Get ready for a laugh-out-loud holiday romance that’s brimming with witty banter and heartwarming cheer by the bestselling author of Meet Me in the Margins, Melissa Ferguson.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Christmas Yes List by Melissa Ferguson, which releases on October 6th 2026.
All she wants for Christmas is a rejection.
Chloe Hollis is done being a people-pleaser. After one too many bad decisions–including a job that asked her to cross a line she couldn’t–she’s determined to change. Her plan? Collect ten nos before Christmas by asking strangers for the most ridiculous favors she can think of.
It should be easy.
But then? Then she meets James.
Instead of shutting her down, the charming out-of-towner keeps saying yes–to Christmas karaoke, to small-town holiday traditions, to every spontaneous, hilarious, totally chaotic idea she throws his way. And the more he says yes, the harder it becomes for Chloe to stick to her plan . . . or protect her heart.
Because James has a reason for saying yes to everything, too–and it might cost them both more than they bargained for.
As their opposite missions collide in a swirl of festive mishaps, unexpected courage, and undeniable chemistry, Chloe starts to wonder if the biggest risk isn’t rejection after all . . . but saying yes to something real.
EXCERPT
James watches the snow fall outside, his jacket discarded over the chair behind him. He sips his coffee seemingly without a care in the world.
I count the seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Fascinating.
He truly is someone comfortable enough in his own skin not to even think about small talk. He clearly isn’t worried about making sure the person he’s with is comfortable.
Have I ever done that in my life?
As I sit opposite him, my heart is already starting to pound, questions itching at my brain like a bad case of lice.
Is he happy? Is he bored? What should I ask him about? I need a list of questions and backup questions. What if there’s an awkward lull in the conversation? Who am I kidding—I’m living an awkward lull in the conversation.
Would I bother him by talking right now?
Do I need to save him from boredom by talking right now?
Is he looking out the window right now because he can’t stand talking to me? Is he ready to go?
Five seconds later, I wonder, What was that twitch of his hand? Was he reaching for his jacket? Is he ready to go?
Five more seconds pass. What about now?
It’s difficult to think an independent thought over all the internal racket. When it becomes too much to bear, I put down my cup.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say, cutting in on . . . well, really just myself.
His gaze drifts from the window. He blows some steam off the mug of coffee currently touching his lips. Completely undeterred. Two feet away from me, this man is living an entirely different experience. “Sure.”
“Have you always been so”—I hunt for the word—“undisturbable?”
His green eyes twinkle. He gives an amused little lift of his lips and puts the coffee down. “Is that a word?”
“I’m not sure. Should be if not.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment or a critique?”
“Compliment.”
“Well. In that case.” He sits back in his chair and really takes the time to think the question through. “I guess I have to ask you to clarify your definition of ‘undisturbable’ before I can answer.”
I shrug. “Just everything about you, I guess. You seem to be in the unique position of someone who truly, absolutely could not care less what anyone else is thinking about you at any given time.”
He laughs outright, as though I’ve just pegged him and he’s surprised. “Explain.”
“Well, look at you right now,” I say. “You’ve been staring out the window for the past five minutes without even looking at me.”
His eyes cloud. “And that’s . . . good?”
“It’s not normal,” I counter. “Normal people who’ve just met don’t feel comfortable sitting together in a coffee shop looking at the snow out the window without saying a word to each other.”
“Has anything about today with you been normal?” he shoots back. “I have no idea what’s going on, to be frank. I’m just going along for the ride.”
Fair. So it’s been a weird day for us both.
Back to the point, though. “The point is,” I say, “people don’t just do what you do. They don’t just comfortably sit back and go ‘along for the ride.’”
“I agree,” he says, which, quite frankly, is surprising.
“And they certainly don’t just hang out in silence like we’re doing.”
“Does it bother you?” he asks.
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because how can I possibly sit here with you without worrying that you’re bored out of your mind if you don’t talk? People talk. People make small talk about the weather—”
“We’ve already discussed the weather. It’s clearly snowing.”
“And they talk about . . . about shoes,” I sputter, reaching for the first object that comes to mind.
“You . . . want to talk about shoes?”
“And they spout boring little facts about their lives and ask boring little questions about each other simply because, well, because silence is scary.”
As I end this little rant, he gazes at me silently, taking everything in.
“Hmm.”
He’s doing it on purpose, isn’t he?
He’s just making the silence last an eternity for a science experiment, to see how long before I bust. To get back at me for the weird car caroling and the freezing cold vigil beneath the tree.
A peppy bit of Christmas music dances through the room, the loud rumble of laughter and chatter across various tables weaving in and out of the hubbub, and yet there he is. Stoic eyes the same deep, rich color as the living garland hanging all around us. Grounded amid the fray.
I didn’t mean to share this revelation about myself. I mean, we’ve just met, and frankly, I don’t think I can recall being quite so honest with anyone in a long, long time. Those three little words I confessed speak volumes beyond what I actually said: Silence is scary because what if you are doing something somebody else thinks is wrong? It bothers me. It affects me. It keeps me up at night.
But to my surprise, he doesn’t throw up an inquisitor’s magnifying glass and parse out my statement. He goes another way.
He lightens the mood.
Picks up his coffee again and says, “In that case, I’d have to say I’ve been ‘undisturbable’ my entire life. Two of my uncles are litigators. My mom is the scariest HOA president and rose garden club leader you’ve ever met. My aunt works for the IRS. One cousin is a parole officer. I come from a long line of people who make Thanksgiving interesting.”
I smile a little and he continues, “But if you find the fact that I can be so confident that I do what I want without considering other people’s opinions a strength, rest assured it’s also a deep and cutting weakness. Believe me, I’ve got plenty to work on myself there.”
And just like that, he’s smoothly and subtly put us on equal footing.
We’ve both unveiled a weakness.
And I feel like he’s done it on purpose.
A kindness.
“Well,” I say, feeling the invisible straps bound around my chest loosening, “if you ever want to drop off a little cockiness, I could use some.”
“You sure? It can be a curse.”
“I’m working through my own curse. Believe me, a little aplomb could do me good.”
He grins. Puts out his hand. “It’s a deal.”
I take his hand. Shake it. And for the third time today, it feels like a little magic has sprinkled down on me.
Taken from The Christmas Yes List by Melissa Ferguson. Copyright © 2026 by Melissa Ferguson. Used by permission of HarperCollins Christian Publishing. www.harpercollinschristian.com
