by: Alina Jacobs
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Holiday Romance/Romantic Comedy
Release Date: November 14, 2023
When you catch your fiancé cheating on you with your sister on Christmas Eve, the elf hat comes off.
I’ve always been the good girl—the anti Scrooge—the one who sacrifices for her guests, bakes cookies for her neighbors, and stays late after a party to clean up.
I don’t mind. I like being on the nice list.
I kept smiling when I caught my fiancé coming down my sister’s chimney on Christmas Eve.
I gave polite congratulations when they got engaged on Christmas morning.
And I even offered to help decorate for their holiday wedding despite the fact that was supposed to be my dream wedding.
But when my sister cuts up our great-grandmother’s one-hundred-year-old wedding dress and turns it into a skank show, even though that was the dress I was going to wear on my wedding day?
Well, this elf is torching down the North Pole.
And what better way to get revenge than giving those cheaters a taste of their own medicine?
This good elf is bringing the bad boy home for Christmas.
Hudson is a six-foot-five, coldhearted, tattooed bad elf with a perpetual sneer and washboard abs.
He’s exactly my sister’s type.
And he’s going to help me nuke her wedding from orbit on the night before Christmas.
What he is not supposed to do is grab my ass in the kitchen while I bake gingerbread.
Or crawl in my bed half naked.
And he’s definitely not supposed to smirk and tell me to commit to our fake relationship right before he goes down on me.
Guess there’s a reason the good elves stay far away from the bad.
Good elves of Christmas unite! We’re ogling the tattooed chests of shirtless bad boys, baking massive amounts of cookies, drinking all the wine, and trying to survive recently divorced grandmothers who have a pathological obsession with our love lives. This standalone holiday romantic comedy has all the Christmas cheer you can fit in your stocking and a happily ever after, guaranteed!
Knitting clutched in my hands, I turned to the bad boy sitting next to me.
“Do … um …” I cleared my throat. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
His finger paused on the page he was turning. He fixed those pale-silver eyes on me, a dusty gray like the winter sky.
“No. Why? Are you offering?”
“Sort of. See, I kind of need to break up my sister and her boyfriend. She’s dating my ex. He’s a jerk. It’s complicated. But I need you to be my boyfriend so I can ruin her wedding. I don’t know if you do that type of work?”
I smiled hopefully.
The book closed with a loud thud.
He looked angry.
“Er, never mind,” I squeaked and held up my knitting. “I’ll get started on those baby socks. Forget I said anything.”
But he didn’t go back to his book.
“So you want a fake boyfriend.”
“Um, yeah. I mean that was the plan. But plans change …”
Those ghostly eyes still locked on mine, he leaned over, his huge body crowding my space.
I scrunched against the window.
“You sure you can handle it?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice. He smelled like leather and the winter wind.
No. No, I don’t think I can.
I swallowed. The empty Advent calendar was digging into my side.
“Yes,” I squawked.
“Prove it,” he said, his breath cool on my cheek.
He twisted out of his jacket, the ridges of muscle under the tight gray T-shirt flexing and rippling as he shrugged off the garment.
“Give me a hand job.” The baritone voice deepened. “I have my jacket on my lap. No one will know. Just go for it.”
My eyes were about as big and round as Pugnog’s and ready to pop out of my head.
“Unzip my fly,” he breathed against my mouth, “and stroke my cock.”
My stomach was flip-flopping. The air between us was supercharged, and my skin felt tight and prickly.
“I-I can’t,” I stammered.
He huffed out a laugh, smirked, and pulled his jacket back on, the leather creaking.
“Thought so.” He sat back in his seat and opened up his book. “You’re weak. You have an elaborate revenge plan all mapped out, yet you clearly can’t handle having a fake boyfriend.”
“Do … um …” I cleared my throat. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
His finger paused on the page he was turning. He fixed those pale-silver eyes on me, a dusty gray like the winter sky.
“No. Why? Are you offering?”
“Sort of. See, I kind of need to break up my sister and her boyfriend. She’s dating my ex. He’s a jerk. It’s complicated. But I need you to be my boyfriend so I can ruin her wedding. I don’t know if you do that type of work?”
I smiled hopefully.
The book closed with a loud thud.
He looked angry.
“Er, never mind,” I squeaked and held up my knitting. “I’ll get started on those baby socks. Forget I said anything.”
But he didn’t go back to his book.
“So you want a fake boyfriend.”
“Um, yeah. I mean that was the plan. But plans change …”
Those ghostly eyes still locked on mine, he leaned over, his huge body crowding my space.
I scrunched against the window.
“You sure you can handle it?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice. He smelled like leather and the winter wind.
No. No, I don’t think I can.
I swallowed. The empty Advent calendar was digging into my side.
“Yes,” I squawked.
“Prove it,” he said, his breath cool on my cheek.
He twisted out of his jacket, the ridges of muscle under the tight gray T-shirt flexing and rippling as he shrugged off the garment.
“Give me a hand job.” The baritone voice deepened. “I have my jacket on my lap. No one will know. Just go for it.”
My eyes were about as big and round as Pugnog’s and ready to pop out of my head.
“Unzip my fly,” he breathed against my mouth, “and stroke my cock.”
My stomach was flip-flopping. The air between us was supercharged, and my skin felt tight and prickly.
“I-I can’t,” I stammered.
He huffed out a laugh, smirked, and pulled his jacket back on, the leather creaking.
“Thought so.” He sat back in his seat and opened up his book. “You’re weak. You have an elaborate revenge plan all mapped out, yet you clearly can’t handle having a fake boyfriend.”
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Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books...
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