His For Christmas by Kinsley Gibb

Author:Kinsley Gibb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: southern, holiday, christmas, small town, wedding, alpha male, male and female romance

Excerpt from His Kind of Perfect - Chapter 2

Hunched over her keyboard, Anabelle concentrated on writing tedious specifications when the dire notes from Jaws sounded.

Ba…bump

She froze.

Fear along the lines of the fated Nantucket swimmers filled her. Her older cousin, Brody, had thought it fun to show her the hair-raising classic one night when he babysat. Her eight-year-old imagination soaked in the delicious horror but for months she’d avoided large bodies of water especially if she couldn’t see the bottom. This had earned Brody a hall of fame spot on her mother’s bad boy list. Years later, he has yet to earn any forgiveness. Her mother’s memory was legendary.

Claire Broussard wouldn't appreciate the ring tone Anabelle programmed for her, but when Charlie had first heard it, she’d whooped with delight.

Ba...bump.

She pushed the speaker button. "Hello Mother."

"Anabelle." A southern drawl filled the studio. Regardless of the fact her mother had lived most of her adult life in Sugar Bay, she refused to let go of her Louisiana drawl.

“How are you dear?”

“Fine.”

“Business?”

“Doing well mother.”

She knew where this was headed. The pearly pink envelope taunted her from its hidden spot. There was order to Claire’s life and civilities had to be maintained.

“How’s the tour?”

“Fine.”

“How are Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Lou?”

“Oh you know...Lorraine hasn’t met a stranger and has the energy of a golden retriever. And Lou, the poor sod, follows her lead.”

Anabelle winced. She knew from experience, getting her introverted mother to be social was hard work. Poor Aunt Lorraine.

Fingers crossed, she asked, “So you’re having fun?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say…fun.”

Of course not. Her mother was allergic to relaxation and fun. She was a cross between the Grinch and Cruella de Ville. It was no wonder she suffered from a mild heart attack earlier this year.

“But you’re resting though, correct?”

The annoyed sigh was clear despite the distance. “Yes, Anabelle, the old lady is resting, just as the doctor ordered.”

“Mother, this is for your own good. Most people would love a tour of Europe.”

“Hmmph.” Her mother’s code for ‘I’m not ready to admit you’re right and I am wrong because I’m never wrong’.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying your birthday present.”

"You mean the kidnapping? What’s not to enjoy? Being dragged from ruin to ruin.”

“Look on the bright side, you no longer have to worry about Gladys Perkins.”

“Don’t get me started Anabelle. If I get back and she’s turned the Winter Ball into Moulin Rouge, it will be your fault.”

Guilt was her mother’s weapon of choice. She sighed. “I’m sure the other ladies in the league can handle things without you for a little while longer.”

“Yes, but Moulin Rouge?”

The Ladies League was the power circuit for ladies of leisure and Claire was a veteran powerhouse. In the last few months, new blood had joined the ranks. According to her mother, Gladys Perkins was loose in all ways and would be the destruction of The Ladies League.

Jeez. The drama.

From her mother’s ongoing rant, Anabelle had expected an older harlot, along the lines of Madonna circa Like a Prayer, gyrating along the pews and grinding against Jesus.

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