Tic-Tac-Mistletoe (Hartbridge Christmas, #1)

by N.R. Walker

Yes, cry. A thirty-one-year-old man can cry; shove your toxic masculinity in your cakehole and stop judging me.

“Just keep going on this road a ways, and you’ll see a sign that says Welcome to Idaho. You can’t miss it.” I had no idea how far ‘a ways’ was in metric, but at least I was going in the right direction.

“Are you a serial killer? I really hope you’re not a serial killer, though to be honest, I’d probably just roll with it at this point.”

I’d always thought it’d be a miracle should some cute guy ever walk into my life, but maybe he didn’t walk. Maybe he ran his car off the road and almost froze to death instead.

“Do you drink coffee?” I asked. He nodded. “Inhale it, bathe in it, drink it.” I chuckled and handed him a cup.

“It’s like I landed in a Hallmark movie.” “Oooh, those Christmas movies are like sugar. You know you shouldn’t love them but you totally do. All the smiling people and houses with more Christmas decorations than a department store.”

“Oh, the gay memo. Yeah, it’s like the letter from Hogwarts. And Hagrid appears and says ‘yer a gay now, Harry.’”

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Ren snorted. “Uh, no?” “Pretty sure that’s what all gorgeous Hallmark movie guys say.” “Gorgeous?” “Utterly.”

I just knew he’d be so easy to fall in love with. Like slipping on an icy sidewalk. Just walking along minding my own business, then all of a sudden my feet are gone from under me . . .

“Well, Ren made the cookies; I made a mess.”

“Gay uncles are the best,” I agreed. “All style and disposable income.”