By: Rebecca Crowley
Series: Orchard Hill
Genre: Hanukkah Romance/Multicultural Romance
Release Date: December 1, 2022
Publisher: Tule Publishing
He’s looking for one last miracle…
Zach Strauss may be down, but he’s not out. His Bay Area biotech start-up has crashed, leaving him broke, but it’s only temporary until he can raise more money—or so he tells himself. Failure isn’t an option, and Zach’s always been able to sell anyone on anything. But back in his hometown, he finds himself in the unfamiliar position of needing a job.
After a childhood of instability, Noa Jacob purchased Second Chance, a thrift store-turned-boutique in Orchard Hill, and is determined to put down the roots she never had. Running her own business is more challenging than she’d imagined, and she’s in danger of losing it all—until a handsome stranger bursting with ideas walks in looking for work.
Noa only has ten days to turn Second Chance around, but Zach is confident that’s plenty. Together they create a successful Hanukkah Miracle Market that draws in families looking for something other than the Christmas cheer. But as the balance sheet ticks up, Noa wonders if instead of losing her business, she risks losing her heart.
Age: 33
Date of birth: January 30
Physical Description: Tall and lean, with gingerbread-brown hair, hazel eyes, and a luscious lower lip.
Occupation: Molecular biologist and biotech entrepreneur
3 likes in no particular order: Solving problems, early mornings, avocados.
3 dislikes in no particular order: Waiting, cold weather, details.
Drink of choice: Coffee, the stronger the better
Favorite food: Sugary cereal, preferably eaten at 2 AM
Favorite song: “Don’t Take the Money” by Bleachers
Choice of transportation: Feet – better for brainstorming
Favorite way to spend an evening: It used to be working ’til the wee hours, but these days I’m inclined to close the laptop early and spend quality time with my girlfriend, Noa.
Favorite holiday tradition: Holidays didn’t used to get much attention, but since Hanukkah is now also my anniversary, it’s risen in importance.
Best memory to date: Pre-Noa, it was probably Friday-night dinners at my grandparents’ house. Post-Noa, every day has best-memory potential.
If you could have a do-over, what would you do differently? Realize sooner that investing in people and relationships is just as important, if not more so, than investing in my career.
What’s something you’ve said you would never do, but in fact have done? Living with Noa has certainly changed my approach to home décor. I used to be a strict minimalist, and I don’t want to tell on myself too badly, but let’s just say it involves throw pillows. Sparkly ones.
Most romantic gesture (done or received): Easily my final effort to save Noa’s business – which she quite rightly rejected!
Words to live by: “Sometimes we can make our own miracles.”
Noa struck the match against the side of the matchbox with numb fingers, her teeth chattering in the frigid darkness. She carefully lowered it to the wick on the fat, squat candle on the ledge of the shop’s front window—and the wind blew it out.
She huffed in frustration. All that time she’d spent coming up with ideas for her Hanukkah display, and not once had she considered the weather. Twenty minutes of careful setup, kneeling on the freezing-cold sidewalk, positioning her nine candles in exactly the right spots on the narrow, calf-high ledge, only to rip through her box of matches without a single flame to show for it.
One match left.
She withdrew it gingerly, silently urging it to stay lit. She leaned forward, struck it against the side of the box, and moved her other hand to shelter the tiny flame—which disappeared into a wisp of smoke as the wind gusted down the street.
“Need a light?”
A pair of canvas sneakers had arrived beside her. Her gaze moved up tawny slacks and a seasonally inappropriate but trendy jacket to the hottest guy she’d seen in a long time. Tall, slender, with a short-sided haircut that left the top long enough for a few gingerbread-brown curls to tumble over his forehead. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because she was far too distracted by his mouth, particularly the pillowy lower lip that looked even more kissable as it stretched into a smile.
He dropped into a crouch, and she wrenched her attention from his lips to his eyes.
Which were hazel.
“I know the key point is the oil lasted for eight nights, but I’m starting to think the miracle was getting the menorah lit in the first place.”
She offered what she hoped was a self-effacing smile, and he grinned in response.
“Sometimes we can make our own miracles.”
He took a battered silver lighter from his pocket, clicked the flame to life, and lit the wick on the first candle.
It glowed steady and strong.
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” she half joked, using the first candles to light the others in turn.
“Because you don’t have an unlucky lighter. It’s a few days early for Hanukkah,” he observed, rising to his feet.
“Just a trial run, but it’s back to the drawing board. These will never stay lit.” She blew out the line of candles, two of which the wind had already extinguished.
He offered his hand to help her up. She grabbed it and yanked herself to her feet. Her muscles were stiff from the cold, her knees tight and achy, and when she landed upright, she nearly fell straight into him. Thankfully she caught herself just in time but was still close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see that his eyes were mostly green with a ring of gold around the pupil.
She took an unsteady step back. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Do you own this store?”
“I do. Can I help you with something?”
“I hope so. I’m Zach Strauss. I’m looking for a job.”
She huffed in frustration. All that time she’d spent coming up with ideas for her Hanukkah display, and not once had she considered the weather. Twenty minutes of careful setup, kneeling on the freezing-cold sidewalk, positioning her nine candles in exactly the right spots on the narrow, calf-high ledge, only to rip through her box of matches without a single flame to show for it.
One match left.
She withdrew it gingerly, silently urging it to stay lit. She leaned forward, struck it against the side of the box, and moved her other hand to shelter the tiny flame—which disappeared into a wisp of smoke as the wind gusted down the street.
“Need a light?”
A pair of canvas sneakers had arrived beside her. Her gaze moved up tawny slacks and a seasonally inappropriate but trendy jacket to the hottest guy she’d seen in a long time. Tall, slender, with a short-sided haircut that left the top long enough for a few gingerbread-brown curls to tumble over his forehead. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because she was far too distracted by his mouth, particularly the pillowy lower lip that looked even more kissable as it stretched into a smile.
He dropped into a crouch, and she wrenched her attention from his lips to his eyes.
Which were hazel.
“I know the key point is the oil lasted for eight nights, but I’m starting to think the miracle was getting the menorah lit in the first place.”
She offered what she hoped was a self-effacing smile, and he grinned in response.
“Sometimes we can make our own miracles.”
He took a battered silver lighter from his pocket, clicked the flame to life, and lit the wick on the first candle.
It glowed steady and strong.
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” she half joked, using the first candles to light the others in turn.
“Because you don’t have an unlucky lighter. It’s a few days early for Hanukkah,” he observed, rising to his feet.
“Just a trial run, but it’s back to the drawing board. These will never stay lit.” She blew out the line of candles, two of which the wind had already extinguished.
He offered his hand to help her up. She grabbed it and yanked herself to her feet. Her muscles were stiff from the cold, her knees tight and achy, and when she landed upright, she nearly fell straight into him. Thankfully she caught herself just in time but was still close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see that his eyes were mostly green with a ring of gold around the pupil.
She took an unsteady step back. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Do you own this store?”
“I do. Can I help you with something?”
“I hope so. I’m Zach Strauss. I’m looking for a job.”
Purchase Home for Hanukkah from:
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The Orchard Hill Series:
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:
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My favorite place to shop has been Amazon for a while now.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite place to shop is Amazon. If you are talking about physically shopping, then I would say Walmart is the place I shop the most in person.
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ReplyDeleteAmazon
ReplyDeleteI love shopping at Target and Amazon
ReplyDeleteI love shopping at Hollister, Amazon, and Walmart.
ReplyDeleteIt's Amazon for me.
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