Webb Sunday is the straight single dad next door.
Strong and steady as the trees in his family orchard,
A grumpy fairytale prince…
And entirely off-limits.
Or so I thought.
Until the drunken night the two of us walked into a bar…
And landed ourselves in the middle of small-town history.
Who knew hand-fasting was still a thing?
The town of Little Pippin Hollow did.
And once this bunch of meddling Vermonters gets wind of our accidental betrothal, they are determined to see us seal the deal.
But while the chemistry between us is hot enough to melt the winter cold, Webb isn’t interested in a relationship…
And I’m not sure how long I can keep pretending I don’t want our hand-fasting to be real.
Because while the man might not be the happily ever after I came to Vermont for…
He’s looking more and more like the one who’s been hand-picked for me.