Good Elf Gone Wrong (Wynter Brothers, #1)

by Alina Jacobs

To anyone who's ever consumed an entire bottle of wine and a gingerbread house in one sitting…this one’s for you.

That bitch needs to be cunt punted into next Christmas.”

The tears were threatening again. I blinked them back. I should have bought two cheese-filled Advent calendars.

“Actually, I think we can help each other out. I have a rich grandmother I need to impress with a pretty girlfriend so I can get my billion-dollar inheritance.” “Oh, really?” I cried. “That works out perfectly then.” “No,” he snarled and threw the credit card at me. “This isn’t a fucking Hallmark movie, Sugarplum. I want cash: $5,000.”

“Gracie, don’t say that. I didn’t raise a home-wrecker.” Oh, the irony!

monthslong

“I think it’s the bee’s knees that Gracie has a rebound hookup,” Granny Murray declared. “I’m trying to find myself a hobosexual too.”

“You know. A hot guy who travels from woman to woman, trading sex and masculine energy for food and a warm bed.”

A man’s not going to have a giant dick, a hot body, and a big bank account. You have to pick one. You read too many of those dirty billionaire romance novels.

“It’s a wonder you didn’t kill your poor husband.” “Trust me, I thought about it, but someone needed to set the example for these children, and I couldn’t do that from jail.”

We are in our villain season.

“Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead,” Hudson said, clearly aggravated.

“This is the happening spot. Mildred told me that she found two guys for a threesome here. Nothing like cheap alcohol and daddies in leather.” Granny Murray licked her lips.

data.

question mark

it would be rude not to read a book someone gave you, even if it did involve blue alien men with horns.

“You took my door,” I shrieked. “So I can’t shut it. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

I let myself believe for a moment, savoring the fantasy. Someone wants to be a real boy for Christmas. Fuck off, I told my subconscious.

This time last year had been the worst day of my entire life, including that time when I got my period on the third day of sixth grade, and I had been in a class taught by literally the only male teacher at the school, and he’d taken one look and fainted and hit his head, and the ambulance showed up, and everyone acted like I’d tried to kill poor, beloved, elderly Mr. Hollway. He did not return to teaching, and everyone blamed me.

job in a bus,

On