A Festive Feud (Strawberry Hollow, #2)

by Maren Moore

Christmas almost as much as I loathe Jackson Pearce. That’s saying a lot since Christmas is magical.

Even I can’t deny that the man is unfairly attractive. Even if I want to hit him with my car.

He invades my space once more, and I get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Bergamot and warm amber. Spice. He smells delicious. Add that to the list of things I hate about him.

2

Emma sighs behind me, and when I turn to face her, she’s got her arms crossed over her chest, the tight fabric of her emerald-green sweater clinging to her in a way that I shouldn’t notice. But then again, when have I ever not noticed Emma Worthington?

She’s more than beautiful. She’s the kind of beautiful that sucks out all the air in a room the moment she enters.

I’ve always liked this… game between the two of us. This delicious tension that makes my dick hard. She just thinks it has to do with our families hating each other. But the truth is, I don’t actually hate Emma Worthington. I just want to shove my cock between her lips to shut her up.

But… I also don’t know how it’s physically possible for me to be around this man for longer than thirty seconds without wanting to rip his clothes off while simultaneously wanting to punch him right in his smug face.

I’m seriously on the fence about asking him if there’s an aphrodisiac or something in this beer because I am increasingly horny. For… Jackson Pearce.

Every single time she opens her mouth to be a little brat, I want to put her on her knees and fill it.

Fuck, as much as I pretend to hate this girl, I want her. Badly. I want to be the one that strips away all of the hard, prim exterior, leaving her soft and pliable beneath my calloused hands.

are only a few things in life that I believe would truly bring me to my knees, and I know without a doubt that this is one of them. Emma Worthington is one of them.

I’m the one who got locked up and then accidentally slept with the enemy,

Apparently, my vagina is a ho ho ho for this man, which is very, very problematic.

Well, as safe as I can be, considering I now have to share a bed overnight with someone who probably wants to suffocate me in my sleep or fuck me. It changes by the minute.

“You’re not the kinda girl I could imagine sharing vending machine food with in a tacky honeymoon suite, but there’s a first time for everything, huh?”

The power he has over me should be concerning, but the man makes me crazy, out of my mind horny for him.

There’s not a chance in Santa’s freakin’ winter wonderland that I am telling this man no. Not when he lights me on fire like this.

“I think you were jealous, Snowflake. And you know what that tells me?” “Mmm?” He leans in an inch closer until his lips almost brush mine. “That you want me, and not just for my cock.”

I was fine hating him because it was what was expected of me. Until he made it impossible to.

She’s letting down her walls, letting me in, and now that I know her, I can never go back to how things were before this. It’s impossible, not when she’s shown me who she really is.

“You are fucking perfect, Emma Worthington, and I was a fool for ever thinking you were anything other than that,”

“Melt for me, Snowflake,” he rasps.

“Fuck it. Let them look. You’re mine, Emma, and I want the entire damn world to know it. I’m not hiding the way I feel about you, and if anyone has anything to say about it, then they know exactly where to find me,” he says, a fierce look in his eyes.

I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, the entire town surrounding me, and the only thing I see is Emma Worthington. If you had told me a month ago that I would be falling in love with the girl I’ve spent the majority of my life hating, I would’ve laughed in your face and told you that you’d lost your mind. Yet, here I stand, hopelessly in love with her.

“I’m crazy about you, Emma Worthington. Head over heels, Snowflake, and loving you is easily the best decision I’ve ever made.” “You love me?” Her breath hitches. Grasping her chin in my fingers, I lean closer. “I do. Almost as much as you love sticky notes and to-do lists.”

“I love you too, Jackson Pearce. Even with your aversion to organization and despite the fact that you are, in fact, terrible at building gingerbread houses.”