A Mistletoe Affair. Farrah Rochon
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The Silk Sisters—longtime friends Janelle, Sandra and Vicki—have turned their business savvy into a top-tier event agency. In the wealthy enclave of Wintersage, Massachusetts, there’s an abundance of lavish parties, society drama and longing hearts to keep them busy.
Floral designer Vicki Ahlfors is a shy, hopeless romantic. The dutiful daughter of a banking dynasty, she has always done what was expected of her—until she falls for her best friend’s divorced brother.
Attorney turned political strategist Jordan Woolcott has always defined himself by his work. Now at a crossroads, Jordan’s not sure who he is, other than a dad to his young son, Mason. It’s a rewarding job, but being a single father is so much harder than he’d ever imagined.
Vicki has a magical touch when it comes to Mason, and her heart goes out to the overwhelmed Jordan. As feelings grow tender, will an explosive political scandal end their dream of forever before it even begins?
Her brow arched.
“So, this is our first date?”
“I’m not sure it started out that way, but that’s how I would like to end it.” He trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “You said you didn’t want casual. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for anything more. But I am.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He nodded. “Casual doesn’t have the appeal it once did. I’m ready for something serious. Are you willing to take this to the next level, Vicki?”
It felt as if hours went by as she studied him, but it was only a few moments. Finally, she said, “So, how do you usually end your first dates?”
The smile that stretched across Jordan’s face was so wide it made his cheeks hurt.
“It’s been a while since I had a first date,” he said. “But if I remember correctly, it usually ends like this.”
He dipped his head and connected his lips to hers. The minute their mouths touched, Jordan was bowled over by the sheer softness of her lips, the sweetness of her delectable kiss. It had been so damn long since he’d felt anything even remotely close to the feelings racing through his blood that he had to slow himself down before he attacked her mouth with the passion suddenly coursing through his veins.
FARRAH ROCHON
had dreams of becoming a fashion designer as a teenager, until she discovered she would be expected to wear something other than jeans to work every day. Thankfully, the coffee shop where she writes does not have a dress code. When Farrah is not penning stories, the USA TODAY bestselling author and avid sports fan feeds her addiction to football by attending New Orleans Saints games.
A Mistletoe Affair
Farrah Rochon
MILLS & BOON
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Have you ever wondered why love stories at Christmastime are so enduring? Year after year, bookstore shelves overflow with yuletide tales of love, laughter and sometimes even a little heartache. As I was writing A Mistletoe Affair, I finally figured out why these stories are so popular. It’s because the holidays and love go hand in hand. As you embark on this journey into the fictional seaside town of Wintersage, my hope is that the magic of the Christmas season touches you as deeply as I was touched while writing this story.
I would be remiss in not thanking fellow contributors to the Wintersage Weddings series, Mills & Boon Kimani authors A.C. Arthur and Phyllis Bourne. Bringing the town of Wintersage to life with the two of you was an amazing experience.
Blessings,
Farrah Rochon
For my aunt, Gail Becnel.
She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
—Proverbs 31:27
Contents
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Stealing a brief moment to decompress after a hectic morning of back-to-back-to-back customers, Vicki Ahlfors closed her eyes and inhaled a healthy lungful of rich, pine-scented air.
God, she loved this time of year.
The delicate perfume of tea roses in spring was lovely, but it couldn’t compare to the crisp freshness of balsam fir. The fragrant scent filling Petals, her floral-design shop, was a telltale sign that her favorite time of the year was finally upon her.
She snipped a wayward thatch of pine needles from the thick spray, then draped the nine-foot