Season of Joy

by Annie Rains

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  Twitter: @AnnieRainsBooks

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  PRAISE FOR ANNIE RAINS AND HER SWEETWATER SPRINGS SERIES

  Sunshine on Silver Lake

  “Readers will have no trouble falling in love with Rains’ realistically flawed hero and heroine as they do their best to overcome their pasts and embrace their futures. A strong cast of supporting characters—especially Emma’s stepmother, Angel, and the many returning faces from earlier books—underpin Rains’ engaging prose and perfectly paced plot. Lovers of small-town tales won’t be able to resist.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  Starting Over at Blueberry Creek

  “This gentle love story, complete with cameos from fan-favorite characters, will enchant readers.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A sweet, fun, and swoony romantic read that was both entertaining and heartfelt.”

  —TheGenreMinx.com

  Snowfall on Cedar Trail

  “Rains makes a delightful return to tiny Sweetwater Springs, N.C., in this sweet Christmas-themed contemporary. Rains highlights the happily-ever-afters of past books, making even new readers feel like residents catching up with the town gossip and giving romance fans plenty of sappy happiness.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Over the past year I’ve become a huge Annie Rains fangirl with her Sweetwater Springs series. I’m (not so) patiently waiting for Netflix or Hallmark to just pick up this entire series and make all my dreams come true.”

  —CandiceZablan.com

  Springtime at Hope Cottage

  “A touching tale brimming with romance, drama, and feels! I really enjoyed what I found between the pages of this newest offering from Ms. Rains…Highly recommend!”

  —RedsRomanceReviews.blogspot.com

  “A wonderfully written romance that will make you wish you could visit this town.”

  —RomancingtheReaders.com

  “Annie Rains puts her heart in every word!”

  —Brenda Novak, New York Times bestselling author

  “Annie Rains is a gifted storyteller, and I can’t wait for my next visit to Sweetwater Springs!”

  —RaeAnne Thayne, New York Times bestselling author

  Christmas on Mistletoe Lane

  “Top Pick! Five stars! Romance author Annie Rains was blessed with an empathetic voice that shines through each character she writes. Christmas on Mistletoe Lane is the latest example of that gift.”

  —NightOwlReviews.com

  “The premise is entertaining, engaging and endearing; the characters are dynamic and lively…the romance is tender and dramatic…A wonderful holiday read, Christmas on Mistletoe Lane is a great start to the holiday season.”

  —TheReadingCafe.com

  “Settle in with a mug of hot chocolate and prepare to find holiday joy in a story you won’t forget.”

  —RaeAnne Thayne, New York Times bestselling author

  “Don’t miss this sparkling debut full of heart and emotion!”

  —Lori Wilde, New York Times bestselling author

  “How does Annie Rains do it? This is a lovely book, perfect for warming your heart on a long winter night.”

  —Grace Burrowes, New York Times bestselling author

  Also by Annie Rains

  Christmas on Mistletoe Lane

  A Wedding on Lavender Hill (novella)

  Springtime at Hope Cottage

  Kiss Me in Sweetwater Springs (novella)

  Snowfall on Cedar Trail

  Starting Over at Blueberry Creek

  Sunshine on Silver Lake

  Rosalie Reyes has big plans to open her new pet shop during the Christmas parade. But it seems like Everett Bollinger, the new town manager, is determined to be a Scrooge and sabotage the parade—and her business too. With the help of the local matchmakers and a rambunctious Saint Bernard named Remy, Rosalie is about to unleash the town’s holiday cheer and make it a paws-itively amazing Christmas for all.

  Please turn the page to read the bonus story The Christmas Wish by Melinda Curtis.

  To Remington, a loving Saint Bernard who thought your business was his business and made you believe the same.

  Prologue

  How did it get to be Christmas again so soon?” Bitsy Whitlock organized her cards while her friend’s granddaughter serenaded the card players. Bitsy had a pair of threes, an ace of spades, plus a jack and eight of hearts. In other words, nothing.

  “Ho-ho-ho. Cherry nose.”

  “Time flies when you’re a widowed grandma.” Mims Turner set down her cards, casting a grin toward her granddaughter, otherwise known as their songstress—Vivvy, a blond cherub cuddling a plush Santa.

  “Ho-ho-ho,” Vivvy crooned from her seat on Mims’s hearth. “Cherry nose.”

  Cute as Vivvy was, cute as Bitsy’s own grandchildren were, cuteness didn’t make up for the empty space in Bitsy’s king-size bed. At the holidays, the loneliness of widowhood tended to creep up on her.

  “Are we finishing the game now? Or taking a break?” The red-and-green tie-dyed shirt Clarice Rogers wore hung loose on her shoulders compared to the last holiday season. “I think the eggnog needs more nog.”

  “Ho-ho-ho. Cherry nose.” Four-year-old Vivvy sang louder. She’d inherited her loopy blond curls from Mims. “Gammy, sing!” As well as her grandmother’s take-charge attitude.

  “Hat on head,” Mims warbled dutifully, with head-shaking, gray-curl-quaking intensity.

  “Eyes so red!” Clarice sang at the top of her seventy-something-year-old lungs.

  “Those aren’t the words,” Bitsy murmured, staring at her cards.

  “Go along with it,” Mims urged before singing, “Special night.”

  “Beard bright white!” Clarice may have gotten the Christmas carol wrong, but she got an A for enthusiasm, just like Vivvy.

  Won over by cuteness, Bitsy hummed along.

  It was Black Friday, and instead of shopping, the three grandmothers in Sunshine, Colorado, were playing poker. There was business to be taken care of in addition to holiday planning. Business that rode on the outcome of their poker game.

  Matchmaking business.

  Bitsy, Mims, and Clarice made up the board of the Sunshine Valley Widows Club, which was open to anyone who’d suffered the loss of a spouse or partner. But they were playing poker as the sole members of what they privately called the Sunshine Valley Matchmakers Club. The winner of the pot of pennies earned the right to decide who they were going to help find love this holiday season.

  Bitsy had someone in mind—a young widow who probably laid a hand on an empty bed pillow every night like Bitsy did and wished…

  “Must be Santa.” Little Vivvy rocked back and forth. “Must be Santa.” She got to her feet and danced with her plush Santa. “Gammy, sing again.”

  Mims obliged her granddaughter, embellishing the song with arm movements and googly eyes that made both Bitsy and Vivvy giggle.

  “My eggnog needs more nog.” Tossing her gray braids over her shoulders, Clarice hobbled to Mims’s kitchen, where they’d left the bourbon.

  At this rate, the trio of matchmakers would be passed out on the floor with Vivvy at naptime, game still unfinished. Bitsy was fond of Vivvy but the sweet girl stood in the way of serious matchmaking decisions. If only she could be distracted long enough for them to finish the poker game.

  But how?

  Bitsy rummaged around in the black leather bag at her feet. She may be thrice widowed, but she was always prepared—Band-Aids, hair spray, clear nail polish, antacids, and…“Vivvy, I have a candy cane in my purse. Would you like it?”

  Vivvy gasped, dropped Santa, and ran across the wood floor, blond curls bobbing. She put her little hands on Bitsy’s leg and bounced up and down, no longer interested in singing.

  Clarice returned with a bottle of bourbon just as Bitsy unwrapped the c
ane and handed it to Vivvy.

  The little angel took a lick and then spun away like a ballerina, chanting, “I love Bitsy. I love Santa. I love Christmas.” And then she was silent.

  “Back to the game, ladies.” Clarice topped off their eggnogs and settled into her chair. “Per the rules, once we start the game, we must finish the game.” Clarice was their secretary and the keeper of club rules. She nodded toward little Vivvy. “Nice save, Bitsy.”

  Bitsy inclined her head. “I think we need to add an event to the Widows Club schedule. Our account balance is low.” As treasurer, Bitsy managed club funds. She sipped her eggnog and glanced at the cards she’d been dealt. She had a feeling about that ace. She kept it and the pair of threes, weak though they might be.

  “Let’s postpone new events until next year.” After reviewing her hand, Mims discarded two cards. Didn’t mean the club president had three of a kind. She had a tendency to keep face cards, even if they didn’t match or were different suits. “I’m warning you gals. I have a good hand and a person in mind who needs Cupid’s help.”

  Cupid, aka the Matchmakers Club.

  “You should get better at the bluff.” Clarice ran her fingers down one of her long braids and then discarded one card. Just one! She had a competitive hand, all right. “Last game of the year and it’s going to be mine.”

  It wasn’t an idle threat. Bitsy’s pair of threes were worth nothing. She wasn’t going to beat Clarice without some bluffing.

  Clarice dealt their replacement cards. Bitsy glanced at hers.

  For the love of Mike.

  She’d received another three and a jack.

  Why didn’t I keep that handsome jack?

  Bitsy bit her cheek to keep from frowning. No sense emboldening her opponents. “Are we doing a gift exchange this year?”

  Mims rubbed the worry lines from her forehead. She had bubkes, for sure. “I liked what we did last year. Lunch at Los Consuelos.”

  “Boring.” Clarice inserted her cards into her hand. She had something, all right. Either two pair or a full house. Nobody sorted a garbage hand.

  Despite sagging spirits, Bitsy kept biting her cheek.

  Clarice tapped her cards on the table. “Ladies, are you in or out?”

  “I’m in.” Bitsy went big, tossing in ten pennies, working the pretense of a good hand.

  Mims folded.

  Clarice slanted Bitsy a sideways glance. “You’re looking to end the game on this hand.”

  “I’ve got some shopping to do.” Another bluff. Bitsy had done all her shopping online this year.

  Instead of folding, Clarice counted out ten pennies. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  The moment of reckoning had come. There would be no more bluffing.

  “Three of a kind.” Shoulders drooping, Bitsy fanned her cards in front of her. “All threes. Pathetic, I know.”

  “My hand is more pathetic than yours.” Clarice huffed and tossed her cards down. “Three of a kind. Mine are twos.”

  “I won?” Bitsy couldn’t believe it. “With threes?”

  “Merry Christmas,” Mims mumbled. She’d been on a losing streak lately. In fact, Bitsy couldn’t remember the last time the club president had won.

  “I got sticky hands.” Vivvy flexed her little fingers as she walked toward Mims, candy cane eaten.

  With Mims about to go on grandma cleanup duty, Bitsy didn’t waste time gloating. “I choose Rosalie Reyes.” The widow who reminded Bitsy of herself.

  “The gal with the dog?” Clarice sat back in her chair.

  “I love puppies.” Vivvy held her hands in front of Mims. “Sticky, Gammy.”

  “Rosalie is the widow with the dog,” Bitsy confirmed. “She’s only just come back to town. I was thinking Doc Janney would be perfect for her.” He was so patient and intuitive. He’d know when a memory of a lost love lingered, and he’d be big-hearted enough not to be jealous.

  “It’s flu season.” Mims stood and gathered Vivvy into her arms, careful of her candy-cane-coated fingers. “Doc Janney is too busy for love this time of year. What about Noah Shaw? He’s handsome and—”

  “Not ready to settle down.” Clarice scrunched her thin features. “What about that new man at town hall? What’s his name?”

  “Everett Bollinger?” Bitsy couldn’t think of a reason why the man wouldn’t work except “He seems like a bit of a stick in the mud.”

  “Scrooge-like,” Mims agreed, clapping Vivvy’s sticky hands together.

  “Scrooge?” Clarice chuckled. “What better Christmas present for Ebenezer than the gift of love?”

  Chapter One

  Everyone in town knew Rosalie Easley Reyes.

  And today, two days after Thanksgiving, Rosalie was making sure everyone in town saw her.

  It was snowing, but only just, as if the sky above Sunshine, Colorado, couldn’t decide if it should or shouldn’t.

  Shouldn’t, please.

  Rosalie walked the length of the town square, trying not to shiver.

  Pearl, the oldest waitress at the Saddle Horn diner, came out of the pharmacy bundled up for the cold. “Well now.” She handed out one of her rare smiles. “Don’t you two have the Christmas spirit?”

  “Yep.” Rosalie glanced down at Remington, her dog, and kept walking. And walking.

  Past the bakery. By Los Consuelos. Down Sunny Avenue. Up Center Avenue and past the dilapidated, empty warehouse. Back to Main Street and around the town square.

  She approached the town hall, where the Widows Club board stood huddled as if planning their next event. They waved.

  Shoppers got out of her way. Kids stared. The younger ones stopped playing in the snow in the town square and gawked.

  “Are you Santa’s helpers?” one of the kids asked, running over.

  Two other boys joined the first, cheeks red from the cold.

  “We are.” Rosalie slowed, risking freezing. Her green flannel elf onesie wasn’t as warm as Remington’s thick fur coat. “This is Remy.” She straightened the Saint Bernard’s antlers and smoothed his plush sweater so the words Merry Christmas from Sunshine Pets were more easily visible.

  “There’s no reindeer named Remy,” the young ringleader scoffed.

  Before Rosalie could answer, Remy did. As dogs went, he was a talker, working his vocal cords up and down the spectrum like a baritone in the opera.

  Ra-roo-roo-roo-arumph.

  “Yes, Remy. I know.” Rosalie leaned down as if imparting an important secret to the children. “Remy says he’s no reindeer. He’s Santa’s dog, here to remind you not to forget your pets this Christmas. They need a gift under the tree too, which can be found right around the corner at Sunshine Pets.”

  “Subtle.” The deep, familiar voice from behind Rosalie was loaded with sarcasm.

  And just when she’d been about to hand out pet store flyers for the little tykes to give their parents.

  Rosalie turned, bringing Remy around with her so she could face her nemesis—Everett Bollinger, the new town manager and all-around killjoy.

  “Hey, kids,” Everett said without taking his eyes off Rosalie, “there are free candy canes at the town hall.”

  The children scampered off.

  “Free?” Rosalie gasped dramatically, which in the cold nearly gave her a shiver-spasm.

  Everett had been hired to balance the town’s budget. Nothing in Sunshine was free anymore.

  “To promote the town hall toy drive.” Everett was tall, broad-shouldered, and disapproving where he should have been tall, broad-shouldered, and kind. He had the appearance of a nice guy—balanced features, gray eyes behind wire-rim glasses, brown hair threaded with occasional strands of gray. It was just when he spoke that the façade of kindness cracked, and you knew ice flowed in his veins. People in town had taken to calling him Scrooge. “I admit, free candy canes were inspired by your Black Friday promotion.”

  “But you hated that idea.” She’d given out a hundred candy canes on Friday, threading
their red-and-white stems through white felt kitten faces. When he found one discarded kitten face in the snow, he’d claimed Rosalie was contributing to litter and had made her stop.

  Since she’d opened her pet shop a few weeks ago, Everett had constantly trounced her efforts to market the business. The signs she put up on the way into town were against code. The sandwich board placards she placed on the corner of her street were trip hazards to shoppers. The flyers she’d left on car windshields were against the town nuisance ordinance.

  Someone was a nuisance, all right.

  Scrooge gave her a tight smile. “I made the candy cane idea fall within Sunshine’s guidelines.”

  “Without branding,” Rosalie pointed out, patting Remy’s front flank, drawing him closer as the wind from Saddle Horn Mountain whipped though Main Street.

  Remy stared up at Everett and spoke: Aroo-arumph.

  Everett glanced from Remy to Rosalie.

  Rosalie gave her adversary a half grin. “Remy says using my idea is stealing.”

  Everett’s mouth formed a grim line.

  Too late, Rosalie remembered Everett’s history. “I’m sorry I…I shouldn’t have said that.”

  It began to snow in earnest—slow, silent flakes that swirled around them as if trying to block out the kids playing in the snow, the shoppers hurrying from store to store, and the painful memories of the past.

  “You should get inside,” Everett said in a husky voice.

  “Walking my dog isn’t against any ordinance in Sunshine.” She gripped Remy’s leash in her red-mittened hands. “Why are you trying to sabotage my business?”

  “Rosalie.” Everett moved closer and gave Remy a pat on the head, being careful of his antlers. “You’re out here without a jacket, and it’s below freezing.”