The Southern Comfort Christmas Excerpt
Planning a wedding in Chicago when Harper lived in Savannah had not been easy. Thank goodness, her mother had insisted on handling the entire affair. Organization had never been Harper’s forte. She was glad to leave everything to her mother, mainly because she didn’t care about whether they had beans or asparagus for the dinner.
The dull, standard Midwest dinner. But Harper wasn’t going to think about it. Not now.
Had Mom picked up her wedding gown, in storage for the past thirty-five years? Alterations might be necessary—like letting it out four inches and spanning the distance with white lace. That had been her mother’s suggestion.
“I’ll be Home for Christmas” came on the radio. As she drove, tears spilled from Harper’s eyes. Wheels squealing, she took a corner too fast and the portfolios in the back rustled against each other. Yes, she wanted to be home, but Chicago wasn’t home anymore. Not really. Cameron’s Savannah mansion just off Victory Parkway had become her home.
Catching the sparkle of the diamond on her left hand, she smiled. The tension in her neck eased. Anywhere Cameron was, that was home.
His arms? Home.
His lips? Home.
His—whatever. Definitely home.
More tears dampened her eyes. She had to pull it together. Cripes, she’d been so emotional lately. When had she ever felt this stressed out? Like, never.
What was she thinking when she took on these Christmas decorating gigs? It’s not as if the wedding was a surprise. They’d been engaged since Valentine’s Day, for pity’s sake. Why had they ever thought the holidays would be a great time to have the ceremony? Thank goodness McKenna, Harper’s older sister, was up in Chicago and could help their mother. “We’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry about a thing,” her sister had assured her.
“You know, I can’t be running up there to check,” she’d told McKenna during one of their Sunday night calls. “Not with Bella and everything. And Cameron is busy with his own work. Are you sure you can handle this? Otherwise we can dial it down.”
“Not to worry. I’ve got this.” McKenna was always so confident.
Harper swallowed hard. This probably wasn’t the time to tell her older sister that Cameron’s family refused to come. Thin-skinned from the Georgia heat, they weren’t going to travel to the “frozen hinterlands,” as Esther Blodgett called Chicago.
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Planning a wedding in Chicago when Harper lived in Savannah had not been easy. Thank goodness, her mother had insisted on handling the entire affair. Organization had never been Harper’s forte. She was glad to leave everything to her mother, mainly because she didn’t care about whether they had beans or asparagus for the dinner.
The dull, standard Midwest dinner. But Harper wasn’t going to think about it. Not now.
Had Mom picked up her wedding gown, in storage for the past thirty-five years? Alterations might be necessary—like letting it out four inches and spanning the distance with white lace. That had been her mother’s suggestion.
“I’ll be Home for Christmas” came on the radio. As she drove, tears spilled from Harper’s eyes. Wheels squealing, she took a corner too fast and the portfolios in the back rustled against each other. Yes, she wanted to be home, but Chicago wasn’t home anymore. Not really. Cameron’s Savannah mansion just off Victory Parkway had become her home.
Catching the sparkle of the diamond on her left hand, she smiled. The tension in her neck eased. Anywhere Cameron was, that was home.
His arms? Home.
His lips? Home.
His—whatever. Definitely home.
More tears dampened her eyes. She had to pull it together. Cripes, she’d been so emotional lately. When had she ever felt this stressed out? Like, never.
What was she thinking when she took on these Christmas decorating gigs? It’s not as if the wedding was a surprise. They’d been engaged since Valentine’s Day, for pity’s sake. Why had they ever thought the holidays would be a great time to have the ceremony? Thank goodness McKenna, Harper’s older sister, was up in Chicago and could help their mother. “We’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry about a thing,” her sister had assured her.
“You know, I can’t be running up there to check,” she’d told McKenna during one of their Sunday night calls. “Not with Bella and everything. And Cameron is busy with his own work. Are you sure you can handle this? Otherwise we can dial it down.”
“Not to worry. I’ve got this.” McKenna was always so confident.
Harper swallowed hard. This probably wasn’t the time to tell her older sister that Cameron’s family refused to come. Thin-skinned from the Georgia heat, they weren’t going to travel to the “frozen hinterlands,” as Esther Blodgett called Chicago.
Read more of The Southern Comfort Christmas at the following stores:
Amazon
Apple
Barnes & Noble
Kobo