Booked for the Holidays (Park Cove Series Book 1)

by Chelsea Curto

It feels less like the unofficial start of the festive season and more like the Fourth of July. I hate it.

The Sunshine State is far from a winter wonderland, and just once I’d love for the impending holidays to be authentic. Like what you’d find in a classic Hallmark movie and not the swampy humidity I’m currently trudging through.

“I can assure you, Theo, I am definitely not fucking with you. You don’t strike me as the fucking around type.” “You’d be surprised,” he draws out sardonically.

Books have always been my happy place. As the one true joy and a constant fixture in my life, they’ve loved me back unconditionally and unwaveringly over the years.

there aren't many things in life better than a coffee and a good book on a cloudy afternoon.

When he finally turns away and breaks our staring contest, just as he reaches the door, I notice his lips tugging up in the corner. A hint of a smile–small, but there–briefly brightens his weary face. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“He’s the captain of the hockey team. She’s a figure skater. The tension was so good. I couldn’t put it down until they kissed for the first time.”

Sometimes, I want to tell people to fuck off.” “Chan, sweetie, you always want to tell people to fuck off.”

Please, just don’t get eaten by a bear. I’d miss you too much, and I can’t operate the fancy espresso machine without your help. I have to use the old one.”

That’s what makes literature so wonderfully beautiful and poetic. There’s quite literally something for everyone. What one person considers a two-star read with little purpose and merit might be someone’s most prized possession. A book they return to because it offers solace in times of great need or a friend they long for on a lonely day. It’s a subjective love affair that varies from person to person with enough sub-genres and obscure branches to satisfy even the most hard-to-please readers.

recycling bins should be blue or green.” “They should be green,”

“Cheating on your husband with your son’s science teacher is also inappropriate, but you don’t hear us talking about it,”

“Take the damn food, Theo.”

“You’re going to give up the chance to win a lot of money because you’re afraid of Frosty the Snowman?”

Damn her for being funny.

So here we are. Me, revealing a part of my life to you that not many people know about, and freaking the fuck out in the process.”

Shit, he’s beautiful. And hot as hell.

I’ve always considered Theo good looking, but watching him exhibit delight so openly about someone he loves more than life itself? Seeing him smile boldly, purposefully? It’s devastating. The kind of destruction you welcome with open arms.

“Not many people give me a reason to be happy.” A pause, then, “But I think you might. Maybe.”

“this is for Mac. Not you, because otherwise I’d have to charge you for one too many scowls thrown my way. That’s what we call the jerk tax.”

You were alive in the 50s, right? Should be an easy pick for you.”

He leans forward and keeps his voice low as he whispers, “Careful, Brownie. That mouth will get you in trouble one day.”

He’s on a lifelong quest to make sure I’m not a completely miserable prick. It’s working. Kind of.

“For clarification purposes, is a shit ton more or less than a crap ton? I’m unfamiliar with the measuring unit. If we’re going to be working together, I should learn your terms.” “More, but less than a fuck ton. Does that help? Should I spell it out on a Lite-Brite so your boomer ass can comprehend it better?”

I think my location and time of death might be here and now. Quiet Riot playing, leather material under my ass, words like brilliant and incredible ringing in my ears, and her touch, the final nail in the coffin.

“I think I could get used to being around you, Bridget Boylston.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, brown waves floating down her back. She meets my gaze, eyes dancing in the dim glow of the room. “I’ve been used to you for a while now, Theo Gardner, but take your time catching up. I want you to be sure. Once you start, there’s no going back.”

“I haven’t hugged anyone besides my kid in a while,” he admits into my hair. “Good news. You’re not terrible at it.”

I think I like when you compliment me. And all your groveling is a nice touch, too. Are you going to get on your knees next?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to getting on my knees for you, Boylston, if that’s where you want me. But it wouldn’t just be to ask for forgiveness.”

He was offensive wing or whatever the fuck they call it.” “Ah. Whatever the fuck is my favorite sports position.”

“People leaving,” I answer. “People always leave. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s why I keep everyone at arm’s length. It’s easier to pretend things are okay when they inevitably go.”

Bridget: Hi! It’s Bridget. Theo: Is it? Your name at the top of my screen wasn’t a dead giveaway.

Theo and I are… we’re different kinds of people. Night and day. Hot and cold. Summer and winter. I’m pretty sure I annoy him.” “Anna annoyed Kristoff in the beginning of Frozen.”

Before you say no, let me throw in the offer to buy you ice cream after. Bridget: Really sweetens the deal, huh? Theo: Stop with the puns. Theo: They’re really melting your delivery.

Oh my god. Was that a joke? Do you have a concussion? Are you sick?

This is the moment–the horrifyingly, spectacular, incredible moment–I realize I have a crush on Theo Gardner.

That was a long list of compliments. Are you flirting with me, Boylston?”

I’d rather learn to braid Mac’s hair than sit in a stuffy restaurant wearing a tie and a real shirt.” “Yeah,” Bridget agrees. “You’d look positively ghastly in a button-up.”

“I’m not sure where I’m supposed to find this mysterious woman. In the doorknob aisle?” “Oh my god, what if you did? Think of all the knock-knock jokes you could tell!”

I figured after the first few years I’d start to resent the tasks associated with fatherhood, burnt out from doing things alone. I didn’t, though. I love them more and more each day. Every morning I wake up, fucking stoked to slather peanut butter and jelly on bread, watch her do her homework, and buy her nail polish. I’m so… I’m so fucking excited to be her dad. And the coolest part is I’m not just a dad. I’m a girl dad, and it’s the best fucking role in the entire world. How lucky am I?”

How many dogs? Eight? You got it, angel. Running in the rain? I'll hand you a towel at the finish line and shelter you from the storm. Making love on a blanket in the grass? I’ll pick you a bouquet of flowers after, daffodils and dandelions tucked behind your ear.

“What can’t you do?” “Drive a stick shift,

“Are you trying to poison me?” “First the pie on Thanksgiving, now the drink. Is it a fetish? Has someone tried to poison you in the past? Is that why you think I’m going to Romeo and Juliet you?”

“I want your honest opinion, which I know isn’t difficult for you. When you inevitably hate it because it’s filled with sunshine and rainbows instead of the usual doom and gloom you enjoy, please give me thoughtful feedback on what you didn’t like.”

“Theo?” “Hush.” “I know it’s terrible. Could you at least–” “You don’t listen very well, do you, Bridget?”

Be careful, I’d hate for you to fall and break a hip. I hear recovery time is longer for those approaching fifty.”

So if you think you’re flawed, I guess I’m flawed too, because I like those parts of you. And if being someone who likes your flaws is wrong, then screw being right.”

It’s two people falling in love slowly, lazily, haltingly with the messy, imperfect, flawed parts of another soul waiting patiently for its ideal companion.

My heart is yours. Keep it, please. Don’t ever return it.”

Lucas just put on Christmas music and won’t stop smiling at me.