Outside, the wind was blustering. It was so cold, it could make a BBW’s teeth chatter, but inside Bear Claw Bakery, something else was chattering — the townsfolk, who were excited to try the new fare offered by Bear Claw Bakery. Now offering traditional English Christmas beverages like wassail, Bear Claw Bakery had gotten into the holiday season, taking part in the town’s celebrations. The bakery had been transformed into a Regency wonderland for the night. It frankly looked a lot like it regularly did, just with more pomanders, ornaments, and wreaths hung up ‘round the bakery.

And, all the bakery ladies were wearing cute outfits. That was the main reason most folks came to peep at the festivities. The long empire waist dresses weren’t practical, but they were adorable.

Melissa Pemberley bounced around the cafe, practically dancing as she fulfilled customer’s orders and hummed Christmas songs to herself. Although the curvy woman’s costume was a bit tight around her bust, the empire waist dress did show off her other curves, as it swished around her knees. Melissa served up cups of wassail and plates of tiny ‘plum’ puddings made with raisins rather than plums, coated with a generous drizzling of brandy sauce.

“Melissa — I mean, Lady Pemberley — Avery wants to see you outside, milady,” said Melissa’s coworker Jill. “Oh, and take these — she wanted a refill, and I thought you could do with something hot too.”

“My thanks, Lady Donovan,” said Melissa, leaving the register area to grab her jacket — a big, thick wool coat. She was wearing sneakers that she swapped out for snow boots.

“Miss Avery, you wanted to see me?” asked Melissa, who was holding two mugs of Christmas tea. She put one down across from Avery and kept the other in front of her.

“Melissa, you know why I hired you?” asked Avery.

“Not really,” admitted Melissa. “I was working in the Bozeman store when I heard that extra help was needed at The Wreath.”

“This year, the Chamber of Commerce of the town has decided to put on a ‘Regency Christmas’ celebration, running until New Year’s Eve,” explained Avery. “I need extra help around the bakery to help with the tourist rush. I also need someone to come up with an idea for a Christmas themed activity people can do at the community center, at a table sponsored and run by Bear Claw Bakery. I was hoping that someone could be you.”

“I love Christmas! It’s my favorite holiday! I’m sure I’ll come up with something amazing! This is going to be so fun!” squealed Melissa.

“I also wanted to let you know that we’ll be having some very special guests this year — and look, they’re on their way now,” said Avery, pointing out toward the lake. “That’s Krampus, the man who runs the Christmas tree camp, Camp Kringle, and his ward — a bad boy looking to find his fated mate.”

“A fated mate? Does that mean he’s a shifter?” asked Melissa in a hushed tone. “Wow! The Wreath is such an exciting place!”

“The shirtless one rowing is the shifter,” said Avery.

“And the other one’s your boyfriend?” asked Melissa.

“Krampus and I are just friends,” insisted Avery.

“Uh-huh,” said Melissa.

Melissa peeped across the lake. A large wooden rowboat was being rowed across the lake by one man, while the other man sat in the boat and read a book.

A guest came out from the bakery and sat at a table near Avery and Melissa, but the pair did not notice, too focused on the men coming across the lake.

The strange woman — truly strange, in that she was not dressed up in historical garb, but instead, bundled up in a worn puffer jacket and wearing an acrylic knit cap — took a seat and pulled out her notebook. She’d seen enough to start taking some notes about anachronistic elements present in the holiday celebration. However, she found herself drawn into the spectacle on the lake.

The two men rowing across the lake in a wooden rowboat looked like a pair of Georgian brothers on a vessel in the English countryside. The soft dawn lighting and the surprisingly gentle waves of The Wreath’s waters completed the image. All that was missing was some fuzzy cattails and a badger.

The only man rowing was shirtless — something that definitely wouldn’t have been common in the era, but something that, in any time period, would’ve been quite the site to see.

The stranger saw the man’s hair was tied up into a ponytail. His ponytail was tied up with a red velvet bow.

Whether or not the hairstyle was anachronistic or not, one thing was for sure — the woman wanted to take the bow into her mouth and pull on it, undressing that already shirtless man from top to bottom, as he played with ‘the man in her boat.’

It was a safe fantasy. After all, it was unlikely they’d ever talk. She was busy with her project and didn’t exactly need a long-term distraction…but a momentary daydream, well, that couldn’t hurt.

The man got out of the boat and hauled a large package with him, carrying it up the stairs to the back patio of the bakery.

He nearly dropped the package when he spotted a gorgeous woman sitting by herself, outside. Two other women were chatting on the porch, but they may as well have been invisible.

Whoever that woman was, she made reading look sexy. She was as lost in thought, reading her book, as the man was lost in thought watching her.

“This way,” said the other man. “That’s them, Eamonn.”

“Uh-huh, okay, Krampus,” said Eamonn, distracted.

“Eamonn?” asked Krampus. He looked at Eamonn and followed the bad boy’s gaze…which wasn’t toward the table where Avery and her seasonal temp were sitting. He was looking at the only other person on the patio, a nerdy looking woman reading a book.

Krampus looked at Eamonn, professional athlete, and then, looked at the woman. She was curvy, sure — a big, beautiful, plus-size woman if there ever was one — but she was bookish. Would a jock and a nerd really have any chance of finding love together?

He’d seen crazier things on The Wreath.

“Come on,” said Krampus, pulling Eamonn toward the right table. “We’re here for a job. Avery!”

“Krampus,” said Avery, getting up, to give Krampus a hug.

“Hey,” said Krampus, awkwardly hugging Avery back. “I…brought you your tree.”

“I can smell it through the bag,” said Avery. “Krampus, meet this year’s temp worker — Melissa.”

“What’s with the geddup?” asked Krampus, motioning between the two large women.

“It’s a Renaissance Christmas thing!” said Melissa.

“Honey…it’s a Regency Christmas promotion, for the bakery,” Avery gently corrected Melissa, before turning back to Krampus. “There’s a whole retinue of Regency themed activities planned.”

“Like dying during childbirth because of a lack of modern medicine?” asked Krampus. “I’ll pass. Having lived through the Regency period, I have no desire to relive it.”

“He’s so funny!” said Melissa, not realizing Krampus was serious about what he’d said.

“And who’s this?” asked Avery.

“Eamonn,” said Krampus. Eamonn was looking at the woman at the table. Krampus elbowed him.

“Uh, hi,” said Eamonn. “I’m Eamonn.”

“Wait…are you Eamonn Costello?” squealed Melissa.

“That is my name,” admitted Eamonn.

“But are you the Eamonn Costello?” asked Melissa. “The football player?”

“Uh…technically,” admitted Eamonn.

“I can’t believe it!” said Melissa. “I’m a huge, huge, huge fan! I won a poster of you for getting the highest score on my sports medicine final, the highest score out of everyone! Can I get a photo?”

“I think we’re going to be heading off soon, so there’s no time for that,” said Krampus curtly. “You two need to go set up that tree so I can take Eamonn back for his training. There’s a stain in the corner — big, you can’t miss it — where the tree always goes. Set the tree up. Get back to training. Those are your orders, Eamonn.”

“Ooh, training, like football training camp?” asked Melissa.

Krampus looked at Eamonn and then looked at Avery and then looked back to Melissa. “Yeah. You could say it’s like that.”

The guest at the table looked up, annoyed, at the people at the other table. She was going to ask them to tone down their conversation. The incessant shrill squeaking coming from the BBW, who was nearly as curvy as the guest, was so painfully high-pitched that the stranger was sure the government was looking for ways to weaponize those squeals.

That’s when she saw the man, the shirtless one, with one word on his body — the word ‘Naughty,’ written in crimson. She thought it had to be a tattoo, because never, in all her life, had she seen a mate mark like it before. Mate marks — they were the magical marks that told shifters who they belonged with. How the heck would the word ‘Naughty’ lead a shifter to their mate?

And just as she was just getting comfortable staring, the man went inside the bakery, led by the hand by the very loud and annoying baker.

The stranger went back to her notebook. At least she’d found another talking point for her class — about what real Regency Christmas clothing looked like, and how it wasn’t glorified summer nightgowns.

As Eamonn carried the tree inside the bakery, following after Melissa, Avery rose from the table.

“You did want the tree to be put over the stain, right?” asked Krampus.

“You know, I actually forgot about the stain this year,” said Avery. “Just move aside the extra decorations and put it where it usually goes.”

“If you forgot about the stain, then I shouldn’t’ve bothered bringing you the tree,” grumbled Krampus. “Can’t believe that after all these years, you forgot about it. Do we need to have your head checked?”

“We?” asked Avery. “What ‘we?’”

“Never mind,” said Krampus, blushing. “I just don’t want my favorite baker messing up my order because she didn’t a concussion checked out.”

“I’m your favorite baker?” asked Avery.

“If you’re in the habit of forgetting things, how about forgetting this conversation ever happened?” asked Krampus. “Anyway. What do you think of this year’s boy? He’s the fittest one that Jasper’s ever sent over.”

“Does that mean you won’t have to train him so hard?” asked Avery.

“It means I get to train him even harder,” said Krampus, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, those two are so cute,” squealed Avery. “She’s definitely his fated mate. I know it.”

“I don’t know,” said Krampus with a frown. “I’m not so sure.”

“Bah humbug! Come on,” said Avery. “Let me show you our decorations.”

“I…could use some fresh air,” lied Krampus. “I’ll be inside in five.”

“You just want to hang out here so you can smoke some candy canes!” hissed Avery.

“Candy canes don’t work like that for demons,” said Krampus, raising an eyebrow. “Projecting much?”

“I am not,” said Avery.

“Two things. One. Don’t try and lie to me. I’m a demon, and, it’s close to Christmas — so you might just end up on The Naughty List,” chastised Krampus. “Two. There are crushed candy canes all over the back patio. You might want to sweep them up.”

“Ugh, I try to be nice, and you go and pick at my habits,” said Avery. “I swear — I’m gonna quit the candy canes, okay?”

“Well, while you go get a mint patch or whatever it is you use, I’m gonna get some air,” said Krampus. “That boy rows fast. I need to catch my breath.”

“Huh,” said Avery. “Suit yourself.”

Once Avery went inside, Krampus walked over to the only other occupied table on the back patio of the bakery.

“Hello,” said Krampus, taking a seat across from the person at the table. “You liked what you saw? The name’s Krampus.”

“Not interested,” said the woman, who was busy scribbling in a notebook. “Also, you should pick a better fake name than ‘Krampus,’ or people are going to start thinking you’re some kind of Christmas demon. You’re not my type, devil dude.”

“Not in me — in the lumberjack,” said Krampus. “Eamonn. Tall, dark, handsome, all bad-boy?”

“The last thing I need this holiday season is a distraction,” said the woman with a smirk. “Besides — he likes that girl. What chance does someone like me — a ‘humbug’ if there ever was one — have when there’s some bubbly baker in the running?”

“So you were listening to our conversation,” said Krampus. “That means you heard what Avery said — about fated mates.”

“I only heard the end part — but it was hard not to hear, given how loud that baker was. If he’s a shifter, he has a fated mate,” said the woman, shutting her notebook and looking at Krampus. “He obviously likes that girl — and the other woman, she’s pushing them together. They’re going to get together. I bet they’re smooching under the mistletoe right now. If I’d let myself get invested in every handsome guy that comes my way, I wouldn’t have a frikkin’ Ph.D.”

“Smart woman,” said Krampus. “Hope Bingley, Ph.D. — it has a ring to it.”

“Wait — how do you know my name?” asked Hope. “You some kind of a stalker?”

“I have a feel for names and other things,” said Krampus. “I also have a feel for Fate. I don’t think Melissa’s meant to be with Eamonn.”

“What, because you like her?” asked Hope.

“My tastes are for…a less freshly-baked pastry,” answered Krampus awkwardly.

“Ah, her boss,” said Hope, crossing her arms.

“Whatever,” said Krampus, blushing. “The point is, my lumberjack and that irritatingly cheery woman are not meant to be together.”

“And so what, you want me to break them up?” asked Hope. “I’m not looking to get into any drama.”

“You’re not?” asked Krampus. “That’s too bad — ninety percent of my plans involve drama. The other ten involve super drama. What are you here for?”

“The town of The Wreath has decided to transform itself into a Jane Austen inspired village for the season,” explained Hope. “As a community college professor in Billings, who exclusively teaches courses on Austen, I had to see this hot mess for myself.”

“A Janeite?” asked Krampus. “Why aren’t you in those silly costumes, then?”

“I don’t think one has to ‘play dress-up’ to understand a work,” said Hope. “Plus, I’m a big woman – plus-size – but I’m just not ‘big’ into Christmas.”

“You’re nearly as cold-hearted as me,” said Krampus with a chuckle. “I hate historical anachronisms – but I hate most things. Nonetheless, perhaps…this could persuade you.”

Krampus reached into his pocket and searched around for something useful. He felt the old cover and pulled the book out of the bottomless void that was the pocket dimension located in his, well, pocket.

Krampus held the book up.

“Is that —” started Hope. “No. No way. There’s no way that’s real!”

“It is — an 1818 copy of Austen’s Northanger Abbey — and it can be yours if you agree to help me out this Christmas season,” asserted Krampus.

“I’m not sure I’ll be of much use to you — I’m an English professor, not a lumberjack or a baker,” replied Hope.

“Have you not been listening? You’re as daft as Kitty — and here I was, thinking you were as smart as Mary,” said Krampus. “I want you to pursue Eamonn. I’ll do what I can to push him in your direction, but you have to be amenable to dating him. If you don’t feel anything toward the man, tell me now.”

“You know your Pride and Prejudice — color me impressed,” said Hope. “Fine — I don’t believe in Christmas, but I do believe in Fate, and I think Fate’s brought me that book.”

“Do you like the looks of him?” asked Krampus. “He’s not too offensive to look at?”

“Yes,” admitted Hope. “He’s hunky and handsome, not like the nerdy academics I usually spend my time around.”

“Do you know who he is?” asked Krampus.

“Some local football star, by the way that girl reacted,” answered Hope.

“You’re an interesting woman, Hope,” said Krampus. He passed the book to Hope, who accepted it gingerly.

“Wait, what?” asked Hope. “You’re just giving this to me?”

“Look — if you want to feel like you ‘earned’ it, go after Eamonn, but if you aren’t into him, take this as payment for the conversation we just had,” said Krampus.

“Why do I feel less like Elizabeth Bennet right now, and more like Faust?” asked Hope.

“Because you just made a deal with a devil,” said Krampus, getting up and walking into the bakery.