Jingle by Natalie Vivien

Author:Natalie Vivien [Vivien, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00Q3QBRPW
Goodreads: 23617431
Publisher: Rose and Star Press
Published: 2014-11-24T05:00:00+00:00

The End

The following is an excerpt from The Ghost of a Chance,a romantic novel by Natalie Vivien about a woman who learns to love again, available now! If you enjoyed “Jingle,” you will love The Ghost of a Chance!

I bump open the swinging dining room door, balancing a tray of hors d’oeurves on one hand while gripping the neck of a chilled bottle of wine with the other. "Alis, where should I put these—" The wine nearly slips from my fingers and the tiny cucumber sandwiches slide all over the tray as my eyes fasten to Alis standing beside the picture window, her hands clasped lightly before her, her dark head piled with curls and tilted sweetly to the side.

The sight of her, for a measureless moment, stills my heart.

"Do I look all right?" She tugs at the narrow belt of her shimmering blue sheath, flicking uncertain glances in my direction. "I thought about buying something new, but then I remembered this dress… I got it years ago, for a party at Jason’s co-worker’s house, but Jason made me take it off before we left home. He said it looked cheap."

"Jason’s an idiot." I swallow, meeting her questioning, hopeful gaze. "You look radiant, Alis. Beautiful."

She laughs nervously, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "Well, I’ve always loved this color, but Jason—"

"Forget Jason." I toss the tray to the sideboard beside the rest of the hors d’oeuvres and put the wine bottle on the dining table. The table looks festive, set with a white tablecloth, white china, and gold napkins, lined down the center with squat silver vases full of sumptuous red roses on a shimmering gold runner. The chandelier above, the room’s only illumination, throws flame-shaped, undulating shadows to the wine-colored walls.

I move toward Alis and, breathing deeply, reach for her hands, my eyes lingering over the blue beauty of her curves.

"Is it too much?" she whispers, staring down at our clasped fingers and anxiously stroking the back of my hand. "Should I change—"

"Never change. This dress was made for you." My voice is low, and I try to smile at her, try to lighten the mood, but my lips won’t cooperate: they part, longing…and I take small breaths, unable to remove my gaze, unable to let go of her hands.

"Darcy..."

"Alis."

"That was the doorbell. Just now. I think a guest has arrived."

I blink, dazed, staring into her wide, bottomless blue eyes. "Doorbell?"

"Didn’t you hear it?"

I catch her scent in the space between us. A lush floral perfume. Jasmine, I think. "No. I didn’t—"

But the doorbell rings again, and, for better or for worse, I do hear it this time. Our hands fall away as we fall away from each other, our eyes roaming the laden sideboard and the sparkling, expectant table, looking everywhere, at everything, except at one another.

"I’ll get it," I say, gruff, turning to leave the room.

"Darcy, wait."

I glance at Alis over my shoulder, heart skipping, brain shrieking at me to go, to leave, to ignore my impulses and be rational, to remember Catherine.

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