My Favorite Holidate

by Lauren Blakely

Romance and I aren’t vodka and tonic. We’re orange juice and toothpaste.

I’m a scent girl. If a man takes the time to smell good, it says he cares. It says he tries. It says he doesn’t take things for granted.

“You deserve to be treated with respect. With adoration. With real affection.”

I also like the way he looks right now. Fierce and protective. Like it’s against his very nature to do anything but protect me from my awful ex.

Right now, they’re flickering, perhaps with…a secret. Our Christmas glitter dick secret.

And I’d like to show that Brady guy how a woman should be treated. More so, I’d like to show Fable.

“Looks like I just ordered myself a Christmas boyfriend,” she says, shimmying a little at the prospect of revenge. “I’ll take twenty-five days of this gift, thank you very much.”

The cuffs are rolled up twice, revealing those corded forearms and the artwork on them.

But I’ll get two. Mac just entered her leftover phase.” “I’ve never left mine.” “I haven’t either. Leftovers are the unsung heroes of the food world.” “Because the flavors have had time to hang out together,”

Trouble is I’m going to need some kind of distance from my fake girlfriend in Evergreen Falls or else I’ll fall entirely in love with her before Christmas.

“Why are you so infuriating right now?” Because you’re spectacular. Because I can’t stop thinking about the way your lips brushed my damn cheek out there in the living room and how much it excited me—a kiss on my fucking cheek.

Because you’re fighting with me, and no one fights with me. Because I want to push you away and pull you close at the same time.

He’s gorgeous and brilliant, and he spoils the hell out of you. He’s a clever, intelligent, attentive listener, a passionate thinker, and he’s a little obsessed with taking care of all your needs.

“I will kill him now. With a pointy candy cane. Cousin Troy probably has a duffel bag full.”

I hate Brady with the fire of a thousand, million suns burning up his underwear so he has to run down the mountain streets naked in a hailstorm.”

She’s stolen all the pillows too. Thrown a leg around one. Stuffed two under her head. I try one more time, jerking the cover harder to free it…when I jerk her right into my arms. She blinks and opens her eyes. “Are the pirates here for the cans of soup? I don’t want any hemp. Close the curtains. I can’t take any more flowers after midnight.”

sometimes we aren’t ready to do the hard thing, so we have to do something easier first.”