Yule Be Mine (Standalone Holiday Romance), page 1
Yule Be Mine
PIPER RAYNE
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2025 by Piper Rayne®
Piper Rayne® registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Design and Illustrator: By Hang Le
1st Line Editor: Joy Editing
2nd Line Editor: My Brother’s Editor
Proofreader: Olivia Winston
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About Yule Be Mine
When workaholic best man Carter arrives in Mistletoe Falls for his best friends’ Christmas wedding, a town-wide Santa Festival and a misplaced motel reservation leave him with one option—beg the woman he once rejected for a room at her bed-and-breakfast. Unfortunately, that woman also happens to be the bride’s sister…and the maid of honor.
To make matters worse, the bride and groom are delayed, turning Ashley and Carter into last-minute wedding planners, forced into a truce neither of them wants. But late-night checklists, a blizzard of holiday activities, and a charming small town turn their snark into sparks.
When they get snowed in and every near-kiss feels dangerously close to something real, Carter realizes there’s more to December than year-end deadlines
As their truce melts, one question remains—is this a holiday fling, or the start of forever?
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Also by Piper Rayne
About Piper & Rayne
Chapter One
CARTER
Ishut my laptop and scan my desk for a third time, making sure I have everything. I’ve cleared my inbox and set my out-of-office automatic reply. There are two weeks until Christmas, and I’m off until the new year, but being head of IT means I’ll be tethered to my phone if any problems arise.
A knock sounds on my office door. My boss, Ralph, stands in the doorway. One might think from his candy cane tie that he’s a jolly, festive guy, until they catch his bushy eyebrows drawn into a crease at the bridge of his nose and the sour way his lips turn down.
“Heading out?” he asks, as if he doesn’t notice my closed laptop, which I’m about to place in my bag.
“Yes. Gotta catch my flight.” I walk to the hook on my wall and grab my wool coat.
Ralph’s frown deepens as though I didn’t clear the fact that I’m taking this afternoon off months ago. “Just checking in about the Warwick account. With you being out of the office for so long, is it in good hands?”
I slip my arms through my coat. “Darnel and Yvonne have it under control. I’ve brought them up to speed, and I’ll have my laptop with me to check in regularly. You’ll barely know I’m not down the hall.” My attempt at humor doesn’t loosen the tension radiating from Ralph.
“I still don’t understand why anyone needs to take so much time off just for a wedding,” he grumbles.
I suck in a deep breath, wrap my scarf around my neck, and slip on my gloves. “That’s the good thing about vacation time. One can use it however they want.”
I’m not trying to be an asshole, and I sure as shit can’t get fired, but this is about the tenth conversation I’ve had with Ralph on this topic. As if I need to explain how I want to use my vacation time.
Just to be sure I don’t lose my job this holiday season, I soften my response once more. “I’m going early to help them get everything together before the big day. It’s a destination wedding, and they haven’t been able to prep in advance because of their schedules. Besides, they’re my two best friends, and I want to spend some time with them.”
He grunts, apparently still not understanding. I assume he doesn’t have anyone close enough in his life that he’d be asked to do something like this because the man is a workaholic.
Doug, Steph, and I were inseparable throughout college. Freshman year, Doug and I roomed together, and Steph lived on the girls’ floor below. After one late night studying in the common area, we all became quick friends. We did almost everything together. During college, Doug and Steph were just friends, but after we graduated, they both moved to Los Angeles. Their friendship turned into something more, and romance bloomed. When I first found out, it felt weird to be a third wheel around them, but in the years since, I came to see how much they meant to each other.
A tightness squeezes around my chest as I bring my bag over my head to rest the strap on my shoulder. “Happy holidays, Ralph. I’ll see you next year.”
Once again, my half attempt at humor spurs no laughter, but he does make his usual grunting sound like a farewell as I leave my office.
Three minutes and an elevator ride later, I step out onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk. I weave in and out between the pedestrians bundled up to weather the cold, past the holiday-decorated storefronts.
New York doesn’t hit the way it once did.
I remember my first Christmas in Manhattan after moving from Oregon. I was awestruck by the way the city transformed into a holiday paradise. Every store window displayed a Christmas theme, and every department store played Christmas carols. Holiday markets were set up every few blocks with niche, interesting shops. The tree at Rockefeller Center stood tall and proud, lights glistening in the cold, dark night. Everything felt so magical.
And it’s all still there. There’s not one inch of New York that isn’t dressed in some holiday garb, but the glisten has worn off a bit. Everything feels a little more tarnished now.
It’s not the city though. It’s me.
Lately, my entire life feels… blah. I go to work, come home, relax, and go to bed. Rinse and repeat. The things that used to bring me pleasure—going out with my friends, climbing the corporate ladder at work, playing in my dart league—no longer does it for me.
The melancholy feeling crept in early in the year after Faith and I broke up. At first, I thought it was just a funk over the end of our relationship, which would have been the first time I’d ever felt that way about a break-up, but it was the only explanation.
Then the feeling persisted, and after a while, it became clear to me that it had nothing to do with Faith. Sure, I’d liked her, and we got along well, but I certainly wasn’t heartbroken when we broke up. We didn’t want the same things. Things like commitment and kids. So, we went our separate ways—end of story.
That discontented feeling of my life hasn’t waned, despite my efforts to push it away. The fact is—something in my life needs to change.
Back in my apartment, I zip my suitcase closed, then check my watch to make sure I’m running on time. The car I ordered should arrive any minute now.
When Doug and Steph told me they were having their destination wedding in Vermont, I didn’t get it. It’s an interesting choice, but Steph’s twin sister, Ashley, owns a bed-and-breakfast there. I guess when Steph visited her sister last year, she fell in love with the small town and insisted to Doug that they get married there.
Which is all fine and good, except Ashley and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms the last time I saw her. And that’s putting it mildly.
Thank God I’m not staying at her bed-and-breakfast.
Chapter Two
CARTER
Most people hate the airport during the holiday season, but I get off on the buzz of all the travelers. Everyone is headed somewhere with excitement and anticipation on their faces. I can’t help but wonder where every person who walks past me might be going.
As I wait in the ride-share area of the airport in Vermont, I make up stories in my head about the people waiting around me. What they might be here for. Whether they’re returning home or here to visit someone.
By the time my ride pulls up at the curb, the end of my nose feels like the tip of an icicle, and my cheeks tingle from the cold air. The sixty-year-old man gets out of the car to help me with my bags, but I wave him off, placing my bag in the trunk myself.
He shuts his trunk and sticks out his hand. “I’m Rich.”
“Carter.” I shake his hand, and his smile deepens, forming more wrinkles around his eyes.
“Let’s get in. It’s freezing.”
We both settle into the SUV, me blowing into my hands to warm them.
“You’re headed to the Elderberry Motel in Mistletoe Falls?”
“I am.”
He veers the SUV away from the curb. “Beautiful little town. Especially at Christmas. The missus is always asking me to take her there this time of year.”
“Son, it’s the Christmas capital of Vermont.”
My forehead wrinkles. That’s one fact Steph didn’t inform me about. Though why would she? I could have researched this place before coming, but I’m here because it’s where my friends want to get married. Plus, it’s not like her sister wants to share her town with me.
“Sounds like fun.” I pull my water bottle out of my bag and guzzle half of it. Flying always dehydrates me, short trip or not.
Staring out the window, the scenery changes from city to evergreen forest. The street is covered with a light dust of snow. Whenever the wind blows through the trees, some of the snow on the branches falls to the ground. The mountains rise in the distance as we make our way closer.
We drive on a two-lane highway for a while, seeing only an odd house or gas station dotting the landscape as we grow closer to Mistletoe Falls.
I plan to check in at the motel before heading to Ashley’s B&B to check with Doug and Steph about our morning itinerary. Last time I talked to Doug, he mentioned that they were behind because Steph had been on set so much these past few months.
They’re both in the entertainment industry. Steph has been pursuing an acting career since we graduated from college, and she finally landed a recurring role on a popular television series a couple of years ago. Doug spends most of his time managing her career and those of a few other up-and-coming actors.
It’s been something witnessing their dreams coming true, but I wish I didn’t have the feeling that I’m being left behind. Not because of anything they’ve done, but because I feel like I’m missing out on something. I can’t figure out what.
In many ways, my life has just happened to me. Lately, I’ve been questioning who I am and what I want. I made all the decisions I thought I was supposed to along the way. I went to college, earned my degree, completed an internship, and started working in my field right after graduation. All for what? To be what? Now, I’m… here. And I don’t feel as fulfilled as I should after doing everything by the book.
I shake the self-analysis that’s been my life the last year when I see the sign on the side of the road reading, “Welcome to Mistletoe Falls.”
Rich wasn’t kidding. Mistletoe Falls puts my small town, Climax Cove, to shame.
Every building on Main Street is lined with Christmas lights, highlighting the building’s shape, its doors, and its windows. String lights in the shape of snowflakes hang from one side of the street to the other. Big bundles of mistletoe wrapped in red ribbon are placed in the middle of the lights, and every ornate streetlight is wrapped in greenery with big shiny balls that reflect the lights around them.
“Is this the set of a movie?” I mumble.
My family are huge Christmas movie watchers, and every year we make a list of movies to watch. I’ll miss most of it this year since I’ll be here, but my sister, Brynn, promised she wouldn’t let anyone watch my favorites until I get home.
Rich laughs. “Now you see why the missus loves it so much.”
We pass by the town hall, where a huge evergreen is decorated with lights and Christmas balls. They probably plucked that tree right off one of the nearby mountains.
Everything about this town is welcoming. It may not be New York City, but there’s still a bustle of people moving from shop to shop, packages in hand. Kids trail behind their parents, sucking on the ends of candy canes.
“It feels almost fake.”
Rich meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckles. “Nope.”
We drive for a few more minutes before Rich turns off the main road. The red-and-white sign in the distance reads Elderberry Motel. Rich pulls into the parking lot and parks alongside the small reception room.
“Thanks, Rich.” I climb out of his car, and he meets me by the trunk.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay. Maybe I’ll see you having hot chocolate in the gazebo when I bring the missus. She always loves all the festivities they plan.”
I lift my suitcase out of the trunk, and he shuts it. “Sounds good, Rich.”
“Happy holidays.” He smiles and walks to the driver’s side, getting in and shutting the door.
I leave him a tip on the app and slide my phone back into my jacket pocket. I head toward the door that leads into the reception area. Before I can reach for the door handle, it whips open, and I find Santa standing there.
Not the real Santa obviously, but someone dressed as Santa. Several people actually.
I take a step back as they file out the door, one after the other. Some short, some tall, some old, some young. Each one smiles and nods at me or says “Merry Christmas” as they pass.
I’m not sure how many exactly pass me by the time the doorway is empty, but it’s a lot.
A plump woman with white hair pulled back into a low bun, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, stands behind the counter, smiling at me. If she were dressed in a red dress and white apron, she’d be the perfect Mrs. Claus. “Good evening. How can I help you?”
I wheel my bag behind me and walk to the counter. “I’m checking in.”
“Oh?” Her welcoming smile drops.
“Is there a problem?”
“What name was the reservation under?” She reaches for a pile of index cards.
“Russell. Carter Russell.”
She nods and shuffles through the index cards, biting her bottom lip. This doesn’t seem like a good sign. After she goes through the cards a second time, sighing with each card, she looks at me and cringes. Definitely not a good sign. “I’m afraid I don’t see your reservation.”
I stare at her for a beat, unsure what to say. “I know I made it.”
“Maybe it got lost, or I wrote it down for the wrong dates. Whatever happened, I apologize, but I don’t have it.”
I’m not an angry guy who can’t control his temper. No need to panic. I don’t want to make this little old lady feel any worse. She looks on the verge of tears. “Not a big deal. I’d like to take a room then.”
Her expression falls further, and her eyes do fill with wetness. “I don’t have any vacancies.” When I stare at her blankly, she adds, “It’s the Santa Festival this week,” as if that explains it.
I blow out a breath and push a hand through my hair. “Santa Festival?” I quickly wave my hand because it doesn’t matter what the Santa Festival is. “Is there somewhere else in town that might have some vacancies?”
Her lips shake, and I fear that pretty soon her tears are going to fall down her rosy cheeks. “Very unlikely. Any rooms nearby are booked more than a year in advance when the festival is going on.”
“Great.” Shit. What am I going to do? “Have you heard of the Silver Bells B&B?”
“Of course. Ashley is such a sweet girl.” Her smile shines back, so I don’t have the heart to tell her that “sweet” and “Ashley” aren’t two words I’d put together.
“Is there a cab company I could call to take me there? I know Ashley as well.”
“You do?” The tears have dried up, and she’s happy again. “Well, why didn’t you stay there in the first place?”
“Long story.” I’m not telling this woman that I’d fear Ashley might cut my balls off with a butcher knife in the middle of the night.
The woman reaches under the counter and pulls out her purse. “C’mon. I’ll drive you there. I’m Ester by the way.”
“Good to meet you, Ester. I’m Carter. I appreciate the offer of a ride, but should you leave this place unattended?”
She walks past me toward the door. “It’s just a bunch of Santas.”
I chuckle. Her attitude reminds me of Climax Cove. It’s pretty much the opposite of running a business in Manhattan, where everything and everyone is filmed or watched by security from fifty angles.
“Really, I can just get a ride-share or a cab or something.”
She swings the door open, and a burst of cold air assaults me. “There are no cabs or ride-shares in Mistletoe Falls.” Ester laughs as if the idea that there would be is the funniest thing she’s heard all day.
“But I just got dropped off by one.” I follow her and close the door to the reception area.
