Maybe I'm just crazy, but I'm pretty sure a snowman isn't supposed to be this hot.. As a single mother living in small town USA, I really should be thankful for all I have. I have a roof over my head, a bakery I inherited from my parents, and my ten year-old-daughter Jule. I absolutely love the stuffing out of her, but the holiday season is rough for both of us this year. This has been our first Christmas since my divorce from her father, a deadbeat dad who never really supported either of us. I do my best for Jule, but I worry sometimes that my best isn't good enough. And with the bakery really struggling financially right now, I'm afraid that this might end up being one of our worst holidays ever. But that all changes one weekend, when Jule and I build a snowman together in our front yard. He's nothing special at first glance. Three snowballs, a carrot nose, and some tattered old clothes thrown together. But that night there's a raging snowstorm outside my window, like nothing I've ever seen before. By the time it all dies down, there's an extremely cute naked guy standing outside my door, claiming to be our snowman brought to life. Has the stress of the holidays finally made me lose my marbles? Or could this ice-cold stranger be exactly what my daughter and I have been missing this holiday season?