Falling Like Snow - Couverture souple

Wilson, Misty

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 1665989823 ISBN 13 : 9781665989824

Editeur : Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2026

Synopsis

For the first printing only! This paperback features sprayed stenciled edges while the special edition supply lasts.

A girl juggles planning her town’s first-ever winter festival and untangling her complicated feelings for both her best friend and the star hockey player in this charming book in the swoony Bramble Falls series that started with the New York Times bestselling Falling Like Leaves.

After Bramble Falls’s wildly successful Falling Leaves Festival, Sloane Sullivan is looking forward to some downtime—especially kicking back and marathoning Nora Ephron movies with her best friend, Asher. But they barely make it through Sleepless in Seattle before Sloane’s mom calls an emergency tourism department meeting; it’s all hands on deck—Bramble Falls is having its first ever Falling Snow Festival!

Sloane may still be recovering from the last seasonal event, but she’s also excited. After all, Christmas is the best time of year! And she’ll have her whole crew by her side, including her cousin Ellis and, of course, Asher. But when irresistible, hockey-playing Micah catches Sloane’s attention, she finds herself a bit distracted. The emotions her unexpected flirtation brings up make Sloane feel confused about Micah…and Asher.

She’s never thought of Asher as more than her best friend, but even if Sloane is seeing Asher in a new light, what does that mean for her and Micah? Uncertain and more than a little overwhelmed, Sloane throws herself into festival preparations, hoping to get a little Christmas magic in return that will help her figure out where her heart lies.

A propos du livre

À propos de l'auteur

Misty Wilson is the New York Times bestselling author of the Bramble Falls series and Play Like a Girl, her award-winning debut middle grade graphic memoir. Misty is a teacher, registered nurse, and a voracious reader. She loves binge-watching television series and adores rom-coms. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her husband and their two daughters.

À propos de la quatrième de couverture

For the first printing only! This paperback features sprayed stenciled edges while the special edition supply lasts.A girl juggles planning her town’s first-ever winter festival and untangling her complicated feelings for both her best friend and the star hockey player in this charming book in the swoony Bramble Falls series that started with the New York Times bestselling Falling Like Leaves.
After Bramble Falls’s wildly successful Falling Leaves Festival, Sloane Sullivan is looking forward to some downtime―especially kicking back and marathoning Nora Ephron movies with her best friend, Asher. But they barely make it through Sleepless in Seattle before Sloane’s mom calls an emergency tourism department meeting; it’s all hands on deck―Bramble Falls is having its first ever Falling Snow Festival!

Sloane may still be recovering from the last seasonal event, but she’s also excited. After all, Christmas is the best time of year! And she’ll have her whole crew by her side, including her cousin Ellis and, of course, Asher. But when irresistible, hockey-playing Micah catches Sloane’s attention, she finds herself a bit distracted. The emotions her unexpected flirtation brings up make Sloane feel confused about Micah…and Asher.

She’s never thought of Asher as more than her best friend, but even if Sloane is seeing Asher in a new light, what does that mean for her and Micah? Uncertain and more than a little overwhelmed, Sloane throws herself into festival preparations, hoping to get a little Christmas magic in return that will help her figure out where her heart lies.

Extrait. © Reproduit sur autorisation. Tous droits réservés.

Chapter One Chapter One
My borrowed suitcase stares at me from my bed, daring me to even try to squeeze anything else inside it.

“What are you thinking?” Asher asks. My best friend lies sprawled across my comforter in his white Bramble Falls Drama Club hoodie and gray sweatpants, his expression amused as I snarl at the bag.

“I’m thinking about what a snob this suitcase is,” I tell him.

A laugh bubbles out of him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Look at it, sitting there mocking me for being a small-town girl from Connecticut who has no idea what to pack when traveling to such a freaking awesome city.”

“I assure you the suitcase is not judging you,” he says, linking his fingers together behind his head of messy black hair.

I gesture at it. “It’s purple!”

“Okay… so?”

“So it’s definitely a judgmental snob.”

He narrows his eyes at me and shakes his head. “You’re strange.”

“I like to think of myself as limited edition, thank you very much.”

His lips quirk, amused, as he sits, crisscrossing his legs. “Why don’t you tackle this later? Maybe on a day when an inanimate object can’t hurt your feelings?”

“No. I’m almost done.” I shove a pair of black ballet flats inside and flip the lid closed.

Well, as closed as it’ll go… which isn’t really closed at all.

“You’re not leaving until winter break,” Asher says, watching me struggle to zip the overstuffed bag. “That’s weeks away. You don’t have to finish tonight.”

“I told you, I’m too excited to wait,” I say, yanking at the zipper to no avail. “And let’s face it, if I put off packing until the last minute, we both know I’ll forget stuff.”

A goofy smirk plays across his face. “I think we both know you’ll forget stuff either way.”

I glare at him before climbing onto my bed, plopping my butt on top of the suitcase, and leaning over to slide it shut. One set of teeth at a time, the zipper closes, the chain so tight, I’m waiting for the bag to burst open like a confetti cannon.

“You know, Ellis can probably loan you a bigger, less judgy suitcase,” Asher says. “Or you could maybe not pack so many clothes.”

“And you could shut up and help me.”

Asher sighs and shoos me. “Move,” he says.

I hop off the suitcase, and he takes my place, the mound of fabric inside flattening beneath his weight. He tugs on the oversized zipper tab. “This is ridiculous. Since when do you care about having a special outfit for every possible occasion?”

“Since a trip to New York City became a reality! Obviously! Who knows what Ellis and I will end up doing? What if she takes me to some classy rich-people party but all I brought was an old flannel and ripped jeans?”

“Oh my god, yeah, I’m getting secondhand embarrassment just thinking of that horrifying hypothetical scenario,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I slug him in the arm, and he laughs.

“Don’t you remember when we binged Gossip Girl last summer?”

“How could I forget? All you talked about was Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck, for weeks, despite how toxic they were,” Asher mutters as he finishes zipping the suitcase. He hops off the bed and heaves the hulking bag onto the floor, where I’m almost certain it leaves a dent.

“Then you also remember how fancy everyone looked. I refuse to look like a slob in the big city.”

“It was a TV show, Sloane. And you never look like a slob.”

My eyes fall to my too-big lime-green sweatpants—held up by a black shoelace since I lost the drawstring in the wash—tucked into fuzzy red-and-white-striped socks, and my cozy Christmas tree sweater with its twinkling LED lights. I don’t need a mirror to know my bangs are sticking up in every direction, and my shoulder-length blond hair is falling out of the loose, lopsided ponytail I threw it in this morning.

I arch an eyebrow at him as if to say, Oh really?

He smiles. “Fine. But if the rich New Yorkers don’t like you in flannel, then they don’t deserve you in a dress.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, wheeling the heavy suitcase to the corner of my room. “Ugh, I wish you could go with us.”

“I do too. I’ve only been to the city once. And it was for a wedding, so I barely got to see anything outside of the church.” Asher stands and puts his hands in his hoodie pocket. “But I can’t leave when my parents are about to open the Bramble Inn. They might need my help. They’re overwhelmed.”

“I know. I get it.” I sigh. “I hate it, but I get it.”

Asher’s dad is a second-generation Japanese American who grew up in Southern California, while his mom, a petite white woman with brunette hair, was born and raised in Bramble Falls. The two met in college while majoring in hospitality management and got married young. They’ve always wanted to open their own bed-and-breakfast, but it wasn’t until recently that they decided to finally take a chance on their dream. Mrs. Yoshida quit her front-desk job at the hotel a town over and is now preparing the inn for its grand opening, while his dad is working overtime and traveling a lot, doing sales for a drinking-straw distribution company. They’re trying to bank as much money as possible before they’re both running the inn full time.

“You and Ellis will have fun taking a girls’ trip,” Asher says.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He’s right, of course—my cousin and I will have a blast. And a trip to such a big city feels a lot less daunting going with a native New Yorker. I won’t have to worry about getting lost, or missing out on the best pizza and bagels, or finding the coolest attractions, or navigating the subway system. I basically have my own personal tour guide who will happily let me prance around the theater district in awe, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lin-Manuel Miranda or Jonathan Groff or Meg Donnelly or Jordan Fisher.

Still, I wish my best friend could be there with me.

“It’s been years since we’ve been apart longer than a weekend,” I tell him, the realization coming out whinier than intended.

“Huh. That’s true.” His brown eyes twinkle when he says, “No wonder I’m so sick of you.”

“Ha-ha.” I flick him in the side of the head.

“Jeez,” he says, batting my hand away. “You’re so violent.”

“And yet you love me.”

He frowns. “It’s wavering.”

“Liar,” I challenge, putting my hands on my hips.

He shoves my pillow into my chest until I grab it, then pulls the baby-blue comforter off my bed and wraps it around his shoulders like a cape. “Come on.” He heads toward my bedroom door. “Movie time.”

Mom has always said Nora Ephron wrote and directed some of the best films, and if Sleepless in Seattle is any indication, she’s absolutely correct. Curled up on the couch next to Asher, I pop a pink Starburst into my mouth as Annie and Sam discover each other at the top of the Empire State Building in a seriously swoony and tension-filled final seven minutes of the movie.

“Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life at the top of the Empire State Building while I’m in New York,” I muse.

The credits roll, and when Asher doesn’t respond, I turn to find him sorting through what’s left in our bowl of candy, setting all the pink Starbursts aside for me.

“How will you know he’s the love of your life?” he finally says. “Winter break is hardly enough time to fall in love.”

I shrug. “I imagine I’ll just know.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re banking on some love at first sight happening in NYC.”

“You don’t believe in it?”

“Not sure. I think maybe it takes time to know if it’s love. Otherwise it could just be attraction without the potential for more. Friendship just seems like a stronger foundation than instant infatuation, I guess.” Asher tosses a chocolate-covered raisin into his mouth and looks at me. “But what do I know? I’m still single. And if a romantic moment at the top of the Empire State Building is what you want, I’ll cross all my fingers and toes that you get one while you’re there.”

“Why, thank you,” I say, unwrapping another pink Starburst. “I hope this hypothetical Empire State Building guy loves me unconditionally, because I’m pretty sure my teeth are going to rot. Or fall out.”

“You live on Pop-Tarts, cookies, and candy, so yeah, probably both.”

“Hey, I ate a vegetable two weeks ago!”

“Pizza doesn’t count as a vegetable,” he argues.

“The sauce does. The cafeteria lady at school said so. We’ve discussed it several times.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

I shift onto my knees and turn to the window behind us, pushing it open and sticking my head out into the blustery cold night. The moon plays hide-and-seek behind the puffy gray clouds floating in front of endless sparkling stars. It’s the perfect night.

Asher squeezes through next to me. “Uh, why are we sticking our heads out the window?”

“Because it’s almost December!” I sniff the air and shoot him a giant grin. The day after Thanksgiving is one of my favorite days of the year because it unofficially marks the beginning of my favorite season—winter.

“Sloane, no,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “For the hundredth time, you are not Lorelai Gilmore. You cannot smell snow.”

I lift my chin. “I refuse to accept that. And snow is coming. Call it a sixth sense.”

He shakes his head at me. “This time of year is mostly cold and rainy. Not snowy.”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

Now he lets himself smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “No, you have not.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s called luck. And don’t forget it often runs out.” He ducks his head back inside.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response,” I say, crawling in after him. I close the window, bury myself under the comforter with Asher, and nestle against his arm to absorb his warmth as if he’s a space heater.

Every year, Bramble Falls hosts the Falling Leaves Festival, two months packed full of fall-themed activities. But this year, after videos of the events blew up online, we added an extra weekend in November. And now that the delightful-but-exhausting festivities have concluded, and the drama club’s fall production has also ended—meaning no more long rehearsals for me—and the stress of Thanksgiving preparations and the overstimulating day of socializing are both over, this is literally all I want to do: nothing.

Because although I’m a total people person and I love helping Mom plan Bramble Falls events, sometimes a girl needs a break. Which is what December is for—lounging around with Asher, watching movies, sleeping in until noon on the weekends, listening to holiday music, and soaking in the general merriment of the winter season.

And, of course, going to New York City for the first time.

Asher yawns. “I should probably head out.”

“But I’m warm,” I say, pouting.

“I can tuck you into bed if you want,” he jokes.

“Shut up. I am not a child.”

“No, you just want me to sit here and stare at the wall all night so you can use me for my heat.”

“Of course not. That’d be rude,” I say. “I’d let you stare at the TV.”

Asher laughs and shakes me off as he stands.

“Fiiiine,” I concede, following him to the front door.

He slips on his boots and his coat and faces me. “See you tomorrow?”

“Naturally.” I open the front door for him and shiver at the trespassing cold air. “Now get out of here before I get hypothermia.”

“So bossy.”

“Toodles.” I wave at him, practically pushing him out the door. “And happy first day of winter!”

“Unofficial first day of winter,” he says.

“Whatever, Scrooge. Let me know when you’re home safe.”

He sticks his hand up in acknowledgment as he skips down the porch steps, and I close the door.

After turning the TV off and grabbing my comforter, I head up to my room and sink into my bed. My sluggish thoughts swirl around Sleepless in Seattle, snagging on the idea of falling for someone without knowing them—without them really knowing you. The movie was sweet, and I want to believe in love at first sight. But is Asher right? Is it a ridiculous concept?

I’m nearly dozing when my bedroom door opens.

“Hey, you up?” Mom asks. Her voice is high-pitched, and her blond hair isn’t in much better shape than mine.

“Not really,” I mumble.

“Okay, sorry. I just wanted to let you know we’re having an emergency tourism board meeting in the morning.”

I bolt upright. Emergency meetings are never good. “Why?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow. I need you to be there,” she says. “Night, Sloane. Get some rest.”

I’m all too familiar with that look on her face—that mix of panic and excitement. It’s the look of ideas and planning and chaos. It’s the promise of no sleep.

She backs out of my room, the door clicks shut behind her, and I lie down and stare at my ceiling, wondering what I’m walking into tomorrow.

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Margaret K. McElderry Books
• Date d'édition: 2026
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 1665989823
• ISBN 13: 9781665989824
• Reliure: Broché
• Numéro d'édition: 4
• Nombre de pages: 352
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
• Personne responsable: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Allemagne