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A shy soul and an adventurous heart. As the holidays approach, can they find happiness together?
Maria Anne Davis was on her way to an exciting career as a chef in Dallas, until a terrible car accident left her blind. Ever resilient, Maria has reinvented her life on her own terms, starting a business out of her home kitchen, selling her jams and jellies to the local grocery.
Maria loves romance novels, and despite her bold spirit, she fears she’ll never have a big love affair like ones her heroines experience. That is, until she realizes how much she cares about the quiet Wes Whitman, the owner of the grocery.
Wes can’t keep Maria’s wildly popular jam on his shelves—just like he can’t keep the fierce, beautiful Maria out of his thoughts. But how could a firecracker like Maria come to love a shy, nervous man like him? Maybe all they need is a grand affair. Wes needs to convince Maria that some affairs last forever, though—just in time for Christmas.
A Christmas Affair
Jodi Thomas
New York Times bestselling author JODI THOMAS is a fifth-generation Texan who sets many of her stories in her home state, where her grandmother was born in a covered wagon. She is a certified marriage and family counselor, a Texas Tech graduate and writer-in-residence at West Texas A&M University. She lives with her husband in Amarillo, Texas.
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TRAVIS FULLER TURNED UP the collar on his jean jacket and tried to slide farther down into the backseat of the sheriff’s cruiser. He hated the way cop cars always smelled of vomit and stale coffee. He hated cold days. He hated little towns and he hated the deputy who picked him up from the Lubbock airport like he was a rescue dog going to a new home.
Hell, he thought, if he ever reached his sixteenth birthday, he’d probably hate being on his own, too. He’d learned a long time ago that the next place was usually worse than the last, and Crossroads, Texas, looked to be touching the bottom of the barrel.
Travis had made up his mind when he was seven that as soon as he turned sixteen, he’d run away and never look back. He couldn’t do a worse job of raising himself than his parents had. Both were drunks. His mother was mean and his father was stupid. Their last fight ended with her in the hospital and him in jail.
“And me?” he mumbled. “I have to go to hell in Texas just because I’m their offspring.”
The deputy turned his radio down and glanced back. “You all right, kid?”
“I’m not a kid. I’m almost sixteen.”
“Right,” the deputy said with a laugh. “Well, Mr. Fuller, welcome to Crossroads. Looks like you’ll be staying with us for a while. You’ll love it here. The three uncles you’re bunking with are real nice guys. One was a teacher for almost forty years, one is still working as a real cowboy, and the third one, Horace Fuller, no one knows what he did for a living but he always paid his bills. He’s sort of the town hermit, and that’s not an easy title to have in a small town.”
“They are not my uncles,” Travis grumbled.
“Oh, right. Great-uncles. Longevity must run in your family. I’m guessing all three are past their seventieth birthday.”
“I don’t care. Not one of them had any kids or a wife so I’m guessing they are not long on social skills.”
Deputy Cline didn’t argue, but added, “They’ve been fixing up a place at Horace’s for you to stay. Up high, almost like a tree house. I wouldn’t be surprised if you can see the lights of town from there.”
“Great. Another cage.” Travis looked out the window as the deputy pulled off the highway. The town was all brown and deserted in the winter morning light. Most of the buildings were built square and low to the ground.
“You ever had an architect live here?” Travis frowned.
“Nope. Not that I know of.”
“I could have guessed that. Frank Lloyd Wright would have a heart attack here.” Travis could spend hours looking at Wright’s work in the books at libraries. To him the buildings were art, every one a masterpiece.
“Wright? He’s that famous architect who built all those strange buildings?” Deputy Cline chimed in, as if he thought he was on a game show. “I’ve done carpentry work, but would have no idea where to start on something like his designs.”
“He was a genius,” Travis mumbled, not really wanting to have a conversation with the deputy. Cline was so new at the job he didn’t even know he wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone riding in the backseat. Travis had had enough rides to know that rule.
As the cruiser circled round, Travis asked, more to change the subject than from interest, “What’s that, a barn for tumbleweeds?” He pointed to an open-air building on the land left when streets crossed in the center of town.
Deputy Cline laughed as if he thought