“Don’t reach out to people because they deserve it—do it for yourself.”
Who was she to dole out unsolicited advice? She’d obviously confused herself with a self-help guru. And confused him with someone who cared. “Good night, Arianne.”
He stepped off the curb.
“Gabe?”
Against his better judgment he turned. “Yes?” The single syllable held fourteen years of weariness.
She stood on her toes, sacrificing balance for height and letting herself stumble against him. His arms went around her reflexively. She placed a quick kiss just to the left of his mouth—if he’d turned his head a fraction of an inch, his lips could have captured hers—and then stepped away.
“Thank you for a wonderful time,” she said breathlessly.
Dear Reader,
I first “met” the character of Arianne Waide when I wrote her as a supporting role in a Christmas novella several years ago. She has always been fun to write and has made cameo appearances throughout my 4 SEASONS IN MISTLETOE series (often when giving her older brothers a piece of her mind). Readers have asked if she would have her own book, and I knew Arianne deserved to find love with a special, unforgettable hero!
In the close-knit community of Mistletoe, Georgia, Gabe Sloan is an outsider. His family history and a long-ago mistake have never truly allowed him to belong. When a tiny yet stubborn blonde good-naturedly bullies him into lending his time to a local fundraiser, Gabe decides to make this favor a farewell gesture. He’s lived in Mistletoe without being a part of it for far too long, and he decides the best way to get closure from the past is to leave. But he didn’t count on Arianne Waide’s impulsive quest to help him mend fences with the town—and he certainly didn’t count on falling for her.
Authors aren’t supposed to have “favorite” characters from our books; we love them all, the same way moms appreciate their children’s unique personalities. Still, I have to admit that Arianne and Gabe are very special to me. Whether this is your first visit to Mistletoe or your fourth, I hope you enjoy watching their story unfold.
Happy reading!
Tanya
Mistletoe Hero
Tanya Michaels
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tanya Michaels began telling stories almost as soon as she could talk…and started stealing her mom’s Harlequin romances less than a decade later. In 2003 Tanya was thrilled to have her first book, a romantic comedy, published by Harlequin Books. Since then, Tanya has sold nearly twenty books and is a two-time recipient of a Booksellers’ Best Award as well as a finalist for the Holt Medallion, National Readers’ Choice Award and Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Award. Tanya lives in Georgia with her husband, two preschoolers and an unpredictable cat, but you can visit Tanya online at www.tanyamichaels.com.
For Jarrad. I love you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“I vote you seduce him,” Arianne Waide drawled.
“What?” Quinn Keller’s shock came through the phone as clearly as if she’d been standing right there in the store. “Ari, I talked to the guy for ten seconds at the faculty welcome mixer, along with about sixty other people introducing themselves. He probably doesn’t know I’m alive.”
He would if you seduced him. But Arianne had only been teasing about that—it was a strategy she’d cultivated during her adolescence to deal with her parents and overprotective older brothers. Start with something outrageous first so that when you asked for what you really wanted, they were relieved to give it to you.
“All right, so not a full-fledged seduction,” Arianne relented. “Why not just drop by his classroom tomorrow morning and ask if you can buy him lunch and answer any questions he has about the school or the town? Or, at the very least, recruit him to help you with the fall festival.”
Silence stretched across the line as Quinn considered. “I could do that.”
“Of course you could,” Arianne encouraged.
“It’s not that I’m shy,” Quinn said, a touch defensively. “It’s just…I’m so used to already knowing everyone in Mistletoe that I forget how to meet new people.”
“I understand.” In theory. Like Quinn, Arianne also grew up in the small north Georgia town of Mistletoe, but Arianne didn’t have a bashful bone in her body. The youngest of three siblings, she’d learned early how to vie for attention and how to stick up for herself, often going toe-to-toe with her brother Tanner, who’d been the family prankster in his misspent youth.
Quinn sighed. “I should let you get back to work.”
Arianne looked around the empty store her family had owned for three generations. Outside, parking lot lights reflected off the relentless drizzle that had made it such a chilly October day. “I promised Dad I’d finish the inventory report tonight, but I’m glad you called. This place is deserted. David bolted right at five so he could rush home and coo over the baby, and Dad’s eating dinner with Mom and won’t be back for another hour. I was getting tired of my own company.”
Quinn laughed. “That’s hard to imagine. Your company’s always so…interesting.”
“If I didn’t know what a sweet woman you are, Quinn Keller, I’d have the sneaking suspicion I’d just been zinged.”
“No comment.”
“I’m hanging up on you now,” Arianne said. “But promise you’ll take my advice to heart?”
“I always do.”
Quinn wasn’t the only one. As Arianne put the phone back in its cradle, she indulged in a moment of self-satisfaction. She’d given romantic counsel to everyone from her older brothers to her brothers’ wives to town pet-sitter Brenna Pierce. And she did so with enough confidence and wisdom that people listened, rarely questioning why they were taking suggestions from a woman who’d never actually had a serious relationship herself. She’d had opportunities, but had skirted any lasting, exclusive commitments.
The copper bell over the door jarred her from her thoughts and she turned with an automatic “Welcome to Waide Supply,” even though she knew it was probably her father bringing takeout for her.
Nope. Her breath caught. Definitely not dear old dad. Instead, it was Gabe Sloan.
Her body trembled from the cool draft that swept inside, and she huddled deeper into her oversize cranberry sweater. “Hi.”
Without breaking stride, Gabe nodded a hello in her direction, playing the strong, silent stereotype to the hilt. He was in here two or three