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The Flight Before Christmas
The Flight Before Christmas
The Flight Before Christmas
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The Flight Before Christmas

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It's not that I hate Christmas, but I hate it. Since my divorce and Grandma's death ten years ago, I haven't returned to Alton, Illinois. I don't need a man and I don't need my family romping around in my personal life. I'm perfectly content with my thriving international IT security business and my cozy apartment overlooking the bay in New York. But when Grandpa guilt trips me into coming back the night before Christmas, I make a last-minute decision and change my flight.

 

All thoughts of my impending family fiasco disappear when I see my sexy flight attendant. He looks like he should be wearing a military uniform not serving drinks in first class. I know it's been a while, but how desperate am I to consider propositioning a stranger for a one night stand?

 

Not that it matters because all his etiquette goes out the window when we face off. I've never seen a man look like he wants to ravage me as much as he wants to berate me. Maybe this is a bad idea. So much could go wrong on this flight before Christmas. 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 23, 2021
ISBN9798201564902
The Flight Before Christmas
Author

Kirsten S. Blacketer

Kirsten S. Blacketer is a multi-published indie author of both historical and contemporary romance. When she’s not writing, she homeschools her two children and enjoys time with her family. In those moments of freedom, she devours romance novels while sipping a glass of wine. Age has only shown her that writing villains can be just as fun as heroes. Her next life goals are to write a New York Times Bestseller and one day have Adam Driver play a starring role in a film version of one of her books. A girl can dream, right?

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    The Flight Before Christmas - Kirsten S. Blacketer

    Chapter One

    Mel

    Walking out of the board room after a negotiation always gives me a rush of adrenaline, but the crash several hours later leaves me utterly drained. Unfortunately, I have a flight to catch. I had planned to recuperate on the plane, but that’s never going to happen since I didn’t sign a contract today.

    One week. They requested one week to read over the details, then they’ll contact me with their decision. Great. Fanfreakingtastic.

    I have a good feeling about the proposal, but the board didn’t seem overly convinced. I won’t let my confidence falter. They looked eager to accept my terms, even with the price tag. I expect they’ll haggle on some points of the contract. I’m open to discussion, but I know what I’m worth. They do too, but there’s always a catch. The fact they didn’t accept my proposal outright has me worried.

    I give a tight smile to the secretary manning the front desk of the company I’ve been dying to work with since I opened my own IT firm ten years ago. Empire Enterprises has locations all over the United States with their headquarters in Manhattan, but their IT division works out of Seattle.

    I had hoped this whole pitch could have been moved to their Manhattan office, but unfortunately, there was no avoiding the travel on this one. They made up for it with first class seats and round-trip airfare. Since I pushed for the meeting to pitch my plan for their IT security expansion, I was willing to do whatever it took to seal the deal.

    The only opening for a meeting fell on Christmas Eve. For most people, it would have been a deterrent, but to me it’s another day. Ever since Grandma died and Mom and Dad split, I’ve avoided my family like the plague.

    I hate their questions about my love life. My plans for a family. All of it. It didn’t matter because I tried doing things their way and look where the hell that got me. A divorce after five years of shitty marriage to a man who cared more about his fucking cars than he cared about me. No. Never again would I put my own dreams second. I deserve to have everything my heart desires, and I work damn hard to earn it.

    No one calls my shots, not anymore.

    Putting a little extra sway in my hips, I head down the long corridor toward the elevator. Inside, I take a deep breath and secure the bag against my shoulder. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I check it for a notification that my flight status has changed, but it’s an incoming call.

    Damn. I hesitate when I see the caller’s name.

    The businessman sporting the red tie beside me grins when he hears me swear. I ignore him and reject the call, slipping the phone back into my pocket.

    Why is she calling me? I told her a million times. And still every year, she persists. By the time I get back to the hotel, I have four missed calls from her.

    I flop my bag on the bed and pull out my suitcase. A glance at the clock tells me I have an hour until my late check out. My flight doesn’t board until eight. I can grab dinner at the airport and do a bit of work while I’m waiting. No sweat.

    The phone rings again. I steel myself before I answer it.

    Someone better be dead or dying. I secure the Bluetooth earpiece before starting to pack my clothes.

    Well, hello to you too. My sister chirps. Why is she perpetually in a good mood? It should be illegal. Are you coming home for Christmas?

    I heave a heavy, dramatic sigh. After ten years, you’d think the answer would be obvious.

    Come on. The family misses you. My kids are nagging me to see if their awesome aunt is going to show up. Even Aunt Edith keeps asking me if I’ve talked to you and if you’re coming.

    I hope you told them the same thing I tell you every year. I tuck my blouse into the bag with more force than necessary.

    You’re busy. Yeah, I know. Leslie pauses and I brace for what’s coming next because I know my sister. Grandpa wants to see you.

    Here it comes. The guilt trip. I grit my teeth and count to five before responding. LeLu, I love you all, but I’m not coming home for Christmas. Not this year, not next year. End of story. Stop asking.

    We haven’t seen you in ten years. We barely hear from you. We want you to be happy.

    I am happy. Thrilled. Ecstatic. I toss my makeup into my toiletries bag. Christmas isn’t my thing, LeLu, you know this. You all are better off without my presence putting a damper on the festivities. Trust me. 

    The last time I was home for Christmas. Mom and Dad had a huge blowout after dinner and pulled the whole family into the mess. My shitty marriage fell apart shortly after that. Then, as if to put the fucking icing on the shit cake, Grandma had a heart attack six months later and passed away the week after my divorce was finalized. I attended the funeral, but that was the last time I saw my family in person. I have had my fill of family drama. I’m done with all of it. Nothing but the hand of God could drag me back to Alton, Illinois.

    There’s a rustle on the other end and I’m half hoping we got disconnected.

    Melly, I made a fresh batch of your favorite cookies for when you arrive tomorrow. The old gritty, familiar voice sends a pang of guilt and homesickness through me.

    Hey, Pa. I pinch the bridge of my nose and vow to murder my sister at the next opportunity. You didn’t have to do that.

    I know, but I wanted to do something special for you since you’re coming home for Christmas. The sound of his voice drags memories of my childhood to the surface and a lump of regret lodges in my throat.

    Well, I’m not sure...

    It’ll be good to see you. I don’t know how much time I have left. It’s getting harder to move around. LeLu has been taking good care of me, but I don’t feel right taking her away from her family. I don’t want to be a burden.

    Damn it. I lean against the wall and blink away the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. I can’t avoid it any longer. Either I lie to him and break his heart by not showing up, or I tell him I’m not coming and break it anyway. It’s a lose-lose situation. With a deep breath, I bite back my pride and concede.

    You’re not a burden. A half-smile curves my lips at the thought of hugging him again, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The steely, stone-cold bitch façade breaks and I’m five years old sitting on Grandpa’s lap munching on oatmeal raisin cookies. I’ll be there by noon. Don’t eat all my cookies before I get there.

    Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Melly. Have a safe flight. He disconnects the line and I toss my earpiece onto the bed beside my purse.

    Shit. What have I gotten myself into now? How could I let my sister corner me? She

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