With a name like Isabelle Valentine, one would think I was destined to find true love and believe in the ridiculous notion of soul mates. Don’t get me wrong: I’m all about love. I even own an inn with my sister where each room is named after our favorite romantic couples. But soul mates? It seems highly implausible there is that one person, your person, meant only for you. My sister, of course, would tell me I’m dead wrong and that the very inn we own calls to such lovers. So, what if she did find her own unlikely happily ever after here with one of the most famous men alive? That doesn’t mean I’m meant for such a destiny.
But what happens when the implausible happens? When a man I thought I would never see again walks into my inn. The man who twenty years ago administered the kiss of all kisses. The kind of kiss that whispered to my soul and told me things I wasn’t ready to hear. But this time Dr. Patrick Abbott isn’t alone—he comes with two beautiful kids and the memory of his dead wife, who seems to haunt all their lives. So much so, Patrick would just as soon skip Christmas. At least that’s his plan, until he finds himself playing hero trying to help me save my sister’s secret Christmas Eve wedding. By hero, I mean pretending it’s our wedding. Now here we are, fake engaged, except the feelings between us are all too real. Perhaps, in the chaos, there is room for my own Christmas dreams to come true. Maybe, just maybe, I was wrong about soul mates? Either way, I’m hanging up more mistletoe. Because hello, the man can kiss.