A Christmas Match Rugged logger Daniel Braynard meets none of Ellen Hall’s husband requirements. Groomed for a prestigious marriage, she already has a choice between two wealthy suitors. She plans to make her decision by Christmas while visiting her hometown. But when tasked with creating the town’s decorations, she and Daniel are forced to work together. And her former childhood rescuer has matured into a man she can no longer ignore. Daniel hardly recognizes the ambitious socialite Ellen has become. Somewhere beneath her airs is the spirited, warmhearted friend he has never forgotten. As Christmas nears, will the chill between them thaw to reveal the gift of a sweet love that was meant to be? Pinewood Weddings: A village where faith and love turn into happy-ever-after “Hey, Musquash. When did you come back to town?” “Daniel!” Ellen Hall spun to face him, her blue eyes brilliant with azure sparks. His gut tensed. He always forgot, between her rare visits home to Pinewood, how beautiful she was. He held his place as she walked toward him, the fabric of her long skirts swishing, small bits of the clinging snow falling off her swaying cloak to dot the plank floor. “I’ve told you not to call me that, Daniel.” Her eyes flashed, high spots of color crept into her cheeks. “We’re no longer children, lest you’ve forgotten.” As if that were possible. He looked away from her. “I remember. Though why you’d prefer to be called Muskrat makes no sense to me.” “Don’t be boorish!” She sniffed and slanted a look up at him from beneath the fur-trimmed brim of her bonnet. “Would it destroy you to call me Ellen?” Likely so, the way his heart jolted at that look—phony as it was. DOROTHY CLARK Critically acclaimed, award-winning author Dorothy Clark lives in rural New York, in a home she designed and helped her husband build (she swings a mean hammer!) with the able assistance of their three children. When she is not writing, she and her husband enjoy traveling throughout the United States, doing research and gaining inspiration for future books. Dorothy believes in God, love, family and happy endings, which explains why she feels so at home writing stories for Love Inspired Books. Dorothy enjoys hearing from her readers and may be contacted at [email protected]. A Season of the Heart Dorothy Clark For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. —Matthew 6:21 This book is dedicated with deep appreciation to my editor, Shana Asaro. I am truly blessed to have such a skilled, talented and delightful editor to work with. Thank you, Shana, for helping me make my books the best they can be. And, once again, thank you, Sam. Paltry words, but rife with gratitude. Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established. —Proverbs 16:3 Your Word is truth. Thank You, Jesus. To You be the glory. Contents 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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
December, 1841 Pinewood Village, New York “Daniel Braynard, what brings you to town in this snowstorm?” Daniel looped the reins over the hitching post, squinted up through the thick fall of snow and smiled. “Your husband’s skills, Mrs. Dibble.” He stepped forward and offered his hand to the older woman descending the steps from the wood walkway that ran in front of the block of stores. “He’s doing some repair work on one of the stoves from camp. How have you been keeping?” “I’m well. And busy helping Willa with Christmas preparations. Though I tend to hold the baby more than work. She’s such a sweet little mite.” “She’s little, all right. Not much bigger than my hand.” He gave the proud grandmother a sheepish grin. “Truth is...she’s sort of scary to hold.” “She won’t break, Daniel.” “That’s what Willa said when she handed her to me.” His grin widened. “Trouble was, my big, clumsy hands didn’t believe it.” Helen Dibble laughed, gripped the hood of her green wool cape against a sudden gust of wind and stepped toward the road. “That tiny baby takes a lot of time and care, and with all Willa has taken upon herself as the pastor’s wife—Christmas decorations for the church and all—I’m afraid it will be too much for her strength. And Matthew is too busy making calls on his sick parishioners to give her a hand. The grippe is bad this year.” She pinned him with a glance. “Mayhap Willa could put your strong back and
