The Santa Race
Juniper Bennett has finally clawed her way into professional success in the Pittsburgh marketing world, despite soul-sucking burnout. When her father asks her to return to her snowy hometown of Brunswick to help sell her childhood home, she expects a quiet holiday—not a mission to save the town’s long-standing tradition.
Brunswick’s iconic Santa Race is approaching its fiftieth anniversary, but for the first time in decades, the finish line is nowhere in sight. The tradition has been cancelled by the one person Juniper never wanted to see again: Dylan McCalister. Ten years ago, Dylan was the boy she thought she’d marry—until he dumped her on her front porch without a single reason why. Now, he’s the struggling owner of the local shoe store, and he’s convinced the race is a financial disaster the town can no longer afford.
Refusing to let the legacy fade, Juniper strikes a risky deal with her ex. As they navigate small-town gossip, a fundraising “golden” gala, and a high-stakes marketing campaign involving a global fitness influencer, the ice between them begins to thaw. But with a demanding boss threatening her career and a decade of secrets standing between them, Juniper must decide if she’s just running a race or if she’s finally found her way home.
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Release Date: October 17, 2026
Genre: Romantic Suspense
~ A White Satin Romance ~
Excerpt
Chapter One
Juniper Bennett, you may be just what we need. Juniper Bennett, you may be just what we need. Juniper Bennett, you may be just what we need. I keep repeating it in my head as I navigate the salt-covered, slushy Pittsburgh sidewalks between my office and the neighborhood coffee shop. For once, my trip to pick up my traditional 2:00 p.m. payday-Thursday outrageously overpriced coffee is the cherry on top of my day instead of the small bright spot in a week of drudgery.
“Juniper Bennett, you may be just what we need,” is what Tom, the CEO of Sterling Marketing, said merely twenty minutes ago during what was supposed to be our regular Thursday review meeting. No one was more shocked to hear him say it than me, but my boss Francesca was a close second.
“You hit it out of the park with this one, Juniper,” Tom said, adjusting his banana-print tie. Since starting at Sterling Marketing four years ago, I’d learned that Thursdays were yellow blazer days for Tom. His colorful outfits were a marketing tool in and of themselves. No one forgets the meeting they have with a handsome, salt-and-peppered-haired gentleman in a bright purple suit jacket and zany dinosaur tie. When people signed on to Sterling Marketing they were signing on for Tom, but since our client list doubled over the last year, Francesca had started taking on more of the business development. This change thankfully took her out of the office more often, but not out of my hair. She had been particularly irking me lately, nitpicking every assignment I turned in and finding a way to make me stay late every Friday since Halloween.
So, when the first approved copy for the Children’s Museum’s social media campaign didn’t feel right to me, I tweaked it in the eleventh hour, without running it by Francesca first. It was risky, but I couldn’t help myself. The joke about Santa’s elves unwrapping the new Winter Showcase—a velociraptor fossil—was right there. Screw it, I thought, when I pressed send on the email. Let her fire me.
Well. That was last night. Since then, it’s had over one million impressions and is growing. When it went viral, I figured Francesca would try to take the credit. What I didn’t expect was that Francesca obviously hadn’t bothered to read my initial performance report ahead of our meeting.
“Who is the lead on the Children’s Museum account?” Tom asked as soon as everyone had taken their seats around the conference table earlier this morning. The scent of burnt coffee and dry-erase markers percolated through the fishbowl conference room.
“I am,” Francesca jumped in, “but I was out of the office yesterday meeting with the owners of the new robotics lab—they’re very interested in working with us by the way—so I left Juniper to release the first scheduled posts.”
“Was it your idea to make the change to the social campaign?” Tom asked her, his face unreadable.
Shit. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Is the museum upset that I went rogue? Even if they’re going viral in the best way? No. That’s ridiculous.
“What...changes?” Francesca said, shooting daggers at me from her over-mascaraed eyes. She tucked a section of her Barbie straight blonde hair behind her ear, an anxious tic that had become more prevalent over the last year. “I’m sorry Tom, I had no idea about any changes. I left yesterday assuming Juniper could handle the task of posting the agreed-upon copy.” She sent a sideways glance in my direction.
Tom didn’t react, aside from turning his attention to me. I liked Tom. He was both jovial and serious about his business. I’ve been around plenty of old businessmen that I wouldn’t want to be in a room alone with, but Tom was not that guy. He doesn’t even wade into the territory of creepy. As far as I knew, he’s never been anything but professional with any of his mostly female staff. He didn’t even have an assistant, and prided himself on managing his own calendar to the point that at least once during the workday his age-appropriate, very sweet wife of twenty-plus years would call him to ask about dinner. Plus, he had a brilliant marketing mind. Some of the best campaigns I’ve ever seen were straight from Tom’s brain. Imagine my disappointment when he hired me and I learned I’d be reporting to Francesca instead of working directly with him. I’ve never fully recovered. What I thought was my dream job had become a slow descent into soul-sucking burnout. The only thing I’ll miss about this job is working with Tom.
“So, I assume you’re responsible for this, Juniper? You changed the copy that resulted in the Children’s Museum calling me at 7:00 a.m. this morning?”
Here it comes. I’m getting fired. Good. To hell with it.
“Yes, sir,” I said, swallowing hard. I quickly passed out copies of the engagement report to everyone around the table. “But I’d like to point out that the updated copy performed really well. We had a ton of engagement.”
“Can I ask why?” Tom didn’t even glance at the paper that slid to rest in front of his sleeve.
I forced myself to smile, to be light and breezy and not show that I was sweating large ovals of stress into my blouse. “I think because people thought it was funny...”
“No, Juniper. I mean, why did you change the copy?”
“Oh. Um. It was just a feeling, really.” I reached for the heart charm hanging on a gold chain around my neck, rubbing it like a worry stone.
“I thought a Children’s Museum should be more playful and parenting humor always does well. The old copy felt...stale. It was a calculated risk.”
Francesca was squirming in her seat, her jaw set tight in a way I knew meant I’d be pulled into her office and tongue-lashed as soon as the meeting adjourned. Instead of the usual dread, relief washed over me. That would be the last time Francesca yelled at me. I’d finally be free. Unemployed and broke, but free.
“Calculated!” Tom boomed. “You took a dusty dinosaur exhibit and made it a viral sensation. The director called me this morning to thank us. They sold out of ticket reservations through the winter break for the first time in the museum’s forty-year history. They’ve been contacted by every news outlet in the city, and it’s starting to get nationwide coverage.”
Tom actually got up out of his seat and clapped. I blinked, surprised and unsure of what was happening. The rest of the team soon joined in.
“Yeah, girl!” said Gina from Finance, beaming. And the look on Francesca’s face? I could not even begin to explain the amount of money I’d pay to see that look of pure shock and thinly veiled jealousy dripping off her mug at some point again in the future.
Tom held up his hand to calm everyone down.
“Congratulations, Juniper. Excellent work. Before we move on to other topics,” Tom said, pulling the group back to attention, “I feel this is a good segue into some business news. You all know I always say that here at Sterling Marketing we aren't just a firm; we’re a family. And in this family, we don't just meet expectations—we protect the legacy we’ve built together. You’ve probably noticed we have a bit more work than we can handle at the moment. I’m even in talks with a local, ah, fitness influencer about the potential to work on something really exciting.”
The office erupted in murmurs of excitement. We were all thinking the same thing, that influencer had to be Academy Grant. The white whale Tom had been chasing for years. The local boy who made it big in the running influencer world, who had historically turned down every offer of representation he’d ever been given. He didn’t do brand deals. He didn’t even attend press events. Getting him on board as a client would be a huge win.
Tom waited for the chatter to die down before he continued.
“This influx of work, it’s a good problem to have, but it means we need to do some growing at the Sterling Marketing family. We’ve been picking up more clients in the Lawrenceville area, so I've decided we’re going to open a satellite office of Sterling Marketing on that side of Pittsburgh.I’ve been trying to figure out which members of our team I’d like to lead the effort as the Managing Director. I had a few people in mind, but I have to say right now I’m really focused on one person in particular. Juniper Bennett, you may be just what we need.”
Francesca’s jaw drops. My eyes grow wide. Me? In charge of a new branch? What the hell is going on?
“Don’t get too excited everyone,” Tom continued, backpedaling this slight HR misstep, “this isn’t me officially offering Juniper the job. I may be putting carts before horses here as we have some kinks to work out before the New Year, but I am impressed with your instincts and your work, Juniper. And I hope you’ll consider the position. In the meantime, let me know if there’s anything you need. We’re out of ad-hoc bonuses for this year, otherwise I’d be giving you one.” Tom winked at me, and I wanted to simultaneously burst into a phoenix of ego-stroked flames and melt into the floor with the embarrassment of Tom “attagirl-ing” me in front of all the team leads.
I managed a small smile as Tom moved on to the regular weekly business, assuring us all we’d talk more about the new branch after the holidays. Or at least I think that’s what he said. The rest of the meeting went by in a haze. As we were dismissed, Francesca didn’t say one word to me. She simply stomped her stilettos back to her office and closed the door. I floated back to my desk and spent the next hour sending dead-eyed thank you notes to each congratulatory message that popped up from my coworkers.
When I walked in this morning, I envisioned I’d end the day packing up my desk. I had almost convinced myself that getting fired from the best marketing firm in town would actually be a good thing and not a life-ending failure. Now that this Managing Director thing is in the mix, well, that changes everything. When Tom looked at me—truly looked at me—and mentioned Lawrenceville, a professional spark ignited in me for the first time in months. I didn't just want to escape Francesca; I wanted to replace her. If I can survive this month, I’m not just a subordinate anymore. I’m an architect. I could be the one known by my chill demeanor and bright blazers. Shit, do I need to buy more blazers?
I had worked through the rest of the morning in a state of disbelief until I needed my afternoon caffeine hit.
Now, I’m standing in line at the coffee house, imagining both the upgrades this new role might bring to my life and my wardrobe, when my phone buzzes in my purse. A jolt of panic goes through me when my dad’s name pops up on the screen outside his normal Sunday afternoon chat window, a holdover from the many phone calls he made to me when my mom was sick.
“Hey, Junebug! I didn’t think you’d pick up. Am I bothering you? Is this a good time?”
My pulse slows now that the call isn’t coming from an ambulance or hospital room. The frazzled intern in front of me in line pulls out a sheet of paper and apologizes to the barista in advance. I suppose I have a few minutes to talk.
“Hey, Dad. Is everything ok?”
“Oh, yeah! I’m good. I was just wondering about your Christmas travel plans. I was thinking maybe you could come in earlier this year.”
“Earlier? Like how much earlier?” I usually show up at home on the twenty-second, right in time for the Santa Race on the twenty-third, and then I’m back in the city by lunch on the twenty-sixth. Sometimes I even leave Christmas Day dinner. I took my cheesecake to go last year when Francesca was insistent that we get final Christmas numbers to our clients immediately, even though every email I sent came back with an out-of-office reply. Turns out most other people don’t work on Boxing Day. Most other people don’t have a sadist for a boss.
“Oh, I was thinking maybe the first?”
“The first? In December? You mean next week?”
“Yeah. I know it’s a big ask, but I could really use your help. Listen, I know you’re busy, but I know you’ve been at your wits’ end with that demon lady you work for…and you mentioned how the company was embracing remote work this year, so I thought...” My dad’s sentences tend to meander whenever he asks for something. As if he can’t figure out the path from the word I to the word need. This though, this is a big ask.
“You thought I could take a whole month out of the office? Why didn’t you mention this when I called on Thanksgiving? Dad, I’m not sure if I can swing that. This is a hugely busy season for us.”
The phone line goes quiet, and I glance at the screen to make sure the call wasn’t dropped.
“I…I need your help, Juniper. And I thought you might want to spend some time here while you still can. You can even bring what’s-his-name. Jason, Justin? If you want.”
Well, shit. This is serious. My dad has never asked me to help him do anything besides bring in groceries and he certainly hasn’t been in any rush to meet Jason. Though, I’ve not been in a rush to introduce them since I told my dad Jason works in banking.
“I never trust a man with clean shoes,” was all he said in response.
Jason won’t be thrilled about me leaving for a month, but he’s not the one I’m worried about.
I look up at the coffee shop’s mottled ceiling tiles, trying to imagine what Tom will say. It’s a lot of time, especially if I’m up for a new position. But, had my dad asked me yesterday I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes, regardless of whether Francesca fired me.
“Ok, Dad. I’ll be there.”
Francesca will have a cow if I ask to work remote for the whole month of December...more like a complete barnyard. There’s no way she’d ever approve me for this...but Tom might. Going over her head with something this big would be a nail in the coffin of our already tenuous relationship. If I don’t get that new position in Lawrenceville, I’m definitely out of a job.
Relief floods his voice when my dad replies.
“Great! When should I get your room ready?”
I grin into the phone. “Dad, how are you going to get my room ready? It’s not changed since high school. It’s like a shrine to my youth in there.”
My dad sighs. “Well, that’s kind of the issue, bug. Your room is the only one I haven’t touched yet. I didn’t want to step on your toes, you know, but it’s time. Carol said I should have listed the house in the fall, but I wanted you to have one last Christmas here. So, I’m going to list it in the new year.”
My heart sinks. We’ve been dancing around this subject since I was in college. I’ve been very vocal about my feelings, but as the years have gone by, it’s been harder to ignore the fact that the house is getting to be too much for Dad to handle by himself. He says the empty rooms make it feel lonelier than he already is without my mom, and me.
“Carol, huh? I didn’t realize you had officially hired her.”
I can almost feel my dad shifting his feet through the phone as I tease him about the honey-haired real estate agent he swears he isn’t dating. I like Carol. I’ve told him as much. But anytime I ask about her he changes the subject like he’s a twelve-year-old boy who doesn’t want his mom to know he has a crush.
“I haven’t…yet. But she’ll handle the sale for me. There’s no one else I trust.”
The intern finally finishes the order and mouths a “Sorry!” to me as she steps aside, a cloud of fruity perfume wafting in her wake.
“Dad, I have to go, but I'll let you know if work gives me the ok.”
“All right, Junebug. Talk to you soon.”
I hang up and smile at the frazzled barista, giving her the universal gesture for “take your time,” as she rushes around helping completing the intern’s enormously complicated order. A few seconds later she turns back to me, her shoulders dropping from around her ears as I order my standard cold brew, black. She hands me my drink, and I slip a five into the tip jar as I head back outside towards my office, mentally drafting my remote request. Hopefully I made the barista’s day a little easier, because mine definitely got a lot harder.