The Mistletoe Motive(9)

MR. REDDIT: A little dramatic? “It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.” Seriously? Seven days “to determine intimacy”? With that sage wisdom guiding her romantic life, not gonna lie, I’m guessing Marianne falls for a jerk.

MCAT: I mean, yes, she falls for a guy who turns out to be a cad. But it’s not all on her! He sweeps her off her feet and conveniently neglects to tell her he’s broke and needs to marry an heiress, which Marianne definitely isn’t. She gets her heart broken, so be nice to her.

MR. REDDIT: SPOILERS!

MCAT: Oh come on, she’s the hopeless romantic in the novel. You knew Austen was going to crush her soul.

MR. REDDIT: SPOILERS, CATWOOD.

MCAT: I’m sorry!

MR. REDDIT: Sure you are.

MCAT: I am! I didn’t think I was in spoiler territory. I thought it was obvious.

MR. REDDIT: It’s anything but obvious! I’m reading a romance, expecting the guy she’s falling for to be a keeper, not a heartbreaker.



Even though I’m rereading it, I gasp again. Gingerbread blinks up at me sleepily and rolls onto her back. Rubbing her tummy, I sigh dramatically and shake my head. “Don’t worry, Gingerbread, I showed him the error of his ways.”

MCAT: Mr. Reddit. Austen’s stories are often romantic, but they’re not exactly romances in the modern sense. They’re novels of manners first and foremost.

MR. REDDIT: Wow. I thought Austen was one of the earliest and most influential romance novelists.

MCAT: Well her work’s been romanticized by popular culture, made into movies that emphasize the romantic aspects. And Pride and Prejudice is absolutely swoony as hell, I can’t argue with that. Her other novels have some incredibly romantic storylines and moments, too. She’s just…not necessarily a romance novelist in the full sense of the genre. Much as I adore Austen, there’s so much more to romance, and I wish more people knew that.

MR. REDDIT: I wish I’d known, too. Because foolishly I was expecting a HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

MCAT: Well, at least you know that criteria for romance—the HEA.

MR. REDDIT: I know we talk about a lot of different books, but I get the feeling romance is your favorite genre. Am I right?

MCAT: Definitely. It’s all I can read lately—well, besides buddy-rereading Austen with you.



Once upon a time I read a variety of fiction, but the past few months, it’s only been romance. After dueling with Jonathan Bah-Humbug Frost all day, I need assholes to get their comeuppance and happy endings only. I also sell a ton of romance at the bookstore. I’m passionate about getting people to challenge those uncharitable stereotypes about the genre and give it a try. I was prepared for Mr. Reddit to display some of those prejudices, too.

But he didn’t.

A smile warms my face as I read his response. Last night, it made me light up like the family Christmas tree after Dad’s thrown every single light on that sucker that he can. And tonight, it makes me glow all over again.

MR. REDDIT: Alright, then CATwood. Tell me what to read.

MCAT: Seriously? You’ll read a romance novel?

MR. REDDIT: I will. Where should I start?



I scroll through the list of recommendations I gave him (I may or may not have gotten a little carried away and listed my very favorites in order, but I’m a bookseller—recommending books is my joy!). When I get to the end of our chat, with Mr. Reddit’s usual Sleep tight, MCAT, I bite my lip and war with myself. My fingers hover over the keys, aching to type what I’ve debated writing so many times the past few months, since my mind started wondering, What if?

What if my online friendship with Mr. Reddit became a real-life friendship? And then, what if, one day, it became something more? That hope—for the possibility of more with him—has crept up on me gradually since I broke up with Trey.

Knowing how I work, it hasn’t been entirely surprising, after a year of talking daily with Mr. Reddit and growing so close, that some nights, when the rare wave of longing washed over me, it’s been the thought of him that got me off—the warmth that I imagined filling his voice, the thoughtfulness guiding his every question and curiosity about my answers.

Each time it happens, I feel a little more ready to ask him: Do you think we should meet?

But as I stare at my screen, my courage fails me, especially in light of his silence tonight. What if he only wants to be my friend? What if I’d ruin this good, safe, comforting connection we have by asking to explore our potential to become more?

So in the end, I don’t type what I want. I don’t dare risk confessing what Marianne does—that poor, hopeless romantic:

“If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.”





Chapter 3


Playlist: “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch,” Lindsey Stirling, Sabrina Carpenter


On my walk to work, I manifest a positive attitude. Today is going to be better. Even though I tossed and turned, worried about Mr. Reddit and why he hadn’t messaged, and then, when I turned to a historical romance audiobook like usual to mellow me out until sleep kicked in, I had the disturbing experience of reading a book whose hero was a dead-ringer for Jonathan Frost.