“It’s all in the approach,” Holly said. “You know what they say—you catch a lot more flies with honey . . .”

Eve exchanged a knowing look with Holly, then lifted her chin at Carol Belle. “And Santa don’t like ugly, Carol Belle.”

Carol Belle scowled. “Why y’all telling me that?”

Kandy, bless her, reached out and squeezed Carol Belle’s hand gently, soothing her stung pride just a bit. “They’re just saying that if we’re going to pull this off, we need to be on our best and most welcoming behavior, no matter what. That notion applies to all four of us.”

Eve nudged her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “Exactly.”

“No offense,” Holly said.

Carol Belle huffed but remained silent.

After a moment, the four took up rocking again, their chairs swaying forward then back in perfect rhythm as they watched the stranger with red hair enter Kringle’s Café—a small coffee shop across the street—then emerge five minutes later with a bright red cup in one hand and a shiny silver bag in the other.

Kandy’s stomach rumbled. “Oh, I’m so hungry! What do you think she got?” She licked her lips, rubbing her hands across her belly. “Kringle’s Café has the best hot chocolate and their red velvet cupcakes are just to die for!”

Carol Belle narrowed her eyes. The wistful look in Kandy’s expression as she stared at the café seemed too intense for dessert. Carol Belle suspected Kandy’s eagerness to visit Kringle’s Café had more to do with the handsome owner rather than with a cup of hot cocoa, and any move on Kandy’s part to pursue Max Reynolds would no doubt set Noel ablaze with gossip. And even worse . . . just might break Kandy’s tender heart.

“Don’t matter what she got in that café.” Carol Belle leaned to her left to see past the couple who had walked into the center of the town square, obscuring her view. “What matters is what she’s got at Chestnut Ridge.”

The other three women nodded then leaned to the left, too, to get a better look at the stranger.

As though sensing she was being watched, the redheaded stranger looked across the street and glanced at each of the four women, meeting their eagle-eyed scrutiny head-on, holding each of their gazes in succession. Then she smiled, tossed her long red waves over one shoulder and . . . winked!

“Did you see that?” Carol Belle pressed her hand against her chest, where her heart thumped wildly. “She winked at us! And it was a sarcastic wink at that.” She smiled full blast, her worries melting away like a mini marshmallow tossed into a blazing bonfire. “Boy, she’s a feisty one! Exactly what we need. She’ll give Nate Reed a run for his money, for sure. Ain’t no way Nate’ll win the Christmas Crown again this year!”

“Good! Now that we know for sure she’s what we’re looking for, how about we take our lunch break a little early? Maybe visit Kringle’s Café for a spell?” Kandy asked. “We’ve already had a ton of people sign up for the Christmas competition and we could just leave the sign-up rosters out for them. They’d know what to do. Then after we eat, we can stop by Chestnut Ridge and introduce ourselves to her.”

“No! No time for a lunch break.” Carol Belle stood. “Let’s go, ladies.” She hustled toward a nearby parking lot and motioned for the other women to join her as the stranger climbed into her truck and cranked the engine. “Come on! We need to follow her. Scope her out a bit more, then make our first move.”

Kandy blinked furiously, her long, false lashes fluttering against her overly blushed cheeks. “But . . . shouldn’t we give her some space? Let her settle into her new home before we pounce on her?”

Carol Belle stopped in her tracks. “Absolutely not! That woman right there”—she stabbed her finger at the truck and trailer as they rolled past, gaining speed and disappearing out of view around the curvy mountain road—“is Fabio Fraser’s new owner. And if she owns Fabio, we need to own her.”

Eve and Holly frowned, protesting in unison, “But, Carol Belle!”

Ignoring them, she spun on her heel and stalked toward a cherry-red Cadillac. “Get a move on, ladies. We got to sweet talk that newcomer into a Christmas war.”

Jordyn Banks knew she was being followed, but at the moment, the four elderly women stalking her in a red Cadillac hardly registered as the overwhelming majesty of her new home dazzled her senses.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Noel, North Carolina!” Jordyn, squirming in her seat with excitement, laughed as she eased her large truck and trailer around a sharp curve in the winding mountain road.

The small town of Noel, sitting at an elevation well over three thousand feet, completely surrounded by mountains, was far more impressive in person than in the professionally shot photographs she’d pored over for months. Driving through the center of town had been like cruising through a snow globe Christmas dream full of quaint shops, smiling faces and nostalgic decorations. Jordyn couldn’t possibly be more pleased with her decision to move to the charming Appalachian town.

Over the past two years, she’d scoured the internet on her laptop, hoping to find a stretch of land that was not only affordable but that would also offer a potential place to call home. The forty acres of land for sale in Noel listed on Hal Sutton’s real estate website could easily support several paddocks, stables, and an arena, and came equipped with an aged—but ridiculously charming!—log cabin, which consisted of one bedroom, one bathroom, and a small front porch suitable for admiring the mountains that sprawled in every direction.

Chestnut Ridge (as the stretch of land was named) was, in fact, the perfect setup for building her new horse-breeding business and luckily, the price had recently been marked down to below market-value, which suited Jordyn just fine. Having tucked away pennies here and there from rodeo wins over the past seven years, she placed high priority on getting the biggest bang for her buck, but the absolute deal clincher for her had been the beautiful town of Noel and its renowned Christmas splendor.

“Christmas,” she whispered.

What a marvelous thought! To think . . .she—after seven long years of nomadic life on the road—would actually have a home of her very own in a close-knit community full of Christmas nostalgia and hopefully (oh, hopefully!) good neighbors who’d adopt her as one of their own.

Smiling, she dug one hand into a shiny silver bag that rested in the passenger seat, pinched off a chunk of red velvet cupcake and popped it into her mouth. The sugary delight melted on her tongue, making her shiver again with excitement as she drove, craning her neck for a better view of the mountain peaks dusted with the barest hint of snow.

Oh, she hadn’t had an honest to goodnessrealChristmas in . . . well, ever!

Having been removed by children’s services from neglectful parents at the age of four, she’d spent her entire life in foster care, aged out at eighteen and hit the road to tour the rodeo circuit. Her childhood Christmases had usually consisted of simple cafeteria-style meals at youth centers or awkward gatherings in houses with new family who served as makeshift parents for a while, sharing space with their biological children with whom she rarely had anything in common. The foster parents she’d had over the years had done their best to make her feel at home—and she’d had many due to her stubborn behavior—but she’d never felt like more than a number . . . or really loved in any way. Even in her last foster home, where she’d lived for five years, she had still felt like an outsider up to the moment when she left, hopping into her newly purchased used truck, cranking the engine and driving away for a future she hoped would be more welcoming.