The Christmas Wager, page 1
Advance Praise for
The Christmas Wager
“The perfect holiday romp full of laugh-out-loud shenanigans amid a delightful small town loaded with wintery charm. Bella and Jesse are simply magical as they navigate their snow-covered path from enemies to lovers in this swoon-worthy Christmas romance that will warm the coldest of hearts.”
—Jenn McKinlay, author of Wait for It and Summer Reading
“The Christmas Wager is full of my favorite things: enemies-to-lovers; a quaint small town; a high-stakes competition (thanks to the town’s annual holiday games); and enough Christmas cheer to power Santa’s sleigh. Full of wit and charm, The Christmas Wager is better than a hot cup of cocoa after a fresh snowfall. I was smitten!”
—Karma Brown, author of Recipe for a Perfect Wife
“A delightful Christmas story, sure to envelop you in holiday cheer.”
—K. A. Tucker, author of The Simple Wild
“The standard meet-cute gets a hilarious, warm, and romantic refresh in The Christmas Wager. With a charming setting and a lovable cast of supporting characters, readers will root for Bella and Jesse in more ways than one. Let the games begin!”
—Elyssa Friedland, author of The Most Likely Club and Last Summer at the Golden Hotel
“Sweetness and spice blend perfectly in this rivals-to-lovers story with an enchanting holiday twist. Idyllic, snowy Maple Falls is a town you’ll never want to leave, and Bella and Jesse are characters you’ll love to root for (even as they’re rooting against each other), making The Christmas Wager a story you won’t be able to put down: pure swoony, escapist fun. This book deserves to be on your classics shelf, reopened and savored every Christmas.”
—Ashley Winstead, author of The Boyfriend Candidate and In My Dreams I Hold a Knife
“Romance readers are the winner in this spirited holiday romp that turns love into sport in all the best ways.”
—Jean Meltzer, author of The Matzah Ball and Mr. Perfect on Paper
“A delightfully witty rom-com that will have you laughing and cheering as the holiday antics and romance rev up! Holly Cassidy’s talent for setting a scene shines from the first to the last page, sucking you in and bringing all the feels with her charming characters and heartfelt moments. Read up, Brinches! Your new favorite holiday rom-com has arrived!”
—Codi Hall, author of Nick and Noel’s Christmas Playlist
“As delicious and comforting as a warm cup of cocoa with cinnamon, The Christmas Wager is sure to delight! Holly Cassidy hits every note with Bella’s delightful journey to magical Maple Falls, where she finds belonging and Christmas magic, competes in the adorable holiday games, and finds hope alongside swoony electrician Jesse. Don’t miss out!”
—Uzma Jalaluddin, author of Ayesha at Last and Hana Khan Carries On
“A sweet and witty story with all the warm comfort of your favorite holiday rom-com movie! The Christmas Wager is a delightful city-girl-meets-small-town-boy rom-com full of holiday high jinks, hilarious side characters, and the perfect cozy small-town setting. The world-building and the Christmas-themed competition were so clever. A complete delight!”
—Farah Heron, author of Kamila Knows Best and Accidentally Engaged
“Survivor meets the Hallmark Channel but with the fate of a Christmas shop hanging in the balance. This book is for you if you love a good tussle, a spark of romance, and a competition of wills and skills. This isn’t your typical rom-com, it’s a rom-competition, and I’m here for it.”
—Ann Garvin, author of I Thought You Said This Would Work
“An absolute treat! Like a hot cup of cocoa laced with a shot of Irish cream, it has all the small-town charm of a Hallmark movie and so much more. I laughed, I cried, I swooned. With a clever twist on the rivals-to-lovers trope, this is one of those cozy rom-coms I’ll read again and again—perfect for a cold winter day, long flight, day at the beach, or anytime at all!”
—Meredith Schorr, author of As Seen on TV
Also by Holly Cassidy
(writing as Hannah Mary McKinnon)
The Revenge List
Never Coming Home
You Will Remember Me
Sister Dear
Her Secret Son
The Neighbors
Time After Time
g. p. putnam’s sons
Publishers Since 1838
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright © 2023 by Hannah Mary McKinnon
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
Trade Paperback ISBN 9780593544051
Ebook ISBN 9780593544068
Cover design and illustration: Lila Selle
Book design by Shannon Nicole Plunkett, adapted for ebook by Maggie Hunt
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover
Advance Praise for The Christmas Wager
Also by Holly Cassidy
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Friday, December 17
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Saturday, December 18
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Sunday, December 19
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Monday, December 20
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Tuesday, December 21
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Wednesday, December 22
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Thursday, December 23
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Friday, Christmas Eve
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Christmas Day, One Year Later
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgments
Book Ends
A Conversation with Holly Cassidy
Discussion Guide
About the Author
_144937132_
To Love—
May it find each and every one of us, and may we hold on to it forever
To Rob—
The love of my life and my very own hunky electrician
Rivalry adds so much to the charms of one’s conquests.
—Louisa May Alcott
Friday,
December 17
Chapter 1
Bella
Bella, what did you do?” Luisa groaned as she leaned across her desk toward me, her voice so low I almost couldn’t hear. Her knack for the dramatic made me grin. In the time we’d worked and lived together, I’d got used to my best friend being a little over-the-top. Somehow she always expected the worst and was more shocked than surprised when whatever life-altering catastrophe she’d envisioned didn’t materialize.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, before hesitating a little. “I don’t think so, anyway.”
Maybe Luisa’s instincts were spot-on, and I had messed up because at Dillon & Prescott, being summoned to my boss’s office at 8:32 a.m. on a Friday was rarely good news. Valerie Johansen probably hadn’t had her second cup of coffee yet, which meant she’d be more direct, our internal code for “blunt,” than usual. Although whether that was possible had often been subject to intense debate.
“Are you sure?” Luisa didn’t need to whisper, considering Valerie’s envy-inducing, freshly remodeled corner office was one floor above ours. As mid-level minions—something I’d been working hard to fix—Luisa and I had a cubicle that was dead center of the building, devoid of most natural light. Even though Dillon & Prescott designed and built exclusive mansions and commercial structures, this floor of the national headquarters in Los Angeles left a lot more planning to be desired. Considering we were always among the first to arrive and last to leave, it was a wonder we didn’t need three pairs of sunglasses when we stepped into the California sun.
Luisa nibbled the tip of her pen, her full, glossy lips in a semi-pout and hazel eyes flashing with concern. “I wonder what
“Nothing, honest, but if there was anything, I’m sure I can handle it.”
I tried hard not to appear flustered as I got up, which didn’t work because in my haste I knocked over my pen cup, sending my ruler, scissors, and pencils flying. A few of our colleagues turned their heads in our direction, including Miles Serpico, whom I’d ignored as much as humanly possible for the last few months. He craned his neck, no doubt trying to eavesdrop on our conversation and gather any bit of information he could use to get ahead. I shot him a piercing stare, wishing there was some truth in the saying if looks could kill.
I turned back to Luisa and lowered my voice. “I handed in the quarterly reports before they were due, and put the brochure for the McClellan building together, exactly how Valerie asked.”
“Did you though?” Luisa joined me in giving Miles another glare. She didn’t care for him either. “You added more about the amenities and swapped out the fitness studio photos.”
“Yeah, because they were better.”
“Agreed, but maybe she didn’t approve of the initiative.”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
As I gathered my notepad and pen, I gave the desk I’d worked at for nearly three years a lingering glance in case I never saw it again. Maybe I’d picked up Luisa’s habit of projecting potential disaster, but employees from our floor who were ordered upstairs on such short notice generally didn’t return. The thought filled me with fear. I loved my job, had worked so hard to heave myself a rung or two up the corporate ladder one late night at a time. I didn’t want to slide back down because I’d made an impulsive decision.
“If anyone from security shows up to pack my stuff, will you message me?” I whispered. When Luisa gave me a nod and wished me good luck, I returned the gestures with what felt like a grimace before dashing for the stairs.
My pulse quickened when I pushed the heavy gray metal door open. Two seconds after slamming shut behind me with a solid clunk, it opened again. When I turned, Miles stood at the bottom step, one of the typical snide grins he usually sent my way plastered across his face. He was a handsome guy. Tall, square jaw, great head of hair, but he was pompous and ruthless. Something I’d learned the hard way.
“Trouble in paradise?” he said.
Instead of a reply, I gave him his third withering look of the day, which wasn’t even a record, and continued upward, telling myself to keep calm and not let him get to me. Considering our history, it was easier said than done, and getting more difficult with each passing day.
Another flight of stairs later, and it was as if I’d arrived in a different world. Up here, instead of the splotchy coffee-stained, faded green carpet from my office, the floors were thick planks of polished oak. The kind where you fretted over leaving dusty prints in your wake, no matter how many times you’d wiped your shoes.
A sleek Christmas tree stood in one corner, covered with gold baubles and fancy crystal candy canes. This sophisticated Fraser fir looked nothing like the fake, sad, secondhand one on our level, which Luisa insisted we yank from the broom closet every December and decorate with yards of popcorn garland to hide the missing branches.
She’d gone all out with her side of our cubicle this year, too, with red tinsel and sparkly silver star ornaments, a giant plaid stocking, and a set of white pom-pom string lights. Last week, she’d added a motion-activated foot-high Santa, who wiggled his hips and sang “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” every time we moved until the batteries mysteriously disappeared. In contrast, my desk, which was the kind of run-down, chipped brown laminate relic from the ’70s everyone had on our floor, was almost bare.
Unlike Luisa, I didn’t care for the holidays. Not since my dad walked out on Mom and me three weeks before Christmas when I was ten. Things had never been the same between us since. Or between me and Mom. I couldn’t wait to get the whole season over with for another year.
I pressed on. The scent of freshly brewed coffee from expensive chrome machines filled the air while I hurried past gleaming wooden desks and an array of conference rooms complete with bespoke oval tables, designer leather chairs, and sweeping views of the city. Only a couple of the rooms were already occupied. Unlike the staff downstairs, who always reminded me of manic bees buzzing around a huge hive, the employees on this level were permitted to arrive by a leisurely 10:00 a.m., oozing a serene professionalism. They waltzed into the foyer wearing expensive suits and starched shift dresses, and I felt self-conscious in my Target and H&M combos.
I only glimpsed this upper floor a handful of times a year, whenever I’d drop off reports for Valerie or attend the rare meeting, and each time I’d dream of being transferred up here on a permanent basis. It would certainly wipe the perma-smirk off Miles’s face, although I refused to imagine his victorious sneer if Valerie fired me today.
It was no secret that I was ambitious and driven. I wouldn’t celebrate my thirtieth birthday until the summer, but I’d set my sights on a high-flying career before graduating from high school in the tiny town of Bart’s Hollow in Ontario, Canada. I’d escaped one of the most frigid places on earth as soon as I could, trying to leave behind the memories of my father’s abandonment and the arguments with my mother that ensued thereafter, heading to Toronto to study business and work for a few years, and then on to L.A. I’d applied for jobs in California well before I’d received my U.S. passport, an uncomplicated task thanks to Dad originally hailing from Seattle, and the offer from Dillon & Prescott had been too good to refuse.
I hadn’t been home in almost four years. Truth was, Bart’s Hollow hadn’t felt like home for ages before then, and I still didn’t like small towns where everyone knew everybody’s business and insisted on mixing in. Dad had always raved about the West Coast, and I’d dreamed of living in L.A. since I’d watched the first episode of Million Dollar Listing in my living room in Bart’s Hollow during a snowstorm. In April. Couldn’t believe it when I saw Luisa’s ad for a roommate in a coffee shop the day after I got here. We hit it off immediately, and when a job opened up on my team, I helped get her an interview. I loved living in L.A. with Luisa, the sprawling city never short on new things and places to discover, which she’d often introduced me to as she’d arrived here from New Mexico a few years before I had.
Some people felt sick at the prospect of moving to a new town alone whereas all I’d ever seen was opportunity. After this, I could never go back to somewhere like Bart’s Hollow. No, I needed things to work out at Dillon & Prescott.
Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that whatever Valerie said today, things would be all right. The ground beneath me would eventually steady itself. Wouldn’t it?
When I rounded the corner, Blaise, Valerie’s assistant, who was twice my age, made big eyes at me over his round glasses. He covered the mouthpiece of his headset and in his slight French accent said, “Where have you been?” Not waiting for my reply, he pointed to the door marked Valerie Johansen, VP of West Coast & Central Sales and shrugged. “Don’t ask me what she wants, just go. Make sure you knock.”
I wiped my clammy palms on my black-and-white pencil skirt, and gave my shirt a tug, hoping my cheeks weren’t about to match its shade of pink. Hearing Blaise whisper a harried, “Vas-y! Go, go,” I took another step and knocked on the opaque door, which immediately turned clear. Privacy glass was reserved for the elite, something else I’d added to my future-office wish list. I wanted to be in the big leagues, swim with the big fish, and all those other clichés. Maybe run my own company one day when I felt I’d gained enough corporate experience. That was the ultimate dream.
As soon as Valerie saw me, she raised a hand and gestured for me to step inside. My boss was in her early forties and wore black slacks and tailored tops. There never seemed to be a strand out of place on her short blond pixie cut, which accentuated a set of perfect cheekbones. A solitaire engagement ring and platinum wedding band glinted on one of her manicured fingers and I spotted the latest fitness tracker on her slender wrist. Rumor had it she wouldn’t sleep until she’d reached her daily goal of twenty-five thousand steps. I bet sometimes she did those before lunch.
