Jingle Bell Jinx , livre ebook

Uncial Press - V Palmer Linda

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17 pages

English

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When nineteen-year-old Raquel McKnight's car is stolen from the mall parking deck on Christmas Eve, she is sure that her family's jingle bell jinx has struck again. And then she runs into her eighth-grade beau Gabriel McKnight. Although his kisses say he never got over her, she can't help but wonder if he's somehow part of the jinx. Has the holiday hex finally come to an end? Or will she add a broken heart to a long list of Christmas calamity?

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Short story

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Publié par	Uncial Press
Date de parution	12 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781601741042
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0113€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Jingle Bell Jinx

By
Linda V. Palmer

Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon 2010
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-60174-104-2
Copyright © 2010 by Linda Varner Palmer
Cover design Copyright © 2010 by Judith B. Glad
Character Photograph Ekaterina Shvaygert - Fotolia.com
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Published by Uncial Press, an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
The Jingle Bell Jinx
At exactly 9:38 p.m. on Christmas Eve, I gave in and admitted that this year's jingle belljinx was the absolute worst of my life, easily beating out last year, when my brand new iPod gotlost in the wads of wrapping paper and accidentally trashed.
I'd wandered every inch of the mall parking deck for the past hour looking for my car, aHonda Accord that was the only thing my dad and I had ever agreed on in my nineteen years. Itwasn't anywhere, which meant someone had stolen it. I guessed that was what I deserved forbuying a vehicle ranking high on both the safest and most stolen lists.
I readjusted my load of gaily wrapped boxes and all the oversized shopping bags thatdangled from my left arm. How I wished I'd gone with the cable knit sweater for Dad instead ofthe tool set. My right shoulder stung with the effort of lugging the heavy black case, and hewasn't going to like it, anyway.
So what now? I wondered, more worried about calling him to say I'd be late than findingmall security to help me. With a sigh of resignation, I walked over to the You-Are-Here map mounted next to the elevator and set everything down on the cold concrete floor. An icybreeze lifted the corner of my red scarf. The air smelled wintry crisp and clear. I heard sleetpattering the windshields of cars parked on the deck's perimeter and wished like crazy I was backin my two-room apartment in Tyler. I'd be wrapped in a fuzzy blanket watching EbenezerScrooge reform and sipping hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. Suddenly I wanted to sit downand bawl my eyes out.
"Buck up," I told myself, exactly what my retired drill sergeant dad would've said if he'dbeen there. A widower since I was ten, he treated his only daughter the way he treated his men,with no tolerance for weakness or emotion. Life was what it was, he always said. Deal with it. Ofcourse that didn't stop him from trying to micromanage mine, the reason I'd escaped to a collegein Texas instead of staying with him and attending the one in Norman, Oklahoma. I loved mydad dearly when there were miles between us. Up close and personal, he drove me crazy.
Digging my cell phone from my purse, I punched in his number. My stomach instantlyknotted with dread. My goal was to say just enough to get by. He didn't need to know what hadhappened until I sorted everything out and knew myself.
The phone rang on his end.
"Raquel Allison McKnight, where in the hell are you?" he asked by way of answering."We thought you'd be here by six."
I guessed that "we" meant his younger brother Mel, wife Josie, and their perfectdaughters Sara and Steph, who sometimes spent Christmas with us. Unfortunately, my girly-girlcousins and aunt didn't approve of tomboys, so regularly tried to engineer makeovers. As forMel, I couldn't quite believe he and my Dad had the same parents.