Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Asher Hart
Rosie Duncan
Two people, both alone, needing a miracle. It comes in the form of a chance meeting—brought together in a busy store by a mischievous little boy.
With the single mother and her son, Asher discovers something he thought he’d lost years ago. The ability to feel joy. Rosie and AJ fill his heart, healing the pain of the past with every smile, laugh, and touch.
They share a magical Christmas. But when it’s over, Asher wants more.
Will Rosie let him be the secret wish she’s been longing for?
He’s determined to convince her.
Determined to be the miracle she’s become for him.
Her forever.
What is Insta-Spark?
Book #8 of the Insta-Spark collection. Complete standalone reads with one thing in common - lots of sweetness and a guaranteed HEA. Instant attraction, little angst - love and happiness abounds in this collection.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
ASHER
All around me were the sights and sounds of Christmas. Lights were strung everywhere. Trees, their branches so heavily decorated I was surprised they were standing, were placed in the most inconvenient places. Statues of Santa, reindeer, and elves peered at me from the shelves. Gift wrap, bows, ribbon, and tags were bright piles of glitter. A huge display of frolicking snowmen and the North Pole was set up in the middle of the department, and around it snaked a lineup of children and their parents, waiting to see Santa Claus.
They all looked miserable for different reasons.
The store was overly hot, overly bright, and overly crowded. The children wanted to see Santa—now—and the parents wanted to be anywhere but here. I had to agree with them.
Why the hell I did this to myself every year was a mystery.
But a few days before Christmas every year, I came to this store, walked to this department, found the one gift I required, and fled, grateful to be leaving the noise and confusion behind. Then I headed back to my quiet condo, where a good scotch and some soft classical music waited for me.
And silence.
I sat down, staring at the massive tree in the middle of the North Pole display, the fake mounds of snow and large bright-colored Christmas ornaments making my head ache. Despite my promise, I was seriously considering using my power and having the gift picked up by someone else and delivered to me. My sister, Suzy, wouldn’t really know. I bought my niece’s gifts that way, and she never complained. I picked the gifts; someone else had the hassle of picking them up. No complaints. Then again, Bonnie was five.
Except, I would know, and I hated lying to my sister. It was only for her that I would make this pilgrimage to this store and get her a gift she loved. One she expected each year from me.
“It wouldn’t feel the same if someone else gave it to me,” Suzy said once. “It’s our thing.”
And dammit, I loved my sister too much to let her down.
I glanced at the small bag in my hand. My job was done, and I could leave. Yet, I stayed sitting, staring at the chaos around me like a man unable to look away from a gruesome accident.
Suddenly, I heard my name being called. The voice was panicked, and for a moment, I was certain I was hearing things, until it rang out again.
“Asher!”
I rose to my feet as a woman rushed around the corner. Our eyes locked, and she hurried toward me. “Asher?”
I blinked at the stranger. Her bright-red hair glinted under the lights. It streamed down her back in a mass of waves. As she hurried closer, I stared at her creamy complexion that was covered in freckles. Thousands of them dotted the ivory skin, a large abundance of them on her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were green—bright and clear like emeralds. She was small, dressed in a coat that looked too big for her, the hem almost to the floor. She carried a bag and another coat, this one smaller. And she looked upset. The need to help her hit me, and I moved toward her.
“Asher!” she called out again.
Did I know her? My name was unusual, so hearing her call it out confused me.
I stepped in front of her, halting her progress, our eyes once again meeting.
“I’m Asher. Can I help you?” I asked, laying my hand on her arm.
She blinked, her voice fraught with trepidation. She shook her head. “No. My son. I’m looking for my son. He-he disappeared.”
I glanced over her shoulder, meeting the mischievous grin of a small boy I hadn’t seen a moment ago. He was among the frolicking snowmen, hiding behind a mound of fake snow. I had no doubt it had to be the other Asher—her son. The red hair and freckles he obviously inherited from his mother gave him away instantly.
“Um, is he wearing a blue sweater with cars on it? And he has your freckles?”
“Yes,” she gulped, gripping my arm. “Have you seen him?”
I tried not to notice how my body reacted to her touch. I could feel it—even through the layers of material separating us. I tilted my chin in the direction over her shoulder. “I think he’s over there.”
She spun, her entire body shuddering in gratitude as she found her son. “Asher, come here,” she gasped, relief evident in her voice. “Now!”
The little boy I judged to be about five or six raced over, stopping beside his mother. “I was saying hi to the snowman, Momma.”
She dropped to her knees, engulfing him in her arms. “You can’t leave my side,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “AJ, you scared me. I couldn’t find you.”