Christmas magic is in the air at the Santa Clause Ball! Will it lead to love? Growing up in a town called Mistletoe Mountain, it's no wonder I love Christmas. My parents named me appropriately, too. You can't get much more Christmas-y than Holly Lane Garland! This Christmas is going to be even more magical than usual--I can just feel it! At the annual Santa Claus Ball, I meet an amazing man who makes my heart play "Jingle Bells." There's just one problem--well, maybe two. I have no idea what his name is--or what he looks like. (Did I mention the Santa Claus Ball is a masquerade?) Searching for my perfect man leads me to make a new friend. Patrick is amazing, and we have so much in common. He loves Christmas, too. But I think he has a girlfriend. And, well, he's just not the guy who kissed me under the mistletoe. Or is he? Will I find love before Santa arrives, or will I lose my chance at mistletoe magic? If you like sweet, clean Christmas romance novels that get you in the mood for the holidays, you won't want to miss this new romance from the author of Melody's Christmas, Christmas Cocoa, and All I Want for Christmas is Pooch!
View More*Holly*“I can’t believe we showed up to this thing in a cookie on wheels,” Gretchen said. She wasn’t all for riding to her potential engagement in my parent’s bakery van. It wasn’t the most romantic car in the world, but it was the only option that would fit the three of us since mine was temporarily out of commission, Abigail drove a little 2013 Mazda Miata with only two seats, and Gretchen didn’t want to take her car since she planned to leave with Joey for a midnight showing of A Christmas Story. “Get over it, girl,” Abigail told her with a tough love tone. “If you really love him, you won’t care what kind of car you arrive at your engagement in.”Gretchen frowned with a little sad sigh. “Yeah, yeah. You might have a point.”We all stepped out of the car, helping each other fix our hair and masks. I wrapped my arm around Gretchen’s shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. “G, to be honest, you gotta let go. You’ve been so caught up in wondering if he’s going to propose or not tha
*Patrick*I couldn’t be upset that Mrs. Henson had some work for me on a Saturday. She was a nice, older woman who regularly asked for my services, even the non-electric related things. But I was willing to do anything for her because not only was she a close friend of my aunt, but she had also come to feel like a grandma to me. And after her husband of fifty-five years had passed away a few months ago, I’d started to give in to even more of her requests to come out and fix whatever small problem she was having–even on a Saturday.“I’m so sorry to have you come out again,” Mrs. Henson said as she wrapped her crocheted shawl around her shoulders. “I’m afraid I just don’t know how to do anything.”I noted the way she squeezed her eyebrows together with anxiety. I felt bad for her, and I didn’t want her to feel guilty for depending on me. It was only natural for a partner to feel a little lost after losing the person who had been faithfully by their side for over half their life. I gave
*Holly*I should have expected my parents’ bakery to be busy with the official kickoff of Christmas starting this weekend, but the mountains of boxes of Christmas cookies piled on the counter and near the back door were clear evidence that Christmas was in full swing. And I knew it wasn’t a minute too soon as I caught a glimpse of the first snow beginning to fall flake by fluffy flake outside the small window in the bakery’s back room. I topped one final swirl of baby Jesus’ hair on his sugar cookie-baked head. Perfect, I thought, but the sound of my mom calling to me from the front of the store brought me out of the zone. “Holly! You’re fixin’ to be late if you don’t get out of here soon!” she called. It was a sweet, sugar-coated, well-meaning threat. I was my parents’ only kid, and while I’d been a regular attendee of the Santa Claus Ball for my whole life, this was the first year I would be attending as a single adult woman. I technically could have participated in the one adult a
*Holly*I should have expected my parents’ bakery to be busy with the official kickoff of Christmas starting this weekend, but the mountains of boxes of Christmas cookies piled on the counter and near the back door were clear evidence that Christmas was in full swing. And I knew it wasn’t a minute too soon as I caught a glimpse of the first snow beginning to fall flake by fluffy flake outside the small window in the bakery’s back room. I topped one final swirl of baby Jesus’ hair on his sugar cookie-baked head. Perfect, I thought, but the sound of my mom calling to me from the front of the store brought me out of the zone. “Holly! You’re fixin’ to be late if you don’t get out of here soon!” she called. It was a sweet, sugar-coated, well-meaning threat. I was my parents’ only kid, and while I’d been a regular attendee of the Santa Claus Ball for my whole life, this was the first year I would be attending as a single adult woman. I technically could have participated in the one adult a
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