Believe
Christmas Short Story Anthology, 2010
Turquoise Morning Press

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A collection of uplifting Christmas stories from Turquoise Morning Press. Romance, inspiration, and unexpected gifts—

Reminding us to simply...believe.

Secondhand Horses by Amy LeBlanc
Mall Magic by Cat Shaffer
Another Quirky Christmas by Tonya Kappes
Concourse Christmas by Margaret Ethridge
Love in an Elevator by Krista Ames
Fixing Christmas by Elizabeth Chalkley
Angel on Board by Janet Eaves
The Twelve Seductive Days of Christmas by Marissa Dobson

Now available in the following formats:  
Multiformat eBook . Nook
Kindle . Trade Paperback Print


Available Now at the following Retailers:All Romance eBooks . 1PlaceforRomance . OmniLit . DigibooksCafe . Barnes & Noble

"This collection of stories is beautifully balanced. Each story stands alone and yet together, they create a wonderful collection that begs to be read time and again, and not just at Christmas."




Read an excerpt from:

Another Quirky Christmas

by

Tonya Kappes

Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.

~Janice Maeditere

Pine swags. Glittering wreaths. Smiling snowmen. Twinkling lights.

“Bah humbug,” I mutter like Ebenezer Scrooge.

I hurry past Nordstrom’s window display on Michigan Avenue, which was littered with holiday shoppers.
Ahead, I spot the maroon awning for Addicted to the Bean and make a beeline for it. I can almost feel the Christmas stress melt away thinking about one of those pumpkin spiced lattes.

“I’ve got just what you need,” Andrea, the barista, shouts from behind the counter as I walk in.

I smile knowing she’s making my favorite tasty treat, the coffee shop’s best kept secret. The door closes, shutting out the rest of the world, the shoppers, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and the snowy streets. Standing in the doorway, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Inside the scent of scones and coffee perk my mood.

“Is it worse today, Hallie?” Andrea asks as she stirs the hot liquid.

I put my purse on the counter, blocking the nutcracker display. Funny looking soldier, I think, looking at the wooden figure. They’re not as endearing as people think; I take a look at the nutcracker’s wide open gapping mouth, half expecting to see a full set of teeth.

I pull my scarf from my neck, and rub my hands down my long black hair to tame the static cling. “Yes,” I say, plopping down on the stool. “It’s absolutely the worst.”

Andrea smiles and continues to work her latte magic. “Is it to-go?”

“No, I think I’ll sit here and let the crowd die down,” I say, pointing to the crowded streets. It amazes me how many people shop on Christmas Eve. I put my fingers in my ears when Holly Jolly Christmas begins to play on the sound system.

Life is sucked out of me every year between October and January. I guess being the manager of Gucci in one of the busiest shopping district in America doesn’t help my dislike for the holiday.

Outside, steam comes out of people’s mouths as they cheerfully talk to their friends and point out the beautiful decorations. I never said Chicago wasn’t pretty this time of year, it absolutely is, but the spirit—why does everyone have to be so damn happy?

“All the girls gone for the holidays?” Andrea sets the mug down in front of me and the steam rolls up in beautiful swirls.

“Yes,” I say, referring to Lucy, Prudence and Georgia, my three best friends. They’d up and abandoned me for a week during Christmas to visit family and friends.

I guess it’s a bonus if you have family. Sadness creeps up in my heart. My fondest and worst memory was when my parents took me to see the train display in my hometown, Cincinnati. On Christmas Eve, my dad carried on about each train and what they were used for.

At thirteen, it wasn’t all that exciting for me. But I wish I would’ve listened harder. Wished I would’ve hung on every word from my dad’s mouth—

Because that was the day my parents died in a car wreck. Obviously, I’ve never liked Christmas since, even though my Great Aunt Grace tried to make it special.

“My offer still stands.” Andrea had extended a Christmas dinner invitation with her family, but I’d graciously declined.

“Thank you. I really do appreciate it. I need to be well rested for the after Christmas door buster sale. It seems retail never closes.” I remind myself of the commitment I made to my career a couple years ago.
I’ve always loved Gucci and becoming the manager of one of the busiest stores was a dream come true. I really don’t mind working the day after Christmas since I don’t celebrate. But still, it feels bittersweet.
The door swings open and a freezing breeze sweeps into the coffee house. Along with a group of shoppers. Happy shoppers. My sweet quiet moment has now passed.

I grab Andrea’s attention before she starts taking orders. “I think I’ll get this to go after all,” I say, holding up my mug.

She hands me the cup. “If you change your mind, the invitation still stands.”

It’s nice of her, but I’m still holding out hope that Bo will offer an invitation.

Bo…just thinking about him is Christmas present enough. I’ve been training for the Chicago marathon behind Bo, my training coach, for the past couple years…or at least drooling after him.

He owns a local up-and-coming blues bar where he hosts an annual Christmas get-together, invitation only. I’m guessing my invitation has been lost in the mail.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to keep low key.” I put back on my winter gear. “Excuse me.” I apologize to the lady next to me for hitting her with my coat sleeve.

“No big deal.” She grins dipping her hat down, and reminds me, “Merry Christmas.”
With a stiff lip and tight smile, I nod my head.

I step out into the street and look back at the lady taking my seat inside the coffee shop. “Aha! I’ve got you! The second you melt, you’re hat will be mine!” An evil laugh comes out of my five foot nine frame like Professor Hinkle from Frosty the Snowman.