When you kiss your perfect boyfriend under the mistletoe...only for your cousin scream to the family that you stole her man, you realize that you will never again have a merry Christmas. In my defense, I didn’t know my boss—yup, boss. Buckle up because this is messy—was my cousin’s newly minted and totally lying fiancé. I thought he was the Nutcracker Prince come to finally show my family that I, too, was worthy of putting the star atop the Christmas tree.

In my perfect world, it would always be winter and never Christmas. I despise the holiday. I hate carols, shopping, and pretending to be a perfect family. I walked away from my family, or rather, they walked away from me. My heart is like ice. See it creeping up the walls. Oh, wait, no, that’s royal icing.

I kept smiling when I caught my fiancé coming down my sister’s chimney on Christmas Eve. I gave polite congratulations when they got engaged. And I even offered to help decorate for their Christmas wedding despite the fact that was supposed to be my dream wedding. But when my sister cuts up my great-grandmother’s one-hundred-year-old wedding dress and turns it into a skank show, even though that was the dress I was going to wear on my wedding day? Well, this elf is torching down the North Pole.

The only thing we have in common is that we’re both tall. He wears bespoke suits; I wear flats with holes in them. He runs a big shot investment firm; I’m trying to start my own company with only bubble gum and circus peanuts. He likes to show up at my horrible dates and ruin them; I…pretended I hated when he did that but secretly was thrilled even though it was a little young adult fiction.

Welcome to life as a wedding planner for the rich and entitled of Manhattan. I’ve seen it all - from the nastiest bridezilla to the most overindulged billionaire. And Evan is the worst. Tall, dark, and handsome, he has a ridiculously ripped body under his formal suit and runs a massive hedgefund that’s actively making the world a worse place. I don’t even feel sorry for him when he walks away from the alter in a daze

I thought I was over him. That his good looks and British accent couldn’t affect me anymore. But the minute our eyes lock across the elevator, all those feelings come roaring back to life. Then I find out we’re competing for the same job. Next comes the realization that we have to spend a week together on a ski vacation because of some six-degree-of-separation nonsense. The real kicker is when I find out the two of us have to share a villa. A very small, very cozy villa.

I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment! That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!

Rules are meant to be broken. Except for one: Women can't get enough peonies. Even the girl in front of me in line is admiring the peonies in my hand. While I need these particular flowers for my latest plot, I'll still give Meghan the biggest, thickest bouquet I can find. It's flattering how much she wants my peonies. And I don't mind personally delivering.

Armed with comfy pants, overpriced coffee, and a highly anxious emotional-support corgi, I prepare to face him. Corporate boss. Villain. Salinger Svensson. I step into his office. His perfect mouth twists into a sneer. There is no heart of gold beneath that suit, just a big black pit. He’s a shark in the frothy waters of high-stakes finance. He might be the archetypal-asshole CEO, causing all in his path to quake in fear, but he’s never had to face down a basic bitch in her thirties.

In truth, it probably didn’t help that I showed up dressed like an elf but that’s a story for another time. Our start was rocky at best which is why it’s so frustrating that I can’t stop thinking about his sexy British accent. Or the way his chest and arms fill out his suit. Or his perfect hair with that single streak of grey at the front.

Widower Alexander Cartwright has one thing on his mind—his kids. He plans on keeping it that way until his mother hires a sassy, free-spirited nanny to watch them during the holidays. Art teacher Phoebe Love needs a job and to take a secret time out from her long-term, not always nice boyfriend. She plans to focus on the two boys and figure her situation out, but their father isn’t making that easy on her.

My name is Caroline "Candy" Cane, I own a country inn, date a man who runs a Christmas tree farm, and my mom's peppermint fudge wins first place at the Reindeer Corners' festival every year. Basically, I'm living every romance-loving girlie's small town dream. Until a last minute trip to New York City leads to catching my boyfriend banging a Rockette (in full elf costume). So, when I'm offered a chance to star in a hospitality-themed reality show, I jump at the chance to serve hot cocoa in roller skates on national television.

That should be a good thing, right? Eggnog and Christmas carols. Mistletoe and family. Except my dad broke his leg hanging the family wreath. My brothers are at war over taking proper care of Dad. Oh, and I just found out our family business, the Kringle Inn, is failing!

My to do list: Revive my crashed PR career. Turn around the Kringle family business by Christmas. Convince my ex-boyfriend, NHL legend Matt “the Mountain” Kringle, to help me, even though I broke his heart when we were seventeen. Easy, right? Matt is huge, he’s hot, and he’s the grumpiest player in the league. I’ll have to brave his bad attitude and his sexy beard if I want him to help bail out the family business and put my career back on track.

He’s an Army Ranger. She’s a baker. He’s organized and ridged. She’s messy and carefree. He doesn’t do relationships. She’s following her heart. His family chat blows up his phone. She just buried her last living relative. The holiday season doesn’t seem so jolly, as they venture from one mode of transportation to the next.