The Amish Christmas Matchmaker. Vannetta Chapman

with her dating instructions. He hadn’t fully thought this through when he’d agreed to her dating scheme. His few attempts to date back in Lancaster had been a disaster. The women he’d met were only interested in settling down and having babies. He had nothing against either, but they’d had no patience for his talk of moving to Texas, especially when they’d heard that he was saving every dime in order to make the move possible.

       Dreamer.

       Naive.

       Immature.

      He’d been called all sorts of things, always with a smile, a touch on the shoulder, and a look of pity. Well, he didn’t need anyone’s approval or sympathy, and he didn’t need another woman who was going to try and set him straight.

      “What are you frowning about?”

      Instead of answering, he carried the pitchfork into the main room of the barn, then returned to pick up the muck bucket. Annie was still there, leaning against the wall, a smile on her pretty face, arms crossed, studying him.

      “You don’t have to look at me that way.”