My Holiday Love, page 1
My Holiday Love
Friends to Lovers Series
by
Reba Bale
Table of Contents
Title Page
My Holiday Love (Friends to Lovers, #7)
About This Book
Dedication
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Hannah
Ashley
Hannah
Ashley
Hannah
Ashley
Hannah
Ashley
Hannah
Ashley
Hannah
Epilogue – Ashley
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MY HOLIDAY LOVE
© 2022 by Reba Bale
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system in any form by any means without express permission from the author or publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact the publisher at authorrebabale@outlook.com.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, organizations, or locals is entirely coincidental. Trademark names are used editorially with no infringement of the respective owner’s trademark. All activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.
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About This Book
Her new roommate is down on her luck...and easy on the eyes.
When Ashley’s roommate moves out unexpectedly, she needs to find a new one fast. There’s no way she can afford Seattle rent by herself on a receptionist’s salary, so when her friend recommends the new barista at their local coffee shop, Ashley jumps at the opportunity.
Hannah is new in town. She’s looking for a fresh start after getting fired, dumped, and evicted all in one week. By a stroke of luck, she lands a job and an apartment in one visit to the funky little coffee shop she visits to use the free Wi-Fi.
She and Ashley could not be more different, but they seem to click anyway. When the friends and roommates realize neither of them has anywhere to go for the holidays, they decide to make their own Christmas right in the comfort of their apartment. When a little too much eggnog leads to a passionate kiss in front of the Christmas tree, suddenly these friends are seeing each other in a brand new light.
Can they move past their differences to find forever? Or will their relationship be as temporary as the holiday season?
“My Holiday Love” is part of the “Friends to Lovers” romantic novella series. Each book in the series is a steamy standalone featuring an LGBTQ couple making the leap from friends to lovers and looking for their "happily ever after".
Be sure to check out a free preview of “The Divorcee’s First Time” at the end of this book!
Dedication
This book is dedicated to everyone who learned the hard way that sometimes the family you make is far superior to the family you’re born with. Be sure you spend your holidays with the people who really matter.
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Hannah
“Can I get you a refill?”
I looked up from my computer at the tall, slim woman standing by me with a coffee pot. She was cute in a girl-next-door kind of way, with her hair up in a messy bun and the freckles across her nose. A little younger than me, not that I should be looking. Not after everything that had happened. Besides, she was wearing an engagement ring.
“Um. How much is it?”
The young woman’s nose crinkled. It was adorable. “You get free refills of drip coffee while you’re in the café.”
I sighed in relief. I was dead broke, and another cup of coffee would help me forestall having to eat for a while. I needed to make my meager savings stretch as far as possible. Plus, drinking another cup of coffee would give me an excuse to keep using the Wi-Fi.
“Okay then, yes please, I would love another cup of coffee.”
The woman filled up my cup and looked me over curiously. “I’m Camille by the way.”
“Hi Camille, I’m Hannah.”
“Are you new in town? I’m pretty good at remembering faces and I don’t remember seeing you here at Morning Jolt before.”
“Yeah, I’m new to Seattle,” I answered, immediately put at ease by Camille’s friendliness.
Her eyes went to my computer screen where I was scanning the job listings. “Are you looking for a job?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, not to be too pushy or anything, but one of our baristas just quit if you’re interested in food service work. My manager Bob was just about to post it online. I can send him out here to talk to you about it if you’re interested.”
My eyes widened. “Really? That would be great.”
“No problem.” She slid her phone out of her pocket and tapped it a few times. “I just texted him to stop by when he’s free. Have you worked at a coffee shop before?”
“Yeah, it’s been a few years though.”
“Well, coffee’s not changed much,” she laughed. “It’s hard work and you have to be here at ungodly early hours, but this is a great environment and Bob is a good manager. Firm but fair.”
Thirty minutes and a coffee demo later Bob had offered me a job. It seemed almost too good to be true.
“Can you start tomorrow?” Bob asked. “No problem if you can’t come on such short notice, but we’re down a barista and could really use the help.”
“Tomorrow works perfectly,” I responded quickly. “What time?”
“We open at five thirty on weekdays. I’ll need you here to set up and start brewing coffee at five o’clock. Camille here will show you the ropes.”
“I’ll be here,” I promised.
I didn’t care how early I had to start, I was just grateful to find a new job so soon. I’d been in town less than a week. As Bob hustled off I turned to Camille.
“I can’t thank you enough.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “You were just in the right place at the right time, and fortunately for you, you know your way around an espresso machine.”
I grabbed my laptop bag that I’d stored behind the counter during the demo. “Okay, well thank you all the same. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I got to Morning Jolt ten minutes before my shift, ready to start my new job. For the first time in a while, I was feeling hopeful about my future.
My life had been going along pretty well until recently. I had a decent job working at a tattoo parlor and I was living with a woman who, while things weren’t perfect with us, I figured we’d get married eventually. Until the day I came home to find the apartment empty. And I mean empty. Other than my clothes and personal effects that were dumped on the floor, everything was gone. Every stick of furniture, every morsel of food, every towel and blanket, every dish, even the toilet paper. Gone.
I’d texted my girlfriend Mona in a panic, thinking maybe we’d been robbed, and she’d responded, “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. Sorry.” Then she’d blocked my number. I still didn’t know what had happened or why she’d robbed me, it wasn’t like we had anything nice anyway. Worse yet, it was the last day of the month, and I didn’t have enough money to cover her share of the rent.
I’d gone to my boss to ask for an advance, leading to an uncomfortable conversation where he told me that they’d just declared bankruptcy the day before and were closing the shop. They’d been planning to tell the employees that same day. At least I’d gotten my final paycheck.
In the space of twenty-four hours, I’d lost my girlfriend, my job, and nearly all my Earthly possessions. And without money for rent, I was homeless too. I’d driven out of Portland in a panic, not stopping until I hit Seattle three hours later. I couldn’t say what drew me here, other than some unexplained instinct, but maybe it was fate that I’d wandered into this coffee shop.
Now that I had a job, I just needed to find a place to live. Who could have guessed Camille would have the solution to that too?
“What part of town do you live in?” my new coworker asked me during a break.
“Uh.” My mind raced as I tried to remember the name of a Seattle neighborhood. Any Seattle neighborhood.
My panic must have shown on my face because Camille stepped in front of me and gave me a stern look. “Hannah. What’s going on?”
“I’m kind of between houses right now?”
She frowned at my questioning tone.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“In my car.”
She sighed deeply, as if my answer aggrieved her. She looked around to confirm we were alone and then said, “Spit it out, sister. What’s going on?”
I gave her the highlights, or the lowlights really, of my last
“If someone ran a background check on you, would the information match what you just told me?”
“Yes!” I said, offended. “I’m broke and pathetic, but I’m not a liar.”
“Well in that case, I think I have a solution to your housing problem.”
Ashley
My phone buzzed just as I walked out of my apartment. It was my friend Camille. We’d met at a local author’s conference and clicked immediately. We both self-published fantasy books and we’d become each other’s feedback partners. It worked well for both of us, and in between critiquing each other’s storylines we’d become good friends.
Camille: Are you coming to Morning Jolt?
Ashley: OMW, why?
Camille: I think I found you a new roommate.
Well, this was good news. My steps lightened as I headed towards the coffee shop a few blocks away from my apartment. Although my books were starting to get some traction, I wasn’t anywhere near making a full-time living with my writing. Unfortunately, that meant I had to spend my days working as a receptionist at a real estate company, which was quite possibly the most boring job in the world.
I’d been sharing an apartment with my best friend Brian for years, but he’d recently moved in with his girlfriend. He’d very kindly prepaid me three months’ rent as a notice, but the longer I looked for a decent roommate, the more nervous I was getting. I’d interviewed one loser after another. I hoped whoever Camille found wasn’t a psycho. I was starting to get desperate. Seattle’s housing market was expensive, and I was paying a premium to be in a nice, safe neighborhood close to work. I didn’t want to have to move.
I pushed open the door to Morning Jolt, my eyes going to my friend. I waved to her as I went to the back of the line. Morning Jolt was always busy at this time of the day. At least they’d finally found someone to fill that open barista position. I checked out the newbie while I stood in line.
She was about my age – maybe early to mid-thirties – and average height, with pale white skin, large brown eyes, a pert nose, and a chin that was the tiniest bit pointy. Beneath her Morning Jolt apron, I could see curvy hips, a trim waist, and generous breasts. With her blue hair and tattoo-covered arms she looked like the stereotypical Seattle grunge girl.
“Oh hey Ash, good timing,” Camille greeted me when I reached the counter. “There’s a break in the line behind you.”
She pointed to grunge girl. “Ashley, this is Hannah, our new barista. Hannah, my good friend Ashley.”
“Nice to meet you, Ashley,” Hannah said politely.
“You as well.”
“Hannah just moved to Seattle, and she’s looking for an apartment. Since you’re looking for a roommate, I thought you two should meet.” Camille stepped away from the counter. “I’ll let you two chat while I make Ashley’s coffee.”
“Where did you move from?” I asked.
“Portland.”
When Hannah didn’t elaborate I went into a description of the apartment. “I have a two bedroom apartment about four blocks from here, in a secure building. There’s a large kitchen, dining room, living room, a washer dryer in the unit, a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, and a large balcony. It’s also got hardwood floors and built in cabinets and shelves throughout the unit.”
Hannah looked impressed. “Wow, that sounds incredible. How much is the rent?”
Her eyes widened slightly as I told her the rent and average utility costs. “Um...”
Just then Camille returned with my nonfat caramel macchiato. “You can afford it, Hannah, unless you have a lot of credit card bills or something?”
Before Hannah could respond Camille added, “You haven’t seen the tips yet, trust me you’ll clear anywhere from fifty to a hundred bucks a day on tips as long as you stay on the morning shift.”
Hannah looked relieved. “In that case, when can I come see it?”
We made arrangements for her to come that same evening after I got off work. For some reason, I was looking forward to seeing her again all day. On the surface, we seemed very different, so I wasn’t sure what that was about. Maybe I was just relieved that I might have a new roommate soon. After living with Brian for so many years I really missed having someone else in the apartment.
Hannah met me promptly at six o’clock, following me around as I showed her the features of the apartment. When we got to the open bedroom I said, “I’ll get this air mattress and dresser out of here before you move in. I had a friend from college come to visit and she used the air mattress. My last roommate left the dresser behind, and I’ve been using it for storage.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said quickly. “I mean, if you don’t need them.”
“Won’t you want to bring in your own furniture?” I asked.
Hannah’s face flushed. “I don’t have any furniture.”
“None at all?”
She shook her head. “My um, my last girlfriend, um, took it when she left.”
“Wait, your girlfriend robbed you?” I asked, ignoring the little thrill of receiving confirmation that she was a lesbian too. “Feel free to not answer this if I’m being too nosy, but what happened?”
Hannah met my gaze. “I have no idea. I thought everything was going fine with us and then I came home one day, and everything was gone from our apartment. And I mean everything. Her stuff. My stuff. Other than some clothes of mine, she left me with nothing. Thank God I had my laptop, phone, and car with me, otherwise that shit would probably have been gone too.”
“Jesus Christ, that’s rough. I’m sorry. Did you report it to the cops?”
“Portland cops don’t come for something like a robbery,” she explained. “They’re so short-staffed you have to be in the middle of murder to get a response, and that’s only if you’re lucky.”
“Is that why you moved here?” I asked. “Because of your break-up?”
“Kind of. The day after I discovered that she’d stolen all my shit I went to work and found out the tattoo shop where I worked was closing. The rent was due the next day and I couldn’t afford it on my own, so I gave the key to the landlord, packed my handful of clothes in a trash bag, and drove here on a whim. Then Camille adopted me, and here we are.”
This had to be one of the craziest stories I’d heard but for some reason, I believed Hannah. Maybe I was being naïve, but her expression seemed to be a mixture of mortification and pain and I really didn’t think she could fake that.
“Wow. Okay. Well, I’m willing to try this out if you are?” When she nodded I said, “Let’s go see the building manager about getting you an application to be a sublessee.”
Hannah
Camille and Ashley were either the nicest people on Earth, or the craziest. Without knowing a damn thing about me, Camille had convinced her boss to hire me, contingent on my background check coming back clear. It would, but neither she nor the boss knew that. Then she’d convinced Ashley to sublet this fan-freaking-tastic room to me.
This apartment was easily the nicest place I’d ever lived. And after hearing about how my ex, or She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, robbed me blind, she’d just trusted that I was telling the truth. I could have been making the whole thing up. I could be a serial killer. I had the strangest urge to take Ashley over my knee and spank her for being so trusting. Not that I would. I really wanted this apartment.
I studied her as the building manager input my application into the computer and ran my credit and background checks. She looked about as opposite from me as she could be. Where I was curvy, she was slim, although we were about the same height. My hair was blue and edgy, where hers was a honey blonde with artful highlights, cut in an uber professional bob.
Everything about her was perfect, from her symmetrical features, to her straight white teeth, to her subtle make-up. She looked like she’d be at home in the Hamptons, or one of those places where rich people hung out.
