<p><strong style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Once upon a time, I moved to Vermont... and wound up accidentally sort of married.</strong></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Webb Sunday is the straight single dad next door.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">He's lumberjack-gorgeous,</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Strong and steady as the trees in his family orchard,</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">A grumpy fairytale prince...</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">And entirely off-limits.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Or so I thought.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Until the drunken night the two of us walked into a bar...</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">And landed ourselves in the middle of small-town history.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Who knew hand-fasting was still a thing?</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">The town of Little Pippin Hollow did.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">And once this bunch of meddling Vermonters gets wind of our accidental betrothal, they are determined to see us seal the deal.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">But while the chemistry between us is hot enough to melt the winter cold, Webb isn't interested in a relationship...</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">And I'm not sure how long I can keep pretending I don't want our hand-fasting to be real.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">Because while the man might not be the happily ever after I came to Vermont for...</span></p><p><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">He's looking more and more like the one who's been </span><em style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">hand-picked </em><span style="color: rgba(15, 17, 17, 1)">for me. </span></p><p><br></p>
