Stuck in Winter Wonderland

By C.S. Mae

Looking for a new Sweater Weather book? Try this new Holiday Classic!
Noel has hated Christmas since she was born on the 25th, brought kicking and screaming into the world. Every year, the hatred has grown, until she's become the grouchiest Grinch this side of the Sierra Nevadas. Her perfect Christmas is working straight through, and going home to watch the newest true crime documentary with a nice bottle (or two of wine).

Chris was abandoned by Christmas when his mom died and he was shuffled off to boarding school by his ambivalent father. Every year he's taken a nice, long vacation in a tropical location, and this year will be no different-or so he thinks.

It turns out that Christmas has other plans, and soon the two of them find themselves swept away to a Winter Wonderland of eternal Christmas. If they don't learn the true meaning of Christmas and find a way to recapture their Christmas spirit, they could be trapped in a caroling, sleigh riding, cookie making hell forever!

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.S. Mae
• Release date: Oct 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005784607

Book preview

Chapter 1: Noel

My car, the old junker, more or less rumbled and gasped to a halt in the parking space. I took a deep breath, and twisted the keys out of the ignition.

Why did I think it was a good idea to buy this old rat trap? I muttered as I gathered all my paperwork and slung my purse over my shoulder.

Because you’re an idiot who thinks vintage bugs are cool, I told myself. And you promised yourself that as soon as you had enough money, you’d buy one and fix it up.

I really needed to get on that. Lady, named because of the bright red coat of paint the last owner had given her, had been my birthday present to myself last year, and I’d promised her I’d have her fixed up in no time. But one thing had led to another, and all I’d managed to do was have the interior replaced. It was gorgeous, but the engine was still objecting to that little expenditure. It turns out there weren’t a lot of mechanics ready to get in line for a major transmission overhaul on an ancient car for the amount of money I currently had in my savings account.

I levered the heavy door open, clutching the papers in my hand, when someone pushed back on it, startling me. Everything from my birth certificate to my proof of residence went tumbling out of my grasp and onto the ground.

Oh my god, watch it! I screeched, my mood lowering even further. God, this time of year sucks.

You watch it, retorted a deep voice. You almost put a giant dent in my car with this old clunker.

Scrambling out of the bug, I slammed my door and started picking up papers off the damp ground. It had rained only yesterday in Seaside (yes, that is a real place), the small coastal town in California where I lived. It was part of a cluster of towns and cities that made up the Monterey Bay.

Fingers brushed mine as jerk-face helped me pick up my things. We stood at the same time, him glancing at the paper in front of him, me glancing around to make sure I hadn’t lost anything. Getting a Real I.D. was no joke, and I’d had to gather bits and pieces of my life from all over the place to prep for it.

Then I noticed his car, a low sleek looking thing that screamed expensive. I don’t follow cars much, except the old ones, but I bet this one had all the bells and whistles. Also, it was clearly too close to the line.

My head swung up to meet his gaze, outrage stiffening my spine.

You parked too close to the line, I hissed, looking at my own car, perfectly parked.

Laughing green eyes met mine, and I swear to god my ovaries twinged. He was insanely good looking, with a strong jaw that cowboys from old western movies would die for, but a deep dimple on the side of his smiling cheek that any woman would want to kiss. His dark auburn hair crinkled in perfect waves, cut short on the sides, I assume for easier management. He had that beardy stubble that movie stars cultivate, but I was unimpressed. I was!

Jerk-face was impeccably dressed in wool trousers and a dark gray coat, with an evergreen merino wool sweater peeking through. He was way overdressed, in other words. In contrast with my bright blue leggings and oversized black baggy sweatshirt that said Push Team on it (a labor and delivery nurse joke), he looked like he was going to a fancy party instead of the DMV.

Born on Christmas, huh? he asked.

Yes, I was. So, what? People are born on Christmas.

What of it? I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Oh my god, and your name is Noel?" was his other brilliant comment.

Well observed, genius, I said, snatching the paper from him. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to make.

I didn’t bother locking my car, because there was nothing in it worth stealing, and no one would be able to drive it away. Then I stomped toward the entrance.

Of course, he stood right behind me in line to check in, still laughing to himself like I was the most hilarious thing in the world. I felt him lean forward and inhaled his minty toothpaste breath and fresh-scented soap.

I was born on Christmas, too, he murmured.

The line was five people deep, and I sighed, looking at the clock.

Yeah? I asked, half-interested. I doubted he was actually telling the truth. It was probably some kind of pick-up line.

A driver’s license—one about to expire—was thrust into my view and I looked down at his date of birth. God, even his driver’s license picture was amazing.

See? he said, and I turned to meet those pine tree green eyes again.

I see, I said. What’s your point?

We moved forward as someone left the line to their appointed station, then I looked back at him again.

Did you see my name? he asked.

Um… Chris? I said.

Come on, Ladybug, think about it, he prompted, waving a hand like I should have already gotten the point through osmosis or something.

Ladybug? I asked, startled out of the conversation for a minute.

After your car, he answered.

But you know my name, I said, peering at him through lowered brows.

Ladybug suits you, he said. We moved forward another space.

Rolling my eyes, I took a wild guess.

Chris like…Kris Kringle?

Those eyes lit up, and a huge grin split his face, that dimple taunting me.

Yep.

For real? I asked.

For real, according to my mom. She was a big Christmas fan. So we’re kind of a matched pair, he concluded.

There’s just one problem, I said, looking at the clock again.

What’s that? Chris asked. The line moved again.

Two left. Two left, my brain chanted.

I hate Christmas, I said.

His mouth twisted and I could see the skepticism radiating off of him.

For real? he asked.

For freaking real. Worst holiday of the year, closely followed by Valentine’s Day, I said.

Now his face grew serious.

We really are a matched pair, he said, tone solemn.

Oh yeah? You hate Christmas, too? I asked, my turn to be the skeptic.

More than anything. My goal in life is to be as far away from anything holiday related as possible by December 25th. This was the only appointment I could get, though, he complained. This time tomorrow, I’ll be sipping champagne in first class, making my way to an exclusive Maui resort.

Ugh, what a pretentious braggart, I complained to myself. This conversation could not end soon enough. The line moved forward one more time and I could almost feel myself willing the next customer to hurry it up.

Well, have fun, I said, voice syrupy sweet. I’ll be working.

I’ll still be in town tonight, he said, voice lowering to a husky murmur.

Not interested, I snapped back in record speed.

Suit yourself, he said, and shrugged.

I always do, I said, and moved to the front of the line.

I felt him watching me as I shuffled through the different queues, but after I left the DMV office, I didn’t think about him again.

Chapter 2: Chris

Yeah, okay, I parked too near the line and it was my fault Ladybug’s car almost wounded my baby. But come on, that ancient VW Bug was a menace to society, and judging by the sounds it was making as it pulled into the lot, it wasn’t long for this world.

Honestly, I felt bad about the papers, especially after I noticed that little wispy bit of nothing that exited the car. I saw only her head at first, a mop of black corkscrew curls that jiggled around her shoulders like they were having their own tiny party. Then she stood up and I saw big blue eyes, the color of a summer sky at mid-morning, a small snub nose, and the most doll-perfect pale pink lips I’ve ever seen. I wanted to bite them. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, but the dark wings of her eyebrows and long lashes still had great impact.

I could tell from her attitude that she thought of me as a nuisance. Her crankiness, and baggy sweatshirt (Push Team? What the hell did that mean?) told me that she had probably slept in too late and missed morning coffee. I watched her sashay away from me in her bright pink slip-on sneakers, which contrasted so nicely with her bright blue leggings, hugging her slender calves, and hell yes, I followed her.

It wasn’t my lucky day, though. She totally shut me down inside the DMV, and by the time I got out to the parking lot Ladybug and her bright red death machine were gone. I saw the note on my windshield and my heart leaped, hoping that she had left me her number.

There! No Dents! Bah humbug, to you, Kringle.

I laughed, despite my disappointment. She may have determined me a worthless human for dating, but at least I was worthy of a sassy note.

I was still thinking about her as I packed my suitcase. I knew her full name—Noel Gabriel—so how hard would it be to track her down? Maybe after I got back from my two week vacation, I could have that plump mouth that begged to be tasted.

By the time I made it in for my lone office appointment, I was shaking my head and giving up on the whole idea. She’d made it clear she had no interest. Better to move on to someone else.

There were two other cars in the lot in front of my office. I wasn’t seeing patients starting today, but despite being an orthodontist who picks his own schedule, a good friend of mine had broken his front teeth four days before his Christmas Eve wedding, and I was doing him a favor. It was mostly out of guilt that I wasn’t attending.

Look, I can’t do a Christmas themed wedding: the holly and the ivy, the carols, the Christmas decorations. Gross. So, instead, I was doing emergency veneers. I’d already done the base work a couple days ago, and now we were set to finish up.

You might ask why an orthodontist was doing veneers and fixing broken teeth. Well, I’m still trained as a dentist, so why not do my friend a favor so I can skip out on his wedding and go to Hawaii?

The office was deserted as I walked in, but I heard the sounds of my two assistants prepping in the back. Their happy chatter was in direct contradiction to the gloominess of the front office. It was my own fault about that, but I can’t have an office cluttered with Christmas decorations that I have to see every time I turn around, you know?

Bah humbug, indeed, I thought, rounding the corner. I stopped when I heard my name.

Chris is a total dear, don’t get me wrong, but he’s the biggest Scrooge I’ve ever met, said Lisa, a middle-aged woman who’d been working for me for years. She was such a mom, and never ceased to give me grief about my anti-Christmas stance.

How can you say that after the Christmas present he gave us? asked Trina, my petite new hire.

I smiled to myself over that one. I’d done trade with a spa owner who had a set of twins with nightmare teeth, and gotten them all $250 gift certificates.

Yes, and we always get two weeks paid vacation at Christmas, when he jets off to some exotic location to pretend that Christmas doesn’t exist, agreed Lisa. But I’m so sad for him. He must be so lonely during the holidays.

What do you mean? asked Trina. I heard them moving things around, and a cart was wheeled into the exam area.

He has no one. His mom died when he was a boy. His dad is some high falutin’ office executive in New York who never takes time for him, that I can tell. There’s a story with his younger brother, but I don’t know what it is. Chris was practically raised in boarding school, and I think it messed up his idea of what Christmas could actually be, if he gave it a chance, Lisa concluded.

I felt a sharp pain in the region of my heart at the words and quietly snuck into my office to change. Lisa was wrong. Thanks to my mom, I knew exactly what Christmas could be. The only problem was, my mom was dead, and Lisa had never met my dad, so she didn’t know he was actually the biggest Scrooge there was.

My Christmases were never lonely. They might not be what Lisa thought they should be, but they were never lonely. There was always a beautiful woman willing to keep my mom from invading my mind for the two weeks I gave myself every year to avoid thinking about the past.

Hey ladies, I said, as I reemerged from my office. How are we doing today?

Good, Lisa said, giving me a pitying smile. It almost made me roll my eyes, but I held myself in check. Your friend hasn’t arrived yet.

Okay. I’m going to wash up and you can let him in when he gets here, I told her, and went to the bathroom.

By the time Eric had arrived and gotten his teeth finished, I was ready for a beer or a full bottle of scotch. The three of them never let up.

Are you sure you don’t want to come to my wedding? Eric asked.

I hadn’t met him—the tall, blonde scarecrow of a man—until a few years ago, when I joined a city basketball league. He didn’t know my history, but he knew about my anti-Christmas leanings.

No offense, but I’ll be sleeping off my excess champagne drinking on my six hour flight, I said with a grin.

But it sounds so pretty, Trina protested. All those lights, and an honest to goodness group of carolers for music!

I’m sure there will be video footage that I can watch, if I really want to, I said, finally giving in to my impulse to roll my eyes.

Eric hugged me on his way out.

I’ll save a seat for you, man, in case you change your mind, he said. He’d wanted me as a groomsman, but I’d given that idea a hard pass. Instead, I’d opted to send him and Nancy a gift certificate for a couple’s spa day, purchased at a discount from my spa hook-up.

Thanks, I said, with as much sincerity as I could muster.

Merry Christmas! he called, with a wave as he left.

Bah humbug! I called back, shaking my head as I went back to my office to change.

~~~~~

I whistled merrily ("We are the Champions" by Queen, if you must know) as I packed up my car and headed out the next day. The roads were eerily clear on my drive to San Jose airport; I didn’t see a single car. It made for a great highway drive, because usually the 101 was a nightmare during the day, even on Christmas Eve.

Enjoyable ride or not, it was kind of starting to freak me out, so I turned on the radio to make sure there wasn’t an apocalypse I’d missed out on. The stations were all fuzz, until the song, Let it Snow came blasting from my speakers, causing me to curse and reach for the volume.

That was when the blizzard started.

Look, there’s a reason I live in coastal California. I want the seasons to go away. Give me 68 degree weather (more or less) all year ‘round, and I’m a happy man. I hadn’t seen snow since my unfortunate idea to go to Aspen for Christmas one year. That was enough to convince me to ditch snow for life.

But all outside my window, to the maniacal strains of Let it Snow big white flakes of the stuff, the biggest I’d ever seen, splatted against my windows, and filled my entire 360 degree view. They coated the road, sticking and piling together, forming a big, blank, white road ahead of me. I started looking for an exit.

The problem was, I had almost no visibility by that point, so I was crawling down the highway, thanking my lucky stars for modern traction control.

There’s got to be a freaking exit coming up, I said, trying to suspend my disbelief over what was happening to me.

Am I dreaming? Am I losing my mind? Am I hallucinating?

I had only time to ponder the craziness of the alternative reality I was experiencing, before my car plowed into a giant snowbank that was running down the middle of the highway. Thrown forward, I knocked my head pretty badly, which was weird because the impact was so slight, the airbags hadn’t even gone off.

My head whirled and I tried to figure out what to do next, when I slid out of consciousness and entered the black haze of sleep.

Chapter 3: Noel

I couldn’t help myself. I left that red-haired menace a note on his dash, and hightailed it out of there. I stopped at the drive through for some well-deserved caffeine, and headed home to my apartment to bake some treats for my coworkers.

All was quiet when I let myself in—no surprise, since I live with a roommate who’s a flight attendant. She was gone more than she was here, and if she was here, I was probably working. Toni was too busy to have time to decorate for Christmas, so our treeless home was no surprise either.

I sighed and hung up my purse before selecting a true crime podcast to blast from my bluetooth speakers. Then I went to the sink to wash my hands, scrubbing them like I was going into surgery or something. I can’t stop it now, I’ve been doing it for too many years.

I had a giant batch of dough split into three parts, and as I let the oven preheat, I rolled out the nutmeg flavored dough and cut perfect 1/4 inch high circles and placed them on a parchment paper covered air-bake cookie sheet.

When the nutmeg batch was baked and cooling, I worked on the vanilla flavor, then the chocolate cookies. Now it was time for the icing. Chocolate and vanilla were both getting a peppermint schnapps glaze, and nutmeg would have a caramel cinnamon glaze. I dipped each cookie’s top in the runny frosting like I would if I was glazing a donut. Then I waited for them to harden while I made several colors of frosting to decorate them with.

This was my favorite part of the anti-Christmas cookies I brought into work every year. They were my own personal revenge on those carol-singing, Christmas-themed accessory-wearing coworkers of mine who insisted I was the crazy one for refusing to love this holiday. So I made them the most delicious damned treats I could dream up, and if they indulged they had to eat cookies with words like, FU Xmas written on them.

I made a Xmas Sucks and a Bah Humbug. All my Santas had ‘x’s’ for eyes and dead tongues hanging out. I made burnt and needle-less Christmas trees, and lots of melted Frostys. It was so much fun that I almost regretted that I only made them once a year. While I waited for the frosting to firm up, I got ready for work.

By the time I showed up for my shift at Community Hospital, the cookies were on a giant tray that I used every year and covered over with some plastic wrap. There were two layers of them, with a sheet of parchment paper between them to keep them from sticking to each other.

I saw Melanie eye them as I came down the hall. Her smile widened and she followed me into the break room, another of my co-workers trailing her.

I told you she’d bring them, Melanie said, shaking her blonde head as she waited for me to pull off the plastic wrap.

Carmen, one of our more recent hires, who’d been here almost a full year, had never eaten one of my anti-Christmas treats. Now she leaned down to look at them while Melanie took a bite out of her chosen cookie, crumbs scattering across her pink lipstick.

The nutmeg ones are the best, Melanie moaned, finishing hers off in another bite. Darn you, Noel. I promised myself I would be good this year, but I know I’m going to eat at least ten of these.

Christmas sucks? Carmen read, and she laughingly chose a cookie.

Meanwhile, I had put my purse and phone in my locker while I went in the changing room to get my scrubs on. Thank goodness we had to wear hospital issue scrubs in L&D, so no one could break out any that had more holiday cheer.

We call them ‘Bah Humbugs,’ I heard Melanie explain. Noel is our resident Scrooge, but she always takes either Christmas Eve and Christmas day shifts, so we don’t mind.

They are divine, Carmen mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

I exited the changing room, put my folded clothes in my locker, and slid my cell phone into my pocket.

Why do you hate Christmas so much? asked Carmen.

No one to share it with, is my guess, Melanie surmised.

I wondered for a minute if she was right, and if having a boyfriend of longer than six months would make me want to celebrate Christmas. I snorted.

You know, if you were like one of the heroines on my holiday movie channel, you’d totally fall for a shop owner or a Christmas prince or something, and your heart would be changed by your love for him, Melanie said.

Oh, or she could fall for a hunky knight from another era, like that one I watched yesterday. That guy was so dreamy! Carmen crooned, eyes closing as she recalled the details. He had these dark eyes that made me melt and curling blonde hair that kept falling over his forehead. His character was so chivalrous, obviously.

Ugh, was all I could say as they followed me out of the room and over to the nurses’ station where the charge nurse, Becca, was typing into a computer.

What are you three gabbing about? Becca asked with mild interest.

We were saying that Noel would get her Christmas spirit back if she could meet a handsome stranger like in the Christmas movies on TV, Melanie explained.

Becca spun around in her chair, brown eyes flashing.

I just watched this one about a Christmas ghost, and he was so hot, she said, joining in.

My eyes rolled up so far that I’m sure they hit my brain. I prayed for a lady to start pushing or call for a nurse, but one look at the board told me how quiet it was going to be tonight.

How can you fall for a Christmas ghost? I asked, only half paying attention to the chatter.

Oh, this one had a curse on him that made him real for the twelve days of Christmas, and well, you can guess what happened next, she said, and the fifty-five year old married mother of two, with two grandchildren actually giggled. Her graying bob swayed at her chin as she swung back around to finish scheduling shifts.

Good lord, I murmured.

Oh, I’ve seen that one, Carmen squealed. The kisses were pretty hot, but it definitely needed more, don’t you think?

That’s my only problem with these movies, Melanie complained, leaning back against the desk behind her. They need more sex, more spice. They’re great, and heartwarming, but if someone isn’t ripping someone else’s clothes off at some point, I might as well pick up a Susan Elizabeth Phillips novel.

I totally agree, said Carmen. They should have a naughty Christmas movie channel.

I shook my head at them, laughing.

I promise, if I’m ever the heroine of a Christmas movie, I’ll be sure to rip the main man’s clothes off the first chance I get.

To be honest, I probably would. It had been way too long since I’d indulged in some mind-blowing, screaming to the skies, knock your socks off sexcapades. I was becoming uncomfortably close with my vibrator. If my lifestyle didn’t change soon, I’d end up naming it or something.

You know, I have a great guy, if you’re looking to meet someone. He’s my fiancé’s cousin and he’s a sous chef at Montrio Bistro, Carmen said. His cooking is a dream, and he’s one of the sweetest guys I know.

I might be interested. Hit me up over the new year, I said.

By the time I got off work the next morning, I was thoroughly over Christmas. I managed to talk a mom down from naming her daughter Angel, in her own bid to have a Christmas themed baby name. My coworkers, perhaps sensing my disinterest in holiday movies, couldn’t stop talking about the various ones—good and bad—that they’d watched.

I was now convinced I would break out in hives if I ever saw one.

I started up my car, and rumbled out of the hospital's employee parking lot, muttering to myself about stupid buying choices.

When I had gotten down the street a couple of blocks, I noticed the sky darkening visibly around me and wondered if rain had been forecast for today. As my car limped onto the highway, struggling to get up to 55 mph, I was astonished to see flakes of snow start to fall. I’d grown up in Idaho, so I knew what snow was. Believe me when I tell you, I had been happy to see the last of it after moving to California.

The stuff I was seeing come fluttering down in clumpy flakes was blizzard level snow and it was freaking me out. These flakes were sticking on the ground--in coastal California.

What in the hell is going on? I hissed, watching the highway fill up with more and more flakes, which became an icy, slushy mess that I should definitely not be driving in. My windshield wipers were trying their level best to keep up with the flurry of white that was dumping down on me as I drove, but I knew I needed to get off the highway and right now.

Snow was piling up as high as my car, and I had a tiny open space to drive in. I flicked on my blinker to exit the highway, but my tires skidded on the slick, ice-covered road, and I spun around in a dizzying spiral before slamming into a giant snowbank. The world went black.

Chapter 4: Chris

I groaned as I came back to the land of the living. I could tell right away that I was in a warm, cozy place, so I must have been rescued from that freak storm, thank goodness. I had not relished the idea of leaving my car to go find help in that mess.

My whole body ached, and I kept hearing music playing. It was Christmas music, which sucked, but I guess I couldn’t complain too much, all things considered. I opened my eyes to the darkness and saw in the dim light that I was in a big bed, in a bedroom and not a hospital.

Suddenly, the lights flicked on and I groaned again, closing my eyes against the agonizing brightness.

Come on, sleepyhead, out of bed. It’s your week to help with the early milking, a voice that I hadn’t heard in years told me. I’ve got coffee for you downstairs and your breakfast will be waiting when you get back from the barn.

Milking? Barn? What kind of dream is this?

I sat up to get a better look around and saw that I was in a modest bedroom, with a few sports posters like a high schooler would have had hung on the walls. There was a dresser covered with books, a sweatshirt, and some deodorant on one side of the room. Next to the bed was a night stand with another book and a clock that read 4:30 am. I did a double take, and groaned for a third time.

What in the hell is going on?

I thought about my snowy accident, in the hopes that I could will myself awake, because I’d had dreams like this before, where someone kept repetitively ordering me to do something until it nearly drove dream me out of my mind. Besides, I wanted to see the person attached to that voice so badly that my feet unwillingly took me over to the dresser to find something to wear.

There was another rude awakening. It was all jeans and flannel in there, and warm wool socks. I had a bathroom attached to my room, so I took a piss and brushed my teeth, staring at my flannel wearing self in the mirror.

This is so weird, was all I could say, taking in my stubble and unruly red locks.

I stomped down the stairs, having been unable to find anything to put on my feet but slippers and halted in the doorway at the sight of her.

It