couple gazing into each other's eyes while standing outside and being snowed upon in the English countryside

A Snowlit Christmas Kiss

A case of mistaken identity.
One strong-willed, spunky female and one healing, heart-heavy lord.
Two lonely souls stranded together during a wretched, snowy night…

Arguing over the business end of a shovel, Lady Anne Larchmont and the scarred soldier who offers aid despite his recent injuries take refuge from the storm that caught them both unaware. When sparks fly and kisses warm with this coarse-speaking but compelling stranger, she regrets ever agreeing to the clod-brained engagement her father arranged (with the unmet betrothed who’s ignored her for months), especially when, after tonight, she’ll never see her soldier again.

Battle scarred and bone-weary, the prodigal Lord Redford returns home seeking solace—intent on pushing everyone away after an unexpected and touching interlude he cannot scrap from his mind. Only he’s greeted not with the small welcome party he expected, but with a house full of people ready to celebrate the holiday season and his engagement. Which is going to prove rather a challenge, given how he’s never met his betrothed… Or has he?

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

If you like feel-good stories full of wit and wordplay, loved Signet Regencies from authors like Mary Balogh, Carla Kelly and Barbara Metzger, Larissa Lyons’ heartfelt holiday Christmas Kisses are what you want in your stocking.

A Snowlit Christmas Kiss is a sweet and slightly spicy Regency Christmas extended novella of 40,000 words (with hot kisses and just a bit more) perfect for readers who enjoy Historical Romance spiced with a bit of Regency slang.

Warm up your winter! Buy A Snowlit Christmas Kiss today.

All Regency Christmas Kisses books are HEA standalones.

No AI contributed to this story; 100% human effort

Release Date:  Dec 13, 2022
• 9781949426373 ebook
• 9781949426458 print
• 9781949426533 large print

Reviews & Recognitions

a Barnes & Noble Top Indie Favorite

“A sweet feel good story with a HEA facilitated by a four legged matchmaker. Loved it!”
5-star Bookbub review

“I think I held my breath through the whole book. I had go keep reading although I wanted to stop myself! Awesome and unforgettable holiday regency romance.”
5-star Bookbub review

“I hardly ever give 5 stars, but this story was So. Much. Fun. I just loved listening to Anne and Edward’s conversations – OK, not really listening since this wasn’t the audio version. But they were funny and witty and honest and unexpected, and together they seemed immediate and entirely believable. I suspect that this will be one of the very few books which I reread on a regular basis.”
5-star Bookbub review

“A warm engaging regency romance A Snowlit Christmas Kiss was the perfect read. Holiday magic flows through the pages of this well written, expertly crafted story that is filled with wit and a little surprise twist that delivers a very enjoyable and effervescent tale of the heart.”
5-star Bookbub review

“In this sweet tale Ed meets Anne on one of her best yet worse days. They hit it right off of course some of their banter is arguing it was entertaining to read. The one thing they did not know was that they were betrothed. There is also an under layer to this piece about soldiers returning from war, wounded in not just body, but heart and soul it was a brilliant touch by the author. I found the book highly entertaining and well written I am happy to recommend this book. I did receive a free copy of this book from Booksprout and voluntarily chose to review it.”
5-star Barnes & Noble review



The industrious woman caught sight of Ed’s approach and yelped. 

Screamed, more like, the high pitch ringing in his ears even as she jumped back. The shovel she’d wielded thumping to the ground. 

“I mean you no harm,” he said with swift assurance, wishing now he’d taken time to tidy his appearance before setting off this morn. He likely looked a vagrant, hadn’t bothered with a shave in weeks, not since an attractive nurse had taken a blade to his cheeks but failed to get a rise out of his sword. “Your lantern”—he gestured toward the inviting glow beaming from its perch near her feet despite the growing flakes that attempted to subdue it even now—“it proved a beacon on this dreadful night. I—” Ed broke off as he gained a better look at her. “Good God—you’re bleeding.”

She startled and looked down, a frown marring those tremulous, shadowed lips. “Nay. None is mine.”

No longer lightly humming, her voice was flat, now that he’d scared the scream from her and she’d taken his measure—to the point of not fearing him. Were he in her shoes, a lone female, the shovel would be gripped tight and aimed for his head.

“Whose, then?” he wanted to know. For filth and red so dark it looked nearly black ruined what once might have been a fetching dress.

The lantern’s light danced and dimmed, spreading its weakening glow over her stalwart form. In weather like this, she should have been freezing, huddled within the confines of a large cloak, hatted and mittened. Instead, no cloak nor gloves were to be seen. Her filmy dress sleeves had been rolled up, revealing surprisingly slender arms given her current task. Why was she digging—at this hour?

“Your cloak?” he inquired. “Gloves? Where—” 

Dismissing him as one might a chirpy cricket, she retrieved her fallen shovel and heaved the pointy side straight drown into the earth.

The contact jarred up her arms and shook her entire frame. “I delivered babes this morn—”

“You bloody well did what?” Now he was the one yelling. Near to screaming. He wanted to wrench the shovel from her grasp, bid her lay down—to rest. To grieve, the fist clamped tight around his heart telling him the reason for her onerous task.

She gave a humorless laugh. “Forgive me. I misspoke. Based on your reaction, you assume I gave birth. Nothing of the sort. I assisted one of the tenants.” Despite the dark, the breezing flakes that plowed between them, that hit fabric, stuck, then melted, he could see enough. 

Bedraggled strands of hair neither blonde nor brown sagged around her face and over one shoulder. Cheeks flushed, perhaps more from exertion than the cold. Jaw tightly held. Eyes—an indiscriminate color—hard. Shiny. Grieving? Exhaustion?

She glanced down at her ravaged dress and gestured along its soiled front. “It was a difficult day.”

“And night too, it seems.” He gripped his traveling valise tighter, taking comfort from the solid thump of it against his calf, her travails mitigating those that had mired his brain the last twenty miles or more. “I hesitate to ask, given the state of your dress, but Mother and child?” Children, perhaps? “How do they fare?”

His simple question brought it all back—the hours of hope and excitement followed by those of fear and worry. “Who—who are you?” 

Why had he come upon her—now? In this remote part of Lord Spier’s estate, bordering that of Lord Warrick’s on one side and Lord Bedford’s on the other? 

Anne visited frequently enough she knew most of the tenants, by sight at least, and Isabella had made no mention of anyone new to the area.

“A strange noise scared the beast I was riding,” he answered, “and I fear my borrowed steed made off the opposite direction.”

“You lost your horse?” She had not the energy to chuckle at his misfortune. Her aching fingers clutched round the shovel’s narrow shaft. The wood may have long been worn smooth by hands much stronger than hers, but holding tight as it slid through her fingers, time and again, now her blisters had blistered. Anne picked at a swollen, tender one near ready to rupture and offered what little solace remained in her weary bones. “And on a night like tonight? ’Tis a pity you are not much of a horseman.”

“Indeed. Not anymore.” His self-directed frustration was apparent in the grit that accompanied the words. “For I would have long since found my bed for the night. Pardon. Damn. Pardon again. Should not have said thus.”

What? Bed? Another tired chuckle threatened. It was refreshing, to have a man be unguarded with his utterances.

Though his outer clothes appeared of decent quality, they had certainly seen some wear. She was half tempted to ask him to remove his coat, let her crawl up in it and sleep for a week. 

His traveling bag was too nice for a rover. But what meant more to her than his outward trappings, was that she didn’t sense any manner of ill intent from his direction. Each time he started to step close, he backed away, as though aware they were one man and one woman, alone, and he didn’t want to intimidate her.

More than that, his speech, though blunt, a bit crude for a man to speak so in front of a female, was uttered with fine elocution. This was a man who had seen some spot of formal education, either through a tutor or mayhap he’d been sent off to school, attended university.

All of that together, as well as the reprieve from her disheartening task made Anne, perhaps, more receptive than she should have been to a stark stranger…