Day 1 of the 10-day Countdown!
It’s day 1 of the 10-day Countdown!! Enjoy a sneak peek of chapter 1 of Don’t Mess with Christmas.
Don’t Mess with Christmas is Book 4 of the Dr. Brogan Corkie Matchmaking Doctor series ~ matchmaking at its funniest! November 2 is the big day. Woohoo!!
Dr. Brogan Corkie is happily semi-retired from medicine and now has time for other hobbies. Her passion for food is second only to her skill at matchmaking!
Parker Roy grew up in the middle of four brothers and has lived with enough testosterone to last her a lifetime. She’s finally moved out and made a life of her own. Between putting the finishing touches on the set for Mapleton’s Christmas play, plowing snow, and transforming her hydroponic greenhouse into a Christmas wonderland, it’s ramping up to be a hectic season.
Dr. Julian Murphy, the only allergist in town, has his eye on the woman behind the set design of the holiday play. He’s volunteering backstage in the hope of getting to know her. There’s a bit of a snag when she’s referred to his clinic for a rash – doctors aren’t allowed to date their patients – but Dr. Brogan Corkie doesn’t see it as an insurmountable problem and steps in to give their romance a nudge. She’d better be right because, if not, it could seriously mess with Christmas.
The allergist or the rash– which itch does Parker want to scratch?
Don’t Mess with Christmas is available for pre-order. A bargooooon for $1.35! Release day for the e-book is November 2!
Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L1DHDMS
Amazon.ca: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08L1DHDMS
Paperback: https://www.amazon.ca/Dont-Mess-Christmas-Linda-OConnor/dp/1988955165
Chapter 1 Don’t Mess with Christmas
Parker Roy took the turn into the parking lot of Mapleton’s Centre for the Performing Arts a little too sharply and felt her tires skid. She swore and corrected the path of her Ford F-150. Between the heavy blade on the front of her truck and the load of sand in the back, she rarely lost control, but eighteen long hours of plowing and shovelling were catching up with her. That little burst of adrenalin should help get her through the final push.
It was feast or famine in the snowplowing business, and the past twenty-four hours had definitely been a feast. Snow and ice had blanketed Mapleton and shut down most of Ontario in a freak October storm. Schools were closed and businesses were put on pause until the roads and sidewalks could be cleared. City workers had been working around the clock, and private snowplowers like her were, well, “busy” was an understatement. Thankfully, it was almost done. It’d be great for her bank account, but her aching muscles reserved the right to complain.
She had one more driveway to clear and then could head home, soak in a hot bath, and crawl into bed. But before she could tackle the Iversons’ property, she had to deal with this:
Norris Robertson had called her cell phone in a panic. Something about the structure she’d built for the Christmas play not being strong enough to support the children who would be dancing on it. Norris Robertson was a pain in the patootie. She shook her head. Did he honestly think she would design and build a structure that would fail? Jeez. What a doughhead.
From past experience she knew it would be quicker to go and deal with his concern in person rather than waste time trying to reason with him over the phone.
So here she was. She glanced in the rear-view mirror and winced. She looked as crappy as she felt. Dark circles under her eyes, her nose red from the cold, and two pale spots of frostbite high on her cheeks. She tucked the stray strands of blond hair, stiff from sweat, under her tuque and pulled the knitted cap further down over her ears.
She’d give Norris exactly ten minutes, no more. She grabbed her gloves and left the warmth of the cab of her truck. The snow crunched under her feet, and she slipped backward when she yanked open the side door of the building. Shouldn’t even be out in this weather, she grumbled under her breath.
She walked down the hallway following the sound of music and laughter coming from the Karen Kain room, where the set had been assembled the week before. What the heck? Norris was hosting a party?
She stepped into the room and stopped. The stage floor was covered in a large tarp, and open paint cans, rags, brushes, and rollers were off to one side. A ladder leaned against a wall of what would eventually be the outside of a two-storey triplex. Three men were busy working – one was drawing the details freehand and two painters were filling in colour behind him. Parker blinked. Wow. The whole thing was like a scene out of a firefighter calendar: tall muscular sexiness. She had a thing for men with closed-cropped hair and well-fitted jeans – just take your pick. Even through the haze of fatigue she could admire their gorgeous good looks, infectious smiles, sexy laughter, and crazy talent.
Her reverie was broken when Norris blocked her view and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His brows furrowed together. “About time. It’s bad enough that this snowstorm put us behind schedule.”
Parker swallowed the sharp retort. Opening night was still eight weeks away. “What’s the problem, Norris?”
Behind him, the men stopped what they were doing and turned in surprise. The artist on the ladder winked at her.
“The set is unacceptable,” Norris said. “I have serious concerns about the engineering integrity.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo. There’s never been a problem with anything I’ve built. What about it concerns you?”
“You may have built a set in the past–”
“Every set, every year, for the past six years,” Parker said sweetly. “But go on…”
His face tightened. “That may be, but this is our most ambitious one yet. We’ve never had a structure like this, with individual balconies. How can you guarantee they’ll hold up? You know they plan to dance on them?”
Parker nodded. “I did know that. I always run my designs past my mom, who, I’ll remind you, is a structural engineer. She signed off on them, and the whole set was built to my exact specifications.”
Norris huffed. “How do we know your mother isn’t just cutting corners for you?”
Parker silently counted to ten. It wasn’t the first time Norris had pushed back against a decision made by a woman. Was that what this was really about? She dug down deep for patience. “Do you really think that, Norris?”
He looked down his nose at her. “I’m in charge here, Parker. If something goes wrong, I’ll be blamed. I’ve got to dot my i’s and cross my t’s.”
On the stage, Wynken came down off the ladder, nudged Blynken, whispered something to him, and shut off the music. He gestured for Blynken and Nod to follow, and they disappeared behind the set.
“You’ve known my mom forever, Norris. Do you really think she would do something like that?” Parker tilted her head when Norris puckered his lips.
He lifted his chin. “I don’t think the balconies look sturdy enough.”
Parker laughed. “You’d be wrong.”
Norris stepped closer to her, his lips in a sneer, his eyes slits. “Prove it.”
Wynken stepped onto one of the balconies and started marching. The noise reverberated in the empty theatre. Norris turned around with a start as Blynken and Nod jumped out onto the adjacent balconies and joined in. The three of them started singing “YMCA.” They marched through the verses, added actions to the chorus and, free-style, danced to the ending, singing in perfect harmony.
They finished with a flourish, jumping one last time. The set held solid.
Wynken held out his arms. “Looks like you don’t have anything to worry about, mate. Sturdy as a rock.”
“Not even a bit of give,” Blynken chimed in.
“Completely safe, I’d say,” added Nod with a wide smile.
Parker muffled laughter as she clapped. “Well done. Thank you.”
The three men grinned and bowed, then disappeared through the doors behind them.
Norris’s face was a deep shade of purple and the pulse in his neck bulged. “Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this. Ian’s band of merry men and their little stunt proved nothing.”
“Really? I thought it was great.”
When Norris looked ready to explode, Parker swallowed her laughter. “Norris, obviously you’re not going to believe me when I tell you it’s safe, so I’m wasting my time here. I have work to do. The certified drawings are with Madge. I suggest you take it up with her.”
“Maybe I will.”
Parker smirked. “Peachy.” She turned on her heel and headed out.
“Thanks for plowing my driveway.” The words came out reluctantly.
Parker rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome, Norris. Drive carefully.”
She retraced her steps down the hallway and shook her head. Norris needed an invitation to join the twenty-first century. She reached the exit and pulled open the door.
“Hey.”
Parker turned. Wynken, a.k.a. Ian, waved at her from down the hall.
“Hey, yourself,” Parker said, putting her foot in the door to hold it open. “Thanks for your help back there. That was lit.”
Ian laughed. “Our pleasure. The set is fantastic, by the way. It’s a very clever design.”
Pleasure swamped Parker. “Thanks. Your painting is bringing it to life.” He was close enough for her to see the smile in his eyes. A flutter of desire flared in her chest. She tamped it down. Silver Bells. What are the chances he’s single?
Ian walked closer, and Parker shifted restlessly. Between the baggy old snow pants and the hours of sweaty work she’d just done, it would be best if he didn’t come within smelling range. She started to sweat under her tuque. “I should get going. Thanks again for the show…of support.”
Ian grinned. “Any time. It’s Parker, right? I hope to see you around.”
Parker nodded, flustered that he knew her name. “S…sure.” His blue eyes were absolutely mesmerizing. A cold wind whistled through the open door, demanding her attention. “Have a good one, and drive safely.” She ducked outside, and a strong gust caught the door and closed it with a bang.
Not the elegant exit she was going for. She debated whether to poke her head back in and apologize for slamming the door, essentially in his face. Get a grip. He probably doesn’t care.
She shuffled gingerly across the icy parking lot and stepped up into her truck. She started the engine and turned down the heat when it blasted on. Looking at herself in the mirror, she grimaced. A gorgeous guy talks to you, and you flit away like a scared rabbit. More like a stinky skunk. She laughed ruefully at her reflection. And that is why you are still single.
Don’t Mess with Christmas is available for pre-order and releases tomorrow!! It’s a bargooooon for $1.35!
Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08L1DHDMS
Amazon.ca: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08L1DHDMS
Paperback: https://www.amazon.ca/Dont-Mess-Christmas-Linda-OConnor/dp/1988955165