Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, this joyful Christmas romp tells the story of a woman who can’t stop trying to help everyone around her find their happily-ever-after—even when her help leads to disaster.Frankie Lane knows what’s best for just about everyone but herself. Her divorced sister, Stef, who is too young to give up on love; her shy employee, Elinor; and her daughter, Natalie, who works in Frankie’s shop, Holiday Happiness, and really needs to start her own business selling the delectable chocolates she makes at home; even her best friend, Viola, who is trying to renovate her old Victorian. Frankie knows she could help all of them, if they’d just let her—and if all of her help didn’t end in utter disaster.Then there’s Mitch Howard, the owner of the local hardware store. They’ve been friends ever since Frankie opened her store, nine years earlier. He got her through the nightmare when she lost her husband in a freak accident, and he’s her favorite shoulder to cry on. He’s been divorced for years, and it’s such a waste of man! Mitch is the fittest, finest man Frankie knows. He’s easygoing, wise and kindhearted. Mitch needs someone. And she’s determined to help him find that someone—whether he likes it or not.
WHO KNEW THAT HELP COULD TURN INTO A FOUR-LETTER word? Not Frankie Lane, that was for sure.
Although it wasn't help that her friend Viola muttered when the two women stood looking at the pile of wallpaper that had slid down the wall and onto the floor in the dining room of Viola's fixer-upper Victorian. The section Frankie had put up, not Viola's.
"I don't understand what happened," Frankie said, gaping at it.
Viola heaved a sigh.
Everything had looked fine before they'd stepped into the kitchen in search of wine to celebrate the completed job. By the time they were back in the dining room to toast, the wallpaper was toast. Soggy toast. Frankie had to get back to her shop, and here was...this. Obviously, she couldn't leave her friend with such a mess.
"I'll just put this back up again," Frankie said, hurrying over to the sodden pile.
Viola rushed after her. "No! Don't touch anything. I know you want to help."
"I do!"
"But please don't."
WHO KNEW THAT HELP COULD TURN INTO A FOUR-LETTER word? Not Frankie Lane, that was for sure.
Although it wasn't help that her friend Viola muttered when the two women stood looking at the pile of wallpaper that had slid down the wall and onto the floor in the dining room of Viola's fixer-upper Victorian. The section Frankie had put up, not Viola's.
"I don't understand what happened," Frankie said, gaping at it.
Viola heaved a sigh.
Everything had looked fine before they'd stepped into the kitchen in search of wine to celebrate the completed job. By the time they were back in the dining room to toast, the wallpaper was toast. Soggy toast. Frankie had to get back to her shop, and here was...this. Obviously, she couldn't leave her friend with such a mess.
"I'll just put this back up again," Frankie said, hurrying over to the sodden pile.
Viola rushed after her. "No! Don't touch anything. I know you want to help."
"I do!"
"But please don't."
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