Hallmarked, p.1
Hallmarked, page 1
HALLMARKED
N.E. STEVENSON
Copyright © 2025 N.E. Stevenson.
Hallmarked
All Rights Reserved.
N.E. Stevenson
Edited by ApolloEditorialServices
Cover by N.E. Stevenson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, people, or incidents is coincidental.
While the author may use their own experiences with specific instances, the book is entirely fictional.
No part of this book may be used in AI.
All work has been written by the author.
To all the women who watch Hallmark movies at Christmas and think,
‘Why should she choose?’
&
To my fiancé…
BLURB
‘Welcome to Sleepy Hollow!
Population 508’
The moment I set foot in Sleepy Hollow, my life has spiraled into chaos, and the crazy innkeeper Mildred keeps saying it’s because of the Christmas magic.
Kennedy saves me…
Marco takes me to the Grotto…
And Andy, my best friend and roommate from New York, turns up during the Ho Ho Hop to confess his love for me…
I can’t help but feel like I’m in a Hallmark movie.
Will Sleepy Hollow let me leave unscathed, or will it take not just ol’Bill’s car but also my heart in the process?
TRIGGER WARNINGS
Unlike my other books that seem to come with a warning list the size of our arms… this book has none.
There is smut, though, I wouldn’t be that cruel.
Do not read if you do not want to experience the following.
- Cosy feels.
- Want to drink some hot cocoa while snuggling up in front of a fireplace.
- Want to join in on the Ho Ho Hop.
- Want three men worshipping you.
CONTENTS
1. Nell
2. Nell
3. Nell
4. Nell
5. Nell
6. Kennedy
7. Nell
8. Andy
9. Nell
10. Marco
11. Marco
12. Andy
13. Andy
14. Nell
15. Kennedy
16. Marco
17. Nell
18. Andy
19. Kennedy
20. Kennedy
21. Kennedy
22. Nell
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Social Media
Also by N.E. Stevenson
1
NELL
“Mail!” Andy’s voice cuts through the hallway, casual but with that lilt that always makes my stomach twist.
I glance up and catch him moving toward me, sweatpants slung low, bare chest catching the light. His muscles flex with every step, and I can’t stop my gaze from tracing the lines of his body. He holds out a cream-colored envelope, elegant handwriting looping across the front—unfamiliar, yet somehow deliberate.
When our hands meet briefly, passing the envelope between us, a jolt of warmth shoots through me. I clear my throat, pretending not to notice the way his presence seems to fill the entire hallway. His tousled brown hair brushes his forehead as he leans slightly closer, his smile effortless, easy… disarming.
The envelope is smooth and cool against my fingertips, and I turn it over, my fingers brushing the swirling letters, before ripping it open.
Inside is a card, wintery and inviting: delicate snowflakes drift across the surface, and a quaint illustration shows a cozy cabin nestled among towering pine trees, a little red truck hauling a Christmas tree through the snow. It’s idyllic, almost too perfect—but right now, my attention is less on the card and more on the lingering brush of Andy’s fingers against mine.
To, Nelly.
I’d love for you to visit me for the holidays.
I’m getting married!
It’s been eighteen years, but I’d love for you to be there.
Love from your big sis,
Holly
As I read the message and see my childhood nickname scrawled across the card, nostalgia hits me like a snowstorm. Memories of winters with my sister surge back—snowball fights that left our cheeks red, hot cocoa by the fire, and that ridiculous argument over who got to decorate the last cookie.
A mix of excitement and apprehension coils in my chest. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other… almost too long. And yet this invitation feels like a bridge to the past, a chance to reconnect with my sister.
Sleepy Hollow—the name itself seems like something out of a storybook. Suddenly, I realize just how badly I need a holiday, and a wedding seems like the perfect excuse.
I glance up at Andy, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe, eyes dark, warm, and intent. “So?”
I feel the heat rise in my chest at the way he watches me. “Looks like I’ll be spending Christmas in Sleepy Hollow,” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips.
His gaze sharpens, a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like a book name,” he says, chuckling, and that low sound presses against something inside me, making my skin prickle.
I laugh, shaking my head, aware of the tension curling between us. “Right? But it also sounds like a proper holiday… I honestly can’t remember the last time I had one of those.”
“Maybe it’s exactly what you need,” he murmurs, leaning just slightly closer, the warmth of his presence brushing against mine.
I nod, words catching in my throat. “Yeah… maybe.”
We stand in a comfortable silence, the warmth of the flat wrapping around us like a cocoon against the cold outside. Snow drifts from the grey sky, but New York never stops. The streets below are busy, people scurrying through their daily lives, oblivious to the quiet moment above.
“Do you need any help?” Andy asks, breaking the silence.
“Actually… yes,” I admit, a little sheepishly. “I could use some help figuring out where I’m even going and what to pack. I’ve never been to Sleepy Hollow.”
“Me neither,” he says, smiling as he pulls his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. “But I’m sure Google has the answer. She always does.”
“Thanks, Andy,” I murmur, ignoring the flutter in my stomach as his eyes meet mine with that easy warmth.
“Anytime, Nell,” he replies softly, reassuringly. “I’m just glad you’re going. You’ve been working yourself to the bone on the Forest project.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve spent days and most nights trying to prevent Hope Forest from being chopped down for a mall. The idea of leaving for a few weeks, knowing the decision is still months away, suddenly feels like a little taste of freedom—especially around Christmas.
Andy and I usually spend the holidays together, but this year he’s visiting his parents. I was resigned to a solo holiday—microwave meals for one, thank you very much.
“Pizza for dinner and a date night with Google sound good?” Andy asks, already tapping at his screen to order.
“Sounds perfect,” I sigh, placing the card on the table, its presence somehow heavier now, full of anticipation.
The days before the trip pass in a blur, a mix of excitement and quiet dread. It’s been eighteen years since I last saw Holly, our lives drifting apart after Dad’s weekends. She moved upstate for college when I was too young to follow, and as my career as an environmental lawyer took off, even making a phone call became a challenge. Now, this trip feels like a fragile thread connecting me back to her, to the sister I barely remember, and to the memories I thought were lost to time.
2
NELL
Packing turns into… an experience with Andy, who takes it upon himself to rifle through my clothes like he’s on a mission.
“I never asked for you to dress me,” I grumble, flopping onto the bed, cheeks warming as he digs through my things.
“You can’t dress yourself unless it’s for work,” he teases, tossing a shirt at me. “And no way are you wearing a pantsuit on holiday.”
“I can! I just feel comfortable in them!” I fling the shirt back at him, laughing. “Besides, who knows? I might meet a guy out there—like one of those cheesy Hallmark movies.”
His expression darkens for a heartbeat, eyes locking on mine in a way that makes my stomach twist, before a sly smile spreads across his face. “Maybe you will.”
“Maybe I’ll meet a charming stranger who appreciates a good pantsuit,” I shoot back, catching the shirt mid-air before it lands on my face.
Andy chuckles low, his gaze lingering on me longer than necessary as he turns back to the suitcase. “Well, if they don’t… that’s their loss.”
I watch him, my pulse quickening at the casual brush of his fingers against mine when he passes me another shirt. “Thanks, Andy,” I murmur. “For helping me out.”
He glances up, a teasing spark in his eyes. “Anytime. But let’s make sure you’ve got clothes that don’t scream ‘couch potato.’”
“Deal,” I grin, reaching for the shirt he holds out. “But only if you promise nothin g neon or glittery.”
“I’ll have you know those are essentials,” he says, leaning slightly closer, his warm breath brushing my cheek. “How else will you… attract attention?”
“Rude! I’m not a frog,” I reply, rolling my eyes, though my voice is softer than I intend.
“No, you’re far too… irresistible for a frog, Nelly,” he murmurs, letting his hand brush mine as he drops a sweater dress into the suitcase. “You’d have every man hopping your way.”
I laugh, but my heart is pounding,
Heat spreads across my cheeks at his words, and I quickly turn back to the clothes scattered on the bed, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush creeping across my face.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” I tease, keeping my voice light.
Andy grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Impossible? Maybe. But I’m also charming, don’t forget that.”
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they stay in their sockets. “Charming? That’s… debatable,” I laugh.
He steps closer, sliding between my legs, and suddenly the air in the room feels thick, charged with something unspoken. “Well,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough, “I guess you’ll have to stick around so I can show you, won’t you?”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the bustling city outside fades to nothing. My throat tightens, and I swallow nervously, aware of his gaze tracking every movement.
“Maybe I will,” I murmur back, huskily, my heart racing.
I remind myself that space is necessary. I can’t fall for my best friend—it’s a recipe for disaster for both of us. But Andy doesn’t look away; his expression softens, and his hand reaches up to stroke my cheek.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Because I like having you around, Nelly. A lot.”
My chest flutters at the words. “I like being around you, too,” I confess, barely above a whisper.
We linger in that quiet moment, his hand still resting lightly against my face, before he breaks the spell. “Now!” he claps, voice bright, “let’s finish packing before I get distracted by you again.”
I laugh, grateful for the change in subject, but a pang of disappointment hits me—he didn’t make a move. I remind myself I’m going to Sleepy Hollow soon, where anything could happen.
Andy and I have been friends for years, and despite countless nights spent dreaming about what could be if I confessed my feelings, it still feels impossible.
3
NELL
The morning air is crisp, carrying that sharp New York bite that makes my cheeks tingle. The city is slowly shaking itself awake, taxis honking and the murmur of early commuters filling the streets, but all I can focus on is Andy as we load my bags into the car.
“Don’t forget to send me pictures,” he says with that teasing wink, his eyes glinting with mischief and something softer underneath. “I want to see everything—every little detail.”
“I promise,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light, though my stomach twists. “So many pictures, you’ll feel like you’re there with me.”
He gives me that half-smile that always makes my chest tighten, the one that’s both infuriating and irresistible. As I slam the trunk closed, I catch him staring at me for a beat longer than normal, and warmth spreads through me in a way that makes my pulse skip. I take a deep, steadying breath, telling myself I can handle this.
Then his hand closes around my wrist, firm and grounding. “Are you sure you have to go?”
I pause, meeting his concern with a bright, forced cheer. “It’s for my sister’s wedding,” I say, forcing the words to sound casual. “But I’ll miss you… and I’ll be back before you know it.”
His smile softens, shifting from playful to tender, and he steps closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sends a shiver down my spine. “I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, and there’s an edge to his voice that makes it almost impossible to think straight. “And if you don’t… I’ll come looking for you.”
The intensity in his gaze holds me hostage. For a moment, I can feel every heartbeat, every unspoken word pulsing between us. My chest tightens, my throat goes dry, and all I can do is nod. “I… I’ll be fine,” I whisper, though it’s a lie I don’t quite believe.
He doesn’t move his hand from my wrist, letting his fingers linger against my skin, warm and reassuring. I notice the faint brush of his thumb against my palm, a touch so small yet electrifying. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he adds, voice low, almost intimate.
“I promise,” I murmur back, my eyes unwillingly dropping to his lips for the briefest moment before I look away, forcing myself to focus on the car.
A soft breeze catches between us, fluttering the hem of my coat and his hair, making the moment feel impossibly fragile. He leans in just a little, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his chest, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around me. “Come back safe, Nelly,” he breathes.
“I will,” I whisper, though I know it will be impossible not to think of him the whole way there.
The silence stretches, heavy and charged, until the sound of the car door slamming open finally breaks it. I slide in, trying to ignore the ache in my chest, the way my fingers long to curl around his. The driver starts the engine, tires crunching over the gravel, and as the car begins to move, I steal one last glance at him.
He’s still standing there, framed against the city, watching me go. And in that gaze, I see everything he’s not saying—the longing, the warning, the promise. My heart feels impossibly full and unbearably empty at the same time, knowing that this farewell isn’t just about a trip—it’s about all the things we’ve never admitted, and all the things that could never be.
As the distance grows between us, I press my forehead to the window, letting the cold glass cool the flush in my cheeks.
The flight passes surprisingly quickly. I doze in and out, sneaking in a few emails to clients, letting them know I’ll be out of the office for the holidays. My boss is nice about it—he tells me to enjoy myself but warns that a couple of urgent things might land in my inbox. I shove that thought aside; I’m on holiday mode now.
When the plane touches down, a wave of nerves hits me. Holly. After eighteen years. I can’t believe I’m actually going to see her.
Stepping off the plane, the cold hits me like a slap. It’s way colder than New York, and I immediately wrap my red coat tighter around myself. Snow is falling, tiny flakes drifting lazily down, sticking to my hair and gloves. I take a deep breath, letting the sharp winter air clear my head.
“Thank you for flying with us,” the flight attendant says, smiling warmly. “We hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“Thank you,” I mutter, my chest tight with anticipation, before scanning the crowd for my driver.
And there he is—my guy with the serious expression and a sign with my name on it. He’s calm in the chaos of families rushing past, suitcases squealing across the floor, and kids screaming somewhere in the distance. He looks… professional, but also kind of grounding, in a way I didn’t expect to notice right now.
4
NELL
The drive toward Sleepy Hollow is ridiculous. Absolutely breathtaking. The city fades into suburbs, the suburbs fade into rolling hills dusted with snow. Snowflakes swirl against the window, sticking to the glass, and the world outside looks like one of those perfectly staged Christmas cards. I press my forehead to the window and just stare. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to breathe in this kind of quiet magic.
Then the car jolts.
“Oh no, not now,” my driver mutters. He sighs, glancing at the wheel, then turns to me with a sheepish smile. “I’m really sorry, but I think we’ve got a flat. Would you mind giving me a hand?”
I laugh, partly at the situation and partly because, honestly, it’s kind of perfect. “Sure. At least the view’s nice.”
I step out into the snow. Thank goodness Andy made me wear these boots—the crunch of snow beneath my feet is oddly satisfying. Ralph, my driver, hops out after me and opens my door, offering a hand. I take it, and the warmth of his grip surprises me, even in this cold.
