Christmas In Bayberry
“This is truly a Christmas reading delight! . . . This tale is such a relaxing drama, enclosed within a small town full of “Christmas Spirit”. although quite predictable, it is endearing and the characters and scenes”draws one in”.” Rockin’ Book Reviews
Read more HERE.
Back Cover Blurb:
She’s trying to save the family candle company. He’s trying not to fall for Bayberry―and her―again.
Kate Taylor knows what she wants in life: to one day run her family’s candle business, which is at the heart of the close-knit community of Bayberry, Vermont. But the company isn’t doing well.
Wesley Adams is on the fast track to be an assistant vice president at his financial firm in Manhattan. Before the promotion is announced, he’s sent to this small town from his past to do an analysis of the candle company.
He doesn’t expect to bump into his childhood crush, Kate, and when he does, sparks fly. As he spends time in Bayberry, he falls for the town’s Christmas traditions―and for her. But he has a responsibility to submit an honest report. Will it extinguish Kate’s dreams…along with any chance they have for a future together?
This heart-warming romance contains a free Hallmark original recipe for Cast Iron Beef Stew.
Wes entered the very spacious corner office.
The two outside walls were glass, giving a jaw dropping view of the city. Right now, though, Mr. Summers had his full attention. Why did Chad think he was taking over Wes’s accounts?
Wes stepped up to his boss’s very large oak desk. “Here’s the file you requested. Everything should be in there.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Summers took the folder, then gestured to the two charcoal gray chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat.”
Wes was torn between doing what the president of the company wanted or speaking up about his pending meeting. After all, Mr. Summers had the final say on who got the promotion. Wes had to stay on the man’s good side, but he also had to get his work done.
Wes’s mouth grew dry. He swallowed hard. “Sir, I’m expected in the conference room on the twelfth floor right now.”
Mr. Summers leaned forward, resting his elbows on the large oak desk. “They can wait.” His gray brows drew together in a formidable line. “This is important.”