1225 Christmas Tree Lane (Cedar Cove, Book 12) by Debbie Macomber

By Debbie Macomber

The folk of Cedar Cove know the way to have fun Christmas. Like Grace and Olivia and everybody else, Beth Morehouse expects this Christmas to be one in every of her most sensible. Her small Christmas-tree farm is flourishing, her daughters and her canines are satisfied and good, and her new courting with neighborhood vet Ted Reynolds is exhibiting lots of romantic promise.
But...someone lately left a basket choked with domestic dogs on her doorstep, domestic dogs she's made up our minds to put in reliable houses. That's difficulty no 1. And quantity is that her daughters Bailey and Sophie have invited their dad, Beth's ex-husband, Kent, to Cedar Cove for Christmas. the ladies have visions of a mom-and-dad reunion dancing of their heads.
As constantly in life...and in Cedar Cove...there are surprises, too. a couple of family's going to have a dog less than the tree. multiple scheme will move awry. And a couple of romance may have a contented finishing!

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Only then did Kelsey notice a striking, dark-haired woman sitting by the fire, legs crossed. "He doesn't usually allow any of us here," the woman offered. "Well, perhaps I should clarify. Our lord would never forbid us to come. " "But he let me in here," Kelsey said, planting both feet on the floor, curious as to who the large-boned woman was. She gave Kelsey a brilliant smile. "Oh, I imagine he wanted you here, Kelsey Wells. " The woman waved her closer. "Come," she urged. "Sit with me by the fire.

Like now, as he studied his black eyes, his copper-colored skin—darker than he would ever reveal out in public, among the humans. The unusual tone looked too exotic for this part of the planet, he had learned, despite its general similarity to that of the Native Americans in the region. As Scott had explained, in a large American city, such as New York, he would never stand out; however, here in the mountain wilderness, his moody eyes and rich-toned skin marked him as a stranger. With a weary sigh, he shifted a bit, diminishing his alien coloring into something paler and more unremarkable.

Not for alien women like Kelsey Wells, dangerous to a fault. Why dangerous? logic questioned. Because you might open your heart again? Reaching for the bottle of whiskey he always kept in his dressing quarters, he silenced that nagging thought, swallowing a quick shot of the burning liquid. Humans possess their share of fine inventions, he thought admiringly, studying the bottle. But then he felt a literal tug in his spirit, a physical reminder of his separation from the human stranger, and his mood blackened again.

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