Only Santas in the Building (Under the Mistletoe Collection, #5)

by Alexis Daria

I was watching two guys maneuver my overstuffed cream couch up the narrow staircase while trying very hard not to yell Pivot! like Ross in Friends,

if he doesn’t like you at your worst, he doesn’t deserve you at your best.”

The cat sniffs my fingertips thoroughly, probably smelling her owner—Roommate? Servant? Serf?—on them.

I blink, still stuck on one point. “You think I always look pretty?” “Yeah.” He looks bewildered, like this is such an obvious thing he can’t imagine why we’re discussing it.