He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss away her uncertainty. But if he did that she would bolt. So he brushed stray hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail off her face instead. Ignored how soft the strands felt against his fingers. Pretended his pulse wasn't stampeding like a herd of bison on the plain.

Mistletoe was her new favorite holiday decoration. She would have to hang some in the kitchen. All over the house. And keep the green stuff hanging until Easter. Or Thanksgiving.

Trust wisely and believe in yourself, in your vision.

He sauntered across the kitchen, six feet of male hotness and charm, heading in her direction like a drone missile locked on a target.

She wore a simple purple long-sleeved turtleneck, but streaks of white across her chest - flour perhaps? - distracted him, made him want to volunteer for cleanup duty.

How did the date go?" "Bad. A text-a-holic...." "Not the good kind of trouble." "There's only one thing to say when this happens." "What's that?" "Next.

Life takes you to unexpected places. Love brings you home.