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

by Ann Einerson

“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.”

“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.”

“I love you, Presley,” I whisper in her ear. “I love you, Jack. Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas, my little vixen.”