Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
My mouth curved into a huge smile as I nodded. “Sleighed.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Getting laid over Christmas time…‘sleighed’.”
She snorted. “That’s probably the corniest thing you’ve said thus far, Fugger.” She ran her hands through my hair. “It’s a good thing you’re irresistibly handsome…with special talents.”
“You have no idea.” I gestured toward my bag. “I’ve got two penis maracas in there I’ve got plans for—and a hungry tongue. It’ll officially be next year by the time you want to leave this room.” I lifted her up.
She wrapped her legs around me. “Well…Merry Fugging Christmas to me!”
THE END
Merry Christmas to our Readers!
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-six languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
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Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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HENRY
The Afina house was mine, until I lost it with a straight flush. Let me repeat … a straight flush. My great grandfather built the Victorian farmhouse for his bride, Marian, in what is still one of Ohio’s smallest river towns. Birdville has a population of just under seven hundred.
The firstborn male inherits the Afina house. After my dad died two years ago, my mom moved to Germany where she and my dad had planned on retiring in the same town where my great grandfather was born.
She moved out.
I moved back in.
Thankfully, I kept my trailer. It’s like the universe knew I’d fuck things up.
We’re not a wealthy family—we’ve just always owned the most coveted house in Birdville. We were a coal mining family before my grandfather became a plumber, like my father, and like me.
So while I sit in my pickup truck outside the Afina house, I can’t help but think of my mom’s announcement that she’s coming to Birdville for Christmas.
That fucking straight flush.
Since I lost the family home just over six months ago, this will be my first time back inside it—as a hired plumber.
I knock on the door three times. It takes an eternity for someone to answer.
“You must be the plumber,” a fifty-something woman says, blowing at her silver and blond bangs to expose her kind blue eyes.
I hold up my toolbox and give her a guilty shrug.
“It’s the bathroom down the hall and to the right.” She shows me a canning jar filled with what looks like the makings for cookies. “I have to finish putting these together. Let me know if you have any questions Mr. …” Her gaze slides to my shirt and the name tag I’m not wearing.
I refrain from sharing my real name in case she makes the connection to it and the house she stole from me. Okay, it technically wasn’t her, but the sting is still too real to give a shit. I glance at the jar in her hand and smile. “Mason. Mason Ball.”
“Very well, Mr. Ball.” She shoots me a courteous smile and sashays to the kitchen.
I’m pleasantly surprised. She seems normal.
After I lost the house, the loan shark put it up for auction. Serena Soro, a writer of some sort, purchased it and nearly everything in it. I’d never seen her until today, nor had anyone else to their knowledge. She has everything delivered to her house. Rumors have been flying around since the day the moving company pulled into the driveway and unloaded her belongings.
She’s a recluse.
A vampire.
A witch.
A serial killer.
A child trafficker.
And a million other wildly crazy speculations.
Not gonna lie … I stuck a few bulbs of garlic in my toolbox just in case.
After fixing the slow flushing toilet and the leaky faucet, I poke my head in the kitchen. It’s all so familiar, even the sweet smell of sugar and vanilla bean wafting from the kitchen. My mom loves to bake.