My Hot Holiday Read Online Free Page A

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    "In fact, I actually have to leave a little early tonight so I can give him his gift."
    Then I realize I should have avoided that particular fabrication of the truth.
    Oh my, she’s going to attack me with questions.  Oh well...it’s too late now.
    "You are saying your new boyfriend lives HERE on Oyster Cove and you haven't told me about him," says Mom.
    "Ahhh...yes, that's correct," I say after a pause.  "I'm sorry, I was just afraid I might jinx it.  It’s going so well."
    "Oh, I don't know about this, Jillian.  I'm quite disappointed," she says and sighs.  "I thought you shared everything with me." Mom looks down with a hint of a pout.  "But, I understand you want your privacy," she adds hurriedly.  "You are entitled to that."
    Entitled? Is she slamming me?  I am 37 years old, after all.
    “Thank you for your support, Mom.  So...do you need help bringing out more snacks before I go?" I say to change the tone of the conversation.  Maybe I should plan out my exit strategies a wee bit better from now on.
    "No, no," says Mom, as she takes a sip of wine.  "You go have fun.  But first, make sure you visit with your dad.  He's really missed you, you know." Her voice trails off and then guilt consumes her once again.  "I'm sorry if I put a damper on your night," she says apologetically.  "And you know I will want to hear all the details tomorrow!"
    "I figured as much."
    "I am your  mother, after all," she says, and gives me a wink.  "I love you."
    "I love you, too Mom."
    At that moment Dad walks into the room and I tell him Merry Christmas.
    "Merry Christmas to you too, Sweetheart!"
    "Doesn't Jillian look beautiful tonight, John?" Mom screams out from over the sink.
    "Yes, she does.  But, she always looks pretty...except for all that make up.  Why do you women think you need to wear all that goop all over your face?" he asks Mom and me.
    “Here we go again,” I think as I pull out a kitchen chair for him and shove myself into the one across from him.  He's wearing the emerald green sweater I gave him for Christmas last year and it's highlighting his blue eyes.
    However, I recognize with slight shock that his hair is no longer salt and pepper; it's now snow white.  It didn't seem that white to me last month when I visited.  Overall, he looks healthy and happy to me.  I question how he and Mom are maintaining such a vibrant life, while I seem to be barely scraping by.
    "Dad, I've been telling you since high school that girls are supposed to wear ‘goop’ on their faces."
    "Nonsense!"  He says it just like he did when I was 15.
    "So, how's the world of book editing?" Dad's voice asks with a welcoming change of tone.
    He reaches for a perfectly-shaped snowman sugar cookie in the center of the table and lays a napkin in his lap, awaiting my answer.
    "It's good.  It's good.  Kind of weird energy in the publishing house these days, though," I mumble through my own sugar cookie.
    "Why?  Where's that coming from?" He quizzes me like always.
    There are a lot of rumors that the self-published eBook craze is going to become the demise of our publisher.  The company has been cutting back -- laying off people every month.  But, right before I left for the holiday, I heard that we could get bought out after the New Year."
    "Bought out?  Does that mean you would lose your job?" He looks startled.
    "Possibly," I say.  "I am worried, but I think everyone is."
    This is not 100 percent true.  There's just no point in telling Dad that it's only the writers and the editors who are currently on the chopping block, because he'd lay awake at night worrying about it, too.  There is no need for two of us to lose sleep over my professional insecurities.  Lord knows I've already lost too much time worrying about my personal drama.
    "Are you having money problems, Jillian?" asks Dad, taking a swig of his eggnog.
    "No, no.  I'm fine Dad.  The kids and I will be fine," I say rigidly.
    "Well, you let us know if you