Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Broken. Humiliated. And living in my spare bedroom.
Once upon a time, Eric and I were inseparable.
We grew up under the same roof, dreaming of opening a bakery together.
But while I stayed, he chased the big city life… and crashed hard.
Now he’s in my life again, smirking like he owns the place, and making me feel things no nice girl should feel for her stepbrother.
The more we bake together, the harder it is to resist.
The snowstorm outside doesn’t help.
Neither do the mistletoe kisses, the late-night movies, or the way he looks at me like I’m his sweet temptation.
But if our parents find out?
It’ll be a Christmas scandal we can never take back.
He’s my stepbrother.
Totally off-limits.
And I’m about to unwrap the one gift I can’t return.
A taboo stepbrother Christmas romance featuring festive small-town vibes, forbidden kisses under the mistletoe, and all the heat of sneaking around where family is the biggest risk. No cliffhanger and an HEA guaranteed.
What to
Stepbrother romanceForbidden / tabooForced proximityChristmas vibesBaking togetherSnowstorm lockdown
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Clara
This is the best time of the year. My absolute favorite. If you don’t like the Christmas season with all the sweet treats, colorful lights, and festive decor, you’re a total Grinch. I’m the opposite of the Grinch. A jingle-bell earring wearing, fa-la-la-la-la carol-singing, spiced eggnog guzzling Christmas princess. A sexy version with cute leggings and great hair. A Christmas vixen.
“Thank you for holding,” the monotone voice says over the phone line, jerking me from my holiday happiness. “What can I help you with?”
I explain, in detail, to the third person at this company that the animatronic snowman doesn’t light up like the packaging states. This thing cost three hundred bucks. Maybe they can send a repairman out or something.
“We can refund you,” the person says blandly. “I’ll go ahead and start processing—”
“Refund?” I scoff, shaking my head, the bells jingling in protest along with me. “No, I want you to fix it. It’s going to look so cute with my other decorations, especially at night. Can’t you just send someone out?”
There is silence for so long, I think the person hung up on me. Finally, they sigh heavily, and say, “I’ll escalate this to a manager, ma’am.”
Music begins playing and has my simmering blood cooling because it’s one of my favorite Mariah Carey Christmas hits. I sing along as I wait and text my best friend, Casey.
Me: The Christmas Extravaganza on Main Street officially started. We could go tomorrow if you feel better. I’m dying to see all the stores decked out. Last year Smoke & Sugar won. Who do you think it’ll be this year?
Clearly not hyped up on freshly baked sugar cookies like me, Casey replies back with a green-faced sick emoji. She’s pregnant with her second kiddo, but this one has made her deathly ill. The poor thing can hardly work.
Me: Want me to bring you anything, babe?
Casey: Brayden went to get more ginger ale. Sorry I suck.
Me: Brayden sucks for knocking you up again.
She sends back some laughing emojis but nothing else. I’m bummed she’s been sick because Casey is my ride or die. Without her, I get lonely.
I try to think about the ladies at the salon. There are a few I could invite, but no one I’m super close to. They all like to gossip about each other which means anything I talk about will be fodder for their next conversation without me. I’d rather sit and deal with a snowman fiasco.
As if on cue, the line crackles and a woman answers.
“You got a problem with your product?” she asks, voice gruff likely from decades of smoking.
“It doesn’t light up. The other person said you could send someone out to fix it.”
The woman laughs until she starts coughing. Irritation prickles through me. Finally, she calms down. “Oh, wait. You’re serious?”
“I just want it fixed,” I grumble. “Is that so hard to understand?”
“Look, lady,” she says with a sigh, “it’s not worth it to send someone out. We can refund you.”
“Can you at least replace it?”
“No can do. We are plum out of stock.”
My doorbell rings and I’m grateful for the interruption. “Yeah, okay, whatever. A refund is fine.”
After hanging up, I hurry to the front door of my townhouse, wondering if I have more packages coming with new décor. Hopefully I didn’t order a lot from that place because it’s apparently all crap.
I jerk open the door, shuddering at the burst of icy air that rushes in, and am surprised to find it’s not a delivery guy. It’s not my landlord, Reid, or his son, Brayden. It’s not Linda or the kids from next door. And it’s not Riko or Casey’s ex, Derek.
But it’s someone I know.
Someone who’s been avoiding me for years.
“Eric?”
“Hey, sis.”
After all this time, that’s what he says to me? “Hey, sis.” Like he hasn’t basically been ignoring me since he took off to New York?