Wedding Belle

In the small Christmas town of Dickens in New England, there’s a special magic for second chance, later-in-life romance.

Belle Rodgers, an ambitious loner, loves her quiet life in Manhattan. She’s had all the personal drama she can handle. When she’s guilted into attending her Grandad’s wedding celebration in the New England holiday town of Dickens, she’s shocked to discover the weirdo who tried to lure her into his car at the airport.

His good friends vouch for him, telling her he’s kind and generous but a bit shy.

Ezekial “Coop” Cooper has a huge problem conversing with attractive women; a barricade to the normal life he wants more than anything, made worse since the tragic loss of his fiancée.

But this stunningly vibrant Belle? His heart says she’s worth the agony of trying to talk, despite their emotional and physical distances. She’s big city and he’s moving to Dickens. She’s a loner while he wants a family. He’s done with ambition, and she’s determined to succeed.

Shy brain, they call it. He calls it a damn curse; one with the potential to make him a very lonely man. To win Belle he must change. That change requires conversation—for Coop the equivalent of running through a burning building drenched in gasoline.

First step, get her to stop looking at him as if he were some kind of weirdo.

 

When they meet:

He headed into the terminal, calling Joe for his reserved rental car. Being a regular meant that the agency staff, which consisted of Joe, his wife, and his daughter, brought the car to the doors for him. They’d also offered to sell him one and store it for him, but that seemed too permanent despite how often he considered it.

What the heck, he should do it. He’d talk to Joe and work out a deal. He idly wondered what Nathan would make of this new whim. His buddy would laugh and call it Dickens magic or some nonsense.

The floor to ceiling windows looked white with blowing snow. A squall had moved in.

Odd that the weather could change this quickly. He’d stepped inside only a moment ago. He’d have sworn the skies were clear as he’d walked to the terminal. Maybe he’d been distracted and hadn’t noticed the clouds move in. Or the snow swirl to the ground.

He spied a woman in front of the floor to ceiling windows. She wore a knee-length puffy coat in green with a bright red scarf. Christmas colors he thought with a grin. Her reflection told him she looked worried as she took in the wintry scene outside. Coop walked up beside her and when she turned to see who’d invaded her space, she jumped back.

“You scared me,” she said frostily and looked past him, as if he should be with other people. But, as usual, he traveled alone. Always alone. A state he hated.

The woman was lovely. She had hair a rich shade of auburn and a mass of curls. Her blue eyes looked skeptical as she waited for him to speak. He wet his mouth, determined to get the words out.

He knew he wasn’t a handsome man, but he was pretty sure he’d know if he looked scary. But how to tell a woman he could be trusted without sounding untrustworthy?

He tried a smile, and she stepped back again. Apparently, his smile didn’t reassure her. Or make him look any better.

“I’m…I’m having a r…r…rental brought around if you’d like a lift,” he explained in his least threatening voice. Relief flooded him as the words came out. Only a couple of hesitations. He licked his lips. “Dickens is a sm…sm…small town. I’m sure it wouldn’t be out of my way to drop you off.” He indicated the view of white, blowing snow. “This…w…weather could last a while.” He heaved a breath in and out. He smiled wider, but she leaned back further. He pulled his lips back down to normal. Didn’t help. She still looked around for other nearby people while he felt his ability to speak fade to nothing.

“Right,” she muttered. “No, I’m fine. My ride will be here any moment.” And she opened the door and walked straight out into the blizzard to wait.

Clearly, she’d prefer to freeze than spend a few minutes in a car with him. The upside was that he wouldn’t have to talk to her again. Small mercies.