In hindsight, I should not have had that fifth mimosa at Breakfast with Santa.

Or the sixth, seventh, and eighth.

But my shame over the public meltdown that resulted was nothing compared to being abandoned by my husband of fifteen years for a much younger woman—and did I mention she's pregnant?

For the sake of my children and my pride, I packed up and headed for my childhood home and the small town where I grew up. Cloverleigh Farms would be the perfect place for a fresh start.

Falling for Henry DeSantis wasn't part of the plan.

Sure, he's easy on the eyes and hard in the bedroom (also the hallway, the bathtub, and on top of his desk), but he's newly divorced too, and things between us are moving so fast I'm afraid neither one of us has had enough time to heal. Not to mention the fact that I'm a single mom now—my kids have to come first.

But Henry makes me feel beautiful and sexy and wanted and strong—I haven't felt that way in years. We understand each other, and when I'm in his arms, I'm tempted to trust again. To love again. To let myself be loved without fear.

But deep down, I'm terrified.

Is this all too much, too soon? Or am I a fool to let a second chance at happily ever after pass me by?