Sneak Peek!
The lights, the love, and the magic of Christmas is ready to sweep you away!
Please enjoy this sneak peek of the first chapter of A Little Paris Christmas by Jennifer Shirk, and get ready to be whisked off to Paris, Pennsylvania for a dose of holiday charm and festive romance!
Chapter One
Someone had peed on her Rudolph.
Not the typical trimming Sophie Dubois was used to seeing on the cheery Christmas decorations adorning her front yard. But she wasn’t ready to call foul play just yet, even though there were no animals in her quaint little neighborhood in Pennsylvania. She wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck to ward off the crisp November morning air and studied the yellow snow again as a truck pulled up her
driveway.
“Looks great, Sophie!” RJ said, beaming from the driver’s side window.
Sophie smiled, safely assuming he wasn’t talking about the addition of urine to her Christmas display.
“Merci.” She adjusted the five-foot snowman figurine next to Rudolph to hide the yellow stain, then walked over to him.
Sophie knew RJ from high school, though he was a few years older. He still lived with his mother and passed Sophie’s townhouse every morning on the way back from delivering the Paris Gazette—his most steady job to date.
He glanced at her front porch, decked out in garland, lights, wreaths, and bows and let out a slow whistle. “I don’t know anyone who loves Christmas as much as you do. City Hall doesn’t look half as good as your place, which is a darn shame. I figured you’d be in charge of all that holiday decorating stuff now, Ms. Chamber Director.”
Sophie snorted. “That would be a flat no. Mayor Gannon has his own ideas when it comes to showcasing the main street of Paris, Pennsylvania to tourists. As far as he’s concerned, I just need to get the tourists to our little ’French’ town, and he’ll handle the rest once they’re here. I am but a lowly puppet to his dictatorial holiday whims,” she said, placing the back of her hand against her forehead à la Scarlett O’Hara.
“Oh,” he said with a frown.
Obviously, not a Gone with the Wind fan. She dropped her hand. “What’s the matter?”
He cut the engine of his truck. “Well, I kind of need a favor. But now I’m not sure if you’re the person I should be asking. Maybe I should go to the mayor instead.”
She folded her arms to ward off the brisk chill in the air. “Try me first. I’m way nicer.”
“Well…” He visibly swallowed. “I… I saw your job advertisement on the chamber’s Facebook page.”
Job? Was the chamber hiring? Then she remembered… She bit her lip and asked, “RJ, do you want to be the town Santa?”
RJ’s face lit up as if it was already Christmas morning. “Oh, yes! More than anything. Mom would be so proud too. I’ve been practicing. Ho ho ho,” he bellowed. He reached next to him and held up a fistful of Twinkies. “I’ve even been trying to gain weight!”
She blinked as he unwrapped a yellow cake and took down half of it in one bite.
“Oh, gosh, don’t do that, RJ.”
His face crumpled. “But why, Sophie?” Then his gaze narrowed as he peered over her shoulder. “Is it because he is one of the applicants?”
Sophie glanced behind her and wanted to laugh. Her new neighbor, decked out in black from the top of his head to the tips of his boots, was walking toward his Lexus with the steadfast determination of a man about to ask to speak to a manager. He had moved in about three weeks ago, but she hadn’t officially met him—not for lack of trying. She had attempted to bring over a welcome-to-the-neighborhood poinsettia four times, but no one had answered the door, despite his car sitting plainly out front. The man was as elusive as a honey badger and, judging from the scowl on his face, probably about as friendly as one too.
“Don’t worry. Even if he did apply, he’s not Santa material,” she said, patting RJ’s sticky hand. Her neighbor seemed more Grim Reaper material. Hot Grim Reaper, if she were being completely honest. Even wrapped in his long wool coat, Sophie could tell by the wide shoulders and trim waist that an athlete’s body lurked underneath. Not that she had any interest in lurking underneath. Or even the time to.
As if her neighbor sensed he was being talked about, he pulled open his car door and openly stared at them.
Sophie lifted her hand in a wave. “Bonjour!” she called out, treating him to her best neighborly smile.
Something incoherent escaped his lips. The man’s scowl deepened, as if he’d just swallowed rotten fruitcake, then he turned and slid into his car. He started up the engine of his fancy-pants Lexus and peeled out of the driveway without so much as a wave good-bye.
“Yeah, definitely not Santa material,” RJ commented, finishing off the last of his Twinkie.
No kidding.
Sophie frowned. She tried not to take his snub too personally, but, come on, she’d done nothing to the man except say hello. Where was his holiday spirit?
“So do I get the Santa job then?” RJ asked.
“What?” She blinked and turned around.
RJ stared back with a hopeful, if not almost pathetic, expression. He didn’t have experience, but he did have Christmas spirit, so Sophie decided to extend the kindness she would have liked to have received from her neighbor.
“Why don’t you come to my office today around one and you can show us what you’ve got?”
“Sweet!” he said, throwing a fist pump in the air. “I’ve got an actual interview?”
She chuckled. “Yep. The first one I’m conducting.”
“Should I bring anything? Santa hat? Boots? My mom crocheted me a beard.”
Sophie bit down on a smile, but she rather liked his holiday enthusiasm. “We’ll supply you with anything you need to get you into character.”
“Okay, I’ll bring the beard for good luck anyway. See ya, Sophie. And thanks.” He rolled up the window then, after signaling her with a quick thumbs-up, started his truck, and drove off.
Still smiling, and pleased she’d already managed her one good deed for the day, she walked back to her lawn ornaments, lightly giving each of them one last shake to test their sturdiness. No way was she going to allow a gust of wind to take out her adorable little Christmas scene. She had two more figures in her attic—Hermey the elf and the Abominable Snow Monster to go with her Yukon Cornelius, but that would have to wait until tomorrow.
She turned to head to her car but stopped dead in her tracks at an eerie sound. It was almost like a groaning or howling in the distance. She glanced around. Then, the sound stopped.
Strange. But then again, nothing had felt normal since her new neighbor had moved in.
She gave her watch a quick check. If she didn’t leave now, she was going to be late for work and she hated being late. Working for the Chamber of Commerce of Paris, Pennsylvania and marketing the town she grew up in was a dream. It had only been two years, and even with the constant constraints of a demanding mayor, she could tout that her job was the one thing—next to her grandma—that she happened to love even more than Christmas.
❄️
“The mayor is here to see you.”
At her assistant’s sudden announcement, Sophie’s fingers froze over her laptop keyboard. It was rare for Mayor Gannon to stop by her office—especially without a scheduled appointment. Was there an emergency she was unaware of?
Sophie cleared her throat. “The mayor?” she squeaked.
Her assistant, Bernadette Gabris, nodded, then jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “He doesn’t like waiting,” she added in a hushed tone.
Well, he should have made an appointment then.
Sophie knew this wasn’t good. Fingers still hovering over her keyboard, she managed to drum up a nonchalant smile. “Of course. Please show him in.”
Bernadette took a step back to fetch him, but the mayor pushed past before she could open the oak door wider. Bernadette mouthed “good luck” behind his back, then quietly let herself out.
Traitor.
Quickly collecting herself, Sophie stood up to shake his hand. “Bonjour,” she said brightly.
Mayor Paul Gannon was a tall man, probably in his mid-fifties, with graying hair on his temples. He had a rounded stomach and chubby face, most likely the result of having a wife who owned the only French bakery in town.
He snorted at Sophie’s greeting. “I’m not here for the usual French pleasantries, Sophie.”
Sophie frowned. Paul’s comment was almost sacrilegious. French pleasantries and well… anything French was what their whole town was about. After all, it was Paris. Paris, Pennsylvania, but to the townsfolk the two cities were practically interchangeable.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, even though she found zero pleasure in him standing there all frowning and foreboding in her office.
“Unfortunately, there is no pleasure, Sophie. Paris is in trouble.” He rubbed his temples, then took a seat in one of the club chairs in front of her desk.
“Our Paris,” she had to ask, “or the one in… France?”
He threw up his beefy hands in the air. “Our Paris, of course. Who cares what’s going on over in real Paris?”
Well, considering her great-grandmother had come over from France during World War II and Sophie still had several second cousins she kept in touch with over there, she did care. But she decided to let the comment go. No sense getting him more riled up.
“What seems to be the trouble, sir?”
“Troubles,” he corrected. “We’ve definitely got more than one on our hands. The Fleur de Lis Hotel has quite a few vacancies this December. Not only that, but the Bon Marche Ski Lodge is only half full, even though they’re predicting great amounts of snowfall this week. I hired you to fix our problem of declining tourism, not make it worse.”
Ugh. That’s so not what I needed to hear. She swallowed. She’d already received emails from a few other ski lodges in town with the same complaints despite the heavy advertising they had done on all the Philadelphia networks. Sophie and her team had created lots of fun events throughout the month of December to draw visitors. She even created a TikTok page that was growing, something she was shocked to learn her predecessor hadn’t thought to do. But even with their best efforts in place, people still weren’t booking vacations to their little touristy Christmas town. And now merchants—and the mayor—were looking to her for answers.
The problem was she had none to give.
She lifted her chin. “Well, sir, my team and I are trying—”
The mayor slammed a fist on the desk, sending her bobblehead Santa into a seizure. “The five thousand-some taxpayers we have are not paying you to try, Sophie. They’re paying you to do. If tourists don’t come to town, all our businesses suffer. Christmastime through Valentine’s Day is supposed to be our busiest time of the year. But the track we’re on now could do some real damage to these small businesses. My Bella had to decrease the hours of all her staff at the bakery as a precaution. And I won’t have Mayor Spagnola from San Roma besting me on tourism. His little Italian city doesn’t have half the culture of our little Paris.”
Her stomach knotted tight. She didn’t know exactly what there was to say. “I understand, sir.”
“Do you? Because if not, there are a list of others who would understand perfectly and are waiting in line to show me exactly what they’re willing to do to perform your job.”
His comment was a stab in Sophie’s heart. She had ancestors linked to the original town founders. She’d do almost anything to make it as vibrant and thriving as possible.
“Don’t worry, sir.” She inwardly cringed at the lameness of her words.
“Too late. I’m beyond worried. I need to know what your plan is. And please, dear God, don’t tell me it has anything to do with that Santa sitting out there with the beard made of yarn. It’s not even white!”
She glanced at the clock on the wall and cringed. “Oh, that’s just RJ. He’s here for an interview.”
The mayor stared at her. “I’m not interested in RJ, Sophie.”
Right. The mayor wanted to hear her solution. She licked her lips. And began to panic. “My team and I are actually working on a fabulous Christmas idea that’s bound to bring in tons of tourists.” She slapped a palm over her mouth. A fabulous idea? Apparently, she was not only willing to do almost anything, she was also willing to say almost anything.
His eyebrows shot up. “You are? Okay then.” He rubbed his palms together. “Now we’re talking. So, what exactly is the plan?”
Yes, Sophie. What is the plan?
Her mind whirled. She eyed the wrapped fake Christmas gifts under her office tree, hoping one of them had an answer inside. “It’s… um, a gift. I mean, a surprise. Yes, it’s going to be a surprise for you.” And to me as well.
His forehead wrinkled as though he didn’t quite believe her. But she’d never given him a reason to doubt her before. “Fine. Surprise me. But time’s ticking.” He pointed at his wrist and the expensive watch he wore. “Every day that passes means big money lost. I have a downtown business merchants’ meeting this afternoon. Members are going to be up in arms. What exactly am I supposed to tell them until you reveal your great surprise?”
Sophie reached for her Santa mug and took a large swallow of her cooled coffee though she really didn’t need any more caffeine at this point. “Tell them not to worry because we’re going to announce our huge plan to right the sleigh in a few days. I promise. It’ll be great.”
Or, rather, she hoped it would be great.
No, it would be great.
It had to be great.
The mayor stood, still looking unconvinced. “Okay, I’ll tell them. But whatever your big idea is, it better work. Otherwise the board will have no choice but to seek alternative measures.”
Sophie slowly stood, too, her legs feeling as limp as cooked noodles. “Wh-what kind of alternative measures?” she squeaked. Although she already had a scary idea of what that meant.
He strode over to the door and swung it open. “We’d have no choice but to hire a new executive director and a whole new team as well. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly,” she whispered.
“Good. Joyeux Noël,” he said, unsmiling. Then he stormed out of her office.
Sophie collapsed in her chair, raising a hand to her throbbing temple. “Yeah, Merry Christmas,” she muttered. Then, with a sigh, she laid her head on her desk.
Bernadette came back into the office with Jonathan Rothman, Sophie’s senior communications manager. They both witnessed Sophie’s shocked state when they entered.
Jonathan came to stand in front of Sophie’s desk and shook his platinum-blond head at her. “Girl, you look like Rudolph peed in your espresso.”
Bernadette punched him in the arm. “Jonathan, could you not come into every situation like a wrecking ball? Sophie just had a meeting with the mayor.”
“Oh, so he’s the one who peed in your espresso. What did Tall, Gray, and Gloomy have to say?”
Sophie slowly raised her head and gazed at her staff without really seeing them. She was numb from the inside out. Numb and defeated. “I’m… I’m… I’m in trouble.”
Jonathan clapped his hands. “Ooh, finally something juicy going on in this town. Who knocked you up? Was it the FedEx guy with the tight buns and Gaston-sized biceps? If I wasn’t already taken, that would be some sugar I’d like to sprinkle on my cookie, if you know what I mean.” He bounced up and down on his toes. “Oooh, or is it that sexy new neighbor of yours? I knew you could get that introvert to come out of his shell.”
“Please, Jonathan.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Dial it down a notch. I love you, but you’re way too dramatic this morning. And—wait a minute—how do you know my neighbor is sexy?” She hadn’t even had that good a look at him. Not that it mattered. Personality trumped sexy any day in her book.
“Honey, you forget what a small town Paris is. My friend Gloria was the realtor who gave him the rental key, and she said that he was—and I quote—‘hot like tuna casserole.’”
Sophie scoffed. “Good to know. However, I’m not in that kind of trouble.”
“Wow, too bad.” Jonathan pouted. “I’d make one heck of a guncle.”
“I’m sure you would, but this is serious. And it’s not just me who’s in trouble. We all are.”
Bernadette sat down and immediately began biting her nails. “Oh, gosh. The mayor hates me, doesn’t he? I knew I should have been more hospitable and offered him something to drink—a cappuccino or maybe a latte. But I can’t do the frothy milk. I’ve tried. But I’m Greek. It just stays beaten hot milk. Maybe I could have offered him regular coffee. But that is just so… just so… non-French, and then I—”
Sophie raised a spread hand. “It’s fine, Bernadette. I don’t think the mayor was in the mood for coffee anyway. He was here because tourism isn’t improving, and the downtown merchants and businesses are starting to panic. All our jobs could be on the line.”
Jonathan fanned his face with both hands. “Oh. My. Gawd. I can’t afford for that to happen. Brian and I just bought a house. I can’t lose my job now.”
Sophie’s head began to swim as nausea settled in her stomach. Jonathan and his husband had just bought an adorable rancher with a white picket fence. They were planning to foster puppies.
“I know, I know. I won’t let that happen.” Sophie’s income was also already stretched pretty thin as it was due to the added expense of paying off her grandmother’s back taxes from when she ran into a bit of a financial problem after breaking her hip two years ago. “None of us can afford to lose our jobs, especially during the holiday season.”
Bernadette spit out a piece of her thumbnail. “But what are we going to do to get more tourists? We already have a Christmas parade and the Earlier than the Bird pre-Thanksgiving shopping weekend was only two weeks ago. Our budget is maxed out as it is. The mayor can’t expect a miracle, can he?”
“Well, that might be what he is kind of expecting,” Sophie said, cringing at her words. “Because I may have told him that we have a great new marketing plan we’re going to announce in a few days to help with all that.”
Bernadette tilted her head. “But we don’t have a great new marketing plan. We’ve only been adding to the old one.”
“Uh, hello,” Jonathan said, waving his hand in front of her face. “Honey, we don’t even have a new marketing plan let alone a great one. Unless it’s that lame Santa out there with the afghan hanging from his chin.”
“Oh, goodness,” Sophie said, nibbling her bottom lip. “I know we don’t have a new plan. That’s where it gets tricky.”
“But why would you tell the mayor we had a plan when we don’t?” Bernadette asked. “Now we’re doubly screwed.”
“I had to tell him something! I was afraid he was going to fire me on the spot. Besides, I’m sure we can come up with something fantastic by then.” She paused, then widened her eyes at them in horror. “I mean… can’t we come up with something fantastic?” Sophie began to doubt herself. There were just the three of them in the team, plus several part-time interns, but what they lacked in numbers they surely made up for in creativity, right?
Jonathan and Bernadette cast a dubious glance at one another.
“Why sure we can,” Jonathan said with an overly bright smile. “Don’t be silly. We’re professionals. And we’ve been in worse situations.”
Bernadette lifted an eyebrow. “We have?”
“No, not at all. This is horrific. But I was hoping you would back me on this for Sophie’s sake. Sheesh.”
Sophie chuckled. “You guys are the best. Okay, I need to meet with our potential Santa out there first, then let’s all head to the meeting room in about thirty minutes and see what we can brainstorm.”
“I’ll grab a speaker so we can listen to Christmas music,” Bernadette said, popping up out of her seat. “For inspiration.”
Jonathan followed Bernadette to the door. “And I’ll get the Christmas cookies in the breakroom and make us all café au laits with whipped cream and those cute little yellow star sugar sprinkles.”
Bernadette glanced back with a sardonic grin. “Yellow star sugar sprinkles? Is that really necessary, Jonathan?”
He clutched his heart with both hands. “What? Our interns like them. It’s also for inspiration.”
“These little things add up,” Bernadette lectured him. “We always go over budget because of you.”
“I didn’t hear you complain when I bought the four-foot gold scissors for the ribbon-cutting ceremonies you’re in charge of.”
“Well, of course not, that just makes good PR sense.”
“Whatever you guys need is !ne,” Sophie said, not hiding her amusement. “I’ll see you in a bit. Let’s do this.”
“Sounds good, boss. You’ll see. We’ve totally got this,” Jonathan said as he and Bernadette walked out of the office.
Once alone, Sophie took in a deep breath, trying to quell her anxiety and drum up some ideas for the meeting. Christmas had always been her favorite holiday, so this should be a slam dunk even with the pressure of a time constraint. Unfortunately, it was kind of hard to feel festive when so many people could be affected by her decision. But she had to come up with a plan today or else.
Her team, the mayor—and the entire town of Paris—were counting on her.
