Secret Santa

Presley
I can’t go anywhere without someone asking if I’m the brother of the Beckett Murray. Yes, I am. The middle brother. As a swimmer I’m reminded constantly that I was never good enough to make the Olympic cut. My new job in Texas couldn’t have come at a better time. Finally, I’ll be able to make my mark on the swimming world as a coach for a Big 12 University.

My landlady asks me to take part in some kind of auction which I have zero time to take part in. When I try to politely decline, I somehow get sucked into a Secret Santa exchange with the other residents of Fitzpatrick Place. The woman I get? A sinfully curvy woman named Priscilla who owns a kitschy diner on the edge of town. I’ll play along for the entire week of gift-giving and merriment, but I need to show the university that while I’m not my brother, I’m equally skilled in the pool. I can’t afford any distractions. So why can’t I stop thinking of her smile, the way she sings along to the jukebox when she thinks no one is paying attention, or how sexy she looks in those unassuming fifties dresses?

Priscilla
I’ve lived in Fitzpatrick Place ever since I moved back home. Had it been risky overhauling my mom’s greasy spoon to a fifties-inspired, Elvis-themed diner? Maybe. But from the moment I stepped into my blue suede shoes five years ago, I’d yet to slow down.

Fitzy exhausted herself trying to play matchmaker for me. I just didn’t have time. That diner was my whole life. I reluctantly agreed to be part of the building’s Secret Santa, getting some new guy in D3 who was practically a ghost. He would get some cute gifts from me but I had no time to introduce new people to the neighborhood or entertain total strangers. I’d do my best at holiday cheer—but it would be the bare minimum. One day he plays messenger for my own Secret Santa, and suddenly I see him everywhere: the bookstore, the elevator, and call me crazy, but it feels like he’s finding any excuse to come to the diner.

Now he’s always on my mind, and I can’t just pretend that I’m not all shook up every time he looks at me with those deep blue eyes and uneven smile. I guess it’s now or never, especially since I’m lonesome tonight. Hopefully, putting myself out there won’t land me in the heartbreak hotel.

Secret Santa is a curvy heroine, matchmaker, and holiday romance that is guaranteed safe with no cheating and no cliffhangers. Why not spend some time at Fitzpatrick Place?