Page 1 of Take Me Home for Christmas

ChapterOne

The rain soundeda lot like sleet as it tap-tap-tapped against the window. Elinor “Elle” McAlister looked up from her computer monitor, craning her neck to stare down eighteen stories to the streets of Manhattan. Umbrellas of all different colors navigated the sidewalks, bobbing and weaving around one another like the blobs on the screen of a first-generation video game.

“Ugh,” her coworker Suni groaned from the other side of their shared cubicle wall. “The airport is already a zoo during Thanksgiving week. This weather will make everything ten times worse tonight.”

Elle stood, stretching her back as she grinned down at her friend. “And now you know why I’m staying put in the city.”

Suni leaned back in her chair. “I still think you’re crazy.” She shook her head. “I’d have the worst case of FOMO if I didn’t get to enjoy my mom’s mac and cheese for Thanksgiving dinner. Don’t get me wrong, the forced family fun drives me crazy. But that’s what makes it Thanksgiving, right? No way would I voluntarily miss it. Especially if I had your family.”

Especially if I had your family.

If Elle had a dollar for every time she heard that line, she’d be wearing those Stella McCartney boots she’d been eyeing at Bergdorf’s last month. Not that she disagreed with Suni. Family was everything. And holidays spent together at her mother’s famous B & B were iconic. Elle adored each member of her big, boisterous brood. She couldn’t imagine not having them in her life.

If only they weren’t so . . .impressive.

Elle, the baby of the McAlister clan, lived in the shadows of her four older siblings. She’d dubbed them the Fab Four: a professional baseball player, a newly minted United States Congressman, a world-renowned architect, and an award-winning doctor. Even her new stepsister was living her best life as a successful bookstore owner. Not only that, but they’d all coupled up with equally fantastic partners and were busily producing beautiful nieces and nephews for Elle to dote on.

And then there is me.

At twenty-seven, she was still searching for her life’s passion. At one point, she believed it might be dancing. Or the law. Except three more years of school didn’t sound all that appealing, so she leaned into her writing skills. When a career as a freelance journalist didn’t pan out—an editor told her she needed more real-world experience—she thought she’d find the answers serving in the Peace Corps.

Instead, she’d returned just as unfocused—and a bit more insecure—as when she left. While the Fab Four had set goals for themselves practically before they left their cribs, Elle was still trying to figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up.

Thanks to a Peace Corps connection and a few well-received freelance articles she wrote years before, she landed a job at the prestigious international magazineVantage. Unfortunately, she was expected to pay her dues before she got to do any serious writing. Most days, her work consisted of mundane administrative tasks for the managing editor of the lifestyles division.

Luckily, Elle’s editor was no Miranda Priestly fromThe Devil Wears Prada. She offered Elle tons of opportunities to prove herself as a journalist. And true to her McAlister genes, she gave each assignment everything she had.

Still, after nearly eighteen months, the only “articles” she’d written were online—mostly paragraphs and teasers on social media posts used for clickbait to get readers to jump over to the actual article written by a “real” journalist. She was proud of the fact that her “teasers” scored clicks twice as high as the other editorial assistants. Yet it wasn’t as if her name appeared on an actual print byline. And Elle desperately needed more cred to put her on par with her famous siblings.

Ironically, she seemed to be the only one in her family who minded that she was “underproducing.” And that irked her the most. It was as if none of them expected anything more from the runt of the litter.

Well, she would show them she was just as enterprising as they were. An opening for a lifestyles columnist was coming up at the first of the year. Elle had every intention of winning it. Who said her passion couldn’t be in journalism after all?

“Although, I guess it’s all a matter of perspective,” Suni continued. “It’s not like you’re headed to sunny L.A. with me. Aside from the dinner, you’re stuck in a boring small town for the rest of the week. Maybe your famous family is just as annoying as mine. Under those circumstances, I’d probably skip spending Thanksgiving with them, too.”

Suni had it all wrong. Chances Inlet was the only place Elle ever wanted to be for any holiday. And her family wasn’t the reason she was currently avoiding her hometown. Nope. That excuse belonged to the six feet of muscled, blond-haired, blue-eyed deputy sheriff who once held the title of Elle’s most trusted friend. The guy she’d made a fool of herself over. Her skin grew warm just thinking about it.

Her editor, Madelaine Harper, popped her head into the cubicle. “Got a minute, Elle?”

Anything to end this train of thought.

“Of course.” Elle grabbed her tablet and followed the other woman into the hallway. But instead of heading back to Madelaine’s office, she steered Elle toward the glass conference room down the hall. The very same conference room where Helen Keneally, the magazine’s publisher, sat at the table idly drumming her fingers.

“Um?” Elle stopped short.

Madelaine gently pressed her hand to Elle’s back. “We’re meeting with her.”

Elle stifled a groan. She’d been avoiding the woman for months now. Ever since Elle had dumped her boyfriend of three years—who also happened to be Helen’s grandson—right before Christmas last year. It wasn’t a secret that she’d gotten her position at the magazine through her connection to Jeremy. But she was good at her job, dammit. And she didn’t deserve to lose it just because the woman’s grandson was a philandering pig.

The older woman surprised her with a warm smile. “Elinor, dear, you’re looking well.” She gestured for Elle to take a seat.

She was relieved when Madelaine sat between them, providing Elle with moral support, not to mention a human buffer.

“Madelaine says you’ve been an extraordinary assistant, going above and beyond the duties you’ve been assigned,” Helen said. “And it’s been brought to my attention that your posts have been converting exceptionally well. You have a flair for crafting a hook that drags readers right in. Bravo, my dear.”

Publisher and editor exchanged a look before Helen spoke again.

“It’s also no secret from anyone who works with you that you’re a team player. Someone who is kind and encouraging to her coworkers and genuinely liked and respected by the staff.”

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