A Down-Home Savannah Christmas

By: Nancy Robards Thompson


He chased away her fiancé

And waited for her return

Like snow falling in Savannah, Georgia, the odds of Elle Clark falling for Daniel Quindlin are slim to none. First, she isn’t home to stay. And second, Daniel caused Elle’s fiancé to leave her at the altar. Even if he had her best interests at heart, falling for her arch nemesis just isn’t natural. Well, neither is a white Christmas in Savannah...





“When did you decide that being the rebel wasn’t the way to go?”

He studied her face for a moment, drinking in the contours and planes.

“There just comes a time when you either choose to grow up or continue down that senseless self-destructive path to nowhere. It also comes from finding something you’re good at. Something you’re passionate about.” He swiveled the chair and leaned back in it. “For me it was renovating old houses. I liked the irony of it. I used to break things, but now I fix them.”

A look of dawning washed over her pretty face and he wanted to kiss her. The same way he had all those years ago.

“I never thought of it that way, but you’re right.”

Elle held his gaze and drew her bottom lip between her two front teeth. He wondered if she was remembering that kiss and wanting to relive it, like he was doing.

“Why did you feel the need to break up my wedding, Daniel?”

Well, there it was. The million-dollar question that he had both dreaded and wanted to plow into headfirst just to clear the air. Because until they had talked about it and it was out of the way, there would be no moving forward in the direction he was certain they were destined to go.

THE SAVANNAH SISTERS: One historic inn, two meddling matchmakers, three Savannah sisters





 Dear Reader,

To me, family is everything. Mine is a close-knit bunch. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when I tell you that I drew on what I know when I wrote A Down-Home Savannah Christmas.

The story’s heroine, Elle Clark, leaned on her family when she was stood up at the altar. They supported her when she decided to leave Savannah for a fresh start. Now she’s home again, and she’s come face-to-face with Daniel Quindlin, the best man in her wedding, who she believes convinced her groom to run. She’s relying on her family more than ever to shield her from her nemesis. The problem is, they’re determined to help her see that Daniel actually is the best man...for her.

This is the first book in my three-book Savannah Sisters miniseries. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it.

Warmly,

Nancy






Chapter One

Bridezilla.

Elizabeth Clark’s husband-to-be had called her Bridezilla. Right in the middle of their rehearsal dinner.

She’d simply worried aloud to her sisters, Jane and Kate, about the flowers for the ceremony and whether the florist had understood that she wanted the tall arrangements behind the dais, not in front of it where they would block the guests’ view of the wedding party. She didn’t think Roger was paying attention, since he was seated at the opposite end of the table for twelve.

He must have been, because he called out, “Relax, Bridezilla. Just go with the flow.”

There was an edge to his voice, and it carried down the length of the table, past their guests, who had fallen silent in the wake of his words. After Elle had processed the barb, she’d chosen to believe he was trying to be funny.

Sometimes Roger’s humor missed the mark and sounded caustic. On the occasions when she reminded him to check his tone, an argument usually ensued. Tonight, on this night when she needed everything to be perfect, she decided to let his quip slide.

She was a good sport. She and Roger were deeply in love.

Even so, she couldn’t help saying to no one in particular and everyone in general, “Grooms are lucky. They simply have to show up on their wedding day and everything is done. Poof! Like magic.”

She sent Roger an air kiss and a good-natured eye roll.

Everyone, except Roger, followed her lead and laughed.

That was when she thought she’d glimpsed something dark in his eyes.



* * *



Over the next twenty-four hours, every niggling doubt and fear that Elizabeth had caged in the wayback of her consciousness had commando-crawled its way to freedom.

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