On Tour with Prism Book Tours
Release Blitz for
Dream Of Me This Christmas Eve
By L.A. Sartor
Dream Of Me This Christmas Eve
(Star Light ~ Star Bright #4)
By L.A. Sartor
Contemporary Romance, Christmas
ebook, 127 Pages
December 1st 2018
Boulder, Colorado, attorney Maximillian Henderson III is in a bind. His new law office won’t open on schedule unless he finds immediate help to finalize his building’s renovation.
Award-winning designer Caroline Young is visiting Boulder for a family wedding and has promised to stay through Christmas. Meeting Max at the wedding and hearing his problem, she accepts his plea for help. But if she can make him see past his own nose, she could make it even better.
Creating a new design only works if she commits to staying longer. By doing so, she puts her heart and her treasured independence at risk.
Max is aware her life and business are in California, and a long-term relationship is impractical. Still she adds vibrancy to his plain black and white world, and his dream of her on Christmas Eve convinces him to try.
On Christmas Day, Caro reveals that she must return home for a vital meeting, breaking her promise and his heart.
Max has new plans for his office but no Caro. Can he convince her to return to him and find a way to meld their lives?
Feel this? Seriously, she wanted him to do what? After that sigh, he wasn't sure he should. “Why are you so excited about an afghan?”
“Not just any old afghan, this one is vicuña. Seriously, feel it.”
If he hadn't reached out to take it from her, the throw would have fallen to the floor, and Max had an idea that would have been akin to sacrilege in Caro's eyes.
Despite himself, he held it up to his cheek. Soft, supple … Whoa, his thoughts were spinning in wild directions, all because of the woman sitting in front of him. “Nice.”
“Nice? Do you know what vicuña is?”
“Nope, can't say that I do.”
“It's the wild relative of the llama. Pretty rare these days. The Incas believed the critters were reincarnations of lovely young maidens, so only Incan royalty were allowed to wear the fleece. Their wool is incredibly expensive. Nevertheless, I'd love to find some.”
Max handed her back the throw, only to see her again bury her face into its softness. And damn if his body didn’t heat up a few degrees thinking about her nuzzling his neck with the same passion. Sucking in a lungful of the chilly air wafting through the front door cleared his mind. Just. “First, how do you know all this? And second, what would you do with the wool if you were to find and then afford it?”
“First, I love random facts. My teachers hated that, especially when I spouted off in class, answering a question with a fact or even another question.”
“And yet you were valedictorian of your high school class. Phi Beta Kappa, and magna cum laude at university.”
“How’d you know?”
“Brice. He talks about you all the time.”
“Oh, did he tell you that I knit?” She gestured Vanna White style to the sweater still topping her maid-of-honor gown.
Max felt his brows rise in surprise, and there was nothing he could do to stop his obvious reaction to her last reveal. Knitting seemed like such an old-fashioned art for a free spirit like Caro. He prided himself on reading people—it was one of the traits that made him a successful attorney. Yet Caro, in the past few hours, delivered him one surprise after another. His interest level in her ratcheted up and went beyond his physical attraction.
If she agreed to his plan, this could be an interesting week ahead, matching wits and wherever anything else led. “You read structural and interior design plans, right?”
“I create design plans for structural engineering. So yes.”
“My designer has the flu and can't finish the work on my new office building. I could use your expertise to help complete the final phase so it's open by the new year.”
“I'm not really an interior designer.”
“It's a bit more than that.”
“How much more?”
She pulled the afghan up on her lap a little higher and he realized the draft continued.
“Hold on a sec, I’m going to see if the door was left open. It’s letting in minus-degree cold.”
Everyone had left the house. He closed the slightly ajar door, feeling instantly warmer, then returned to Caro and perched on the sofa’s arm.
“Okay, so you’re not an interior designer. And you asked how much more.”
She nodded, then poured a bit more champagne into her glass and sipped.
“The building is old and I’m having a lot of work done to the interior. And some new windows added. And—"
He stopped when she held up her hand. Uh oh.
Other Books in the Series
I started writing as a child, really. A few things happened on the way to becoming a published author … a junior high school teacher who told me I couldn’t write because I didn’t want to study … urk … grammar. I went to college, moved a few times, came home and found the love of my life (that is another novel worthy story, but for later), and got married.
We were super busy with our respective careers, mine a custom jewelry business with my mom, who was also teaching metalsmithing at the time, and my husband a crazy law career. We had two fur babies, Fudge (and briefly her brother Smudge, but sadly he didn’t live very long) and Two. Our cats would sleep with us and when they’d stretch out to their full length, we’d end up sleeping on the edge of the mattress.
I have always been a voracious reader and one night after throwing a particularly bad book at the wall (even putting a small ding in said wall), I realized that I could do better. I told my husband, and he said go for it. I called Mom and she revealed the junior high teacher story and she told I’d been writing all the time up to that point.
That blew me away. I didn’t remember any of it. But I started writing again, nearly the next day, pen and paper, learning, making mistakes, winning contests, nearly getting an agent, becoming disenchanted with the publishing industry and moving away from novel writing to screenwriting, getting a contract for a script and doing really well in screenwriting contests.
But none of that was making me much money. After numerous scary robbery drills I wanted to move away from my bank job (yes, this is many years later and a lot of stuff in between) and write full time for the green stuff.
My husband told me repeatedly that independent publishing was becoming a valid way to publish a novel and people were making big dollars. I didn’t believe him even after he showed me several Wall Street Journal articles. I thought indie meant vanity press.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I started pursuing this direction seriously, retired from the bank and hit the keyboard, learned a litany of new things and published my first novel. My second book became a bestseller, and while I’m not rolling in dough, I’m absolutely on the right course in my life.
So if you have a dream, pursue it as hard as you can. Life can get in the way, but never give up.
Please come visit me at www.lasartor.com, see my books, some pictures, some screenplays and sign up for my mailing list. I have a gift I’ve specifically created for my new email subscribers. And remember, you can email me at Leslie@LeslieSartor.com.