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Callie smiled, pleased that everyone was enjoying the truffles so much, but then her smile turned into a frown as she remembered her accountant’s words.

Your business better start picking up, and fast, or you’re going to have to shut down Callie’s Candies.”

She slumped down in her seat with a loud sigh. Her store wasn’t bringing in enough money to stay afloat. Even though everyone who had ever tasted one of her confections seemed to love them, she still wasn’t able to make ends meet. Her accountant had arranged for her to meet with a renowned candy company consultant on Monday, but right now Callie wasn’t feeling particularly hopeful about it. As soon as anyone started talking about marketing and promotion, Callie always started daydreaming about new candy creations, no matter how hard she tried to stay focused on business plans.

She looked around the indoor garden at the two hundred people who were munching on her truffles with looks of utter rapture on their faces and had to blink quickly to fight back a sudden onslaught of tears.

How could she give up on Callie’s Candies? Making people happy was worth so much more to her than making money, she thought as she sniffled and opened her little beaded purse to look for a tissue.

The woman behind her licked bittersweet chocolate dust off of her fingers. “Wait a minute, honey. I’ve got a tissue here in my purse for you. I always cry at weddings myself. Everything about them is so perfect and beautiful, isn’t it?”

Callie forced herself to nod as she accepted the tissue from the woman. Ignoring the chocolate smear across it from the woman’s fingers, Callie blew her nose.

She liked weddings. Really she did. Especially since the happy couple had met in her store last Valentine’s Day.

She tucked the used tissue into her purse, trying hard to clear her mind. Right now she didn’t want to think about Valentine’s Day. She didn’t want to think about weddings. And she sure as heck didn’t want to think about love.

She snorted at the thought of love—didn’t one need a boyfriend or even, say, a date first?—and the woman next to her scooted a little farther away.

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