HOLLY, IVY, AND ME by Charlotte Featherstone ISBN: 1-58608-773-8 Release Date: December 2005 Publisher: New Concepts Publishing Synopsis: BENEATH THE MISTLETOE by Charlotte Featherstone : Holly Nightingale is a woman who has forgotten the true meani ng of Christmas. It's been eight years since the man she thought loved her left her without a word after kissing her passionately beneath the mistletoe. Andrew Carlyle has made his fortune in India and returned to England to claim the woman he has always wanted. But the Holly he knew is gone. In her place is a stranger with a delectably curvaceous body he can't stop desiring, and a steely resolve he hopes to breach. And he will, especially with the help of Holly's great-grandmother--The Grand Dame, not to mention his persuasive skill with the mistletoe. A BLUESTOCKING CHRISTMAS by Monica Burns : Miss Ivy Beecham is a bluestocking who has sworn off love, and she's found the perfect place to hide--a library. Simon Carton, Viscount Wycombe, is an intellectual rogue who's convinced all women can be bought. What neither of them counted on was finding love amid a stack of dusty books. Determined to win the reluctant bluestocking nymph, Simon seduces Ivy with words and other sinful pleasures. But despite the passion between them, Ivy refuses to risk her heart--at least not until the ghost of her ancestor visits her on Christmas Eve and helps Ivy see that her choices will affect the rest of her life. The question is, will Ivy make the right choice? A KIND OF MAGIC by Monica Burns and Charlotte Featherstone : Christmas for thirty year old romance writer, Julia Taylor is just plain not worth it. The excitement that used to surround Julia during the holidays has been replaced with a cool cynicism. The magic is gone. Faced with the loss of her publishing contract if she doesn't produce a blockbuster romance novel for her editor, she heads for Harrow Lodge, the home of her ancestor, the Grand Dame, in England. To finance her trip, she pawns a treasured heirloom that's been in the family even longer than Harrow Lodge. But the ghost of the Grand Dame has something else in store for Julia. Brock Maitland is not quite alive, nor is he dead. He's in that insufferable space, hovering on the brink of either state. Brock only has one chance to find his soul mate and make her love him, thus returning him to a mortal state. Now all he has left to do is convince Julia, the uptight, spinster romance author, that the magic she creates in her books can be found between them.

A Kind of Magic By Monica Burns

And

Charlotte Featherstone

Chapter One

The room was dark, except for the bright blinking of an immobile cursor. Downstairs, the radio played Jingle Bell Rock. It was six o'clock in the morning on December the twenty-first and Julia Taylor, a thirty-year-old struggling midlist romance author rested her head on top of her desk. It was utterly useless-- she, was utterly useless.

'Just let it come,' Natalie, her agent had advised. 'Just let the characters write it the way they want to write it'. Right . Julia snorted as she looked up through a curtain of ash blond hair. Let the characters write the story. Well, hell where were the characters? The friggin' cursor was still blinking at her, and there wasn't a damn word on the page, and just to make her vexation more complete, Simon and the Chipmunks were now squeaking out their version of seasonal happiness.

"Forget it," Julia grumbled, jumping off her chair and leaving the study. She needed a drink. A rum and coke to be precise. God, she needed a hell of a lot more than alcohol, she muttered to herself as she strolled into the kitchen, wincing when she saw the dishes that lay scattered on the counter. What she needed was a full time maid, a cook, and one hell of a manuscript. But none of that was going to happen. Not in this lifetime, and most especially not during the Christmas season.

If there was one thing she detested, it was Christmas. She hadn't always hated it. In fact, she used to make herself so excited she would end up spending the night throwing up--all in anticipation for Santa and the carols and her cousins who were expected to arrive the next day, not to mention at least one extra shortbread cookie she hadn't needed.

Julia glanced at the clock on the microwave--6:05 am. Much too early for rum. What the heck, she thought, tossing out the old filter from the coffee pot, she'd have a little Bailey's in her coffee. That ought to get her going. She smiled, remembering how her mom had always indulged in a little 'treat' in her Christmas morning coffee.

Her mom loved Christmas, but it had been a long while since Julia had fond memories of the holiday. Everything was so commercial and fast paced. It was over before it started, and far too much work for its worth. Where was the anticipation? The family and the fellowship of man? Where was the love?

She was a dreamer. A hopeless romantic lost in today's high-tech, fast paced world. Of course, she wouldn't admit that to anyone. The Julia Taylor everyone knew was a modern young woman with a sound head on her shoulders. Only her mom knew her dreams and realized that inside Julia was more than just a desire to dally in fairy tales--she wanted to live one.

"Whatever happened to sleigh rides and kissing beneath the mistletoe?" she muttered, opening the carton of cream and sniffing it to make certain it wasn't past its expiration date. What about balls and soirees and elegant gowns, and men in cravats?

Pouring a liberal amount of cream and Bailey's into her coffee, neither of which she needed, she took a large satisfying sip and groaned when she heard the familiar voice of her fiancé--ex-fiance, she mentally corrected.

"You're listening to 95.1 FM, home of the classics. Well, it's freezing outside and you're waking up to a fresh blanket of snow. Kind of gets you in the spirit, doesn't it?"

Julia levelled the digital display on her stereo with a menacing glare. "Gets me in the spirit, right. I have no spirit. You took it when you said I was frumpy and fat."

But Scott kept on talking, always having to have the last word. "Four days till Christmas," he said merrily. "Here's a little something to get you in the mood."

Judy Garland's Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas came over the airwaves and Julia bit back the tears that immediately sprung to her eyes. "Asshole," she choked, tightening the sash of her old terry cloth robe before reaching for her coffee. "You just had to play that one, didn't you?"

Damn Scott. What had she ever seen in him? Sure he was good looking and funny, but he had always been an unfeeling clod. But, she reminded herself as she trudged up the stairs, once again sitting before her computer screen, the simple truth was, he'd been the only man to pay to her any attention. She'd been a hopeless failure in high school and university, always too plain and a few pounds too heavy.

With a depressed sigh, she raised the cup to her lips and watched as the cursor blinked insolently back at her. Well, she certainly didn't feel like writing now that she'd heard Scott on the radio, all cheery and full of Christmas spirit. The writing was crap anyway. She snorted, hitting the delete key and watching as the cursor ate her words. Now where to start?

Judy had finished and now O Holy Night was playing. This one had always been her favorite. Tears sprung to her eyes and she looked about her study in a vain attempt to keep them from spilling. She was not going to cry over Scott Marchand or the fact that it was going to be Christmas in four days and she was thirty and unwed and unattached ... and ... and what ... lonely ?

Her gaze landed on a portrait of a stunning couple that sat proudly above the fireplace in her study. No, she wasn't lonely. She had her family and her friends to keep her company. It wasn't that. It was more. Like a feeling of homesickness, but that didn't make any sense, she was home. Her parents lived ten minutes away for heaven's sake. But still, she couldn't shake the gnawing in her belly. She just didn't feel....complete.

The longer she stared at the portrait the more palpable the feeling became. She wasn't settled. Raising the cup to her mouth once again, she drank deeply and wondered if she'd put too much Bailey's in the coffee or if another tear was threatening to slip the confines of her lashes--for what other reason could there be for the sparkling twinkle she saw in the Grand Dame's blue eyes.

"Nuts," she muttered, shaking her head. The couple in the portrait were her grandparents, several generations removed. They were long since dead, their only reminder a portrait of them in their Georgian costumes and a chandelier styled diamond necklace bequeathed to every daughter down the line. Their story was one of love and passion, and more than a bit of intrigue, for her grandmother, it was said, was an impish young lady, who, once she had something set in her mind, was not wont to give up her hold. And that something had been the man she married.

"A very good making of a romance novel", Julia said, grinning as she saluted the pair with her coffee cup. "I daresay I could make a best seller out of your lives."

She clutched the mug to her chest and looked around the room when she heard 'well, do it, ' whisper past her. Definitely too much Bailey's she thought, staring into her empty cup. But a good idea nonetheless. Who would know that it was alcohol induced?

"Where to start," she said, staring at the screen and cracking her knuckles.

Why not start at the beginning, dearest? the clipped, English voice whispered in her ear with an aristocratic authority

"Yes," Julia grinned. "They're already talking. C'mon, tell me your story, gran." Already her fingers were poised on home-row, waiting to hear the character's voice again. Nothing better than a character that speaks to you.

With a deep breath, she typed the first thing that came to her mind. She wanted him, and there wasn't a damn thing on earth that was going to stop her from having him . Hmm, feisty, Julia smiled. Obviously Grandmother Langdon had more than imp's blood coursing through her veins.

Julia sat back and looked at the line. It wasn't the best opening, but it wasn't the worst, either. Could lead somewhere--to the bedroom most likely. But hey, this was her breakout book. This was the manuscript that was going to propel her to the top of the New York Times Best Seller list and launch her out of her midlist blues.

The next sentence was easier, followed by the next. Soon she was lost in a blinding whirl of typing and watching the words on the screen that seemingly came from someone other than her. It was beautiful. It was magic. She didn't even hear the sappy Christmas carols playing on the radio anymore, until that oh-so-familiar sound.... buloop , shattered her concentration.

Ah, no, not Tanya, Julia groaned, staring at the familiar instant messenger name. Her friend had infallible timing.

Teats: U there?

Julia stared at the line for seconds, debating whether to click it off and ignore it, or admit to being awake this early in the morning. Ah, what the hell. Tanya was her best friend.

J.T.: Yeah, I'm here. Just writing. I'm close to deadline .

Teats: Oh, cool. You got them doing the nasty yet?

Sighing, Julia reminded herself that Tanya was really her very good friend. Although, it wasn't easy being friends with someone as perfect as Tanya. Her IM name said it all. Tanya Teats. She'd earned the nickname from the football team in high school, and of course it had carried through to her adult years. How could it not? Tanya had made the most of her teats, even showing them off in Playboy for an astonishing amount of money. Much more than a midlist romance author earned.

Teats: So, you got them going at it hot and heavy, or what?

J . T.: I may write hot, but I write historicals, Tanya. It takes some time to get them into bed. You know, they had that thing called propriety.

Teats: Well, that sucks. How long does it take for your hero to get his gal in the sack?

Julia gritted her teeth. It didn't matter how many times she explained things to Tanya, she would never get it. Tanya would never understand the fact that it just wasn't heroic for a protagonist to jump his lady in a carriage on page ten. It just wasn't done. Why ever not? I can remember numerous ladies who were willing to break the rules for love.

The voice was astonishing real, not to mention utterly superior sounding. Julia looked over her shoulder and around the room. No one was there. She really needed to stop drinking Baileys.

J.T.: Look, Tanya, did you need something? Sorry to be so blunt, but I really have to get to work. I'm way behind, and my deadline is looming. My career is on the line, here. If this book doesn't sell well, Sapphire Publishing is gonna cancel my contract.

Teats: You worry too much. Hey, you're not still stewing over this Scott thing, are you? I hope not. He's an A-1 asshole, you know.

Julia grinned. Leave it to Tanya to be succinct.

J.T.: Nah, I'm ok. He wasn't the right one. I know that now. At least you've come to your senses in that matter. I was positively certain you would marry the bumbling fool

Teats: You need to come to New York. You need to get laid. Sweet Heaven, your friend is so vulgar.

Okay, this voice in her head was getting very annoying. Ignoring the musing of her character, Julia tried to focus on her virtual conversation.

J.T.: No more men , Tanya, do you hear me? I'm swearing off them for a while....well, at least till I get this book finished. Besides, it's Christmas, and you're going to Paris for that photo shoot.

Teats: Why don't you come with me, Jules? What are you doing, having turkey with your parents again? C'mon, live a little.

Julia bristled at the thought of spending another Christmas bored silly and depressed. Tanya was right, stuffing herself on turkey and plum pudding had been the extent of her festive plans. Although, she could spring for the money it would cost to her fly to London and attend Sapphire Publishing's yearly Christmas ball. But she would be alone, and she wasn't sure the holidays were the best time of the year to spend in solitude.

Why not visit Harrow Lodge in Kent? It was always one of my favorite places to visit. I am certain that you will find something useful and romantic there for your stay. After all, there is a great deal of family history there, and I think you will find dozens of wickedly amusing stories. Even some about me.

A research trip . The idea had merit.

Teats: Anyway, big news. I'm meeting this totally adorable guy for breakfast and mimosas. He's from England and he speaks with an accent and everything.

J.T.: Yeah, well, most people from England talk with accents.

Teats: No, really, Julia, I think he could be the one. He's so cute, and ripped.....my God is he ripped.

J.T.: Ripped? Don't tell me you've already done him.

Teats: Nah, he's too much of a gentleman. We met in the gym at the Ritz. He was lifting weights. I was on the treadmill. No shirt. Totally ripped.

How many times had she heard similar things come out of Tanya's mouth? Frankly, she was tired of hearing it. Not to mention the fact she was bloody jealous. Tanya always managed a healthy glow whenever she worked out. She, on the other hand, always looked like something the cat dragged in.

Teats: No shirt, totally ripped!

Sighing, Julia typed whatever came to mind.

J.T.: No wonder you caught his attention--no shirt.

Teats: No. HE wasn't wearing a shirt. Julia, are paying attention here? Are you drinking or are you writing while we're chatting?

Writing, no. Drinking, yes. God, just the thought of Tanya working up a sweat on the treadmill made her reach for her cup that was unfortunately empty. Tanya with the big breasts, little waist, and flat stomach. Tanya with her pale blond hair and blue eyes. Tanya, the perfect female specimen.

Julia looked down at the blue pants of her 'sleeping princess' lounging pj's and the ratty white terry robe covering them. Julia of the widening butt and full thighs. Julia who was always a touch too plump. Julia who had never had any success with men. Julia who couldn't hold a candle to Tanya.

Teats: Oh, that's the buzzer. He's here.

J.T.: Cool, she wrote, but her heart wasn't in it. Tanya would be spending the day wining and dining while she sat alone in her candlelit study, struggling to conjure up a sex scene between two imaginary people. God, her life was spiralling to nowhere.

J.T: Oh, before you go, what's his name?

Teats: Brock.

Brock. She liked it. Strong. Masculine. A touch old sounding. Good hero's name.

Teats: He's in publishing. Gotta run, girlfriend. Good luck with the book. And please, forget that asshole Scott. You're better off without him.

J.T.: Have fun

Teats: Oh, I intend to. Mr. Publisherman won't know what hit him once he gets a look at Tanya's Ta-Ta's.

Julia stared at the grinning smiley icon flashing back at her. Tanya's Ta-Ta's? And people had the nerve to say romance writers wrote bad prose? With a smirk, she clicked off the IM conversation, and started reading the opening of her book. She had just finished the last line when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered, stretching the phone cord from her bookcase to the desk while managing to knock off a few coffee cups and an empty can of coke in the process.

"Jules?"

Scott. Damn. She didn't need this now. "Hi, Scott."

"Hi. Um...." Scott cleared his throat, and Julia pretended to blow some imaginary dust off her keyboard. "You working?"

"Yeah. My deadline is in four weeks."

"How's it going? With the book, I mean."

"All right."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The static on the phone line hummed as the silence stretched on. Mercifully Scott ended it. "So, um, Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, you too."

"Ah, did I leave my golf clubs there?"

"I don't know." Oh, yeah, he'd left them, and she'd promptly taken a little drive out to the lake and deposited them into the waves.

"I can't find them."

"Well, I haven't seen them recently." Last time she'd seen them they'd been sinking their way down to the bottom of Lake Erie.

"Mind if I come over and look?"

Her fingers shook around the phone. Don't come over, don't come over, her mind chanted. "Whatever." So much for listening to her inner voice.

"What do you need them for if you don't mind me asking? There's two feet of snow outside. I hardly think the driving range is open."

"Jules, we need to talk."

"I thought you already said everything you wanted to say."

"I told you I didn't mean to say those things. I was in a bad mood. You know how work gets to me."

"I don't recall you mentioning anything about work. But I do remember you had a plenty to say about me."

"Jules, you know I didn't mean it. Look, I shouldn't have said it, sweetheart. I know it was wrong. It's just that I bought you that membership to the gym and when they told me you hadn't been there yet to set up your program I saw red. I shouldn't have lost it, I know that. Honey, lets start over. I miss you."

And do you miss my fat ass, too, she wanted to shout, but she wouldn't stoop to his level. Come hell or high water, Scott Marchand would never know how much he'd destroyed her fantasies and shattered her fragile self-esteem.

"You know what I need the golf clubs for, Jules? I'm going to the Caribbean for Christmas. You know, to get away. I thought you might want to come."

Oh sure, book a trip to the islands when they were no longer together. She had begged and pleaded with him for over a year to take her on such a trip, but he'd flatly refused. Tanya was right, he was an ass.

"Look Scott. I gotta run. I've got a deadline to meet. Can we talk about this some other time?"

"What about what I need? It's only about you, isn't it Julia?"

"It is now. Bye, Scott."