Prologue
The holiday season is upon us, when ocean breezes carry the scent of cinnamon and sea salt, and even the smallest coastal towns shimmer with Christmas magic. Here at the North Pole, we feel it most of all—but nowhere does the spirit shine brighter than in places like Twin Waves, North Carolina, where tight-knit communities rally together and hearts find their way home.
Take this letter, for instance:
Dear Mrs. Claus,
I’m writing about my granddaughter Mads, who works at our family beach boutique here in Twin Waves, North Carolina. She’s got the biggest heart and the brightest smile, but lately that smile has been dimming. She just ended things with a young man who made her feel small and invisible—like her dreams didn’t matter and her joy was too much.
I’ve been watching her doubt herself, wondering if maybe she’s not meant for the kind of love that celebrates everything she is instead of asking her to be less. My sweet girl has been putting up walls around her heart, afraid to trust that someone might actually treasure her light instead of trying to dim it.
Could you help her see that she’s ready for real love? The kind that makes her braver, not smaller? I know Christmas has a way of bringing people together when they need each other most. Maybe this season will help her find someone who sees her light as a gift, not a burden—if she’s brave enough to let love in.
Thank you for listening to an old woman’s hopes for her granddaughter.
With love and Christmas wishes,
Grandma Hensley
Grandma Hensley is asking Mads to open her heart again and let love in—especially to someone who might come wrapped in grumpy packaging but holds the sweetest of hearts. A tall order, perhaps, but nothing a little Christmas miracle can’t handle.
Who am I to meddle in matters of the heart, you wonder?
Why, I’m Mrs. Claus, and I’m more than just the cookie-baker of the North Pole. While my dear Santa and his elves bustle about with toys and tinsel, ensuring Christmas morning sparkles for children everywhere, I have my own mission:Operation Mistletoe Match.
Through these letters, I weave a bit of hope, a whisper to take a chance—because love is the greatest gift, and it’s waiting to be unwrapped.
The story on the following pages is of Mads and Asher. Did my letter spark the courage they needed? That’s for you to discover.
So, settle in with your favorite warm drink and let the salty sea breeze carry you away to Twin Waves, where Christmas magic blooms like beach roses in winter and love finds a way to light up even the grumpiest hearts.
With mistletoe kisses and a heart full of hope,
Mrs. Claus
Chapter One
MADS
So here I am, tangled in Christmas lights in the display window of Hensley’s Beach Shack.
The artificial garland I thought would look “beachy chic” draped around the boutique window is now attacking me. I’m balanced on a ladder that’s definitely seen better days, with one foot on the window ledge and the other near a mannequin wearing a Santa hat and a bikini. Because nothing says “Merry Christmas” like a surfboard leaning against a palm tree wrapped in twinkling lights, right?
“This is fine,” I mutter, trying to untangle myself without bringing down the entire display. “Totally under control.”
A family of tourists stops outside the window, and I freeze mid-wrestle with a particularly stubborn strand of lights. The little girl presses her nose against the glass and asks loudly, “Mommy, why is that lady fighting the Christmas tree?”
Apparently, my life is a comedy show, and everyone gets front-row seats.
I flash them what I hope is a confident smile and not the grimace of a shopkeeper slowly losing a battle with inanimateobjects. The parents hurry their daughter along, probably worried that whatever I have might be contagious.
“Mads, what are you doing up there?”
Mom’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed and trying not to laugh. Behind her, my sister Lila is grinning, holding two steaming coffee cups from Twin Waves Brewing Co.
“Oh, you know, just living my best life,” I say, finally freeing one arm from the garland’s death grip. “Having a meaningful conversation with some Christmas decorations.”
“Well, your conversation partner looks like it’s winning,” Lila says, setting the cups down on the counter. “Want some backup?”
