elbow. Amid such grim circumstances, an amused smile played at the corners of her mouth. Jon was the only man she knew secure enough in his own masculinity to hold a women’s purse without embarrassment. That was one of the many traits she enjoyed and appreciated about her boss.         With a rueful grin, he slid the bag to his hand and held it out. She opened the latch and fished out her small red cell. She glanced at the number, didn’t recognize it. "Hello?"         "Listen carefully and do not react. I’m watching you," said a muffled voice, whose sex was indistinguishable. "If you ever want to see your sister alive again, go home and await instructions."         The line went dead.         Terror chomped through Tabby but she forced herself not to let it show, even though it sounded like her sister had been kidnapped.         Quickly, she closed the phone, took her bag from Jon and said, "You’re right. I need to go home. You stay and make sure the guests are happy."         Without waiting for a response, she hurried toward the elevator. To her chagrin, Jon matched her pace. As the elevator doors slid open, she put her hand on Jon’s chest to stop him from entering. She felt his heart beating, the tempo nearly matching her own. Awareness of his proximity sent shivers of a different kind sliding over her skin.         "Really. You stay," she managed to say.         Capturing her hand and pulling her into the elevator, he said,     "Really. I’m not."         The elevator doors slid shut, blocking out prying eyes. Tabby bit her lower lip. How was she going to get rid of Jon?         "Spill it," he said.         "I… What are you talking about?"         He grabbed her purse.         "Hey!"         He undid the clasp, reached in and dug out her cell. "You received a call that upset you. Who was it from?" He checked the call log.         Staring straight at the door so he couldn’t see the panic in her eyes, she said, "It’s none of your business."         Reaching past her, he hit the stop button. The elevator ground to a halt. "We’re not leaving until you tell me what has you so spooked."         Frustration and panic vied for prominence in her mind. She needed to get home. She needed to be there when the call came in about her sister. Even though they weren’t close, Beth was still family.         Over the years, Tabby had prayed her sister was safe and happy. And when Beth appeared out of the blue, Tabby had wept with joy that God had brought her sister back to her. Tabby tried to ignore the disquieting knowledge that Beth wasn’t like the girl who’d run away. The cold, hard person standing in her kitchen hadn’t wanted a warm and fuzzy reunion, only money. Confused and hurt, Tabby had done what she could for her sister.         As she would now. After all, they shared the same blood and Beth obviously needed her.         "I can’t say anything," Tabby said, looking up at her strong, handsome boss and yearning to confide in him, wishing she could slip into his embrace and forget the horrible events of the night.         But he was her boss and there was no way she’d ever jeopardize her job or her integrity by becoming just another notch on his belt.         Though eight years her senior, Jon had a youthful exuberance for life that made him good at his profession and also a desirable catch. Touted as one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors, Jon had his pick of women. And usually dated several at a time. Another reason she would never let herself fall for him. She wanted a love that would last a lifetime. So far, she hadn’t found it.         Jon stepped closer, his six–foot frame crowding her into the corner. "Who called and what did they want?"         "Please, I have to get home."         He reached out to run his knuckles down her cheek. "Trust me, Tabby. I can help you."         "You’re really not going to let me out until I tell you, are you?"         He shook his head.         "Fine." Conceding defeat in the stubbornness department. "The caller said if I want to see my sister alive, I need to go home and wait for further instructions."         Jon straightened, his expression darkening. "Was the caller a man or woman?"
         "The voice was digitally altered, so I don’t know." She shivered again as fear traipsed up her spine. "And the person said he or she was watching me!"

Yuletide Peril Chapter One

Chapter One         "You have to let me see Tabitha Grant! It’s a matter of life and death!"         The gruff, masculine voice heard over the mingling of guests’ conversations and background Christmas music drew Jonathan Spangler’s attention away from the congressman in front of him to the doorway of the main pavilion area. The indoor event space was right above home plate inside Boston’s historic Fenway Park and the perfect place to host a holiday party. A security guard grappled with a disheveled elderly man who was trying to enter the private event being hosted by Jon’s company, Spangler Sports Management.         Mrs. Davidson, the congressman’s wife, leaned toward Jon with a furrowed brow. "Oh, my. What do you think that is all about?"         Irritated by the uninvited man’s display, Jon forced a smile. "Excuse me while I find out," he said and stalked toward the double doors.         The harried security guard, a young man with a pockmarked face and spindly arms named Andrew, valiantly struggled to restrain the older man. He grimaced as Jon approached. "Sorry, Mr. Spangler. Not sure how he got up here."         Jon narrowed his gaze on the agitated party crasher. Though clean, his cheap suit, old–fashioned tie and worn Florsheims piqued Jon’s interest. This couldn’t be Tabby’s father, could it? "Are you a relative?"         "No." The old man jerked away from the young security guard and latched on to the lapels of Jon’s custom–tailored Brioni suit. "I’ve gotta speak to Tabitha Grant. It’s about her sister."         Jon’s gut clenched with a mix of surprise and hurt. Tabitha was Jon’s personal assistant. She’d worked closely with him for nearly five years now. But he hadn’t known she had a sister. In fact, she rarely mentioned her family. His all–business assistant kept her life very private, while Jon’s life was an open book to her.         Prying the man’s fingers off and stepping back, Jon said, "Let’s talk outside, shall we?"         He didn’t give the old man an option. Grasping him by the arm in a tight grip, Jon tugged him out of the doorway and pulled him far enough away from the entrance that they couldn’t be seen or heard by the guests.         "What is this about Tabby’s sister?"         "You gotta let me talk to Tabitha."         "She’s my employee. You can tell me."         Distrust flared in the man’s bloodshot eyes. "No! I gotta make sure she knows."         Jon had the feeling the guy wouldn’t leave unless he spoke to Tabby and something in his urgent manner sent an internal alarm pulsing through Jon’s brain.          "Take him to my suite," he said to the hovering guard. To the man, he said, "If you go with Andrew here, I’ll bring Tabby to you."         The old man nodded and allowed the security guard to lead him away. Jon returned to his party, casually weaving through the sports players with their agents or managers, the political figures and various other guests who in one way or another were connected to Jon’s business.    Jon smiled with pride for the business he’d started on a whim after being discharged from the army.         He’d had no real direction when he’d left the military, but a chance meeting with a young hockey player trying to decide his future had changed Jon’s life. He’d offered to represent the young man, had negotiated a sweet deal with the Boston Bruins hockey team and a career was born, for both of them.         He found Tabby talking to one of his newest clients, a young athlete from California who’d just signed a lucrative deal with the Red Sox. They stood near the garland–festooned floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking the ballpark. The two of them made a striking picture. Griffin had everything required of a professional athlete these days—looks, talent and charisma, but Tabby had those same star qualities, too. Tonight she looked stunning and very elegant in a floor–length blue shimmering gown with her blond hair twisted up in some fancy do.         The zing of attraction flared through Jon as it always did when he strayed too close to his lovely assistant. Tabby was still as much a mystery to him as the day she’d walked into his office five years ago and informed him that he needed her. So brash, so bossy.         And so right. He did need her.         He’d come to rely heavily on her business savvy, her attention to detail and the way she made each and every client feel special.Just as she made Jon feel special every day, yet very neatly kept him at arm’s length. The only part of her personal life she’d opened up about was her deep faith in God. Jon admired her commitment to God, even if he didn’t quite understand it. Though he’d grown up going to church in his Midwest suburb, Sunday services were more about social gathering than any kind of spiritual enlightenment.         He’d tried in the beginning to take things to a more personal level with his assistant, but he’d quickly realized that not getting involved with her was the smartest thing to do. Tabitha was the kind of girl who captured a man’s heart and didn’t let go. Jon had no intention of having his heart trapped. Ever. He’d seen what that did to a man.         He wound his way through his guests, nodding and murmuring Merry Christmas, nice to see you, thank you for coming, as he went. He reached Tabby’s side and touched her elbow. Her attention shifted from the handsome ballplayer who clearly had it bad judging by the goofy, lovesick expression on his baby face.         Blue eyes sparkling, Tabby said, "I was just explaining to Griffin the intricacies of living in Boston and surviving the winters."         "I’m sure Griff needs all the advice he can get," Jon said and then turned his attention to the young man. "Excuse us, please."         "Uh, sure, Mr. Spangler, sir. No problem." Griff’s neck turned beet–red and he quickly walked away.         Jon drew Tabby farther into the corner and lowered his voice. "We have a problem."         She frowned. "What? Are we running out of food or drink? Is the waitstaff not staying on top of bussing the tables?"         Jon shook his head. "Nothing like that." He paused. He’d never pushed her boundaries before but the situation warranted doing so. "Do you have a sister?"         She blinked and tucked in her chin. "Yes. Why?"         "There’s a guy saying he needs to talk to you about her. I’ve stashed him in my suite."         Panic flashed in her eyes. "Who is he? And what about my sister?"         "He won’t talk to anyone but you."         Turning, she started toward the door, her long legs carrying her quickly as she dodged her way through the crowd. Jon stayed right on her heels.         "Why didn’t I know you had a sister?"         "It didn’t come up," she replied over her shoulder.         Once they cleared the crush of guests, he stepped even with her. "That’s odd, don’t you think? What’s her name?"         She spared him a troubled glance as she moved out of the pavilion and into the hall. "Beth. She ran away from home when she was fifteen. I was ten. We never heard from her again until recently. She showed up on my doorstep out of the blue."         "Where had she been?" Jon asked, feeling unaccountably hurt that Tabby hadn’t confided in him.         She shrugged. "I don’t know. She’s a nomad. She said she saw that spread Peoplemagazine did on you and noticed the picture of us. That’s how she found me."         As they approached the Spangler Suite, a private seating area with a clear view of the field below, Jon frowned. The security guard wasn’t stationed outside the door. Jon glanced down the hall, but there was no sign of the guard. At the very far south end a cleaning lady mopped the floor. Where was security?         Moving in front of Tabby, Jon opened the door and stepped inside. For a moment he thought the old guy had left but then his gaze fell on the body stretched out on the floor. A pool of blood darkened the carpet around the old man’s head.
         Beside Jon, Tabby gasped, her face paling. "Is he…dead?"

YULETIDE PERIL

Tabitha Grant can’t deny she has feelings for her boss—handsome, successful, charismatic sports agent Jonathan Spangler. But she’d never compromise her integrity or her job as his personal assistant by becoming involved with the playboy millionaire. Her sense of professionalism and her strong faith in God will let her settle for nothing less than a true, lasting love, and Jon is clearly enjoying his life as one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors.But when a man crashes the company Christmas party claiming to have life-or-death information about her estranged sister, Tabby is forced to turn to Jon for help. And Jon is forced to face his true feelings for his assistant, and reexamine his own faith!
I'll be posting a chapter a week starting this Friday. 
            11/ 4   Chapter One             11/ 11 Chapter Two            11/18  Chapter Three            11/25  Chapter Four            12/1   Chapter Five            12/9   Chapter Six            12/16 Chapter Seven
            12/23 Chapter Eight

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