When the Snowman Whispered – Christmas Magic Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
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Faith’s marriage has crumbled and she’s thrust back into the small town she grew up in.
As a new single mother, this is the first Christmas without her two daughters. They will be with her cheating ex-husband.

But, she will still be busy this holiday season.
Because there’s a snow man. And she carved him into a cold, chiseled masterpiece. And he came alive. Maybe due to the mojo bag her mother gave her or something else. And there’s a gorgeous ex-lover who became the sheriff of this small town and still yearns for a second chance with her.
Who will win her heart? And what magical twists and turns are in store for Faith this Christmas?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Faith

I

wish he were real.

I shaped him from snow,

and he stood tall above me.

He was chiseled glass in the winter. A life-sized crystal man, slick and curved in all the right places. I used a step ladder to smooth the top of his head, my knife to line his muscles, and my hands to form his face.

Beautiful.

I clutched the tiny red leather bag hanging from a string around my neck. A piece of twine tied it closed. A heart-shaped key dangled on its side. Letting go of the bag, I licked my lips and imagined him alive and in front of me.

He’s gorgeous. I’d melt all over him.

I sculpted for a living, but this had been my best work.

The snowman’s flesh appeared like crushed pearls. I slipped my fingers along the smooth line of his body—shivering from the touch of him. He was frozen pecs and a cold bulge at his groin. A frosty masterpiece. I used my earrings for his eyes—oval sapphires surrounded by diamonds. They sparkled in the winter sun.

“Those are some expensive eyes, my friend.” I placed the hat on his head and turned back to my six-year-old.

Rose was a miniature version of me—kinky black curls and rich brown skin. My other daughter, Meadow, had her father’s light complexion and his face. But she’d been cursed with my body. Just turning ten, she already had my hips and behind. My ex and I didn’t agree on many things these days, but we both united on getting guns and using Meadow’s future boyfriends as target practice.

They’re growing up so fast and now, I’m going to be with them even less.

This would be my first Christmas holidays without my kids.

What the hell am I going to do for the next few days?

I stared off in the distance. My second story house lay on a vast property—several acres of empty hills with no neighbors in sight. We’d barely lived here for two years. Once I found those panties in Brett’s car, my marriage crumbled at my feet and everything around me appeared dark and foreboding.

Now, the house always looked cold, even in the summer. It was painted icy blue with white shutters. The rose bushes never stayed alive when I planted them near the house. Too cold. Too forsaken for anything to grow. Before the separation, my ex and I had talked about building stables in the back and buying horses. Now, I thought about selling the place.

I need a change.

I scanned the area. Snow bathed the hills. Everything glittered with ice. Cold diamonds dotted leaves. Each blade of grass stood still as snow-heavy branches hung close to the ground like graying beards.

My masterpiece sparkled in the winter sun. Those shimmering sapphires seemed to focus on me. I could’ve made him a regular guy, but I sculpted a god. Someone to save me. More and more, I yearned for God or anybody, anything to save me. Save us all.

I need an escape.

Rose tugged at my jacket. “Mommy, what are you thinking about?”

Pressure pushed inside my head. I should’ve gone to a doctor about it months ago. When I googled severe head pressure, many sites mentioned brain cancer or anxiety. Frankly, I figured that reading those sites would eventually give me brain cancer or anxiety. I’d been doing my best to ignore the pressure ever since.

I rubbed my head. “Nothing.”

This year had been a dark one. And the world mirrored the hate and fear bubbling inside of me. The sane parts of my mind had been unraveling, inch by inch.

Every night, I battled insomnia.

It wasn’t just the collapse of my marriage. It was America. The election. The crumbling of our spirit. It was the hate. The media. The shootings. The bullets. Everywhere. Hollow points. Slicing through churches and elementary schools, movies and malls. Zipping through the air. The bullets. Mad men’s bullets. Cop bullets. Wicked ammo pumping injustice and mistrust into our blood.

It was why Brett and I left New York and returned to where we’d grown up. We moved back to the mountains and country out west.

We ran and did our best to hide from the crazy people. Too bad, there was no easy way to point out the insane and hateful.

Skin color didn’t identify my enemies.

The heart did. And now more than ever, it was hard to figure out what pumped inside of everyone’s hearts. Terror and mayhem divided us. Insane wolves danced in blood, while the media marched the sheep toward the slaughter.

How do people move on when the world is dying around them?

“Mommy, why do you look sad?” Rose asked.

“I’m fine. Everything is going to be okay.” I smiled at her. “Where’s your sister?”

“Don’t know.” Rose stared at my sculpture. “Is that Daddy’s hat on the snowman’s head?”

“Yep. Your dad won this hat at an auction. Michael Jackson wore it for a performance.”


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