Resting Grinch Face: A Holiday Revenge Romantic Comedy

I might not be able to ruin his life, but I will ruin his Christmas. Yeah, I’m totally a grinch. But I come by it honestly. Because of Oliver Frost, I flamed out at Harvard in the most humiliating way possible. Now I’m back in my small town—just in time to suffer through a display of small-town Christmas cheer so festive it will make you puke your eggnog. But who cares about being home for the holidays when you live with your family like a loser and have to share one bathroom with seven other people? I plan to spend my Christmas purgatory being tsked at by elderly residents and passive aggressively prodded by my mom’s friends about what I plan to do with my life. I don’t know, Deborah, work in the Christmas market and get screamed at by tourists because I didn’t put enough sprinkles on their little brats’ coffees? Seriously, who gives five-year-olds that much caffeine anyway?! See? Like I said. A grinch. I hate Christmas. I set a nativity scene on fire. Got in a fistfight with an elf—I lost, by the way. And threw a vat of Snowman Surprise all over Oliver. Don’t ask. Small-town Christmas insanity. Sleigh what? Oliver is here??? The man who humiliated me and ruined my life? Ho ho ho, eff no. He doesn’t deserve a quaint small-town Christmas. He doesn’t deserve a fancy Christmas tree from my family’s farm. And he certainly does not deserve to win a bottle of whiskey in the daily Christmas market raffle. Goddamn, I needed that drink. He should be haunted like Ebenezer Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Past. Or at least the Ghost of Hookups Past. Momma’s gonna have herself a very merry Christmas revenge. Swapping the salt and sugar so his Christmas cookies are ruined? Be still, my shriveled little heart. Spying on him so I can gather recon to ruin his holidate? Damn, I forgot how ripped his chest was. Sneaking down his chimney to steal all the presents under his tree? Amateur hour. Until I get caught… Guess I’m spending Christmas in jail. But when he sees I’m not wearing a bra under my ugly Christmas sweater, Oliver smiles like Santa has come early. Crap! I knew I should have worn my good underwear. Hold on to your stockings because the eggnog is spicy and mostly booze. This is a fuck-second-chances, Santa-stalker, holiday-revenge romantic comedy. Featuring Christmas-hating heroines with poor decision-making skills, ripped guys who will leave a very large package under your tree, and adorable corgis dressed up as reindeer, this standalone book has a happily ever after, guaranteed! —- ISBN: 9798364009425