top of page

Mistletoe and the Movie Star

Mistletoe and the Movie Star Alice Miller EBook copy.jpg

When Melissa Donaldson meets successful Oscar-winning actor Scott Bailey, they fit together like Santa and sleigh bells. But each carries a secret they would rather not share.


Christmas should be a happy time, but when lies are introduced into their relationship and secrets are revealed, the Christmas magic quickly disappears.


Can their relationship survive, or will it fade faster than Santa’s footsteps in the night?                                       

Amazon review: 5 star:

Loved Scott and Mellisa together. They’re really sweet as a couple. Nice Christmas romance. Glad it was a HEA :)

               Click on the link to buy the book 

Amazon UK  -  Amazon US  -  Barnes & Noble  - 



The voices grew louder and he hugged the side of the display unit. He began crawling on his hands and knees across the floor, moving away from the loud yells calling his name, until 

a shapely leg wearing a dark blue shoe with a sharp stiletto heel stepped on one hand.      

“Ouch.” He almost yelled aloud, but remembered in time to keep his voice low.

“What on Earth…” a voice gasped and moved off his fingers.

“I’m obviously in hiding,” he said, craning his neck to see his attacker. “Nothing broken, I don’t think,” he added, clenching his fist, aware of a cut showing the first signs of blood on his index finger.

“Well, I’m glad about that,” a soft voice said, “but what exactly are you doing on the floor?”

“I told you, I’m hiding.” Too late he realised his tone sounded mockingly incredulous for not understanding his predicament, but for all he knew she could be one of the hoards chasing him.

“Hiding?” she repeated, in an equally incredulous tone. “From what? Have aliens finally landed? Are we expecting an earthquake? Oh.” She took a step back. “You’re a thief hiding from security.”

“Hell no,” he said, still trying to see the face matching the quaint English voice. “The women,” he said, waving an arm in a vague upward direction. “I’m hiding from them.”

“Why, what did you do?”

The soft tone had gone, leaving more than a hint of wary suspicion.

“I didn’t do anything. I’ve come here to shop but they keep chasing me.”

“Who keeps chasing you?”

“The women.” Did he miss her white stick? “Are you blind?”

“No need to get sarcastic,” she said, clearly not impressed. “It’s not as if it’s normal to meet someone crawling on all fours in a busy store in the middle of the Christmas rush.”

“No, I’m not being sarcastic. I really am trying not to be seen by the women.”

“It’s a busy place, and yes there are women shoppers, but no more than usual for the time of year. Are you feeling okay? Can I get help for you?”

“I’m fine, thanks, although I can’t say the same for my finger.” He watched a drop of blood slowly ooze from the cut and drip onto the floor. Would the fans following him go as far as to scoop it up? Weird, but he’d had bizarre experiences with the Bailey Babes, as they called themselves. “You don’t happen to have something on you I can mop up this blood with, do you?”

“I have a tissue?”

“A tissue?”

A small handy packet of paper wipes landed beside him and he grabbed one and wrapped it around his cut, then wiped the floor with another.

“Thank you,” he said, holding the packet over his head for her to retrieve. Their fingers touched as she took it.

“Look,” she said, apprehension in her voice. “I have to get back to work but I’m reluctant to leave you like this. Can I fetch someone to assist you?”

“Sure, a couple of burly men would be helpful.”

“Burly men I can do. Are you going to stay here while I call security?”

“Yeah, sure, unless they get closer and then I’ll have to move.”

“Unless who get closer?”

“The women.” Gee whiz, were all English women this dim?


Her tone said she humoured him. “Wait, you said no more women than usual.” They must have moved into one of the other large areas to search.

“Yes, I did. It’ll be people shopping in their lunch break for Christmas presents, the way I am.”

“So there isn’t a gaggle of women hanging around.”

“No, not especially.” She hesitated. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s great,” he said with a sigh. “So I’m safe to stand up?”

“Um, I guess so. Do you still want me to call security and do you need help standing?”

“It depends for the first question and no for the second.”

“It depends on what exactly?”

“On whether or not they return.”

“Who is returning and from where?”

It struck him she had no idea who she stood talking to. No wonder she sounded confused. 

“From wherever they’ve gone,” he said, rising slowly and peeking over a display of brightly coloured salopettes. A quick glance showed people shopping and no noisy gang of excited women. He turned to see his attacker.

Slim and attractive, she stood about five foot eight in shoes with a heel he could vouch for. Her blonde hair hung lose to her shoulders and her soft, kissable lips parted in a smile that reached her eyes. Blue, like the Leadwort growing in his garden back in Clearwater, Tampa. Heaven opened its doors and beckoned.

bottom of page