Hating halloween, p.1
Hating Halloween, page 1
Table of Contents
Books by Elizabeth Coldwell
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
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
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About the Author
Totally Bound Publishing books by Elizabeth Coldwell
Single Books
Something Within Him
Neil and Obey
The Feel of Wings
Away from it All
Wagers of Sin
Everything to Him
More Than Vanilla
Night Voices
Steal Your Soul Away
Beyond His Control
Mr December
Holiday Falls
Closed for Christmas
No Reservations
Love Blossoms
Anthologies
Treble: Three-Part Harmony
Sensory Limits: Cruise Control
Collections
Christsmas Crackers: The Christmas Box
Feral: Abyssinian Heat
Mi Amore: Missing in Milan
Paramour: Maestro
Rules of Summer: Tamed in Tuscany
We Three Kings: Temporary Angel
Her Harem: Wild in the Country
A Wolf in Billionaire’s Clothing: Wolf in the City
Holiday Falls
HATING HALLOWEEN
ELIZABETH COLDWELL
Hating Halloween
ISBN # 978-1-80250-845-1
©Copyright Elizabeth Coldwell 2023
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright October 2023
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2023 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book four in the Holiday Falls series
Will she have a fresh chance of lasting love in Holiday Falls—or will her loathing of Halloween get in the way?
Looking for a fresh start after her cheating ex left her and took her life savings with him, Poppy Reed thinks Holiday Falls will be the ideal town to begin again. She’s a perfect fit for the role of assistant manager at the Maltby Farm Inn, and owner Miranda thinks so too, hiring her on the spot. What Poppy doesn’t expect is that her new home will bring her in contact with handsome bartender, Finn Gallagher.
Poppy and Finn share an instant attraction, and before she knows it, she’s in bed with him. Their sex is hotter than she’s ever known, made more exciting by Finn’s love of flirting with danger and letting Poppy take a dominant role.
Poppy begins to believe there are no limits to what they can do together—until Finn suggests a hot date at a local Halloween attraction. Poppy has hated Halloween since she was a kid, and their trip to the haunted house seems likely to ruin their romance, rather than take it to the next level.
Does their love stand the ghost of a chance, or will life in Holiday Falls be more trick than treat for Poppy?
Dedication
For Fi, my fellow Wistow Witch.
Happy Halloween!
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Chevy: General Motors
Keurig: Keurig Green Mountain, Inc.
Pittsburgh Pirates: Major League Baseball Properties, Inc.
Aerosmith: Epic Rights, Inc.
Four Seasons: Four Seasons Hotels Limited
Boston Red Sox: Major League Baseball Properties, Inc.
Facebook: Meta
Instagram: Instagram from Meta
Netflix: Netflix, Inc.
Reader’s Digest: Trusted Media Brands, Inc.
Jell-O: Kraft Heinz
Waldo: Martin Handford/Candlewick Press
Monster Mash: Bobby Pickett/Leonard Capizzi
Fred and Wilma Flintstone: Hanna-Barbera Productions
Chapter One
I don’t think I’m going to make the interview on time…
Poppy peered out through the windshield at the driving rain. It hadn’t stopped falling for the past couple of hours and still showed no sign of letting up. The wipers squeaked and dragged as they did their best to clear away the steady stream of water.
She did her best to ignore the unpleasant popping sound coming from beneath the hood, as well as the indicator on the fuel gauge, which had slipped dangerously close to empty somewhere over the last ten miles.
It would have been more sensible to leave home yesterday, rather than getting up just before dawn to make the eight-hour drive from Pittsburgh to this little town in the heart of Massachusetts. But that would have involved an overnight stay somewhere, and Poppy couldn’t afford the expense right now, just like she couldn’t afford to get the Chevy’s engine looked at or the gas tank filled.
She cursed Bradley under her breath, as she had done so many times since he’d walked out on her. As if it weren’t bad enough that he’d left her for his PA, Jaime, when he’d gone, he’d cleared out their joint account, landing Poppy with a stack of bills and an irate landlord demanding two months in unpaid rent. Sorting those commitments had all but emptied out her meager savings.
Now all she wanted to do was forget about Bradley and his cheating, consign all his lies and excuses to history and make a fresh start as far from her old life as she could. Though, when she’d answered the job advert for an assistant to help run the Maltby Farm bed and breakfast inn in Holiday Falls, she hadn’t realized quite the distance she’d have to travel to get there.
The engine sputtered again, and Poppy’s stomach churned.
Please don’t die on me. Not now.
It would be just her luck if the car finally broke down, on top of everything else that had happened since she’d found out Bradley was cheating on her. But according to her map, the inn was less than half a mile down the road. If she had to, she could abandon the vehicle and complete her journey on foot. She pictured herself running down the muddy track, arriving at her interview soaking wet and bedraggled. It wouldn’t be the ideal first impression, not when she needed this job so badly. She issued a silent prayer to whoever watched over her, asking for the car to hold on long enough for her to reach her destination.
She rounded a bend in the road and spotted the sign that marked the entrance to the inn, its name picked out in neat black capital letters surrounding a stylized image of a bunch of red roses. Poppy hit the turn signal, and for the first time since the rain had started to fall, the ghost of a smile crept across her lips.
Maybe things are going to turn out okay after all.
She brought the car to a halt in front of the white-painted building with its neat front porch. A wreath of black and orange ribbons attached to the door gave her pause for a moment.
Oh Lord, don’t tell me they’ve started celebrating Halloween already here. All that tacky nonsense seems to start earlier every year, and I just know everyone will expect me to join in. But if that happens, they’re going to be disappointed…
Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she dared to risk a peek at the time display on the screen of her phone and realized she’d made her appointment with five minutes to spare.
Talk about cutting it fine.
Still, it gave her a few moments to check her reflection in the driver’s mirror, run a brush through her light-brown hair and apply a fresh coat of dark-pink lipstick. Her hazel eyes smiled back at her as she worked to project a confidence she didn’t feel. Telling herself not to worry, she had this in the bag—a trick her dad h ad taught her before she went for her first ever job interview—she grabbed her purse from the backseat of the Chevy, made double sure it contained her resume, slipped into her winter jacket then dashed for the shelter of the inn.
As she waited for her knock on the door to be answered, she glanced around, admiring the tubs of dark-red and purple dahlias on the porch. Everything here looked as if it were well cared for, giving a warm and inviting welcome to guests. The notion was reinforced by the woman who opened the front door.
Somewhere in her early forties, she had faint lines at the corners of her eyes that deepened when she smiled, and her blonde hair was twisted up in a practical knot and secured with pins. She wiped her hands on a blue-and-white striped apron, and Poppy couldn’t help noticing a faint smudge of flour on her cheek.
“You must be Poppy, right on time. I’m Miranda. Please come in.”
“Thank you.” Poppy walked inside to be greeted by the inviting scent of vanilla and warm sugar. “Mm, something smells good.”
“Oh, you caught me making a batch of orange-cranberry muffins ready for tomorrow morning’s breakfast.”
“Do you do a lot of cooking for your guests?” Poppy realized her mistake the moment the question was out of her mouth. “I mean, I know you provide breakfast for them, but I thought it would involve mostly eggs, toast, that kind of thing.”
“Well, I offer what I like to call the full Massachusetts breakfast—bacon, sausage, home-fried potatoes—and vegetarian options, too, but if you ask me, there’s nothing nicer than a homemade muffin to accompany a good cup of coffee. Speaking of which, can I get you something to drink?”
“Coffee would be amazing, thank you.” She’d stopped at a diner somewhere on the outskirts of Scranton and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich—the cheapest item she could find on the lunch menu—but that had been hours ago. Poppy hoped Miranda didn’t hear the rumbling in her stomach as she followed her through to the guest lounge.
“If you’d like to wait here, I’ll go get a cup for you and then we can make a start on the interview. Cream and sugar?”
“Just cream, please.”
Poppy made a slow circuit of the lounge. Like everything else she’d seen of the place so far, this room was designed for lazing in, maybe leafing through the pages of a magazine while you sipped a hot drink and decided whether to venture into town or simply spend the day relaxing at the inn.
The walls were mostly decorated with old paintings of countryside scenes and grand houses, but she spotted a photograph on a silver frame on the mantel. Miranda, together with a blond-haired man who looked at least a decade younger than she did. She didn’t think this was a brother—there was nothing in the way of a family resemblance Poppy could see as she picked the photo up and studied it, and anyway, she couldn’t imagine any siblings staring at each other with the deep and obvious romantic love this couple shared. Poppy set the frame back down, stifling a pang of envy. She couldn’t recall Bradley ever looking at her that way, even in the first few weeks of their relationship. Maybe it should have been a sign that he never really loved her.
Taking a seat on the couch, she told herself she wasn’t going to think about Bradley. He’d taken up real estate in her head for too long, and she didn’t want him there any longer. Instead, she mulled over her chances of landing this job.
This seems like it would be a great spot to work, and Miranda is so friendly. I think we could really get on…
She warned herself not to get her hopes up. She had no idea how many other people had applied for the role or had already been interviewed. Maybe talking to her and checking her resume was just a courtesy on Miranda’s part. Still, whatever happened, the drive here had given her time to reflect and come to the conclusion that whatever the outcome of this meeting, she had no intention of going back to Pittsburgh. She had no job there, no good friends, no reason to stay in the apartment she could no longer afford now Bradley wasn’t around to contribute his share of the rent. All her possessions were packed into the trunk of her car, ready to be unboxed wherever her new home might be. Even after spending a few minutes in the inn, she really hoped that was here.
“Okay, here you are.” Miranda had returned, carrying a tray with a French press, two cups, a jug of cream and, Poppy realized with a pang of joy, a plate of muffins. She set one of the cups on the coffee table in front of Poppy and filled it. “Help yourself to cream.” Clearly spotting where Poppy’s gaze had landed, she added, “I thought you might like to try one. They’re always nicest when they’re fresh from the oven.”
“Thank you very much.” Poppy reached for a muffin. A small moan escaped from her lips as she bit into the soft, warm interior. “Oh my God, this is so good. No wonder so many people talk about the food here when they leave comments about Maltby Farm.”
“You’ve been reading my reviews?” Miranda quirked an eyebrow as she sat on the wingback armchair across from Poppy and poured cream into her own coffee cup.
Poppy nodded. “Of course. I made sure to learn as much about this place as I could before I answered your job advertisement, but even looking at all the photos online, they don’t really do justice to how beautiful it is here.”
“So then, why don’t you tell me why it is you want to move all the way from Pittsburgh to work in a small-town bed and breakfast inn?”
Chapter Two
Poppy stiffened in her seat. So skillfully she hadn’t been aware of it, Miranda had moved their conversation onto a more formal footing. This wasn’t Poppy gushing about how pretty the inn was or how delicious the orange-cranberry muffins were—and they really were. The one she’d devoured was now nothing more than a scattering of crumbs on her plate, and she longed to take another one but didn’t want to come across as being greedy. No, this was a serious job interview, one that would determine where she found herself living and working in the months to come.
“Well, to answer that, I really need to let you know about my background and how I come to be where I am now. As you’ll see from my resume, I have a degree in hotel and restaurant management. When I was in high school, I got a job working as a housekeeper at a hotel in town, to earn a few bucks to put toward my college fund. I don’t know why I enjoyed it so much—I mean, changing bedlinen and cleaning bathrooms isn’t the most exciting of jobs—but I loved the atmosphere of the place. And I realized that’s what I wanted to do with my life—not housekeeping but working in hotel management. Keeping guests happy, making sure everything runs smoothly… There’s an art to it. I mean, why am I telling you that? All the five-star reviews you get. You’re clearly great at what you do, because people come back and stay here time after time.”
Miranda hadn’t spoken during her monologue, but when Poppy looked up from over the rim of her coffee cup, she noticed her keen expression, as if she were considering Poppy’s every word. Poppy took a breath and went on.
“So, I went to college in Pittsburgh, and all the time I was studying, I took jobs in hotels and restaurants in the city, working front of house and really honing my people skills. When I graduated, one of the places where I’d worked had a vacancy for assistant manager, and they took me on. Then, a couple months ago, the hotel was bought out by a national chain. They decided they needed to cut some costs, and…one of those costs was me. I’ve been looking for a suitable new job ever since.”
Miranda picked up Poppy’s resume from where it lay on the coffee table. “I don’t have any doubts you have all the right qualifications, but you haven’t answered my question. Why here, of all places? It can’t just be the glowing reviews I get that would make you want to move all the way from Pittsburgh.”
Poppy swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. This was the part of her recent past she really didn’t want to talk about. “Things…changed.” She hoped the tone of her voice would encourage Miranda not to pry too deeply into what those things might be. “I’ve spent the best part of eight years in Pittsburgh and all of a sudden it didn’t feel like home to me anymore. I want a new environment, a new challenge, and I think I could have that in Holiday Falls. I know I have a lot to offer—I’m willing to work hard and do whatever is asked of me—and I already get the feeling I could be very happy here.” Realizing that might come across as presumptuous, she added, “I mean, I’m not assuming I’m going to get the job. For all I know, you could already have spoken to someone you think is a better fit for this place. But if I did come to work at the inn, I promise you wouldn’t regret your decision. I would give you one hundred percent of my effort and energy and do whatever it took to keep the guests leaving those amazing comments about how well they’re treated.”
