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  Mistletoe Magic

  Love for the Holidays, Book Two

  Haven Rose

  Copyright © 2019 Mistletoe Magic by Haven Rose

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This story is intended for mature audiences only.

  Cover by: Supernova Indie Publishing Services LLC

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  Blurb

  1. Milo

  2. Juniper

  3. Milo

  4. Juniper

  5. Milo

  6. Juniper

  7. Juniper

  8. Juniper

  9. Milo

  Epilogue One - Juniper

  Epilogue Two - Juniper

  More by Haven Rose

  About the Author

  Stay Connected

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  To the Sprint crew, Brynn, Dakota, Loni, Mercedes, and Tory, I adore all of you. #BubbleLife #LooniesAreTheBest.

  To the readers, we have more #HolidayHijinks in store for you in February…stay tuned.

  The party he didn’t want to attend…the invitation she wasn’t meant to accept.

  Milo Jenner, heir to a multi-million-dollar company, knows love is what’s truly valuable, having seen it between his own parents.

  Juniper Pryor, a talented fashion designer, has been treated as if she’s not enough her whole life, her own family seeing her as “just” a fill in the blank.

  These two seem as if they’re an unlikely match, however, the magic of mistletoe disagrees. Suddenly, Juniper isn’t just, she’s everything.

  Warning: This story includes an OTT Hero that intends to show his woman her worth. If instalove is your jam, then here’s a stocking stuffer written just for you.

  Chapter One

  Milo

  December 3rd...

  “This will be so fun,” my mom gushes, clapping her hands in excitement. Glancing to my dad, I see him smiling at her, an indulgent expression on his face. Their unabashed love for each other is both sweet and embarrassing to see depending on what situation you may walk in on. I shudder thinking of the time I came home early from college my freshman year and heard mom giggling as dad was kissing her neck. It didn’t stop me from returning home after I’d graduated, though. With a place this size, I have my own wing with a separate entrance and exit, making it seem as if I live alone depending on each of our schedules.

  “Thought of it again, didn’t you?” Dad asks, not even trying to hide his laughter at my expense. “Would you rather we be grumpy parents that barely tolerate each other? You should hope you’re lucky enough to meet a woman that makes you as happy as your mom does me.”

  “Maybe he’ll find her at the party,” she teasingly suggests, making me groan. “Lighten up, Milo.” I love my parents, and am fully aware of how blessed I am to have them, but I sometimes wonder if they fully grasp reality because of how fairy tale their lives have been. They met when they were children and have been together ever since, things seemingly falling into place for them personally and professionally. My dad took an idea he’d had as a child and grew it into a multi-million-dollar company. I may have grown up surrounded by wealth, but I was taught to appreciate what I had, to work hard for what I wanted, and to never take anything or anyone for granted.

  **Juniper**

  “I fired Sophia,” I overhear my father tell my mother, no remorse in doing so this close to Christmas. It’s not that I planned on eavesdropping, they’d simply walked into our library, not seeing me when they came in. Then again, they never do.

  “Why did you do that? She’d finally perfected my morning mimosa.” And anyone that knows Katherine Pryor knows how she feels about anything being imperfect. “Did she at least send off the RSVP for the Jenner party?”

  “Yes, except she did so for five,” he says, as if that explains everything. Unfortunately, for the Pryors, it does. If they had their way, no one would know I was a part of this family, not that I’ve ever felt like I belonged.

  “You can’t mean…” she trails off, as if not wanting to give voice to the horror clear in her tone. “There has to be a way to fix this.”

  “I tried, darling,” he informs her, regretfully.

  “We just won’t tell her. It’ll be too late by the time she sees us getting ready.” The parental love simply oozes from their pores. “Besides, it’s not as if she has anything to wear.” Actually, I do, one of my own creations, nonetheless. My mother and sisters see my designs as mediocre at best, unaware I’ve been approached by high-end boutiques to carry them. I’ve declined, stating I don’t have the following to do them justice, nor the inventory to provide enough options for their clientele. In truth, I’ve been forbidden from selling anything I make as it’s deemed unworthy of the Pryor name. I find it ironic they only remember I’m one when it suits them. “They have a son, and I refuse to let JJ ruin this opportunity for Annabelle and Penelope.” My mother believes any single man is a chance to marry one of them off, but this time it seems even more so than usual. “Do you know how much he’s worth?” And there it is. Just another example of why I’m thankful I’m nothing like them. All they care about, aside from each other and my sisters, which are both debatable in my opinion, is money. Whereas the thing I value most is love, something I’ve never experienced and am beginning to wonder if I ever will. If those blood related feel nothing but contempt for me, how could a stranger be any different?

  Chapter Two

  Juniper

  December 6th…

  The party is fast approaching and the “laurels,” as I refer to my sisters because that’s all they rest on, and yes, I giggle every time I do, are constantly talking about it. I know the saying is a bit old-fashioned, but it fits them perfectly since they believe our last name is the only accomplishment they’ll ever need.

  “This will be so much fun,” Annabelle, the more vocal, gushes to Penelope, who nods eagerly, ready to do anything that makes Annabelle happy. It’s quite sad, actually. “I’ve heard the guest list is full of only those deemed appropriate,” she continues, the last directed at me with a sneer, though it doesn’t last long as she’s worried about wrinkles. “You’ll see JJ…oh, that’s right. You aren’t going.” Our father and mother may have decided to keep this a secret from me to ensure I didn’t go, but my sisters couldn’t do it, realizing they could use it to torment me. Showing how little they know me, they assumed I’d be as devastated as they would at missing a party.

  “Well, she was invited,” Penelope chimes in, sounding as if she’s sticking up for me, but it’s fake. “Then again, it was addressed to the Pryor family, so JJ’s name wasn’t mentioned.” I swear, sometimes they make it too easy.

  “Going by that logic, then none of us were invited,” I state, the dumbass left unsaid, though my tone implies it.

  “Why are you here again?” Penelope wants to know. Here being the classy, another word for pretentious if you ask me,
not that anyone ever does, boutique where they’re getting their final fittings. Mother is next door, securing the jewelry they’ll be wearing before joining us for her own appointment.

  I’m not sure why they insisted I come, but I can only guess it’s for two reasons. The first being to rub it in my face that they’re going and I’m not, the second to carry their purchases.

  “Because you don’t know how to do anything for yourselves?” I reply sarcastically, knowing it’ll go above her head. She huffs, her go-to when she doesn’t understand something.

  Trying to save face, she reminds me she doesn’t have to, that’s why they brought me, then looks at Annabelle to see if her reaction was the correct one. When it elicits a dainty laugh from Annabelle, who then blows her a kiss, what they see as a sophisticated version of a fist bump or high five, she smiles proudly.

  “JJ,” our mother says as she walks through the door and heads directly for the section we’re occupying. I’m surprised she’s acknowledging me first, until she hands me a bag from Dresden Diamonds. “Now don’t look in there, it has nothing to do with you,” she states as she continues to ooh and ahh over the laurels. “He’ll take one look and fall head over heels,” she tells them to which they both titter. Seriously. Next they’ll have the vapors.

  Unable to resist, I ask, “Penelope or Annabelle?” Out loud, I purposefully try to say them in that order because it drives the latter nuts. She hates being second, even to her own sister.

  “What are you going on about?” Mother responds as she begins fussing with their dresses, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. Repeating what she’d told them, I then add, “Which of them is he going to fall in love with? You never specified who you were talking to, so I was just curious…” I shrug, leaving the sentence unfinished, wondering if they’ll piece together where I’m going with this. Oh man, the look she shoots at me.

  “How could he not love both of them?” She informs me, deftly side-stepping my question. Darn it.

  An hour later, my arms loaded with their things, we walk out and head toward the car, though it’s every JJ for herself as I have to open the door on my own, allowing them to precede me before closing it, then setting the packages in the trunk, ensuring nothing will be damaged, before shutting it and sliding in the driver’s seat. Oh yeah, I’m the chauffeur, too.

  Do this, do that, I hum to the tune of Cinderella, feeling a strong kinship with the fairy tale princess and wishing just once that they were real and happily ever afters existed.

  Chapter Three

  Milo

  December 7th...

  “Oh, Milo, that’s absolutely stunning,” mom says from the doorway of my studio. I may be the heir to the family company, but I’ve never been one to let that define me. I needed to find my own purpose in addition to that, knowing my parents would support me regardless of what I do. Stepping back, I stare at the canvas, taking in the landscape I’d painted, viewing it with the eye of an outsider as opposed to from the heart of the artist. “That woman is…”

  “Breathtaking,” I interrupt, for that’s surely the reaction I had to her. Jet black hair that curls past her shoulders and violet eyes. I’m sure the latter isn’t possible, but that’s what I envision her having.

  “Who is she?” Mom wants to know, as do I.

  “I have no idea,” I tell her. “My brush just started moving, my mind choosing colors as if directed to them, and she was the result.” I sound in awe, and I am, just not at what I can honestly say is my best work without any conceit, but at how it was done.

  “Has that ever happened?”

  “Nope.” Which is the reason I can’t stop staring at it. The spell isn’t broken until Mom’s cell rings. While she answers, I clean my supplies, leaving the finished piece in place. When she hangs up, I ask if everything is okay and she nods, saying the manager at the shop needs her to sign some paperwork before the end of the year. Mom has her hand in many things, one of which is a boutique that not only offers clothing as well as the numerous accessories women are so fond of, but also a secondhand shop that repurposes those that don’t sell or have been donated. Items at the latter are never for sale, but given to those in need.

  My parents may be wealthy now, but that wasn’t always the case for either of them. They both came from nothing and remember that feeling, that desperation, and strive to do whatever they can so others won’t have to suffer the same. I’ve spent many a holiday volunteering to do what I can to make life better for those who aren’t as blessed. In my opinion, what’s the point of having all this if I can’t use it to do good?

  “I have a feeling this will not be offered at the shop,” mom guesses, and she’d be right.

  “No, this is mine.” As is the woman I painted. It doesn’t matter that she’s not real, in my heart, she is. And while I would give anything to meet her, to touch her, if seeing her on canvas is all I get, then I’ll treasure it.

  “Is Micah coming?” Mom wants to know, referring to my best friend.

  “He said he should be in town; it depends on when he can wrap up his last meeting.”

  Mom shakes her head sadly, not for the first time saying, “I know you can’t always choose your family, and his are lovely people considering, but what they do, allegedly, leaves shadows on your soul.” She’s not wrong there. Micah has always been the type to internalize things while the exterior gives off the vibe everything is okay. That makes it sound like our friendship is one-sided, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was just raised to believe it was uncouth to talk about your feelings with anyone, that it was healthier to bottle them up, otherwise, they can be seen as a weakness. Of course, it’s a well-known fact that isn’t the case, but when you’ve been taught a certain way your entire life… I’m just waiting for Micah to encounter that one thing or person that’ll overwhelm him, in a good way. But with his family’s business, I don’t think he’ll ever open himself up enough to trust someone that much.

  **Juniper**

  “Val,” I say into the phone for the fourth time, trying to gain her attention, but she’s on a roll. Valentina and I have been best friends for more than half our lives, having met in eighth grade when she transferred to my boarding school.

  You’d think I would resent being sent away while the laurels were able to stay home, but it was the best thing to happen to me. Not only did I meet Val, I also discovered my love for fashion design and was lucky enough to have a couple teachers who encouraged it.

  “I can’t stand them,” she mutters, winding down. Val doesn’t let many in, but those she does, you will never find a more loyal or supportive friend that is ready to defend you against anyone, even when your own family tends to be your greatest enemy. Changing the subject, I ask how things have been since we last spoke, hoping to distract her. It works, but I know it won’t last long. “We’re going to that party,” Val informs me, circling right back to the original topic.

  “There is a design I’ve been working on that would look great on you.”

  “Send it to me. I’ll get it done.”

  “I have seen you create magic,” I admit sincerely, having seen her do so with limited materials, “sew if anyone can…”

  On top of working at her family’s candy shop, she’s also a fantastic seamstress. She snorts at my pun, lobbing her own back at me, “I’m in stitches over here.” We both giggle, then she tells me we’re going to crash it. “Well, I will, you were invited. I’ll just be your plus one,” she continues. “And I know you have something we can each wear.” I love her confidence in me.

  “Perhaps,” I concede, knowing full well I do, if I was going, that is.

  “You are,” she states, reading my mind which is a blessing and a curse. The former means words aren’t always needed, we just know what the other is thinking or feeling. The latter because I can’t get away with anything. Then again, neither can she.

  Chapter Four

  Juniper

  December 14th…

  As
the date for the party draws nearer, I retreat more. The atmosphere is tense, tempers are on a hair trigger, and the laurels are insufferable. Oh wait, that last part is normal.

  The upside is I’ve been able to get quite a few designs done because the ideas are pouring in. I sent the design for Val’s dress with notes on the material I visualized it being made of – yes, I caved to Val and agreed to go, as she knew I would. We’re cutting it close on getting it finished, yet Val is determined to go, not only to metaphorically give my family the middle finger, but to do so in one of my creations.

  And yet… “They’re gonna be pissed when they see me there,” I tell Val, her response of “so what” coming through the speaker on my cell loud and clear. I’m currently in my workspace, aka the in-law cottage on the grounds. Neither set of grandparents wanted to live there, claiming it too quaint for their tastes, which I interpreted as their snobby way of saying it was beneath them. Honestly, I’ve often wondered if I am a Pryor seeing as I don’t resemble any of the others in looks nor personality. Perhaps I’m a throwback to an ancestor that isn’t talked about because they’re viewed as a disgrace or not fitting the family image. “Maybe I can avoid them the whole time, then leave before they do to beat them here.” I can’t refer to it as home since it’s never felt like one. “As long as I’m here no later than…”