Harper Lane ,Ethan lane , Maggie Lane, Noah , Sophie , Mayor Abigail Reed , Mrs. Carmichael , Mr. Turner .

The train screeched to a halt, jolting Harper Lane from her scrolling spree on her phone. She’d been re-reading the terse email from her editor, a reminder that this “fluff piece” on small-town Christmas charm wasn’t optional if she wanted to keep her spot at City Beat Magazine. She sighed, stuffing her phone into her bag as she glanced out the frosted window. Snowfall Ridge looked like something out of a snow globe—quaint storefronts with frosted windows, strings of lights crisscrossing the streets, and garlands adorning every lamppost. She frowned at the sight. Nostalgia and dread settled in her chest like unwelcome houseguests. As she stepped onto the platform, the icy air nipped at her cheeks. The crunch of snow beneath her boots sent a chill up her spine. Harper pulled her coat tighter and scanned the empty station. It was just as she remembered—small, rustic, and painfully cheerful. “Harper Lane?” a voice called out, warm and unmistakably familiar. She turned to see Sophie Wilkes, her childhood best friend, bouncing on the balls of her feet by a bright red pickup truck. Sophie hadn’t changed much—same curly chestnut hair, same dimpled smile that could melt the iciest mood. “Sophie,” Harper said, mustering a smile. Sophie didn’t hesitate, rushing forward and enveloping Harper in a tight hug that smelled of peppermint and pine. “You’re here! I can’t believe it. It’s been, what, ten years?” “More like twelve,” Harper said, her voice muffled against Sophie’s scarf. Sophie stepped back, holding Harper at arm’s length. “You look… well, you look like you belong in a fashion magazine, but you always did.” Her grin widened. “I mean, seriously, is that a designer coat? Don’t tell me you brought heels.” “I might have,” Harper admitted, shrugging. “They’re practical.” Sophie snorted. “For New York, maybe. Here, you’ll break an ankle on the first patch of ice.” “Noted.” Harper’s smile turned wry. “Well, let’s get you to the inn. Ethan sent me to pick you up.” Sophie’s words were casual, but Harper caught the glint in her eye. “Ethan? Ethan Grant?” Harper’s stomach did a somersault. “Who else?” Sophie smirked as she hoisted Harper’s suitcase into the truck bed. “He’s running the Snowy Pines Inn now. You’re going to love what he’s done with the place.” Harper climbed into the truck, her mind racing. Ethan Grant, of all people. The boy who’d spent their teenage years making her life a living hell with his sarcastic remarks and endless pranks. What were the odds he’d still be here, much less running the inn? As Sophie drove through the snowy streets, Harper tried to focus on the scenery. Snowfall Ridge hadn’t changed much. The town square was bustling with holiday activity vendors setting up stalls for the Christmas market, children building snowmen, and the massive pine tree in the center decorated with shimmering ornaments. “It’s like a postcard,” Harper muttered. “That’s what makes it special,” Sophie said. “And why people come from all over for our Christmas festival.” She glanced at Harper. “I hope you’re ready to soak up some holiday spirit.” Harper forced a laugh. “I’m just here to write an article, Soph. Not get a holiday makeover.” Sophie grinned knowingly. “We’ll see about that.” The Snowy Pines Inn stood at the edge of town, its charming façade glowing against the twilight. White icicle lights framed the eaves, and a wreath with a red velvet bow hung on the front door. Harper hated to admit it, but it was beautiful like something out of one of those holiday movies she avoided. As she stepped inside, the scent of cinnamon and cedar wrapped around her like a warm blanket. The lobby was cozy, with a roaring fireplace, plush armchairs, and garlands strung along the bannister. “Ethan! Your guest is here!” Sophie called, her voice ringing through the inn. Harper set her suitcase down, her heart thudding as she heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. When Ethan appeared, she froze. He wasn’t the lanky, mop-haired boy she remembered. This Ethan was tall, broad-shouldered, and ruggedly handsome. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, but his jawline sported a shadow of stubble that somehow made him look even better. “Well, well,” he said, his voice deeper than she remembered. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “If it isn’t Harper Lane, back from the big city. What brings you to our little corner of the world? Slumming it for the holidays?” Harper stiffened. “Hello to you, too, Ethan. I’m here for work, not that it’s any of your business.” “Work, huh?” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the bannister. “Let me guess ,writing a hit piece on how backward small towns are?” “Actually, I’m covering the Christmas festival,” she said, her tone clipped. “And I’m staying here, so maybe you could dial down the hostility?” “Hostility?” Ethan smirked. “This is me being friendly.” “Could’ve fooled me,” Harper muttered. “Alright, you two, enough,” Sophie interjected, stepping between them. “Ethan, show Harper to her room before you scare her off.” Ethan chuckled. “Right this way, Ms. Lane.” Harper followed him up the creaky staircase, her irritation growing with every step. She could already tell that dealing with Ethan was going to be the biggest challenge of this assignment. When they reached her room, he pushed the door open and stepped aside. The space was charming warm lighting, a cozy bed piled with blankets, and a small Christmas tree in the corner adorned with delicate ornaments. “Enjoy your stay,” Ethan said, his tone teasing. “And try not to write anything too mean about us.” Before Harper could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone in the festive room. She dropped her bag and sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window at the snowy landscape. This was going to be a long week.