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All I Want for Christmas…Is My Sister’s Boyfriend
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Some people want their two front teeth or a hippopotamus for Christmas.
I never thought I’d see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome again, but it looked like fate—or Santa—had other plans when I ran into him the following night. Seemed like I might be getting my Christmas wish after all, right? Right.
So imagine my surprise when I showed up at my parents’ house for the holidays, only to find out that my sister had asked Santa for the exact same thing I did—and he’d delivered early.
This is a fun, feel-good MM Christmas novella.
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“AN ‘I FLEXED and the Sleeves Fell Off’ shirt for Rick…a Sriracha crate for your dad…a grilled cheese maker for Beth…and a wine glass that holds an entire bottle of wine for your mom.” Holly Clark laughed as she shook her head, her dark brown curls swaying as she closed my shopping bag and set it on the chair beside her. “Please explain why anyone would need a grilled cheese maker. That’s, like, the easiest thing in the world.”
“You don’t remember the time Beth set the kitchen on fire making cookies? I don’t blame you for blocking it out. I’m still traumatized,” I said, picking up my glass of hot buttered rum and taking a long, throat-warming sip. It was a holiday tradition, Christmas shopping with my best friend and devouring copious amounts of the delicious beverage and The Clove’s famous gingerbread loaves—you know, after we’d spent almost all our money on gifts.
“Then hey, genius: maybe giving Beth something for the kitchen wasn’t the smartest idea. I can’t imagine she actually asked for something to help her burn the house down. Is this some kind of new McAllister family gag gift Christmas?”
I held up my hand in a Boy Scout’s salute—it didn’t matter that I was never a Boy Scout, right? “I swear they all mentioned those things at some point this year. Although, I might’ve added some, uh…interesting additions.”
“Oh no.” Holly dug back into the bag, and when she pulled out one of the books, the horrified expression on her face made me almost spew my drink. “What’s Your Poo Telling You? Oh my God. Miles, please tell me you aren’t giving this to your parents.”
“Bathroom reading material at its finest. My dad’ll love it.”
She shoved the book back into the bag. “That is so wrong.”
“It’s so right. Admit it: you want one.”
“Not for Christmas!”
“More appropriate for a birthday gift opened in front of all your friends?”
Holly rolled her eyes and groaned. “You’re hopeless. Tell you what, how about we don’t exchange gifts this year.”
“Too late. I already got you the perfect gift.”
“Take it back, then.”
“No way. Do you know how hard it was to track down a working banana phone?”
“A banana ph—” Holly snapped her mouth shut and lifted her hand to get the waiter’s attention. “Could we get the check, please? My friend’s lost his mind. I think it might be fatal.”
Chuckling, I broke off a piece of the last gingerbread loaf and popped it in my mouth. She was complaining now, but she’d be grateful for an actual gift to unwrap, and come on, the banana phone was awesome.
“By the way, what did you get for the white elephant gift for Zack’s party?” she asked.
“The… Aw, man. Nothing. I forgot.”
Holly smiled triumphantly as she stole the last of the gingerbread. “Guess that means I’m all done and you’re a slacker. Pay up.”
She got a special Miles death glare for about five seconds before I groaned and pulled my wallet out of my pocket. Also a tradition—a really stupid one, I was beginning to think—was that whoever finished their shopping last bought dinner. And here I thought I’d had this in the bag.
After I begrudgingly paid the waiter, we left and Holly linked her arm with mine.
“Since you’re into the ridiculous this year, what about something like that?” She pointed to a novelty store with a huge leg lamp display straight out of A Christmas Story.
“Not bad, Clark,” I said, veering us in that direction. “Not bad at all.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, we stood in the middle of the crowded store, other customers bumping past us every five seconds as I debated my options.
“What do you think?” I held up two boxes. “Shot glass roulette or a hard cider kit?”
Holly wrinkled her pert nose. “Neither?”
“Not helpful.” I looked at my narrowed down choices and was about to bust out “eeny meeny miny mo” when Holly said, “The roulette’s cheaper.”
“Then roulette it is.” I put back the hard cider kit and shot her a wink. “See? That was helpful.”
“Speaking of helpful, remind me which wrapping paper you use so I don’t pick your gift.”
I grinned. “Deal.”
Before I could move in the direction of the checkout, a hard shove from behind knocked me into the display, sending boxes of roulette kits flying and nearly knocking me off my feet. Whoever said the holidays brought out the best in people clearly hadn’t been to the mall a week before Christmas.
When I righted myself with Holly’s help, I turned around, fully prepared to let the inconsiderate jackass have it—
“Are you okay? I’m sorry, this place is a madhouse.”
My whole body went still as I gazed up at the man with the smooth-as-whiskey voice. Taller than me by a good three inches, and with a head full of thick black hair someone would be lucky to run their fingers through, the…err…inconsiderate jackass just so happened to also be the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.