Celebrate the holidays with this magical Swift River Valley novella from New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers
When fashion designer Alexandra Rankin Hunt is asked to create the dresses for Olivia Frost’s Christmas wedding in tiny Knights Bridge, Massachusetts, she jumps at the chance. She’s certain she’ll never get to design one for herself—not with her history of falling for the wrong men. Ian Mabry, the sexy fighter pilot whose bravery reminded her of her beloved great-grandfather, was the worst yet.
To Alexandra’s surprise, Ian is also at Carriage Hill, Olivia’s picturesque country inn. And if anyone can charm his way into a wedding, it’s him. Ian wants more than an invitation—he’s determined to find a way back into Alexandra’s life.
Don’t miss Echo Lake, the next novel in Carla Neggers’ unforgettable Swift River Valley series.
Christmas at Carriage Hill
Carla Neggers
I hope you enjoy this story, whether you’re new to my Swift River Valley series or have read it from the beginning, when Olivia Frost and Dylan McCaffrey meet in Secrets of the Lost Summer. A Christmas Eve wedding is perfect for them!
I’ve long been enchanted with the idea of Christmas weddings, perhaps because my own parents were married a few days before Christmas. My father was a Dutch sailor working on a farm near my mother’s small Florida Panhandle home when they met. They went to New Orleans for their honeymoon, and a few years later moved to rural Massachusetts just before I was born. They had two little kids (five more to come!) and packed everything they owned into their car.
Of course, that’s the short version of their story!
The classic little Massachusetts town where I grew up is the inspiration for Knights Bridge, which Alexandra Rankin Hunt, an up-and-coming English dress designer, never heard of until she discovers that her great-grandfather was also Dylan’s grandfather, an RAF pilot who died early in World War II. Alexandra has a fiery relationship with a fighter pilot of her own...and his unexpected arrival in Knights Bridge brings us Christmas at Carriage Hill.
Happy Christmas!
Carla
To the memory of my godmother and English aunt, Lily
Contents
A Recipe for Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Chestnuts
Alexandra Rankin Hunt hoped—fervently—that a Christmas wedding in the small New England village of Knights Bridge would be the perfect diversion and would put her latest mistake behind her. It had been three months, three weeks and—she glanced at her bedside clock—two hours since she’d met, and then fallen in and out of love with said mistake.
Out of love was still a work in progress, but she was determined to return to England after Christmas a new woman.
She sat on the edge of her bed and picked up a copy of her favorite photograph of her great-grandfather. She’d never met Philip Rankin. He was killed early in World War II during the Battle of Britain. The photograph was the only one she knew of with him in his Royal Air Force uniform. He was smiling his rakish smile. It was just a few weeks before his combat death, but she couldn’t detect a hint of fear or overconfidence in him. By then, he’d fallen in love with Grace Webster, a young American woman facing eviction from the only home she’d ever known in order to make way for a massive reservoir. Until a few months ago, only Philip and Grace had known of their love affair late in the summer of 1938. Grace had created a secret hideaway as her family prepared to leave their doomed small town for Knights Bridge, another small town in western Massachusetts. Injured and on the run, Philip had taken refuge in her hideaway. He’d just “stolen” jewels in Boston—from his brother-in-law, a difficult man who’d tried to claim them after his sister, Philip’s wife, had died. Philip had been determined to get the jewels back to his daughter.
And he did, Alexandra thought with a smile—it had just taken decades.
Philip had returned to England and gone to war, never to return. Grace had stayed in America. She was in her nineties now, a retired schoolteacher who had never married.
Sun streamed through the windows of Alexandra’s flat above her dress shop on one of the prettiest streets in one of the most charming villages in the Cotswolds, an area in the countryside east of London known for its scenic beauty. She’d moved there in August, abandoning London for a different life. A new life. A life she’d hoped would bring her romantic love and happiness—or at least stop bringing her the wrong man.
It hadn’t worked out that way, but it wasn’t the fault of the village she’d chosen.
“It’s my own fault,” she said under her breath.
She had wanted instant results, but she now knew she couldn’t snap her fingers and change the things about herself that continued to land her romantic life in scalding water. It wasn’t just that the wrong sort of man was drawn to her. She was drawn to the wrong sort of man.
An RAF wing commander?