Mistletoe & Kisses Read online

  “Don’t look so sad, you two. You can come visit me anytime you want, and once I get my salon open, I expect both of you to be two of my first customers. Plus, I’ll be back to visit once the baby is born.” I hug Devin first, then Ella, who holds me so tightly I start to wonder if Devin will have to pry her off of me.

  “I hate that you’re leaving. I’ve loved having you here.”

  “I know, but I promise I’ll text you every day. Plus you can come visit any time. We could even make a day of it and go see Grandma Rosie or something, maybe have dinner with her and her sugar daddy,” I joke as I try to laugh to help fight the tears threatening to fall at any second.

  Ella releases me and wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “Okay. Deal. I’ll call you in a week or two after New Year’s so we can make plans to do something.”

  “Bye, you guys. Stop being depressed and go inside and watch a Christmas movie, and make out; be spontaneous. I’m not here to interrupt you love birds.”

  They both break out in a smile and wave goodbye to me as I climb into my car. I glance in my rearview mirror and spot Brody standing up in the window above the barn. I press my hand to my chest as I inhale and exhale slowly trying to calm my racing heart. I force my eyes to look straight ahead, crank up the heat, and shift my car into drive, pulling away before I have a chance to change my mind.

  I had one Christmas wish, and that was for me to finally find love. The sad thing is it came true, but like most granted wishes, they always come with a catch. Mine was that the love I feel for Brody isn’t felt in return.

  Thank you for reading my Christmas novella. You can continue reading Callie’s story when I release the novella with an extended ending after the anthology is unpublished!

  xoxo Danielle Jamie.

  Follow me on Facebook, Twitter & Goodreads:

  www.facebook.com/AuthorDanielleJamie

  www.twitter.com/DanielleJamie85

  https://www.goodreads.com/DanielleJamie

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost I need to thank my fans! Especially my street teams, Kayden’s Angels, Dixon’s Darlins, Jordons Vixens & now Chase’s Cuties for working tirelessly every single day to get the word out for my books! Without your support, I wouldn’t be living my dream right now. It still feels surreal to think I’m an author! And not just an author, but because of your undying support, I hit Amazon Bestselling Author twice.

  My street teams spend all day every day pimping me out and helping get the word out to new readers, and I cannot say enough how much I appreciate every single one of you. You’ve slowly become great friends, not just fans. I appreciate everything you do! Withour your support Brooklyn’s series never would’ve happened!

  A SUPER HUGE thank you to my long distance BFF and editor Kayla Robichaux for being a rock star and editing this book as fast as you did helping me get it to my readers. I think we broke a new world record! You are a life saver! If you haven’t LIKED her blog yet Kayla The Bibliophile do so now! Haa!

  I need to give a big thank you to my family. My husband for supporting this dream and doing everything from housework, to cooking, traveling with me to signings and patiently waiting every night for me to finally make it to bed after a long day of writing.

  My girls, Madison and Bailey for being such big helpers! They’ve been a blessing helping keep their little brother Finn occupied and not complaining when I say we’re ordering pizza again tonight.

  I think this is why my beta readers Amy, Kelli, Tammi & Susan for all the feedback and enthusiastic emails after reading each chapter helped keep me focused and determined to deliver the most amazing novel I could write. I truly appreciated all their feedback and their love for this novella.

  I just want to say THANK YOU! To every single one of you who support me and purchased this book! You will never know how appreciative I am for the support I receive from every single one of you.

  If you can please rate and review this novel on Goodreads and the site you purchase from to help share Ashlynn & Chase’s story with the reader world, I would truly appreciate it.

  Christmas Stalkings

  (Bullet 4.5)

  Jade C. Jamison

  for Sierra,

  my awesome new PA who has already taken a tremendous weight off my shoulders

  Chapter One

  I LOOKED OVER at the man who was the love of my life. I might not have thought of him that way when I’d first met him, but I hadn’t appreciated what had always been in front of me. Nowadays, I was fully aware and grateful every single day.

  Brad glanced over and smiled at me, almost as though he could read my thoughts, before turning his eyes back to the road.

  “What’s next, mommy?”

  I turned in the seat to look behind me—sweet Chris, my little boy who was slowly creeping close to school age, and Hayley, his baby sister, sat in two cars seats just behind us. We’d been singing Christmas songs on our journey up I-70 toward Beaver Creek, Colorado, where we were going to spend a mini Christmas vacation—just the four of us.

  “How about ‘Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’?”

  Chris smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah!” He started singing, and Brad and I joined in. Hayley was mouthing syllables, smiling and giggling, focusing mostly on her brother. I sang but truthfully was lost in thought.

  The past year had been a whirlwind. Somehow, Brad knew I’d been feeling restless and needed something more than motherhood to feel fulfilled. He’d talked with his record company and then brought the idea to me—what if I had my own band, started over in the music business? I felt a little unsure. After all, Fully Automatic had been a band before I’d joined them. I didn’t know how sure I felt about starting one on my own. But then he told me that he and Nick would be part of my band too as a side project, and I was sold. So we started off by writing songs and then we auditioned for bassists and found a woman who fit the bill. It was no time at all that we were in the studio recording some of the best songs I’d ever written. We would start touring in less than two months, but we’d just wrapped on our second video and felt like we were almost ready. We simply had to get through the holidays.

  Christmas was going to be a cluster this year. Besides needing to spend time with Brad’s dad and then his mom (my parents, we were just going to see in January), Ethan would have Chris for Christmas Day through New Year’s this particular year, so Brad suggested that just he and I and the kids spend time together for several days before Christmas, so we could relax, enjoy each other’s company, and pretend it was the holidays.

  “It’ll be our Christmas,” he’d said.

  After the past month’s activities, it didn’t take much to convince me. Not only had things been hectic, but it hadn’t taken me long to attract interested male fans. Yeah, Fully Automatic fans knew who I was, had seen pictures (not to mention the old Colorado fans who knew me as the original vocalist of the band), but to see me in action was a completely different thing. Already I had weirdos on Facebook and Twitter getting overly friendly, sending me provocative pictures and suggestive messages.

  The entire world knew I was married, had seen the hunk who was my husband, and these crazy guys thought I might somehow be interested in them? I found it laughable…at first. But one guy had been starting to really creep me out, and I think that was the final straw for Brad deciding maybe we needed to get out of town for a while.

  We already had bodyguards for when we’d go on tour and for special occasions where we’d be in the public eye, but we didn’t have them day in and day out. I found it intrusive and unnecessary… but I was beginning to rethink that.

  Yeah, I hadn’t told Brad, but this whole thing had me rattled. It started with one guy who continually messaged me on Facebook. The first single and video of my band Val Hella had been rather provocative and suggestive (a little number called “Show Me What You Can Do to Me”) and apparently it had incited a few lustful feelings in the fella. These idiots apparently didn’t re
alize I was writing about Brad’s tongue on my neck, my fingers digging into his back. Well, this guy’s adoration was nice and all, but I couldn’t be the object of his affection, and I told him so. He then proceeded to play on my sympathy, telling me that he’d been let go from his job of fifteen because of an injury that the employer themselves had caused and he was trying to fight it. In the meantime, he wondered if maybe I, with my fame, could shed some light on his problem, maybe write a song about it?

  Um…no. I tried to be nice at first, finally telling him he should write his own song about it, that my songs naturally came from my heart—my own experiences and emotions—and I couldn’t fully connect with the subject. He seemed to get a little huffy and then quieted down for a while. When I thought he had finally disappeared, he then began posting to my wall publicly, saying suggestive things about my songs. Trying to connect with real fans, I posted a link to the video on YouTube and he said, “Oh, I’ll show you what I can do.” I ignored it, hoping he’d go away. He’d seemed quiet for a couple of weeks but then started messaging again.

  Jesus, guy, why don’t you just whack off to my picture like I’m sure other guys do and keep your comments to yourself?

  Yeah…there were the guys who sent pictures of their cocks, promising me a lifetime of pleasure. Other guys asked me to check out the pics on their personal pages, ones that showed them in their glory days of music that they’d long since abandoned.

  Some guys just made a virtual pass once or twice and then gave up.

  Oh, then there was the Twitter guy. He kept professing his love for me in one-hundred-forty characters and less—in French. He began tweeting pictures of himself—naked from the waist up—with little lines of love.

  Truly creepy.

  A couple of weeks ago was when the shit really hit the fan. I had no proof, but I was pretty sure it was sad sack Facebook guy or love-you-lots Twitter guy, but who knew? It could have been one of the random cock flasher guys. Whoever it was, one thing was clear—I had a stalker, and this person knew way too much about me for comfort.

  Someone was leaving creepy notes on my car’s windshield when I was out and about. I’d go out to lunch with a friend and come back out to my car…and there it would be. Of course, it never happened in places where there were security cameras.

  The one that gave me shivers up my spine was the one in our mailbox.

  Brad nearly lost his mind over that one. We hadn’t even lived in our new home for a full year, and he was talking about moving to a more secure neighborhood, putting our entire property under lock and key and watchful cameras. I argued, wanting our kids to grow up having as normal a life as possible.

  He countered by asking me if I thought Fully Automatic and Val Hella were normal.

  I agreed, for the time being, to get the law involved. So we told the cops, who suggested a bodyguard. I shrugged it off at first, but Brad asked me to give it more thought. For the kids, he said. The police checked out my social media, but without something more concrete to go on to find out who was leaving me the weird notes on my car when I was out and about, they couldn’t do much.

  Yes, they even checked the notes for fingerprints. Nothing.

  So, between the stalker bullshit and the stress of gearing up and getting ready to go on tour early the next year—not to mention the pressure of the holidays—Brad made an executive decision. I didn’t know how he was able to get a room in the heart of the ski season, but I was sure he merely had to be the highest bidder. I didn’t even want to know how much money he’d dropped for the place.

  I was excited. I’d been to Vail but never to Beaver Creek. As a Colorado native, I loved snow. I looked forward to winter every year and mourned when it left. Chris reminded me a lot of how I’d been as a kid, eager to play in the snow and get wet, finally giving up and coming in when he’d gotten cold to the bone. So when Brad and I told him about our trip, he was excited beyond words. He wanted to talk to his real daddy to tell him the good news.

  Ethan…I could talk to him again finally without feeling like I was going to spit nails. I’d found a way to forgive him, and what helped the most was the fact that he’d finally gotten his shit together. He quit using, stopped drinking, and was trying to stay on the straight and narrow. I credited his girlfriend Jenna with a lot of that. They’d just had a baby too. I didn’t think a baby would help, but the fact that Ethan remained sober after the baby came told me his reformation was going to stick this time. So, even though I’d miss Chris at Christmas, I wouldn’t worry about him like I would have a couple of years earlier, and I now knew Ethan loved his son and they deserved to spend time together.

  “What now, mommy?” Chris asked.

  I frowned. I’d lost track of singing, once again too absorbed in my own thoughts. I turned and smiled. “How about ‘Jingle Bells’?”

  “Yeah,” my son responded and began singing before Brad and I could join in. His enthusiasm was infectious. When he got to “one-horse open sleigh,” he exaggerated the punch, almost shouting, but he also punctuated it by ramming his head forward. It brought a gleeful squeal from Hayley, the child who already worshipped the ground her big brother walked on.

  And that was enough to get Gracie, the kids’ nanny, to sit up from the seat at the back of the van. The girl hadn’t said anything, but the night before had been a night off, and I suspected she’d engaged in more partying than she should have. She told me bashfully that she hadn’t slept well the night before, but I thought she might have been experiencing a bit of a hangover. I wasn’t going to say a word. I’d had a few a time or two myself. It came with the territory of being in a band.

  She’d been sleeping in the back for the trip up I-70 so she could be more attentive to the kids once we got there. We hadn’t planned on bringing her along, but Brad convinced me for more than one reason. First, he said, Gracie would no doubt love the resort. Why should we only take her along for heavy duty? And, second, if he and I decided last minute to go skiing (I’d told him I had no interest), we had someone we trusted to leave the kids with. My husband, always sensible.

  Gracie had been thrilled with the idea. Just as Brad had thought, she’d never been to a ski resort, not like Beaver Creek, anyway. She’d had plans for her birthday for the night before, though, and I thought the poor girl was paying for it. She’d been the only nanny the kids had ever had, and she’d been with us since March, but I couldn’t imagine not having her in our lives anymore. My children adored her.

  She asked, “How close are we?”

  “We’re driving through Vail now,” Brad said, “so not long at all.”

  Gracie stretched. “Might as well stay up then.”

  We hadn’t told her about my creepy stalker yet, but I wanted to tell her once we settled in. She might have observed things we would need to pass on to law enforcement or, if nothing else, she might see things in the future that would be important. Whatever the case, she needed to be let in on it.

  “What should we sing next?” Chris asked.

  “How about ‘Silent Night’?” Gracie suggested, and Chris started right in. I smiled, happy to be with some of my favorite people on the planet.

  Chapter Two

  I STILL WASN’T used to being treated like royalty. It was so not me and yet…there it was. We had valet parking, but first a couple of bellhops loaded up two rolling carts with all the shit we just had to bring with us. Sure, clothing for a week. Makeup and toiletries. Toys for the kids. Diapers for Hayley. Presents for our pretend Christmas. But had Brad and I really needed to bring our guitars and a laptop? All our shit looked decadent next to Gracie’s two small pieces of luggage.

  Instead of being punished for going overboard, we had people fawning all over us. It didn’t hurt that Brad was loose with the cash. Before we headed inside, I looked at the surroundings. My God, what a beautiful place. The hotel itself was amazing, with perfectly sculptured plant life that I knew must have been gorgeous during the spring, summer, and even fall, but no
w it was all buried under snow. The hotel itself was beautiful, with modern architecture that made me think of the Swiss Alps. Even though I’d never been to that part of Europe, I had a definite image in my mind of what might be reminiscent of that place, and this hotel captured those sorts of details, all while feeling quite modern. And the stonework—from the paths that I could see to the raised flowerbeds that were all created using stone—took my breath away.

  But nature itself rivaled what man had built. The evergreens stood proudly under a fresh coat of snow and the mountains hulked over our insignificance. The skies were gray, telling me we’d arrived just in time. I would be surprised if we didn’t get more snow here overnight. Part of me was excited, because I knew my kids would love it. We’d have to do a lot outside when the sun was out. I wondered if the resort would frown on us if we built a snowman in the middle of their planned beauty.

  Of course, I’d been feeling the money ever since we’d passed Silverthorne. The ski resorts along I-70 catered to the rich—or, at least, the upper middle class who wanted to feel like one of the top tier—and it was evident. Vail had a huge golf course, for starters, but there was a feel in the air that I couldn’t deny. It wasn’t like other ski areas I was familiar with in Colorado, ones where regular people—people like me—frequented. They loved skiing, and they’d spend money on the gear and the trip, but it was one of those things—they’d gather up their buddies and go for the day, heading back at night and then planning their next trip. These places felt like they weren’t just about skiing. They were about a literal home away from home, and I would realize that even more once I was able to check out the village just a little way farther up the hill.

  Gracie, the kids, and I sat on plush furniture in the lobby while Brad checked us in at the desk. Poor Gracie looked exhausted. Her long blonde hair—always curly and a bit unruly but absolutely gorgeous—was piled on her head in an informal bun, and her makeup was flawless as always, but her green eyes belied her fatigue. I hoped she’d had a great time the night before, and I planned not to press her into heavy-duty service today. It wasn’t that we needed her hardcore anyway, but having her along wasn’t a bad idea. She could help here and there, and I would be grateful for that. No, the times we would really need her would be when Val Hella would tour in a few months. We’d hired her when we finally decided to move forward with having me start a band. Rather than have a “babysitter,” it made more sense to have someone with some expertise in child care and someone who was dedicated to our children and ours alone. Brad paid her well, and she was basically on call whenever we needed her. She didn’t live with us, although we did have a small room for her at our house for those nights when we’d need her to sleep over for whatever reason. The woman had become a godsend, and our kids loved her. She’d been a great decision, and I was thrilled that she was looking forward to going on tour with Val Hella, because I hadn’t felt this fulfilled in a long time. I felt like I was finally responding to the call of destiny.