A Christmas Creek Carol (Christmas Creek Romance 03) by Rachelle Ayala

Author:Rachelle Ayala [Ayala, Rachelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lovely Hearts Press
Published: 2018-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Tears leaked from Ebony’s eyes as she pushed her laptop aside. The meditation hadn’t helped and now, she had writer’s block bigger than the Great Wall of China.

It was just after two in the morning, which meant she had wasted another hour remembering bad things that didn’t help her writing.

Upset with herself, Ebony staggered past her sleeping cat and tripped on the leg of a coat rack. It came crashing down, hitting the fireplace mantel.

Ebony leaped and caught her mother’s portrait before it hit the bricks underneath the fireplace.

Hot tears dripped onto the glass panel, and she wiped it off, staring at her mother’s serious face. She’d taught Ebony the value of hard work and encouraged her to follow her dreams of becoming an author, even though it was not a moneymaking field like banking.

Go big, or go home, her mother’s image seemed to say.

Follow up your dreams with hard work.

No one ever sneezed at success.

These were all her mother’s mottos, and Ebony had each one etched in her heart.

“Mom, I miss you so much.” Ebony clutched the portrait and hugged it to her chest. “No one understood me but you.”

Her mother seemed to speak back to her.

“I always knew you’d be a success. Girl, I’m so proud of you. A bestselling author and legions of fans. You might not be the most talented, but you are the hardest worker. I always said, it’s not brains but being busy that gets you ahead. Lordy me, am I proud of you, my sweet little Ebony.”

“Mom, can you show me how to be better? Show me my dream life?” she asked, remembering the old days before Jake and Blaze came between them, when her mother used to sit together with her in bathrobes and read stories to her.

“Come with me,” her mother said, appearing in her favorite bathrobe with pink rose appliques. She wore her fluffy cat slippers and had a T-shirt wrapped around her head.

Ebony stepped into her mother’s open arms and cuddled with her. “Will you read me a story?”

“Not just read you one, but show you your dream life,” Mother said. “Hold on to my robe.”

The bedroom window swung open, and Ebony thought for sure she’d catch a chill. Her sweater dress was too short and she’d kicked off her shoes.

But a warm, gentle breeze bore her up. She was floating in the fog sitting on the magic carpet that was her mother’s robe.

They fluttered outside of a mansion at the top of Pacific Heights. Inside, Ebony saw an expansive walnut desk. The walls surrounding it were filled with awards and plaques among several movie posters.

“Look over there,” Mother pointed. “Your Nobel Prize in Literature. And see those bins? All your fan mail. You have a team of assistants answering them for you.”

“Wow, this is all mine?” Ebony asked, finding herself seated in front of the polished, gleaming desk. One wall was full of books, all written by her, and more fan mail, postcards and letters, as well as gifts were piled on a sectional sofa behind her.

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