Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Merry Inkmas
When my boss got fed up with the constant bickering between me and another tattoo artist, she decided a company retreat was in order. But when Cade and I wound up snowed in alone at the cabin, things took a turn. There’s a reason they say there’s a fine line between love and hate, and we had no idea which way things were going to turn out.
The Christmas Card
When my ex got engaged pretty quickly after we broke up, I did something stupid. I made up a new boyfriend. How would anyone ever know? They wouldn’t. Unless my fake boyfriend showed up at my ex’s annual Christmas party.
The Twelve Dates of Christmas
I somehow got roped into my matchmaker best friend’s holiday dating event, The Twelve Dates of Christmas. The only part I actually enjoyed was shamelessly flirting with her brother, who had a front-row seat to every disaster from behind his bar. Four-years-younger Tucker was infuriatingly hot and always off-limits. It turned out while I was looking for holiday sparks in all the wrong places, Tucker was the one lighting me up
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
* * *
Daria
“You two need to cut the shit!” Billie pulled the door closed behind her and stepped into the reception area where Cade and I were arguing—yet again.
I wasn’t about to say it, but this time it was sort of the boss’s fault, since Billie had put us both on decorating duty after we finished our last appointments of the day. It was taking forever because we couldn’t even agree on how to hang garland or decorate a tree.
“We can all hear you bickering. The clients included,” she said. “Even over the sound of the tattoo machines.”
My shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Billie.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just figure out how to be friends already. Okay?”
She waited until we both nodded to go back into the studio. As soon as the door shut again, I looked over at Cade and whispered, “It’s still crooked, you idiot.”
“It’s not freaking crooked.” He climbed down from the ladder, slapping dirt from his hands. “And who cares if it is? It’s good enough.”
“I do. Billie does. It’s only a little more than a week until Christmas. Maybe dig deep for some holiday cheer.” I brushed past him. “Just get out of the way. I’ll fix it myself.”
Cade McMahon and I had both started as tattoo artists at Billie’s Ink two months ago, one week apart. We hadn’t gotten along since my second day, when I’d unknowingly tatted one of his long-time clients. Things had gotten worse the last few weeks. If whoever makes those Grinch movies ever needed a new actor, Cade would be a shoo-in. No acting required. The man was grumpier by the day as we slid toward the twenty-fifth. I could tell Billie was at her wit’s end. She probably wouldn’t admit it, but I was certain the team-building retreat we were all required to attend this week up in Vermont was mainly because of me and Cade.
I climbed the ladder, removed the star from the artificial Christmas tree, and bent the top branch a little to the right before replacing it and leaning back for a look. “There,” I said. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Cade frowned but said nothing for a change. I picked up the paper with the funky snow scene Billie had sketched. She wanted us to paint something similar on the shop’s front window.
“I’ll do the snowman and the snow,” I said. “You paint the scenery in the background and then tat up Frosty.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
It took us another hour, but at least we didn’t bicker—though that was probably only because neither of us ever said two words while we worked on art. I finished my part a few minutes before Cade, which gave me a chance to watch him in action. He held two thin paintbrushes between his teeth, and his head bopped along to whatever he had playing in his earbuds. It was really a shame the guy was a giant asshole, because he was also phenomenally good-looking. At least when he wasn’t talking. Chiseled jawline, a perfect, straight nose, and plump lips that women paid big money for. What a waste.
Deek, another tattoo artist at Billie’s, walked his last client of the day out from the back. The two shook hands.
“Merry Christmas, man.”
Deek waved. “You too. I’ll see you next month for the color fill-in.”
The extra bells I’d hung at the top of the front door jingled as it opened and closed. Deek looked around the now-decorated reception area. “Nice job. And no blood shed, from what I can see. Maybe there’s such a thing as a Christmas miracle after all.”
He walked toward the door that separated the lobby from the studio. “Oh, I almost forgot. Change of plans for the trip up to Vermont tomorrow morning.”