Frozen - Casey L.A. (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗
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Frozen - Casey L.A. (лучшие книги .TXT) 📗 краткое содержание
Neala Clarke is a woman of her word, when she gives you it, expect her to deliver. Neala gave her niece Charli her word that she would get her a doll for Christmas. Never mind that there is only one week until Christmas and everywhere that stocked toys is practically sold out. Neala gave her word that she would get that doll for Charli, so she will move mountains to make it happen.
Darcy Hart is a people pleaser, when he is asked last minute for a doll by his adorable six year old nephew Dustin, he of course, says yes. However, Darcy faces a dilemma, the particular doll he needs is sold out everywhere. Darcy makes one last attempt to get the doll at a local toy store, and finds out they have only one left in stock, but he also finds out he is not the only person interested in claiming the doll.
Neala and Darcy go way back, playing in each other’s play pens kind of way back. They are not friends, more like mortal enemies, and both of them wanting a single doll was the start of a series of events that no one could have predicted, not even Father Christmas himself.
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Frozen
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Ninteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledments
About The Author
Other Titles
Copyright
Copyright 2014 L.A. Casey
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9929849-4-6
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
Literary Editor: Gypsy Heart Editing
Book formatting: C.P. Smith
License Notes:
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn't purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under S.I. No. 337/2011 – European Communities (Electronic Communications Networks and Services) (Universal Service and Users' Rights) Regulations 2011, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Nanny,
Today is Frozen’s release day, but most importantly, it is also your ninetieth birthday. You have lived an amazing long life and you’re still here, but you’re fighting to stay with us. You’re an incredibly strong woman, and every single one of us in our crazy, big family love you to pieces, from your eleven babies straight down to your forty-four grandbabies and your eighty-seven great-grandbabies. We love you. I love you. And I’m going to stick to my guns in this crazy writing world and do what you taught me to do: I’m going to go for it.
This is for you, happy birthday! <3
"Neala? Are you home?"
No.
"Neala?"
Be gone.
"Neala Hayden Clarke, you had better not be ignoring me!"
Would I dare?
"Neala!"
Argh!
"I'm coming, Ma! Keep your bloody knickers on," I called out in a raspy tone then proceeded to cough so hard I thought one of my lungs almost came up my throat.
I rubbed my chest as I crawled from my warm haven then shivered as the cool morning air surrounded me. I grabbed my housecoat, put it and my slippers on, and then folded my arms across my chest as I scurried out of my bedroom and towards my front door. I peeked through the peephole of my door out of pure habit. I knew who it was and when I spotted the overly happy face of my mother, who was dressed from head to toe in bright red, I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
I reluctantly unlocked my door and opened it wide.
"Heya Ma," I yawned.
She smiled as she glided past me looking like a jolly bull's target.
"Heya honey, did I wake you?"
Was she really asking me that?
She just had to bang my door down to get me out of bed.
"Nah, Ma. I've been up for hours," I deadpanned.
My mother clicked her tongue at me and gently swatted at my head with her red-gloved hand. I lightly snickered and playfully ducked away from her. I turned and walked down my narrow hallway and into my box sized kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder at my mother's attire once more and sighed.
"What the hell are you wearing, Ma?" I asked soberly as she followed me into the kitchen.
With cold shaking hands, I lifted the kettle from its holder, filled it with water from the tap, then set it back down and flipped the switch on the base turning it on.
My mother dramatically gasped, "It's Christmas time!"
That, in her mind, justified the monstrosity of an outfit she was decked out in.
"It looks like Santa puked on you, Ma," I said then squealed when she not so gently whacked my behind with her hand.
"You watch your mouth, and stop picking on me you little shite. I'm your mother, I should be revered."
Yes, your Highness.
I smiled. "I'm only messing with you, Ma."
I wasn't messing - she looked ridiculous.
"Good, now make me a cuppa."
"Yes, ma'am."
I made us tea and headed into my living room where we sat on the couch facing my plasma screen TV. I smiled as my mother kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her bum. We both sat the same way, and that wasn't where the similarities ended between my mother and myself. She was seventeen years older than me and the woman was hot. Well she was when she didn't dress like someone from The Grinch.
She was forty-two years old and didn't look a day over thirty-five. She was mistaken for my older sister nine times out of ten, and we had a bond where we were not only mother and daughter, but she was also one of my best friends. We both had frosty green eyes, long brown hair, pale porcelain skin and freckles sprinkled across our noses'. My father jokingly called us twins from time to time.
