The Twelve Dates of Christmas. SUSAN MEIER
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“I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Langley.”
He smiled at her. Those silky brown eyes held her prisoner.
“And yours?”
“Vaughn.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Eloise Vaughn.”
“If I’m going out with you twelve times, then I’m getting twelve dates’ worth of help.”
“Deal.”
She took in his handsome face. The fine lines that created his chiseled features. Those beautiful brown eyes.
A strange feeling worked its way through her. Real attraction.
Which would only wreck their deal and was the last thing in the world she wanted.
“This is where I draw the line. I’m fine walking myself upstairs.”
With that she turned and strode into her building. She wouldn’t risk being alone with him outside her apartment door when there was so much goodnight-kiss potential. She might be strong, but she wasn’t perfect. She’d learned a long time ago that a smart woman didn’t tempt fate.
The Twelve Dates of Christmas
Susan Meier
SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of real-life experience watching romance blossom in un-expected ways. She lives in western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, three children, and two overfed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at: www.susanmeier.com.
For my sisters …
May we always take care of each other the way Olivia, Eloise and Laura Beth do.
Contents
THERE WAS ALWAYS too much month left at the end of Eloise Vaughn’s money.
“Here, put these crackers in your purse.” Laura Beth Matthews gathered a handful of crackers from the party buffet of their newly married friend, Olivia Engle, and shoved them at Eloise.
She gasped. “So now we’re reduced to stealing crackers?”
“Five crackers are lunch.”
Eloise sighed but opened her Chanel purse and let her roommate dump the crackers inside.
“I’m sorry, Coco.”
Laura Beth said, “Coco?”
“Chanel...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Hoping no one saw the crackers falling into her purse, Eloise glanced around the Christmas party at the women wearing shiny cocktail dresses in shades of red and green and the tuxedo-clad men. Subdued gold and silver decorations gave the Engles’ penthouse a sophisticated glow. The clink of ice in glasses, laughter of guests and the air of importance—wealth and power—wafted around her.
For fifty cents she could work this room and probably leave with a date. But she didn’t want a date. She’d had the love of her life and had lost him. Now, she wanted a job, a good-paying job, a permanent position that would support her. Unfortunately, her degree didn’t seem to translate well into actual work. In lieu of a job, she’d take another roommate, someone to help with the rent on the apartment she shared with Laura Beth. Then the pressure would be off, and the salary from the temp job she currently had at a law firm would be enough that she and Laura Beth could buy food again.
But she wouldn’t find a roommate here. All of these people could afford their own condos. Maybe two condos...and a beach house.
Laura Beth studied the remaining food. “It’s too bad we can’t pour some of this dip in our purses.”
Eloise shoved her purse behind her back. “I draw the line at dip. No dip. Not on the inside of my Chanel.”
“You do realize you could sell some of those overpriced clothes, handbags and shoes you own and probably eat for an entire year.”
“Most of my stuff is five years old. No one would want it.”
Laura Beth sniffed a laugh. “You make it work.”
“Only because I know how to change a collar or add a belt.”
“So update your stuff and then sell it.”
She couldn’t. Not that she loved clothes and dressing up so much that she’d die without accessories. It was more that these clothes were the last piece of herself she had. The last piece of the starry-eyed college junior, one year away from graduating,