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    OMG Christmas Tree
    OMG Christmas Tree
    OMG Christmas Tree
    Ebook131 pages2 hours

    OMG Christmas Tree

    By Stephanie J. Scott

    3.5/5

    ()

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    • Personal Growth

    • Self-Discovery

    • Small Town Life

    • Family Dynamics

    • Holiday Season

    • Opposites Attract

    • Holiday Romance

    • Fish Out of Water

    • Friends to Lovers

    • Small Town Romance

    • Love Triangle

    About this ebook

    One country guy. One city girl. One big tree.

     

    Megan:

    Three nights before Christmas, and all I need to do is to pick up a Christmas tree.

     

    Never mind I'm a city girl who's never bought a real live tree. The biggest and best tree in the lot will impress my mom and her new husband, helping them forget how I've neglected to visit their tiny town of Crystal Cove.

     

    Nick:

    Three nights before Christmas, and all I need to do is to pick up a Christmas tree. The one saved for me that I should have picked up already for the charity event at the historic mayor's mansion on Christmas Eve.

     

    A task my mother, Mayor Bennington herself, entrusted me with. Now the biggest and best tree in the lot is gone.

     

    Lucky me, I have the chance to redeem myself by helping a recent tree buyer out of a snowy ditch. Wow, is she pretty. And in possession of my tree.

     

    Falling for the country boy is not part of Megan's holiday plans. But for Nick, stumbling upon this city girl might be just the wake-up call he needs.

    OMG Christmas Tree is a sweet, slow-burn, holiday romantic comedy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStephanie J. Scott
    Release dateOct 12, 2021
    ISBN9781954952102
    OMG Christmas Tree
    Read preview
    Author

    Stephanie J. Scott

    Stephanie J. Scott is the author of young adult and contemporary romance stories about characters who put their passions first. She loves dance fitness and has a slight obsession with Instagram. She lives outside of Chicago with her tech-of-all-trades husband. Find her on Twitter and Instagram at @StephScottYA Sign up for her author newsletter here: https://www.subscribepage.com/n1x6s1

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      Book preview

      OMG Christmas Tree - Stephanie J. Scott

      Chapter 1

      Megan

      I was destined to be a disappointment.

      I know Christmas is in four days, I told my mother into the phone for the second time in as many minutes. "The reason I’m working is because it’s the holidays. Everyone wants the next few days off for vacation."

      "And you never get one. Not even a measly few days to see your family."

      Heaping spoonful of guilt, anyone?

      We have an event at the cafe tonight, I responded. Running special events puts me one step closer to store manager. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping nobody heard me. I didn’t want to sound desperate.

      Can’t a coffee shop shut down for a week? There are plenty of places for people to get coffee in Chicago.

      A coffee grinder buzzed, cutting any reply short. Funny, I was the one with my thumb on the GRIND button.

      Sorry, can’t hear! I shouted, scrunching my shoulder toward my ear to hold the slim phone steady. Naturally, it tumbled onto the counter face down into a puddle of peppermint creamer.

      My coworker Cam reached across me and shut the grinder off. Take your break, Megan.

      The gaming group will be here in twenty—

      How about now. Cam’s usual soft brown eyes blackened.

      Got it. I pinched the phone from the counter and wiped the screen against my apron along the Drip name and logo. I have this under control.

      Cam said nothing. Simply looked at the grinder in front of me.

      Empty. I’d been grinding nothing but bean dust and generational angst.

      Sigh. I zipped into the back room.

      My wedding, Megan, Mom was saying through the phone. You missed my wedding.

      I switched the phone to my other ear, Silly me. Like my right ear would suddenly make this conversation any easier.

      Mom, you know I would have gone if—

      You didn’t have to work. She filled in for me. That’s always the case. Well, I’m telling you the truth. It upset me. And your grandmother. And Stu. Stu is still upset.

      I shut my eyes, but her words seeped through. I’m sorry I missed your vows with Stu. What sort of name was Stu, anyhow? Short for Stuart, my brain reminded. Shut up, brain! You gave me two days’ notice. I couldn’t get to Wisconsin that fast. Not when the work schedule already went up.

      The line went quiet. On the other side of the door, coffee grinding (actual beans this time; Cam had that down) and customers chatting offered familiar comfort.

      It’s been a tough few years. Mom’s tone softened. I miss my baby. I want you to see how far we’ve come. How happy I am with Stu. I want you to be part of this Christmas.

      I know. The printed shift schedule on the bulletin board blurred before my eyes. Tears? Now, at work? I wiped my cheek. I miss Dad.

      Oh, honey. Me too. He’ll always be with us. Always.

      Four years since we lost him and some days it felt like yesterday. The holidays brought it all back. All the feels.

      I wish we’d had one last Christmas in the house. I cringed at my own words. The things that fell out of my mouth sometimes…

      It made sense to move in with Stu since I’m retired. Her words became clipped, her tone less sympathetic. The house sold quickly. That’s good news to most people.

      I wanted to hold on to our house the way it always had been. Wishful thinking.

      Your father would have wanted you to spend the holidays with your family.

      Back to my time off, or lack of. Guilt: double shot, no whip, topped off with more guilt.

      She wasn’t wrong. Dad would have wanted us all together for the holidays, including my brother, Derek. He lived in Seattle, working in tech. As hard as Dad worked, he’d always made time for us during the holidays.

      But it wouldn’t be our family. Stu’s adult children were coming in for a big dinner at his—his and Mom’s—house. His kids had careers in podiatry and particle physics. Grinding coffee beans couldn’t compete with smashing atoms.

      My dream? Hoping to be a coffee shop manager.

      I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me. Mom’s voice thickened with emotion.

      She’d already stirred me up with the Dad stuff. When it came to him, I couldn’t say no. The work excuse wouldn’t hold up. I owed my mom to be with her this holiday.

      I grabbed the staff schedule off the board. I’ll give it the old Campbell Can-Do.

      It’s what Dad would have done.

      image-placeholder

      I owed two coworkers coverage any day they needed for the next six months. Brain: add Learn negotiating skills to my To-Do list.

      Three days until Christmas and I was due back the day after the holiday. Now that Mom was with Stu, she lived so far north their backyard edged the Wisconsin state line.

      I headed out with my car’s backseat only partly filled by a suitcase and a small bag of gifts. Not five minutes later, my phone rang in the seat beside me. No Bluetooth in this old thing, so I poked the speaker icon without looking.

      Megan, it’s your mother.

      Do you call Derek this often?

      Did I tell you he’s coming? Derek just got a last minute flight.

      Of course, he’d be there. He probably kept his long-planned visit a surprise with a story about last minute tickets. He knew it would delight Mom. Derek was so predictable. And reliable. Things I strived for, but usually fell short.

      I’m glad I caught you, she went on through the speaker. If you could pick up a tree for us on the way in, that would be so helpful. Sawyer’s Tree Farm. You’ll see it a mile from our exit.

      Brake lights strobed ahead in a seemingly endless red ribbon. I’m sorry, what? I thought you said something about a tree.

      The tree farm is on your way to the house. If you could pick one up for us on your way in.

      A real live Christmas tree. From a tree farm. A tradition my family never participated in. Why now? You want me to get you a Christmas tree?

      After our weekend trip to Lake Geneva and getting settled after the kitchen upgrade, we haven’t had time to put up decorations. The tree will be easy. Up here, they do it all for you. They’ll carry the tree to your car and tie it to the roof.

      Right. A whole tree tied to my roof. Perfectly normal.

      The tree is going in the front room, she continued. Our home has a two-story foyer, so we can fit a nice-sized tree.

      I bristled at our home. Time to muster the family Campbell Can-Do attitude. Okay.

      You have enough money, don’t you? We’ll pay you back of course.

      Yes, Mom. I have enough money for a single Christmas tree.

      Never mind I had no clue how much a real tree cost. Or an artificial one. My own fake tree came from a garage sale complete with someone else’s homemade ornaments, my fave being a Mery Christmus 1987 stuffed sachet with a cross-eyed cross-stitched puppy.

      Also, never mind my bank balance held a decidedly unimpressive amount of money. I paid my rent on time and I never went hungry. I was doing just fine, and with that promotion to store manager, I’d be even better.

      I won’t keep you. Stay safe on the road. Mom ended the call without extended fanfare. Ever the efficient woman from her career as a nurse.

      Mom, retired. Taking weekend trips and renovating a kitchen? Wild. Our old kitchen never changed for the entirety of my childhood. The counters bore scars from a generation of holiday baking and family dinners. The wallpaper peeled in predictable places, with my brother’s and my height marks penciled in beside the patio door.

      Traffic inched forward. Me and half the population of Chicago headed out of the city for the holidays. If only I were going home.

      Chapter 2

      Nick

      Hey, Nick, what’s up?

      I held up my hand for Ethan Sawyer’s fist bump.

      I expected you at least a week ago, Ethan said.

      Yeah, yeah. I shoved my own gloveless hand back into my coat pocket. I meant to swing by, but life is a little…different this year. Besides, I knew you’d save a tree for us.

      Ethan, bearded and wearing a heavy red-and-black checked coat, called across the lot to his also-bearded brother. We still got the Benningtons’ tree?

      His brother Rob ran a credit card through a handheld reader. A family circled around him holding their chosen tree, big and round at the bottom with a skinny, crooked top. A pretty busted-looking tree if you asked me, but the little girl hopping up and down didn’t seem to mind. Rob handed back the card and looked over at us. It’s almost Christmas, man. We have to sell what we have.

      Mild panic shot through me. I turned back to Ethan. You don’t have our tree? The Sawyer Tree Farm always kept one of their best—at least ten feet—for our family.

      Ethan hefted a bundle of firewood onto a pyramid

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