by Cindy Kirk
ZONDERVAN
Love at Mistletoe Inn © 2014 by Cindy Kirk
A Brush with Love © 2014 by Rachel Hauck
Serving Up a Sweetheart © 2015 by Cheryl Wyatt
All Dressed Up in Love © 2015 by Ruth Logan Herne
In Tune with Love © 2015 by Amy Matayo
Never a Bridesmaid © 2015 by Janice Thompson
Picture Perfect Love © 2015 by Melissa McClone
I Hope You Dance © 2015 by Robin Lee Hatcher
Love on a Deadline © 2015 by Kathryn Springer
Love Takes the Cake © 2015 by Betsy St. Amant
The Perfect Arrangement © 2015 by Katie Ganshert
Love in the Details © 2015 by Becky Wade
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Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
Scripture quotations found in I Hope You Dance are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)
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Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Kristen Ingebretson
Interior design: James A. Phinney
Cover design for In Tune with Love: Krista Evangelista
Love at Mistletoe Inn eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39218-7
A Brush with Love eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39610-9
Serving Up a Sweetheart eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39607-9
All Dressed Up in Love eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39616-1
In Tune with Love eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39611-6
Never a Bridesmaid eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39606-2
Picture Perfect Love eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39624-6
I Hope You Dance eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39603-1
Love on a Deadline eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39604-8
Love Takes the Cake eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39599-7
The Perfect Arrangement eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39598-0
Love in the Details eBook edition ISBN 978-0-310-39597-3
eCollection ISBN: 978-0-310-34783-5
CIP data is available upon request.
Contents
Love at Mistletoe Inn
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About the Author
A Brush with Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
About the Author
Serving Up a Sweetheart
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About the Author
All Dressed Up in Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About the Author
In Tune with Love
Prologue
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
About the Author
Never a Bridesmaid
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
About the Author
Picture Perfect Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the Author
I Hope You Dance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
About the Author
Love on a Deadline
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
Love Takes the Cake
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
&n
bsp; Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
The Perfect Arrangement
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
About the Author
Love in the Details
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
To Becky Philpott and Ami McConnell, two of my favorite editors. I’ll meet you for breakfast anytime!
Although spending an entire Saturday manning a booth at the Boise Bridal Extravaganza might not be most women’s idea of fun, Hope Prentiss was enjoying herself. It helped that Amity Carter had the next booth.
While Hope was at the October event promoting Harmony Creek, a popular Idaho venue for weddings and receptions, Amity specialized in helping brides plan nontraditional weddings.
Although both women were in their late twenties and were the best of friends, they couldn’t have been more different. How her friend had chosen to dress for today’s business event was a perfect example of her unorthodox approach. While Hope had picked black pants, a simple white shirt, and pulled her auburn hair back from her face with two silver clips, Amity breezed in looking like a windblown gypsy.
She had disheveled dark curls tumbling down her back, a boho-chic dress of purple gauzy cotton, and gladiator sandals. Amity’s eyes were the color of exotic spices, and her effective use of makeup made her eyes the focal point of a striking face. Though Hope usually received compliments on her sea-green eyes, next to Amity she felt like a brown wren beside a bright peacock.
Hope sighed when Amity handed her a cup of cappuccino “borrowed” from one of the vendors touting their mobile coffee bar.
“I can’t believe we’re friends,” Hope murmured, bringing the cup to her lips.
A sardonic smile lifted Amity’s lips. “Love ya too, Chickadee.”
Dragging her chair over to Hope’s booth, Amity settled in with her cup of gourmet hot cocoa. The fashion show was under way in another part of the Boise Centre, which gave the vendors a chance to relax.
Hope took a long drink and let the caffeine jolt her mind. “I meant you’re adorable and so much fun.”
“All true.” Amity flashed a grin, then blew on the steaming cocoa. “Though I prefer mysterious to adorable.”
“You’re beautiful and mysterious while I’m average and forgettable.” Hope’s lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Amity drawled. “You have a few redeeming qualities. You’re a nice person. And a most excellent friend.”
“I’m not exactly spontaneous.”
“Are you referring to the incident last week when you refused to go to a concert with me so you could stay home and watch your pears grow?”
“I needed to pick pears,” Hope clarified. “Anyway, the cost of the ticket for that show was out of my price range.”
Amity’s eyes twinkled. “What range is that?”
“You know. Under twenty.”
Amity’s laugh sounded like the tinkling of a hundred mini wedding bells. “Darlin’, those prices went out in the last century.”
“I believe in being careful with my money.”
“A word from the unwise to the wise.” Amity took another sip of cocoa. “Can’t take it with you.”
Hope lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. Even after all these years, the memories of her parents arguing over money, the worry over almost losing the only home she’d known, remained with her. So she was conservative—being fiscally responsible wasn’t a crime. But she wouldn’t win this argument. Not with spendthrift Amity.
“I brought you something.” Hope rummaged around and found the box she’d stashed under the table. “Asian pears from my aunt’s orchard.”
“These look fabulous. They almost make me forgive you for the concert thing.” Her friend snatched the box, mouthed a quick ‘thank you,’ then abruptly narrowed her gaze. “Are you still hanging with Chester the molester?”
“He’s not a molester and his name is Chet,” Hope reminded her friend for the zillionth time.
Gold nails glimmered as Amity waved a dismissive hand. “Some names just seem to conjure up certain words. Hannah . . . banana. Fatty . . . Patty. Dirty . . . Debbie.”
“Hey, my mother’s name was Debbie.”
Amity only smirked. “Last, but certainly not least, Chester the molester.”
“Chester, er, Chet Tuttle, is from one of the most prominent families in Harmony,” Hope said, alluding to the small town just outside Boise where they resided. “He’d never molest anybody. He’s as upright as they come. The guy has never even had a parking ticket.”
“Am I supposed to applaud?”
Hope had to chuckle at her friend’s dry tone before her smile faded. “Chet would like for us to be exclusive. But I’m not ready to make that commitment to him.”
“Smart girl.” Amity nodded. “Why tie yourself to Mr. Super Boring?”
“Chet isn’t boring.” Hope rushed to defend the conservative banker. “He’s sensible.”
“A.k.a. bo-ring.” The response came in a singsong tone.
Hope lifted her chin. “If he is, then I like boring.”
“Face it, Chickadee, you wouldn’t know how to handle a red-blooded male. Wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a real man.” Before Hope could protest, Amity jumped up as if the seat of her metal chair had suddenly turned red-hot. “Yikes! I just remembered I promised Sylvie in the Mad Batter booth I’d drop off a few of my business cards. Since she does nontrad stuff like me, she said she’d hand them out. Back in five.”
Hope had seen Sylvie’s cakes. They were definitely “nontrad.” The wedding cake displayed in the Mad Batter booth today was a perfect example. The multilayer concoction designed for a Christmas wedding sported red-and-white vertical stripes, black flowers, pearls, and . . . two prettily decorated fondant skulls. The words “’Til death us do part” flowed in elegant script across the front.
While Hope thought the cake was more than a little creepy, Amity had squealed and raved. Hope liked to think she grounded Amity and made her fun-loving friend think twice before she jumped into some new venture.
As for Amity, well, listening to her friend’s tales of exploits allowed Hope to live vicariously in a world she would never again embrace.
Ten years ago Hope had ignored common sense and allowed herself to be swept from the safety of the shoreline into rocky waters where she was immediately in over her head.
Amity was wrong. Even ten years ago, Hope had known what to do when she was confronted with a red-blooded male. She’d . . . married him.
She’d been eighteen when she and John Burke had skipped their high-school prom and headed to Boise to elope. She couldn’t even console herself that it had been an impulsive, “hey, let’s get married tonight” kind of thing.
They’d planned it out, getting a license and finding a minister to marry them. The preacher—and she used that term loosely, as the guy had been ordained online—had been in it for the cash.
They’d said their vows, exchanged rings, and been pronounced husband and wife. Then the minister, “Buddy,” had demanded fifty dollars. John had balked, insisting they’d agre
ed on twenty and he didn’t have the extra thirty.
A cold chill had traveled down her spine, just as it did now, remembering. Hope had been struck by the enormity of what she’d just done. She’d tied her future to someone who didn’t even have enough money to pay the preacher.
Hope was embarrassed to recall how she’d fallen apart and cried like a baby, insisting she’d made a mistake and didn’t want to be married. John had tried to comfort and reassure her, but she’d been inconsolable.
Buddy had taken pity on her. Though he was supposed to file the license within thirty days to make the marriage official, the college-student-turned-minister told her not to worry. He simply wouldn’t send in the forms. It’d be as if the marriage had never taken place.
She and John returned to Harmony that night. On the ride back, John tried to talk to her, but she shut him out. For the next six weeks he tried repeatedly to breach the wall she’d erected.
But when John gave up and hopped on his motorcycle the day after graduation to make his fortune, Hope felt as if her best friend had deserted her. Which made no sense at all.
“Botheration!” The words came out on a groan.
Hope blinked back to the present and realized the sound had come from Amity. “What’s the matter?”
“They’re coming this way,” Amity hissed.
“Who?”
“Brooke Hauder and her mother.” Amity busied herself arranging brochures on her table, as if not making eye contact would cause the two to walk on by. “Brooke’s wedding plans are solid but she’s convinced something will go wrong. Crazy high-maintenance.”
The two women were definitely sauntering their direction. The girl was whippet-thin with a pale complexion common to gingers. The mother was short and stout and reminded Hope of a fireplug.
Amity turned and offered a bright smile as the two stopped in front of her booth. “Hey, gals. What brings you here today?”
Hope knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing Amity attempt to avoid speaking with someone. Crouching down, Hope pretended to be sorting through a box of pamphlets.
The older woman placed a supportive hand on her daughter’s back. “Brooke has gotten herself all worked up over something. I hope speaking with you will reassure her.”
“Of course.” Amity spoke in a surprisingly soothing tone. “What’s got you stressed, sweetie?”
The girl toyed with the button on her coat. “Mom thinks I’m being silly—”
“Now, Brookie, I never said that.” The mother laughed lightly and shot Amity a conspiratorial glance.
“You thought it.” The girl narrowed her eyes at her mother. “I know you—”