Christmas Escape

One little white lie—that's all it took. Now I'm suddenly having to fake-date my work nemesis to get through a week at a Vermont Christmas lodge with my family. The problem? I can't stand Miles Taylor. Not only that, but I don't date people I work with. But I can handle it. I've had practice faking my emotions for years. So it shouldn't matter that Miles never lets me get away with anything. And that he happens to boil my blood hotter than a steaming pot of wassail. So when he throws his annoying grin my way or forces me on dates he knows I'll hate, I'll just grit my teeth and smile.

After two years and zero proposals, my relationship could use a little spark. Paris during the holidays seems like just the ticket—one perfect, final opportunity for my boyfriend to take things to the next level. The fact that he’s rented me the tiny servant quarters in the apartment of a very good-looking Frenchman is . . . puzzling. And when he asks that Frenchman to take me around the city while he’s busy at work trainings? Color me confused. Is this some sort of pre-engagement test? If so, I’m not sure I’m doing too hot.

When my ex-boyfriend sends me his wedding invitation eight months after breaking up with me, and the bride expects me to be in the wedding party, it's time for my tried-and-tested party trick: disappearing. And nowhere is better to escape to than the cozy English Cotswolds in the middle of December. Everything goes according to plan until I arrive in the Cotswolds. Snow is more slippery than I expected, my room is nothing like the listing described, and my pub owner landlord—well, he steps directly from my lumberjack fantasies and into my heart.

When my ex-boyfriend sends me his wedding invitation eight months after breaking up with me, and the bride expects me to be in the wedding party, it's time for my tried-and-tested party trick: disappearing. And nowhere is better to escape to than the cozy English Cotswolds in the middle of December. Everything goes according to plan until I arrive in the Cotswolds. Snow is more slippery than I expected, my room is nothing like the listing described, and my pub owner landlord—well, he steps directly from my lumberjack fantasies and into my heart.

This last year has been a total disaster, but my failed six-month marriage takes the cake. While my ex is out having the time of his life, my coping mechanisms consist of an unhealthy obsession with true-crime podcasts and trying to revive my floundering social media account. So, when I get an offer from one of social media’s darlings—Nikki Aker—to make gingerbread centerpieces for her Christmas wedding, I can’t refuse. Not only because the job pays well, but it’s a last-ditch effort to increase my following before I’m forced to get “a real job.”

My packing list is all well and good for a quick port excursion as part of my family’s Christmas cruise. But when the cruise ship leaves me behind, with only the contents of my bag and my brother’s best friend to keep me company? Well, I’ve got problems—especially since I'm going to run out of medicine soon. And I don’t think they make sunscreen strong enough to block the sparks that are growing between Beckett and me....