Her Plus One: Stand-alone Friends to Lovers, Military, Boy Next Door, Home for the Holidays (Pine Haven Holiday Romance Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright © 2020 by Tell Me More Publishing LLC

  Author’s Other Work | Pine Haven Holiday Series

  Evans Sisters Series of Stand-alones

  Billionaire Brocker Brothers Series of Stand-alones

  PINE HAVEN HOLIDAY BOOK 1 | Chapter 1 – Melissa

  Chapter 2 – Clay

  Chapter 3 – Melissa

  Chapter 4 - Clay

  Chapter 5 - Melissa

  Chapter 6 – Clay

  Chapter 7 – Melissa

  Chapter 8 – Clay

  Chapter 9 - Melissa

  Chapter 10 - Clay

  Chapter 11 - Melissa

  Chapter 12 - Clay

  Chapter 13 - Melissa

  Epilogue - One Year Later - Clay

  Winter Wager

  Copyright © 2020 by Tell Me More Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Tell Me More Publishing LLC

  P.O. Box 764

  Bellefonte PA, 16823

  Author’s Other Work

  Pine Haven Holiday Series

  Her Plus One

  Winter Wager

  Reservations for Mr. Right – coming in January 2021!

  Evans Sisters Series of Stand-alones

  My Heart’s Protector

  My Heart’s Guardian

  My Heart’s Awakened

  Billionaire Brocker Brothers Series of Stand-alones

  Accidentally Perfect

  Accidentally Mine

  Accidentally Devoted

  Accidentally Yours

  Accidentally Divine

  PINE HAVEN HOLIDAY BOOK 1

  Chapter 1 – Melissa

  The box of my wedding invitations, still wrapped in plastic, sat forgotten in the bottom corner of the plastic tub of autumn decorations. I immediately reached for another sip of my mimosa. I hadn’t expected to stumble upon a relic from the worst time of my life while decorating for my aunt’s annual chili cook-off, but I also hadn’t expected to call off my wedding two years ago, either.

  Morbid curiosity clawed at me, and I reached for the white box with silver lettering. My Aunt Leona had probably stashed the box in a random tub in the attic and planned to throw the invitations away once I had stopped crying and moved out. She must’ve forgotten, but I couldn’t blame her since I had planned on staying a couple of months and ended up being here for almost two years. Some people bounced back quickly after heartbreak; I was not one of those people.

  I glanced behind my shoulders and listened to make sure that I was alone. My Aunt Leona and Aunt Eve’s muffled voices were barely audible from the kitchen. I tore off the thin layer of plastic with trembling, glitter-covered hands and slid open the box. I tried not to flinch as I read one.

  Join us in celebrating the wedding of Melissa Monroe and Michael Grove.

  I wondered if he went with the same invitation design with his new model-perfect fiancée, Kymberly. It was a reasonable question considering he had built her the same lake house I had an architect design for us. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and willed away the bile of resentment that started to rise in the back of my throat.

  May twenty-ninth at one o’clock in the afternoon, Melissa and Michael will be lovingly joined in holy matrimony at the St. Andrew’s Cathedral in Greenvale, Pennsylvania.

  I traced the silver calligraphy on the white cardstock. It felt surreal to be looking at the date of my called-off wedding. It was laughable now how much time and energy I'd spent wedding planning. Live and learn, I guess.

  The resurfaced invitations were the perfect reminder that I needed to sign and return the contract with Greenvale’s Socialite magazine.

  I was being offered a lead portrait photographer position at the up-and-coming, trendy magazine, run by a bad-ass and high-profile editor, like Roslyn Winter should be a no-brainer. Yet, I hadn’t made the twenty-minute drive from Pine Haven to Greenvale to finalize the deal because my first photoshoot was scheduled with the city's newly elected, hot-shot mayor. Michael Grove.

  I dropped the wedding invitation back into the box, slammed it shut, and chucked it into the wastebasket next to my aunt’s armchair. Standing, I brushed off the dust and glitter from piles of leaf garland off my jeans and stared at the invitations sitting in the bin. Against my better judgment, I leaped over the mounds of decorations, snatched the box out of the wastebasket, and shoved it into the bottom of my oversized purse.

  "Did you just dig something out of the trash?"

  I yelped in surprise over the smooth timber of a deep, masculine voice that purred from a few feet behind me. I whipped around and locked eyes with a silver-eyed, dark-haired gladiator who casually stood, leaning a muscled shoulder against the entryway from the foyer to the living room. Humor warmed his cool-gray irises, and his chuckle rumbled through his broad chest.

  I blinked once, twice, my heartbeat started to thunder in my chest, and a big, goofy smile broke out across my face. “Clayton? Oh, my God. Clay!”

  Clay’s left cheek rounded, and his lips pulled into a half-smile. “Hey, Mel, happy almost-birthday.”

  I stood and launched myself across the office. Clay pushed away from the door frame and caught me in his arms for a hug. He pulled me against the warm pillow of his muscled chest, and his abs knitted together when I looped my arms low around his waist, pulling his hips against the feminine curve of my stomach.

  Clay’s chest had broadened, and the dips and curves of newly formed muscle were evident under his clothing. Even his voice was deeper, gravellier than I’d remembered. We’d texted one another a few days ago, and he’d wished me an early happy birthday, but we hadn’t seen one another since Michael and I fell apart. Clay was forever an adventurer and had spent the last two years in a remote part of Alaska on a confidential army base doing God knows what.

  I hadn’t meant to mold myself to Clay; it just sort of happened. When it did, I basked in the warmth emanating from his broad chest; he was the human version of a heat-rock. I pressed my cheek flat against the material of his cotton button-down and inhaled his soap and cologne-scented skin. “Is it really you? I can’t believe it.”

  I literally can’t believe it. When did you turn into a gladiator who smells so good that my mouth is starting to water?

  He chuckled, and his voice was low and a little rumbly. “It’s really me. I’m home for the holidays, and just in time for your birthday.”

  I smiled into his chest. "I was going to say; it's only the second week of November. You're a little early for the holidays."

  He shrugged. "More time to celebrate then."

  I laughed without letting go of him. "I can get behind that. I bet your mom's thrilled."

  We were childhood friends and neighbors. Clay and his sister, Leslie, grew up in the house next door to my Aunt Leona's. I had moved in with my aunt when I turned ten, shortly after my mother had gotten sick.

  Leslie and I were the same age, and Clay was a
year younger. Although I was the only one who remained in Pine Haven, we’d stayed in contact. I was much closer to Leslie, but around Christmas, Clay would go on leave from his base in Alaska, and we’d text with one another through the holidays.

  He had started to spend his holidays in Scotland with his sister and her husband. His parents always flew out to join them across the pond. It had become their tradition, which effectively cut out visits to Pine Haven from Clay’s leave schedule.

  Leaning back at the waist, our gazes locked, and we stood n and studied one another’s faces. Clay's looks had changed considerably over the last few years while away. His boyish cuteness had given way to sharper features that turned his appearance from youthful and sweet to striking and swoon-worthy sexy.

  His hypnotic gaze was balanced out by his easy smile that looked damn fine across his squared-off jaw. He was a brother-like figure to me. But today, the stubble on his cheeks and jawline was hot as hell, and it took his overt masculinity to a whole new level.

  I need to get a grip, and not one on Clay McCade. Tess was right. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date. Damn, I should’ve taken her up on her offer to set me up with that lawyer.

  I knitted my brows together. “Clayton, you’re finally gracing Pennsylvania with your presence. Who is keeping all the women of Alaska warm tonight?” I teased.

  Clay growled, then laughed, and gently pulled away from my hug. “You sound like my sister. What are you two, friends, or something?” He winked.

  I smirked and shook my head. “You’ve been gone too long. I hardly recognized you.”

  Clay looked down and rubbed the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, as though he were trying to erase the smile that started to curve the corners of his lips. He looked up at me from under his brows, and his gorgeous sea-salt eyes sparkled. “Oh yeah? What tipped you off that it was me then?”

  I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, and Clay’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Your eyes. I’d know them anywhere.”

  “Anywhere, huh?” His voice had turned low and raspy again.

  I swallowed audibly, and Clay watched my throat work to hide my sudden case of nerves. When his gaze locked with mine, his gray eyes had darkened a shade. A spark flared in the depths of his silver orbs, and the first stirrings of actual worry gripped my heart.

  Jesus, what’s happening? Are we . . . flirting?

  “How is your sister doing?” I blurted out the question louder and faster than I'd intended. It was a blatant attempt to change the course of the conversation. Real smooth, Mel. Why didn’t you just yell, “Flirting with you is a “no-no!” Leslie would smack us both upside the head. She's so protective of Clay when it comes to women.

  Whatever flirty moment that was beginning to form popped like a bubble with my outburst. Clay raked a hand through his short, black locks. His cropped hair and perfect posture were clear indicators that he was a military man, not to mention, he looked like he could bench press a refrigerator. I'd felt the ridges of his abdominal muscles when I hugged him, even through the thick material of my sweater and his button-down. My stomach involuntarily fluttered, thinking back to our full-on hug.

  “Leslie is as big as a house these days. She’s not due until late January, but my parents plan to fly out soon to join her and Aaron for Thanksgiving.”

  I smirked. “I didn't think they celebrated Thanksgiving in Scotland.”

  His gray eyes sparkled with humor. “No, but they do at my sister’s house. Aaron knew that if he was going to have any chance at convincing my sister to marry him and move to Scotland, that he’d have to celebrate all the American holidays.”

  I grinned. It was true, Leslie lived to celebrate the holidays, and Thanksgiving was her favorite. The woman was obsessed with all things pumpkin flavored. "When will you guys fly out?"

  "In a little over a week. So, I intend to get in as much Pine Haven fun as possible. You game for going out?"

  My cheeks warmed over the idea, and his half-smile returned. Clay crossed his arms over his chest, which caused his pecs to strain against his button-down. His biceps flexed, and my eyes automatically traced over his arms. I glanced up at him, and he tilted his head as he studied me.

  I cleared my throat. "Yeah, sure. What are your plans for after the holidays?”

  A frown pulled at the corners of his lips briefly before he shrugged a shoulder. “The Department of Defense offered me another deal at the same base in Alaska. It’s lucrative, and it would be an incredible experience, but they want a four-year commitment due to the base's sensitivity. The Arctic is ripe with military and scientific activity.”

  I nodded silently, trying to digest all the information he’d shared. This was turning out to be a pretty epic holiday break for Clay, potentially life-changing. Four years was a long time to commit to being so far from home in such a remote area with restricted access. “Well, live it up while you can, I guess. Any plans tonight?"

  Clay's eyes glittered. "Guess."

  I tapped a finger to my lips and pretended to think hard by looking off to the side and squinting my eyes. "You're going to meet up with that scandalous Scott Dunn.” My eyes snapped back to his face, and I raised a questioning brow.

  Clay angled his head slightly and grinned. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny that, but, please, go on. I’m intrigued. What else do you predict for my first night out on the town?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and twisted my lips in a sassy grin. “If I were a betting woman, I’d guess that you two hooligans will have dinner at a restaurant in one of Scott's parents' hotels, then drive the rest of the way into Greendale where you’ll hit the bar scene. That’s where the real shenanigans will begin.”

  Clay arched a curious brow.

  I continued, feeling a little bold. “You’ll flirt your asses off with as many women as possible. Scott will zero in on all the scantily clad women, hoping that they’re loose. You’ll probably at least pretend to go for one or two pretty, properly dressed girls, but ultimately get sucked into Scott’s plethora of female friends until Scott drinks one too many shots."

  Clay chuckled. "There's a definite possibility that Scott might have one too many drinks."

  I nodded knowingly. "You'll be forced to carry him back to his bachelor-pad apartment, and you’ll probably crash on his couch. You’ll wake up with a stiff neck and smell like the overflowing ashtray on Scott’s coffee table and feel the need to go out and eat a big sugary and greasy breakfast."

  Clay wore an amused grin and raised his brows until his forehead puckered with wrinkles. I swallowed a giggle. "That's ah . . . a surprisingly specific guess."

  I shrugged. "I know Scott's your good buddy and that you two haven't seen one another in a while. And, I may have added some finer details about Scott because Tess is always complaining about him. You know, for two people who actively and openly dislike one another, they are in one another's social sphere a lot."

  Clay chuckled. "Yeah, Tess has come up in our conversations a few times."

  I arched a brow. "Careful, Clay. In addition to your sister, Miss York is one of my best friends, too."

  He waved a hand through the air. "Scott never said anything disrespectful about her. He just mentioned that they have a knack for getting under one another’s skin. But, yeah, I’m going to see my boy tonight. See what that character has been up to. Then I might swing by a lovely lady’s place if she's home."

  I hummed in the back of my throat. "I knew it."

  "Have any recommendations on what kind of wine I should take? I seem to remember you being a fan, that is unless you've turned into a mimosa girl." He nodded toward the half glass of orange juice and champagne sitting on the coffee table."

  I laughed. "I always drink mimosas when I decorate for the holidays. It just brings out the holiday cheer."

  "Is that why you're glowing?"

  My brow wrinkled in confusion. "Glowing? It's a little warm in here, maybe. Am I shiny?" I pressed the back of my hand
to my brow, suddenly self-conscious.

  His eyes glittered. "No, I meant you look good, Mel. Stunning, actually. When I walked in, you stopped me in my tracks.”

  “You mean I stopped you when you saw me pulling stuff out of the waste bin?" I laughed, but my heart thudded erratically.

  I was speechless. Clay had never flirted with me before. This was a new and unexplored territory for us.

  Aunt Eve poked her salt-and-pepper head into the living room from the dining room. “Mel, it's past two. You should probably get on the road to Greenvale. Oh my, it looks like a happy autumn storm ripped through the living room. Did you find my rug?"

  Aunt Eve giggled to herself, then realized that we had company and squealed. "Clayton McCade! Get over here and let me squeeze you. Heavens, I barely recognized you under all those muscles. Melissa, look how much Clayton has grown up. So handsome! No wonder your mother is always hoping that you’ll have lots of children and pass along some of those gorgeous genes."

  Mortified, I looked at Clay and mouthed, "I'm so sorry."

  Amusement shimmered in his eyes, and he winked at me before he directed his full attention to Aunt Eve. "Ms. Monroe, It's great to see you. You’re too kind, but there will be no spreading of genes on this trip.”

  Eve oohed and awed over Clay, and he listened to her attentively when she started talking about her garden.

  God reserves places in heaven for men like Clay. How sweet.

  I walked over and grabbed my cell phone off the coffee table and checked the time. I still had to sign the Socialite contract and needed to give a thick packet of paperwork another glance over before getting it to the office by the end of the day. Friday traffic in Greenvale started getting heavy by half-past three.

  "Sorry, guys, but I have to go. I have an errand to run in Greenvale." I dropped my cell into a side pocket of my purse. My eyes widened by how weighed down it was by my wedding invitations. I quickly zipped up my bag and snatched my keys. "It was great seeing you, Clay."