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    Merry Christmas From Florida
    Merry Christmas From Florida
    Merry Christmas From Florida
    Ebook93 pages1 hour

    Merry Christmas From Florida

    By Suzanne D. Williams

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Running south was supposed to solve her Christmas blues and heal her heart.

    Fashion model, Whitney Hobart snuck off to Florida to solve her Christmas blues. A bad, extremely public breakup combined with endless rounds of holiday cheer seems like simply too much to endure. She'll hide out at a small hotel on the coast, soak in the winter sunshine, and no one will be the wiser.

    But when her secret gets out, the problems she's tried to escape, multiply, and what's supposed to be relaxing isn't anymore. The only good thing remaining is hotel manager, Fletcher Collins. She finds in him a listening ear, a gentle hand, and maybe, just maybe, the greatest gift of all – love.

    A sweet Christmas story of two souls finding hope again by best-selling author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS. 20,000 words.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSuzanne D. Williams
    Release dateFeb 12, 2022
    ISBN9781533755520
    Merry Christmas From Florida
    Author

    Suzanne D. Williams

    Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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      Book preview

      Merry Christmas From Florida - Suzanne D. Williams

      SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

      Feel-Good Romance

      © 2014 MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM FLORIDA by Suzanne D. Williams

      www.feelgoodromance.com

      www.suzannedwilliams.com

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

      And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord, And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. (Lk 1:46-48)

      CHAPTER 1

      New York City

      The magazine landed beneath her nose with a whuff, the cover page flipping back in the wind of its fall, and a female hand smoothed it flat. Beautiful pic, Whit. You look like a diva.

      Whitney Hobart forced a smile to her lips. Funny you should say that. That’s actually the word the photographer used. I believe he said, ‘Be the diva of Denver.’

      Her friend, Jennifer eyed her, her gaze sharp. Well, it looks great, although ... not like you at all. You’re too sweet. Retrieving the magazine, she ran her thumb across the seam. How’d they do the ice? Looks real ... like you spent an overnight in Alaska.

      Some flour concoction. Made my skin dry for two days.

      Amazing ... and now, you’re off to Florida?

      Whitney smiled, her insides twisting. The fact that she was leaving at Christmas had sent her parents into a tizzy. The fact she’d lied about why jabbed at her conscience.

      You’re going to miss all the parties, her friend whined.

      Her guilt building, Whitney looked away.

      Missing Christmas parties was kind of the point, more specifically, the party, the one that would put her back next to him. Having a fling with her agent had been the worst decision she’d ever made. What felt good at first, quickly became sordid and lethal. She’d broken it off and made her feelings clear on his behavior. In response, he’d taken pains to soil her public reputation. That had led her to this. She had to get away. So as far as her parents knew, this was work-related.

      Bringing her gaze to the magazine photo, Whitney chewed on her cheek.

      They’d been hot and heavy when she’d made that. Mid-July, no snow, no ice, and definitely no ski slopes. What looked like Christmas had been sandwiched in between crawling into bed with him, only she hadn’t known then what a dog he was.

      I’ll have sand and waves and sunshine, she replied, her voice cheerful. Probably meet some hot guy in a speedo on the beach.

      Ew on speedos, but okay on the hot guy. You deserve that. Her friend dug her cell out of her pocket and checked the time. One hour ’til take off. You’d better run. I’m going to miss you.

      Whitney reached across the table, the noise of the airport restaurant filling her ears, and curled her fingers over her friend’s hand. I’ll send pics, she said.

      Her friend waved back at her, dismissive. Sure, you will, but it won’t bring my best friend back before December twenty-fifth.

      Whitney didn’t comment, but stood to her feet, hooking her carry-on bag over her shoulder. Turning aside, she headed for the check-in counter. Florida, here, I come, she mumbled beneath her breath.

      Florida, where she’d be thousands of miles away from anyone remotely related to her career, where hopefully, she’d forget that it was the biggest day of the year.

      "The hot model of the fashion world is coming to our little abode." Tossing himself into a pool chair, fellow hotel employee, Ray Garcia, reclined.

      Fletcher Collins folded the final towel in the stack and stood, depositing them in the plastic bin just inside the pool gate. Yeah?

      Ray nodded, a shock of jet black hair falling between his eyes. Whitney Hobart. I saw her in a lingerie spread, and let me tell you ...

      His language descended into rapid Spanish that Fletcher could only partially translate. He laughed and shook his head. You’re hopeless. Go sweep the pool.

      This brought Ray back out of the chair. Gathering the broom, he moved to the edge of the coping and poked the long-handled pole in the water.

      Why’s she coming here anyhow? Fletcher asked. I’d think she’d stay in one of the more upper-end spots. We’re too small time.

      With only a couple dozen rooms spread over three floors, most of their guests were repeat vacationers. They’d stayed at the hotel once and liked its small-town appeal. Yet it was close enough to the big city, you could take a day trip if you wanted.

      I heard ... Ray replied, she requested it. She specifically asked we protect her privacy.

      Well, she’s safe here ... I have to go in, he added. Without waiting for a response, Fletcher exited the gate and headed for the hotel lobby. Wending his way down the narrow concrete corridors, he pushed through a pair of heavy glass doors, and the fragrance of Christmas potpourri assaulted his nostrils.

      He wrinkled his nose. "What is that stuff?"

      Casandra Frye turned her head, a length of gold metallic garland looped over her fingers. I forgot you’re allergic to smells. She made a face.

      Searching out the source, Fletcher unplugged the room freshener and toted it between two fingers to the trash can. He then moved the can to the closet and shut the door.

      It isn’t just me, he said. The guests will complain ... and why are you hanging that?

      It’s Christmas. Or had you not noticed?

      He’d noticed but couldn’t find much to celebrate. Last year at this time, his dad died, and lately that was all he thought about. He missed him so much—his smile, his laugh. His dad had loved the holidays, been the

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