You could call me a Grinch.
But instead of green fur, I grew a beard and a brooding attitude.
Sure, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder — but we all have our issues.
I live in the woods. Alone. That’s the way I like it.
Until this December.
When Maple St. Claire knocks on my cabin door and everything changes.
I may be a grump, but I’m a sucker for sweet things.
And this girl? I’ve been in love with her since I was six years old.
It’s the season for miracles and maybe just this once I’ll get the present I’ve wanted all my life:
Maple St. Claire in my arms under the mistletoe.
Home is Where The Beard Is by Frankie Love
