Excerpt!
“Keep it down.” She looks around furtively then grabs the front of my motorcycle jacket.
“I’m warning you,” she snarls. “You need to stay the hell away from my family.”
I lean forward, flick my tongue out, and lick the tip of her nose.
She shrieks and slaps at my chest while I laugh.
I grab her hips, spin us around on the icy stone drive, and press her against the bike.
“Your family’s watching. They’re so worried about their little Misty. They don’t want their Victorian scullery maid to be whisked away by the war hero.”
“I bet you weren’t a hero.” She glares up at me.
“Damn right I wasn’t. No PTSD for your fake boyfriend. I enjoy violence and chaos. I am the waking nightmare. Shit, the last four combat tours, I was a mercenary. Did their dirty jobs, the messy ones that the press doesn’t want a government employee to do. And now I get to come home to this beautiful house and have a mildly attractive girl cook me dinner. I’d say suck my dick, too, but you look like you bite and not in a fun way.”
“You’re going to be sorry.” She’s stubborn. It’s annoying in a cute way.
“That I what? Made your whole family fall in love with me? Gumdrop, they’re eating out of the palm of my hand. It’s embarrassing to say, but they like me more than you.”
“GrandPam—argh!” She tangles her hands in her hair. “Grandma Pam isn’t.”
“She will be. And after I off Austen—”
“I will never—”
“Without your permission of course, because what are you going to say? This wonderful man, who is way out of my league, killed my ex?” I laugh. “Gumdrop.” I circle my hands around her hips. “When I off him, and I will because I always complete a mission, I’m going to make it look like you did it. Just a little insurance policy for your family’s new golden boy.”
“You’ll never get away with it,” she spits and tries to struggle away from me.
I hold her wrists. I’m up in her face now, mouth inches from hers. “Yeah?” I blow a cloud of steam in her face. “I’d ask if you want to bet, but I already have your money in my bank account, so I already know the answer.” I tilt her chin up with the motorcycle glove. “I believe you were going to get me a to-go plate.”
Hire a hitman to take out my cheating ex? It was an eggnog-fueled mistake, I swear!
On Christmas Eve, my perfect fiancé stands up at the altar to declare his pure undying love… for my evil stepsister.
Cue public humiliation, a ruined wedding, and me crawling back to my small hometown to work minimum wage at my granny’s Christmas café.
Just living the holiday dream.
But I refuse to show up sad and alone to my cheating ex and man-stealing stepsister’s engagement party.
I’ll be devoured by gossipy small-town vultures.
So I do what any rational woman would: empty her bank account, max out her credit cards, and hire a high-end escort with the Merry Christmas package.
Too bad I mess up the number and accidentally hire… a hitman.
Oops.
This is why I hate making phone calls.
I realize I’m screwed when Talbot Wynter crashes the party all combat boots, dirty jeans, and washboard abs.
He feels me up, drinks all the booze, flirts with my grandmother, then tries to off my cheating ex in his hotel room.
I scream and make him stop him because I may or may not still pathetically have feelings for my ex.
Talbot thinks I’m insane.
He might be right.
But his company has a strict no-refunds policy.
Now I’m stuck dragging this six-foot-five, potty-mouthed menace of an ex-Marine to Christmas tree cuttings, gingerbread baking, and holiday parties—
All while he tries to convince me to let him take out my ex so he can go snowboarding.
But what if my ex is moved by the holiday spirit and realizes he still loves me and comes home for Christmas?
Or, he would if I could just get this hitman out of my bedroom… and my panties.
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I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.
When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books...
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