Page 1 of A Mistletoe Mix Up
Prologue
The air sparkles with possibility, and cinnamon-scented candles flicker in homes across the globe. The holiday season is upon us. Here at the North Pole, we feel it most of all—a season when love finds its way through the most unexpected cracks in our hearts.
Take this letter for instance:
Dear Mrs. Claus,
Tandy is a bright spark, and her vibrant red curls are as untamed as her spirit. She’s built walls around her heart brick by brick, but when she’s around Grayson, they start to crumble. Those two share something special, though neither seems brave enough to call it what it truly is. I’ve found my forever person, and I want the same joy for her. I fear she’ll never fully let down her walls and let someone in her heart. She deserves to stop running and allow herself to experience how beautiful it is to belong somewhere—or to someone.
If anyone can help her, it’s you.
With much hope,
Jane
Jane is asking Tandy to open her heart (and eyes) to let love in, to recognize what’s been there all along. A tall order, perhaps, but nothing a little Christmas miracle can’t handle.
Who am I to meddle in matters of the heart, you wonder?
Why, I’m Mrs. Claus and I’m more than just the cookie-baker of the North Pole. While my dear Santa and his elves bustle about with toys and tinsel, ensuring Christmas morning sparkles for children everywhere, I have my own mission:Operation Mistletoe Match.
Through these letters, I weave a bit of hope, a whisper to take a chance—because love is the greatest gift, and it’s waiting to be unwrapped.
The story on the following pages is of Tandy Vaughn and Grayson Sanders. Did my letter spark the courage they needed? That’s for you to discover.
So, grab a cup of cocoa and let their tale unfold like freshly fallen snow.
With mistletoe kisses and a heart full of hope,
Mrs. Claus
Chapter One
Grayson
“You can’t serve the town on an empty stomach.” Grandpa places a plate on the table. “Eat up, Grayson.”
He walks back toward the stove, sporting his Christmas apron over his slacks and button-up shirt. He hums along with the record player as he flips another cinnamon pancake.
“Thanks, Grandpa. What are you up to today?”
“Oh, the usual. Meeting the gang for one last round of golf before the first snowfall.”
He might be in his late seventies, but he acts like he’s in his fifties at most. He’s almost as active as I am. He goes running every morning, with me or one of his buddies. He’s on the golf course a few times a week and still goes along the trails right outside of town for hikes.
“Just make sure you don’t pull a muscle, old man.” I grin, shoving a forkful of pancake in my mouth. Gramps’s cooking could rival any of the state’s top chefs.
Grandpa chuckles. “Don’t let the wrinkles fool you, boy. Age is what you make it. Besides, I’ve got to show those young’uns how it’s done.”
His energy is infectious, making the early morning feel less daunting. I’ve got my one-year review this week, and these things always stress me out. Being the youngest and newest officer at Oakridge Hollow PD, any mistake I make, even something minor, is that much more noticeable.
Captain’s a good guy, and I think I’ve proven myself this year. And while I think the evaluation will ultimately be fine, it’s lingering over me like a dark cloud. I roll my neck around, trying to release the tension.
“You’ll be fine, Grayson,” Grandpa reassures me, patting my shoulder. “You’re a great officer.”
“I know, I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”
“You gotta get out of your head. Just keep being the best Grayson Sanders you can be.”
