Spotlight & Giveaway: Home for Hanukkah by Rebecca Crowley

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Rebecca Crowley to HJ!

Hi Rebecca and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Home for Hanukkah!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Home for Hanukkah is a seasonal tale of opposites attracting, in which a magical-thinking dreamer collides with a down-to-earth shop owner. Zach Strauss is back in his hometown, licking his wounds after the collapse of his biotech venture left him unemployed – and flat broke. He desperately needs a job, but the last thing Noa Jacob needs as she struggles to keep her gift boutique from closing is an employee – even one as handsome and charismatic as Zach.

They couldn’t be more different – or more in need of each other. Luckily Hanukkah is the season of miracles, because it’ll take a big one to finally bring them together.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

This is an odd favorite because it’s actually the appearance of the couple from another book (Saul and Eve from Two Nights to Forever), but I just loved their cameo!

The three of them exchanged hugs, but just as Eve stepped outside Saul turned back to Noa.
“Listen, if you sell her one more scented candle, the mentorship deal is off. Every room in the house smells like a different flower. I want to sleep in a bedroom, not a meadow.”
“Ignore him,” Eve called primly, before slipping her arm through his elbow and yanking him into the street. Noa watched as he pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head. She turned the key in the lock as they disappeared around the corner.

What inspired this book?

The idea of the Miracle Market came from my own experience as a Jewish mom during the holiday season, trying to balance just a little of the Christmas onslaught with some Hanukkah fun! We do all the major stuff in a secular way – the tree, the Nutcracker, you name it – but it’d be nice if I could take them to Hanukkah events that were just as frequent and exciting as Christmas ones.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

Most of my story ideas start with the characters rather than the plot, and then the process of discovering who they are even more deeply is one of my favorite parts of writing!

Noa is a minor character in the first book in this series (Shine a Light) and as soon as I introduced her, I knew I wanted to tell her story.

What was your favorite scene to write?

My favorite scene is when Zach convinces Noa to attend synagogue. Although she was born Jewish, she wasn’t brought up in the faith and is trying to learn more about it as an adult. She has a lot of self-consciousness and sense of inadequacy about her religion, alongside a lot of curiosity and yearning, and Zach unwittingly becomes her ideal ambassador:

There was no page number for the next short prayer sung by the full congregation, some of whom put their hands over their eyes. At her side Zach murmured it unhesitatingly, his hands clasped together, and for a moment she envied his ease and familiarity, the way he slotted right in whereas she felt awkward and intrusive.
They resumed their seats and she leaned in, whispering, “Which prayer was that?”
“No one taught you the Sh’ma?”
The way he asked was so kind, so absolving, that a lump formed in her throat as she shook her head. His simple question was sympathetic, not accusatory or derisive. She felt like he’d taken the responsibility for her lifelong spiritual education out of her hands and placed it exactly where it belonged—with the parent whose job it should’ve been to pass down this knowledge.
“It’s like a fundamental statement of your belief in God. You’re supposed to say it every day. Hang on.”
He rooted around in the back of the pew in front of them as the rabbi began his sermon. After a few seconds Zach pulled out a sheet of paper headed, Welcome to Danielle’s Bat Mitzvah.
“There’s always one of these around. Do you have a pen?”
A woman two rows ahead glanced over her shoulder at them, and Noa shot her a politely apologetic smile as she hastily dug a pen out of her purse.
Zach scrawled something in the white space at the bottom of the page—he was left-handed, which she found disproportionately attractive—and passed it over.
“So you can practice at home.”
He sat back in the pew, evidently completely unaware of the effect of those couple of handwritten sentences phonetically spelling out the Sh’ma. She stared at him, marveling at this unexpected, unlikely newcomer in her life. So nonchalant, oblivious to the sparks that crackled where the paper touched her skin, then ran up her arm to leap directly into her heart.
With one simple, practical gesture, Zach had flung open a door whose lock she’d been puzzling over for years. A central tenet of faith, hers to hold and learn, offered without judgment or complexity. A first step toward fully inhabiting her Jewish identity, aided by an open palm ready to pull her up.
She could’ve kissed him.
“Thank you,” she whispered instead, carefully tucking the sheet into her purse.
Noa sank back in her seat, her shoulders easing for the first time since she stepped inside the synagogue. The rabbi’s sermon was about the significance of home in the Jewish faith, that it was more than a house or a windowsill to hold a menorah—that home meant belonging, acceptance, and safety.
Noa smiled to herself, the thought of the pen-indented piece of paper in her purse like a serenely glowing ember in the center of her chest, warming her from the inside out.
She wasn’t home yet—but she was on her way.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

By far the hardest scene for me was the one in Noa’s apartment, after Zach has spent the night, and they’re both reckoning with their feelings and the possibility of a future together. This was so hard to write that I totally rewrote it!

Twelve hours ago that rakish grin would’ve melted her clothes clean off her body, but now she felt as cold as if she stood naked in the snow.
“I’ll start the coffee.” She left the room without waiting for an answer and made her way to the kitchen, where she began the process of filling the pot and measuring the grinds with ruthless efficiency. Irritation swelled, pushing out uncertainty, and she let it. She slammed cabinet doors and hurled a paper napkin into the trash and smacked the mugs onto the counter, growing angrier with each step.
How had she let it get this far—all of it? From the day Zach stepped into her store she’d gotten swept up in his big ideas, his grandiose plans, his always slightly fuzzy version of the future. She’d followed his lead to the exclusion of all others, and now the fog had lifted to reveal where she stood.
Balanced precariously on the end of a pier, forced to choose either to jump into the churning, consuming sea before her, or stagger backward to a house on fire and hope she could douse the flames without burning herself too badly. Meanwhile the boards beneath her feet were rotten and unsteady, each creak and crack a reminder of the urgency of this choice.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

Home for Hanukkah fits neatly into my personal canon, such as it is! Seasonally sweet, anchored by complex family dynamics, real emotions, and a hard-won happily-ever-after.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

That sometimes the greatest miracles are of our own making.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

This wraps up the Orchard Hill series, and while I’m sad to say goodbye to these characters and this community, I’m super excited for my next series with Tule, about Jewish cowgirls! The Star Sisters of Last Stand are ranch-raised Texans who aren’t looking for love – but it finds them anyway. No release dates yet but stay tuned!

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of Home for Hanukkah + 3 Tule ebooks

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Do you believe in miracles? Or do you believe we make our own miracles?

 
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Excerpt from Home for Hanukkah:

Noa struck the match against the side of the matchbox with numb fingers, her teeth chattering in the frigid darkness. She carefully lowered it to the wick on the fat, squat candle on the ledge of the shop’s front window—and the wind blew it out.

She huffed in frustration. All that time she’d spent coming up with ideas for her Hanukkah display, and not once had she considered the weather. Twenty minutes of careful setup, kneeling on the freezing-cold sidewalk, positioning her nine candles in exactly the right spots on the narrow, calf-high ledge, only to rip through her box of matches without a single flame to show for it.

One match left.

She withdrew it gingerly, silently urging it to stay lit. She leaned forward, struck it against the side of the box, and moved her other hand to shelter the tiny flame—which disappeared into a wisp of smoke as the wind gusted down the street.

“Need a light?”

A pair of canvas sneakers had arrived beside her. Her gaze moved up tawny slacks and a seasonally inappropriate but trendy jacket to the hottest guy she’d seen in a long time. Tall, slender, with a short-sided haircut that left the top long enough for a few gingerbread-brown curls to tumble over his forehead. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were because she was far too distracted by his mouth, particularly the pillowy lower lip that looked even more kissable as it stretched into a smile.

He dropped into a crouch, and she wrenched her attention from his lips to his eyes.

Which were hazel.

“I know the key point is the oil lasted for eight nights, but I’m starting to think the miracle was getting the menorah lit in the first place.”

She offered what she hoped was a self-effacing smile, and he grinned in response.

“Sometimes we can make our own miracles.”

He took a battered silver lighter from his pocket, clicked the flame to life, and lit the wick on the first candle.

It glowed steady and strong.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” she half joked, using the first candles to light the others in turn.

“Because you don’t have an unlucky lighter. It’s a few days early for Hanukkah,” he observed, rising to his feet.

“Just a trial run, but it’s back to the drawing board. These will never stay lit.” She blew out the line of candles, two of which the wind had already extinguished.

He offered his hand to help her up. She grabbed it and yanked herself to her feet. Her muscles were stiff from the cold, her knees tight and achy, and when she landed upright, she nearly fell straight into him. Thankfully she caught herself just in time but was still close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see that his eyes were mostly green with a ring of gold around the pupil.

She took an unsteady step back. “Thanks again for your help.”

“Do you own this store?”

“I do. Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so. I’m Zach Strauss. I’m looking for a job.”

He stuck out his hand again, and she shook it. “Noa Jacob. Unfortunately—”

“Can we talk inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Sure.” She quickly popped the candles back into their cardboard box, and he held open the door for her to pass through.

Stepping out of the dim, frosty evening and into Second Chance’s warmth and light eased her immediately. As she set down the box and moved behind the counter she glanced around the full interior of the shop, and it was beautiful. A dark, musty, overstuffed thrift store when she bought it, Second Chance was now a lovingly curated boutique, combining carefully chosen vintage items with brand-new inventory from local artisans. Antique paintings and photographs hung in perfect cohesion with contemporary counterparts, the shelves were uncluttered and meticulously organized, and a strategically hidden reed diffuser filled the space with gentle, unobtrusive scents. Today’s blend was spiced chestnut to warm the wintry weather outside and signal the start of the holiday season.

She loved this store. Overanalyzed every detail. Came in early, left late, and spent most of her waking hours in between thinking about how to make it better. Second Chance was everything she’d dreamed of the day she spent her life savings buying it—elegant, welcoming, and most importantly, entirely hers.

And although she hated to admit it to herself, unprofitable.

She’d started strong a year ago, even expanded to opening a courtyard café in the spring, but the last few months had been underwhelming. She wasn’t sure whether her newcomer shine had worn off, or if the local supermarket’s revamped celebrations aisle was putting her out of business, but she needed a good holiday season or she’d have some unpleasant decisions to make in the New Year.

Which is why she was already shaking her head as she accepted the sheet of paper Zach passed over, trying to ignore that he looked even better under the store’s fluorescent lights, his cheekbones ruddy from the cold.

“I’m sorry, I’m not hiring at the moment. Business has been—” Her attention snagged at the top of his résumé. “You have a PhD in molecular biology?”

“From Berkeley. And I did my undergrad at Stanford. Last year I was on MIT’s list of thirty-five under thirty-five biotech innovators.”

“And you want to work here,” Noa said slowly, wondering if this was one of those social media pranks.

“It’s a long story—I’m in between ventures right now. But yes, I would love to work here.”

She looked at his résumé again. “This says you were the CEO of…Deucalion Biosciences?”

“Deucalion is a next-generation drug discovery company, which uses a computational platform to identify novel small molecules and develop them into drug therapies. Or, it will be. First attempt didn’t quite work out.” His smile turned apologetic.

“Sorry to hear that. I’m just not in a position to take on anyone new.” She slid his résumé across the counter.

He didn’t touch it. “Not even temporarily? For the seasonal rush?”

“Do you see a rush?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the empty shop. “No, which seems strange—it’s so nice in here. I remember the old store, and if it weren’t for the number on the door, I’d struggle to believe this is the same place.”

“You’re from Orchard Hill?”

He nodded. “I moved to South San Francisco after college, but I’ll be in town for a few weeks. You’ve probably heard of my younger brother, Sam. He had this weird viral moment here a couple of months ago.”

She nodded, some of the pieces clicking together. Sam Strauss had become a household name in Orchard Hill after he delivered a baby in a hardware store with his long-lost ex-girlfriend, Mabel Antonoff. Noa wanted to ask Zach more, understand why he’d come here now, get to the bottom of this unlikely job applicant, and spend just a couple more minutes stealing glances at his lips—but she had work to do. She’d indulged in this handsome distraction enough.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your visit. You might try the bakery down the street, I think they’re hiring. Or there’s a temp agency—”

“I’d really like to work here. I can take any shift, do as many hours as you need.”

“That’s the issue—I don’t need anyone.”

“What if I work on commission? I only get paid for what I sell. I’m a good salesman.” Zach grinned, and it was so freaking charming, Noa couldn’t help but smile in return.

“I’m sure you are, but earning commission on five- and ten-dollar items won’t be worth your while.”

“Listen, Noa, I’m in a tight spot right now, and I think I can bring a lot of value here. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve got?”

She indicated the far wall. “That antique painting, with the ship. That’s four hundred dollars.”

“If I can sell that for you tomorrow, will you give me a job?”

She should’ve said no. She didn’t need him, couldn’t afford him, and she should’ve sent him on his way.

But something about Zach was…magnetic. Endearing.

Familiar.

She’d put herself through college by juggling a logistical marvel of minimum-wage jobs. She remembered all too well the complex scheduling, the sweat and backaches, and the paralyzing panic when she miscalculated, or a temporary position concluded early, or she had an unexpected expense that threw her precariously balanced finances into disarray.

She didn’t know how a PhD-level scientist and former CEO could fall quite this far from grace, but maybe that wasn’t her business. Second Chance was, and if she could use it to help someone in need, why shouldn’t she?

“Okay,” she agreed. “Sell that painting before closing tomorrow and you’re hired.”

His big, thankful grin was nearly worth whatever she’d pay him.

“Thank you. You won’t regret it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Eight o’clock sharp.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

He ducked his head in farewell, leaving as abruptly as he’d appeared, the jangling bells on the door as it shut behind him and the sheet of paper on the counter the only evidence that their strange, fleeting encounter hadn’t been a stress-induced mirage.

She picked up his résumé one more time, shaking her head in disbelief. Had he really just charmed his way into a job? Only if he could sell the painting—but still.

Noa considered herself practical, grounded, and matter-of-fact—yet she’d always been a sucker for a charity case. She hoped that’s what Zach was, and not anything more sinister.

Not that she had anything to steal or exploit, unless he could turn past-due bills into gold. She considered herself a good judge of character, too, and when he spoke, she heard nothing except taut sincerity and a hint of desperation.

We can make our own miracles, he’d said to her on the sidewalk outside. Had he just done exactly that, talking his way into a job?

“Maybe he can conjure up some customers, too,” she remarked to the empty shop. Because if he didn’t, she’d have to rely on her Hanukkah decorations to entice people inside—and right now those consisted of a box of unusable candles and not much else.

Noa heaved a sigh and started over. Again.

Zach hunched his shoulders against the icy wind, the jacket that served him perfectly well in northern California proving to be no match for a December cold front in eastern Missouri. He turned the corner to begin the long, hungry trek home, and exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Orchard Hill was not where he’d planned to end the year. Apart from a brief return for his grandmother’s funeral, he hadn’t properly visited his hometown in more than a decade, not since his parents moved to Connecticut while he was in college. But when the clinical trial data came out and concluded that Deucalion’s highly anticipated Alzheimer’s treatment simply didn’t work, his plan for his entire life—never mind the next few months—went up in flames.

The biotech market was jumping and his investors wanted out, eager to move their money to the next big thing. He’d put everything he’d ever earned into this venture, which began as an insomniac side project while he was finishing his PhD, and its collapse had wiped him out. What he’d had left in the bank, he’d given to the many creditors who’d called in their loans the minute the trial results were released, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Zach had never experienced failure on this level before, had never been anything other than a high-flying success story, and the weight of it all—the humiliation of the bad data, the spiraling debt, the angry phone calls, the bewildering reset to zero—was suffocating. He had to get out of South City, if for no other reason than he wouldn’t be able to pay his next month’s rent. His brother had sublet the DC apartment where he’d hoped to crash and offered his girlfriend’s vacant place in Orchard Hill instead, so Zach consolidated his life into a duffel bag and a satchel, turned in his key, and used the few hundred dollars he still had in cash on a one-way flight from San Francisco to St. Louis.

This was his third day in town, and everything was jarring. Deceptively familiar, then just different enough to remind him he was an outsider, that this wasn’t his home and hadn’t been for a long time. He’d lost count of how many places he’d walked into, expecting to be recognized or at least remembered, only to find new owners who regarded him suspiciously before informing him he was clearly overqualified.

Thank God for Noa. Second Chance was literally his last hope. He’d been to every other business in Orchard Hill that might reasonably hire a walk-in, including the fast-food chains, and gotten a firm no each time. He could tell from the dramatically transformed exterior that Second Chance had new ownership, and possibly hadn’t been trading long enough to need staff, so he’d left it to the end, figuring the probability of success was low.

For once he was grateful he’d miscalculated. He’d have a hell of a time flogging that ugly painting tomorrow, but he’d make it happen. He always did.

His increasingly numb lips pulled into a smile as he recalled the way Noa’s expression had turned from thoughtful to decisive, and in that moment, he knew he had a job. She was a fellow entrepreneur who’d balanced calculated risk with gut instinct. He liked her already.

Didn’t hurt that she was smoking hot, too, olive-complexioned, with thick, black hair and eyes so dark they were disorienting, like staring into the night sky and realizing the black depths overhead were infinite.

Not that he’d be at leisure to gaze into her eyes all day. He quickened his step, tucking his chin into the collar he’d zipped all the way up.

He was down, but not out.

He’d known all his life he was only as good as his last achievement, so this couldn’t be an end to his career as a hotshot biotech entrepreneur—just a pause. He’d lie low, let the market cool down, earn enough to keep himself fed and warm. Second Chance wasn’t exactly overrun with customers, so he could use his downtime to work on the next phase for Deucalion, figure out what went wrong with his miracle drug, and hatch a plan to make it work.

It’d take longer this time, it’d be harder to raise money, and he still needed a scheme to pay off his existing debts. But he wouldn’t accept failure. Not now, not ever.

Zach took a shortcut down an alleyway, and when he turned the corner he stepped into a freezing gust of wind, its howling force channeled by the cold brick walls on either side. His eyes stung and the chill penetrated straight through to his bones, nearly rocking him back on his heels, but he put his head down and pushed forward.

He couldn’t slow down—couldn’t stop for a second. He would fix this. It wasn’t over. This wasn’t the end, not of his career, not of the only version of himself he’d ever known.

He’d rebuild it all.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

He’s looking for one last miracle…

Zach Strauss may be down, but he’s not out. His Bay Area biotech start-up has crashed, leaving him broke, but it’s only temporary until he can raise more money—or so he tells himself. Failure isn’t an option, and Zach’s always been able to sell anyone on anything. But back in his hometown, he finds himself in the unfamiliar position of needing a job.

After a childhood of instability, Noa Jacob purchased Second Chance, a thrift store-turned-boutique in Orchard Hill, and is determined to put down the roots she never had. Running her own business is more challenging than she’d imagined, and she’s in danger of losing it all—until a handsome stranger bursting with ideas walks in looking for work.

Noa only has ten days to turn Second Chance around, but Zach is confident that’s plenty. Together they create a successful Hanukkah Miracle Market that draws in families looking for something other than the Christmas cheer. But as the balance sheet ticks up, Noa wonders if instead of losing her business, she risks losing her heart.

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Meet the Author:

Rebecca Crowley inherited her love of romance from her mom, who taught her to at least partially judge a book by the steaminess of its cover. She writes contemporary romance with smart heroines and swoon-worthy heroes, and never tires of the happily-ever-after. Having pulled up her Kansas roots to live in New York City, London and Johannesburg, Rebecca currently resides in Houston.
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