If You Give a Grump a Holiday Wishlist (Aspen Grove #0.5)

by Ann Einerson

“Goodnight, Presley.” His voice is low. “Sleep tight, beautiful.” I might have imagined that last part, but I don’t dare ask.

The idea of her getting hurt sends a sharp pain through my chest. I instinctively draw her closer, comforted by the steady rhythm of her breathing.

over the edge. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the side of her mouth, and I gently wipe it off with the pad of my thumb. Her breath hitches in response, her plump lips practically begging to be kissed.

“You have a thing for staring at me, don’t you?” she says softly. “Can you blame me when you’re so goddamn beautiful?”

Even first thing in the morning, she’s still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

assistant. Hell, you’re more valuable than my entire senior executive team combined. There’s a reason I want you on every client call. The company wouldn’t be the same without you… I wouldn’t be the same without you. I should have promoted you a long time ago.” “So why haven’t you?” she asks, and I have to swallow the emotion welling up to tell her the truth. “Because…I can’t lose you.”

“You’re so damn beautiful, it’s messing with my head,”

“TIME TO GET UP, BEAUTIFUL.” Jack peppers kisses along my jawline while tenderly stroking my hair.

“You have captured my heart piece by piece, weaving your way into my very soul, and before I knew it, you had claimed all of me.”

How can she possibly think that I don’t know her after all this time? I try to contain my smugness as I raise my chin and look her in the eyes, ready to prove her wrong. “Your favorite color is lemonade pink—not magenta, not fuchsia, lemonade. You hate raw tomatoes, have an unhealthy obsession with seasonal coffee creamers, and you keep a jar of pink and red Starbursts in the top drawer of your desk. Every Tuesday, you wear your lucky black pencil skirt—the same one you wore to your job interview. And when you’re nervous you play with the charm bracelet on your left wrist. You send all my employees generous birthday gifts and say they’re from me, even though you use your own money because you think I’d say no if you asked me to pay for them. You’ve taken Gary the Doorman to lunch every Friday since his wife passed away last year. And despite your apartment being twenty minutes from the office, you walk to and from work because you like to immerse yourself in the sights and sounds of the city.”