By: Rebecca Crowley
Series: Orchard Hill
Genre: Hanukkah Romance
Release Date: November 30, 2021
Publisher: Tule Publishing
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When Ellie Bloom’s life literally goes up in flames after an apartment fire, she slinks back to her sister’s house in the St. Louis suburb she’s avoided since her mom died. Ellie quickly caves to her nephews’ pleas to direct the temple Hanukkah play—her mom’s pride and joy—and by the time she’s lighting the first candle in her menorah, she doubts she’ll ever escape her hometown. And then she spots the cute fireman who rescued her lighting his own menorah in the window next door.
Firefighter Jonah Spellman may have dropped out of seminary, but he still has deep roots in his Jewish faith. Hoping to mend fences with his Rabbi father who can’t forgive his career change, Jonah agrees to direct the Hanukkah play, never expecting to clash with his beautiful, fire-starting new next-door neighbor.
By day they spar—Ellie’s desperate to live up to her mom’s legacy while Jonah’s driven to impress his dad. But by night they return to their secret candle-lighting ritual. Will their love burn as brightly as the Hanukkah flames?
Age: 29
Date of birth: October 9
Physical Description: Tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed
Occupation: Rabbinical-school dropout turned St. Louis firefighter/EMT
3 likes in no particular order: Craft beer, power tools, autobiographies
3 dislikes in no particular order: Small-mindedness, pigeons, traffic
Drink of choice: Anything local, seasonal, and malty
Favorite food: Brisket tacos
Favorite song: Bruce Springsteen, “Dancing in the Dark”
Choice of transportation: Firetruck with the lights and sirens on
Favorite way to spend an evening: At home with my girlfriend, Ellie, bingeing a series after putting in some work on the renovation.
Favorite holiday tradition: Used to be second-night Passover seders with friends, but that all changed when Ellie and I met over Hanukkah. Now it’s not just a holiday, it’s more or less our anniversary.
Best memory to date: The night Ellie and I finally got together stands out, of course, but before that, it was my time in Israel, and the night I helped put out a fire in an olive orchard. That was stressful, but it changed me for the better.
If you could have a do-over, what would you do differently? I’m not really a do-over guy – I think even our worst mistakes teach us valuable lessons. That said, if I could relive the day in high school when I accidentally backed my dad’s car into a dumpster, I might choose differently.
What’s something you’ve said you would never do, but in fact have done? Spent my whole life refusing to quit, believing that perseverance was a virtue – and then dropped out of seminary. Quitting turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made.
Most romantic gesture (done or received): Let’s just say I have a hell of an idea for a proposal at Hanukkah… Stay tuned.
Words to live by: As an almost-rabbi, you might think I have some theological wisdom, but I’m also a Bostonian, and my inspiration comes from longtime Red Sox player Ted Williams: “You have to hit the fastball to play in the big leagues.” In retrospect, he may have meant that literally, but I’ve always taken it to mean you have to dream big, take risks, and swing at whatever life throws across the plate.
“This is way too ambitious.” Jonah tossed the stack of papers on the pew beside him.
Ellie exhaled loudly, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. They’d been working to combine their respective scripts for nearly an hour. The kids had abandoned them to play red rover in the lobby, their parents would be arriving soon to pick them up, and they hadn’t rehearsed a thing—because at this point they still had nothing to rehearse.
“And yours is way too basic.” Ellie held up his three-page script between her thumb and forefinger as though she could barely stand to touch it.
“This is not Broadway. These are kids. Not professional thespians.”
“They’re capable of way more than your simple script, and if we go ahead with mine, their parents won’t be fuming that they rushed home from work to catch a ten-minute Hanukkah downer.”
“My play is not a downer,” he exclaimed, audibly shocked. “It’s solemn. Sophisticated.”
“It’s almost entirely in Hebrew.”
“And?”
“Not all Jewish people speak Hebrew, Jonah, especially not this fluently. I don’t know what kind of temple you went to in…”
“Boston,” he supplied.
“Boston,” she repeated. “But Temple Sinai is a friendly, accessible, open-minded Reform community. It’s not super formal, and the religious education reflects that. My Hebrew isn’t this good and I grew up in this congregation, so I can’t imagine—”
“Well, I think that’s changing. You’re right—there was no comprehensive language program when I arrived, and now one exists. Maybe it’s time to rethink the Hanukkah play, too.”
Ellie shook her head. “My mom did it this way for more than twenty years. A big, colorful, over-the-top production with lots of bells and whistles. Everyone loves it.”
“No offense, Ellie, but I’m not sure you’re still an expert on what this congregation wants. I’ve been here for six months and I’ve never seen you come to a service.”
She dug her nails into her palms, feeling like she’d been slapped. He wasn’t wrong.
It dawned on her that she hadn’t been to shul since her mom died almost exactly two years earlier. At first it was too painful, too cutting to have to sit somewhere her mom loved without her, to see someone else sitting in her mom’s favorite seat, to bear the weight of all the pitying glances, the patted hands, the well wishes.
That pain hadn’t necessarily lessened, but she’d shifted it to the background and drowned it out with work. Accepted her sister’s invitations, then bailed on the day with a quick text: Stuck at work, happy Purim/Pesach/Rosh Hashanah! Naomi hadn’t even asked her if she was going to last year’s Hanukkah performance; her absence had become a foregone conclusion.
“It’s funny,” she found herself saying aloud. “When I came in tonight, I hadn’t even realized how long I’d been away. I guess this place still feels like home.”
“It is your home, and it always will be.” Jonah smiled for the first time in nearly an hour, before quickly reassuming his businesslike expression. “It’s mine, too, now, and I think I’m a little more tapped in to what the kids’ parents want.”
“I don’t have to be a weekly temple-goer to know that ten minutes of boring talking—seven minutes of which are in Hebrew—is not what anyone wants.”
“And what qualifies you as the arbiter of Hanukkah play audience opinion?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m an actress,” she said primly.
He narrowed his eyes. “You look like you just came from an office.”
“Well, yes, I have a day job as an executive assistant at a bank, but I also have an agent and a short-term plan to move to Los Angeles. Very short term,” she added, mostly for her own reassurance.
“Wonderful. In the immediate term, however—”
“We need to come up with a script, and yours simply won’t work. Accept it and move on.” She slammed his script upside down on the pew.
Jonah laughed incredulously. “Mine won’t work? Mine is workable. Yours is a three-ring circus.”
“Who doesn’t love the circus?” she demanded, seconds before an enormous crash sounded from outside. They exchanged a look that promised they’d finish this later, then rushed out to the lobby.
Ellie exhaled loudly, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. They’d been working to combine their respective scripts for nearly an hour. The kids had abandoned them to play red rover in the lobby, their parents would be arriving soon to pick them up, and they hadn’t rehearsed a thing—because at this point they still had nothing to rehearse.
“And yours is way too basic.” Ellie held up his three-page script between her thumb and forefinger as though she could barely stand to touch it.
“This is not Broadway. These are kids. Not professional thespians.”
“They’re capable of way more than your simple script, and if we go ahead with mine, their parents won’t be fuming that they rushed home from work to catch a ten-minute Hanukkah downer.”
“My play is not a downer,” he exclaimed, audibly shocked. “It’s solemn. Sophisticated.”
“It’s almost entirely in Hebrew.”
“And?”
“Not all Jewish people speak Hebrew, Jonah, especially not this fluently. I don’t know what kind of temple you went to in…”
“Boston,” he supplied.
“Boston,” she repeated. “But Temple Sinai is a friendly, accessible, open-minded Reform community. It’s not super formal, and the religious education reflects that. My Hebrew isn’t this good and I grew up in this congregation, so I can’t imagine—”
“Well, I think that’s changing. You’re right—there was no comprehensive language program when I arrived, and now one exists. Maybe it’s time to rethink the Hanukkah play, too.”
Ellie shook her head. “My mom did it this way for more than twenty years. A big, colorful, over-the-top production with lots of bells and whistles. Everyone loves it.”
“No offense, Ellie, but I’m not sure you’re still an expert on what this congregation wants. I’ve been here for six months and I’ve never seen you come to a service.”
She dug her nails into her palms, feeling like she’d been slapped. He wasn’t wrong.
It dawned on her that she hadn’t been to shul since her mom died almost exactly two years earlier. At first it was too painful, too cutting to have to sit somewhere her mom loved without her, to see someone else sitting in her mom’s favorite seat, to bear the weight of all the pitying glances, the patted hands, the well wishes.
That pain hadn’t necessarily lessened, but she’d shifted it to the background and drowned it out with work. Accepted her sister’s invitations, then bailed on the day with a quick text: Stuck at work, happy Purim/Pesach/Rosh Hashanah! Naomi hadn’t even asked her if she was going to last year’s Hanukkah performance; her absence had become a foregone conclusion.
“It’s funny,” she found herself saying aloud. “When I came in tonight, I hadn’t even realized how long I’d been away. I guess this place still feels like home.”
“It is your home, and it always will be.” Jonah smiled for the first time in nearly an hour, before quickly reassuming his businesslike expression. “It’s mine, too, now, and I think I’m a little more tapped in to what the kids’ parents want.”
“I don’t have to be a weekly temple-goer to know that ten minutes of boring talking—seven minutes of which are in Hebrew—is not what anyone wants.”
“And what qualifies you as the arbiter of Hanukkah play audience opinion?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m an actress,” she said primly.
He narrowed his eyes. “You look like you just came from an office.”
“Well, yes, I have a day job as an executive assistant at a bank, but I also have an agent and a short-term plan to move to Los Angeles. Very short term,” she added, mostly for her own reassurance.
“Wonderful. In the immediate term, however—”
“We need to come up with a script, and yours simply won’t work. Accept it and move on.” She slammed his script upside down on the pew.
Jonah laughed incredulously. “Mine won’t work? Mine is workable. Yours is a three-ring circus.”
“Who doesn’t love the circus?” she demanded, seconds before an enormous crash sounded from outside. They exchanged a look that promised they’d finish this later, then rushed out to the lobby.
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The Orchard Hill Series:
Two Nights to Forever releases April 11, 2022
Rebecca Crowley writes contemporary romance with smart heroines and swoon-worthy heroes, and never tires of the happily-ever-after. Having pulled up her Kansas roots to live in New York City, London, and Johannesburg, Rebecca now resides in Houston.
Places to find Rebecca Crowley:
To enter: Answer Rebecca's question. “Shine A Light's heroine, Ellie, is awfully disaster-prone, and first meets Jonah when she accidentally starts a fire in her apartment. What has been your greatest holiday catastrophe?”
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I really don't have a holiday catastrophe.
ReplyDeleteNot being able to whistle on Christmas
ReplyDeleteI don't recall having any.
ReplyDelete