Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Asher Mitchell is still the Scrooge I remember from when I was a kid. I decide to get my own back for all the teasing, but my pranks lead us to forbidden places.
When we kiss, I know it’s wrong. When he calls me Snowflake and his icy exterior begins to melt, I want more. Our secret could ruin everything.
It should be a relief when our company gives us anonymous cellphones for the Secret Santa scheme, a break from my brother’s best friend’s obsessive attention. As we text, I’m sure I recognize Asher in the flirty messages.
We can’t hide behind our cellphones forever. Soon, the whole world will know how this tall, muscular, possessive Santa really feels.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
HOLLY
Inever thought I’d see the day.
Asher Mitchell, known for being a Scrooge, is in a Santa suit, the red fabric clinging to his muscular physique despite the extra padding. His eyes glimmer with hunger as they roam over my elf getup, drawing my thoughts back to our texts, the steaminess, the wrongness.
We need to stop. This won’t just ruin Christmas. It’ll destroy my big brother’s whole freaking life.
Yet, as Santa stares at me, I know we won’t. We can’t.
My brother’s best friend won’t stop giving me his smoldering attention. I’ve got a confession that will push me straight to the top of the naughty list.
And I might actually like it there.
CHAPTER 1
HOLLY
“Sorry, there’s no en suite in the guestroom,” Dan tells Asher. Am I eavesdropping? I don’t want to think of myself as a sneak. Considering I’ve got my ear pressed against the door, I’m not sure how else to think of it. “You might want to leave your suit just outside the door. The extractor fan is on the fritz, and the windows don’t open. Can get pretty steamy in there.”
Asher laughs. I remember that noise from when I was a kid before he moved away. He was my brother’s best friend. Is, since they kept in touch. He had a tough home life, an addict as a mother, and an absentee father. He was always around our place with his piercing blue eyes and that mocking smirk that drove me nuts.
“How’s the little director doing?” he would tease me.
All in good fun, maybe, but the crush I was nursing made it hurt.
“You’d think a man richer than God could afford to get it fixed,” Asher jokes.
“If I was ever home long enough, I just might.”
“It’s all good. Thanks, Dan. I mean it. For everything. My apartment should be ready soon.”
“Better than you staying in a hotel. It’s good to see you again.”
My brother walks down the hallway. A thrill of danger grips me. It wasn’t like Asher bullied me; he just wasn’t nice. Did I expect him to know his buddy’s kid sister was crushing on him and be excited about it? Obviously not.
“Look at the little Spielberg,” he’d say as I aimed my camera around.
Now, he’s moved back home. Things are different. My brother owns a multimillion-dollar product design company, and I’m not just a kid with a camera anymore. I work in videography for the publicity department. I’m only living with my brother while I save money for my own place. Dan offered to front me the deposit, but I want to do it by myself.
I’m shaken from my thoughts when I hear the shower start. I open my door and peer down the hallway. Asher’s suit, shirt, and pants lay on a table in the hall by the bathroom door. Dan lives in a high-rise. A flurry of snow passes by the window at the end of the hallway, putting me in the holiday spirit even more. Is that why I let myself entertain this idea?
I’m like a naughty Christmas elf, here to wreak havoc.
Creeping down the hallway, remembering how often Asher poked fun at me, I grab his clothes and carry them into the library. I walk to the corner of the room and hang them from a lamp. Then I return to my room, finding it difficult to contain my laughter.
Immature? Maybe.
Fun? Hell freaking yes.
After applying a light layer of makeup for the day—and sure, I didn’t use any yesterday, but that was before Asher arrived—I hear the shower stop. The door creaks open.
“What the …”
I put my hand over my mouth as laughter bursts out of me.
“Dan?” he calls, but my brother’s probably listening to a podcast or has the coffee machine running. He doesn’t hear him. “Screw it …”
I choose this moment to emerge from my bedroom. Asher arrived late last night, so I haven’t seen him yet. I’ve got a plan to raise my eyebrow at him, all cocky, and then oh-so-innocently ask where his clothes are.
Instead, I stop. My mouth almost falls open. Almost. I stop it from happening because it would be embarrassing.
He’s wearing just a towel, steam rising from his body. His hair has turned slightly silver since I last saw him. His eyes haven’t aged at all, the same piercing blue. He was lean when he was in his late teens and early twenties. Now, he’s bulked up, muscles layering his body, his chest throbbing. He’s ripped. What sort of workout program is he on? Jeez.
He does a double take. “Holly?” he says in disbelief.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, suddenly finding it difficult to be as sassy as I’d planned.
“You’re …” He blinks. “Did you move my clothes?”
What was he about to say before he cut himself off? I’m what, Asher? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I wasn’t the only one doing some checking out here.