Mistletoe Mistake: A Brother's Best Friend Holiday Romance (Greetings From Avondale Book 1)

  Contents

  Synopsis

  1. Holly

  2. Nick

  3. Holly

  4. Nick

  5. Nick

  6. Holly

  7. Holly

  8. Nick

  9. Holly

  10. Nick

  11. Holly

  12. Nick

  13. Holly

  Epilogue

  SNEAK PEEK: Under the Cherry Blossoms

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Stay Connected

  More by Amali Rose

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Mistletoe Mistake

  Copyright © 2020 by Amali Rose

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Editing: Ellie McLove - My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreading: Rosa Sharon - My Brother’s Editor

  Cover Design: Ben Ellis – Tall Story Design

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at authoramalirose@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  FBI Anti-Piracy Warning:

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI, and is punishable by up to five years in prison, and a fine of $250,000.

  This book is for Gypsy.

  You came into my life on Christmas Day 2004 and stole my heart.

  You made every single day better and I miss you as fiercely as I love you.

  “Christmas isn’t just a day, it’s a frame of mind.”

  Valentine Davies (Miracle on 34th Street)

  SYNOPSIS

  I hate Christmas.

  Before you scream bah humbug, let me explain: my birthday is December 25th.

  Birthdays were largely ignored, and the holiday lost its luster before I hit double digits. I didn’t get a birthday party—instead, my parents spent their energy planning a huge Christmas party.

  So when the annual Christmas party rolls around again, it’s nothing more than an obligation to endure.

  Until this year. Because this year, Nick O’Connor will be there. Bad boy extraordinaire. Brutally beautiful, he’s the strong and silent type. Also, my brother’s best friend.

  When he finds me under the mistletoe, he might just convince me to fall in love with Christmas after all.

  And him too, while I’m at it.

  1

  Holly

  “How do I look?”

  I take a step back, narrow my eyes and sweep an appraising look along my friend’s body. I want to say something nice, truly I do. In an effort to buy some time, I scan my office, letting my attention fall on the small bookshelf that holds my Friends Funko Pop! collection. I stare hard at ‘80s Chandler, as though he will somehow help me come up with a nice way to say what I’m thinking. Although on second thought, Chandler might not be the best character to find inspiration in.

  I sigh and decide it’s a hopeless cause, I put on my big girl panties and turn back to Troy.

  “You know those scary Santa pictures from the ‘70s and ‘80s that do the rounds on Facebook every year?”

  His face pinches in an entirely unflattering expression as he nods.

  “You look like that.”

  Troy snatches the Santa hat off his head and throws it at me with all the aggression of a cuddly teddy bear. Which is to say, none.

  “You’re a bitch, Hols.” He flops down onto the tiny sofa I have squeezed into my equally tiny office.

  Stifling a laugh, I take a seat next to him and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “What were you thinking when you volunteered to be Santa?”

  His sigh fills the room. “I was thinking that if I didn’t, there would be no Santa at Tahlia’s kindergarten Christmas party.”

  I wrinkle my nose in distaste which draws a chuckle from Troy.

  “Most normal people would see that as a bad thing.”

  “Christmas is overrated, I’ve explained this to you so many times.” I give his bicep a squeeze and shift on the sofa so that I am facing him.

  “Five-year-olds don’t care about your childhood trauma, Holly. In fact, me volunteering to do this.” He motions to the bright red suit he’s wearing. “Is meant to stop Tahlia from experiencing her own trauma.”

  He shifts awkwardly, and I really do feel awful for him. Since the moment his daughter was born, she has been Troy and Matthew’s entire world. Now, at the ripe old age of five, she has her dads wrapped around her little finger. As evidenced by jolly St. Nicholas in front of me.

  “You’re a good dad. Unfortunately, I think if you turn up looking like that you’re going to have the opposite effect.”

  “Then help me.” Troy groans and pushes himself up to stand in front of me. Hands on hips and his brow furrowed, I can practically smell the desperation on him.

  “Okay, first things first. This” —I wave a finger at the Santa suit that looks like it was made in the same decade as those scary Santa pictures— “is ancient. Stop being such a cheapskate and spend the money to rent a decent suit.” I take a minute to observe the way his mouth twitches and how he swallows hard at my advice.

  “Fine. Anything else?” His tone is decidedly grumpier than it was a moment ago, and I bite my lip to hide a smile. Troy’s infamous for his miserly ways, and I know the thought of spending money will be killing him.

  “You need to get some padding.” I eye his lanky frame critically. “You’re way too skinny to pull Santa off without it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, yanking off the suit jacket.

  “Yeah, also, maybe cut out the JC cursing. It’s not very Christmassy.” I smile sweetly at him.

  “Bite m—”

  “Knock knock,” he’s cut off by my roommate, Billie, who is standing at my office door. “Holly, I’ve got your—” Her eyes widen when she notices Troy standing there in Santa pants and a dress shirt, his short blond hair mussed, and she bursts out laughing.

  “You both suck.” He storms toward the door and brushes past Billie, muttering about getting back to work.

  “Is that my straightener?”

  “Yeah.” She steps into my office and hands it to me. “How long are you house-sitting for your brother? The apartment is quiet without you and Gypsy. No loud music playing and no dog howling along to your terrible singing.” She smirks and follows me as I move to my desk, taking a seat opposite me. I sink down on my desk chair and feel the familiar ache in my back. I really need to check out that ergonomic desk chair my chiropractor was telling me about.

  “You missing us already? We only left yesterday.”

  “Did I say anything about missing you? I said it was quiet. I like the quiet.” She raises an eyebrow at me and I roll my eyes. It will be a cold day in hell before she admits to anything as sentimental as feelings.

  “You’re an ass. But thank you for bringing me this.” I tap the tongs and then give my wavy brown lo
cks a tug. “My hair is a nightmare without it.”

  “Not a problem.” She shrugs. “So, how long?”

  “Just a week. Brandon and Amy get back on the twenty-third.” I pull a face. “They couldn’t miss the Christmas party.”

  “Speaking of which, your dad asked me to tell you that he got your email about the party and he regrets to inform you that boycotting Christmas is not a valid reason to miss it this year.” She shakes her head at me and a strand of fiery red hair escapes her low bun. “Just like it wasn’t last year. Or the year before that.”

  I scrunch up a Post-it note and throw it at her. “I thought you were here as my roommate, not as Dad’s assistant.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but we are one and the same. I’ll let him know that you’ll be there and you couldn't be more excited.” She stands up and stretches before heading out.

  “He’ll never believe that,” I call out behind her. Her only response is to flip me the bird.

  I laugh lightly and turn back to my computer, trying to remember where I was with the birthday card design I was working on before Troy interrupted me.

  Before I can get back to work, my phone rings. Noting it’s the internal line, I answer with my attention still mostly on the design in front of me.

  “Holly, sweetheart.” My dad’s voice booms down the line.

  “What’s up, Dad?”

  “Your brother’s trying to get in touch with you, but he said your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

  I groan and grab my cell phone out of the desk drawer, only to discover it’s completely dead. “I forgot to charge it last night. Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No, just that he wants you to call him.”

  “Okay, was that all?”

  “Your email was very entertaining,” he replies dryly, and a small grin plays on my lips.

  “Why thank you, I try my best.” I giggle.

  “You know, you’ll have to get over this Christmas hatred thing eventually.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Christmas sealed its fate on my tenth birthday when no one turned up to my party because they were suffering from post-Christmas exhaustion. I was ten, Dad. Ten! Then there was the yea—”

  “I remember it all, sweetie,” he cuts me off mid-rant. “But Christmas is such a wonderful time of the year. It’s about love and family and everything that’s important.” His voice softens, gaining the sentimental tone he gets when discussing any holiday.

  My father is unapologetically emotional about special occasions. It’s one of the things that led him to opening a greeting card company with my mother so many years ago and, while I would never say this to his face, his sentimentality has only gotten worse with age.

  “I know, I know,” I sigh, tiredly. We have this same argument year after year. But seriously, if your birthday was December twenty-fifth, you would resent sharing your special day too.

  “I have to go, Dad, I’m in the middle of a project, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  He relents and we say our goodbyes.

  It’s moments like this that I don’t entirely love working at Greetings from Avondale. Originally a small boutique greeting card company, my parents started the business before my brother was born. It has grown and expanded over the years and is now one of the most successful greeting card companies in the US.

  I always loved coming here as a child. It felt like a second home to me and when I graduated with a degree in graphic design three years ago, it was only natural I start working for the company that was such an intrinsic part of my family.

  Plus, despite how I feel about Christmas, I did inherit my father’s love of holidays and special occasions, and there is something almost magical about creating a keepsake for people to celebrate the most important moments in their lives.

  I may hate Christmas, but I love my job.

  “C’mon.” I jiggle the key in the lock and mentally cross my fingers that it will work this time. Brandon warned me that this lock was sticking. He promised he would fix it before they left, but I guess he didn’t get around to it. Ugh, which reminds me, I never called my brother to see what he wanted. I sigh, hating how the day got away from me. I can hear Gypsy on the other side of the door, sniffing around and scratching at the door to get to me. Finally, with one last jiggle and a silent prayer, the key turns and the door swings open. I trek through the mudroom, into the kitchen and dump my things on the island counter, before crouching down and greeting my fur baby with ear scratches and a tummy rub. When she’s suitably loved up, she gives me a final lick and races off to her toys where she busies herself with a tennis ball.

  Groaning, I roll my shoulders and slump onto the counter, considering what to do for dinner. Deciding that a grilled cheese will have to do, I’m halfway to the refrigerator when I remember the spa bath Brandon and Amy had installed in their bathroom earlier this year and suddenly my plans for the night change. I grab a glass and a bottle of wine—Moscato, my favorite, thank you Amy—from the refrigerator and I head toward the stairs, already fantasizing about sinking into a tub full of bubbles.

  I’ve barely made it three steps when my newly charged phone starts buzzing in my purse. I groan and try to decide whether or not to ignore it. Guilt stops me, knowing Brandon will most likely be annoyed he’s been chasing me all day, so I turn back to the counter and search through my bag until I find it. Unexpectedly seeing my friend Tessa’s name on the screen, I answer the call and greet her warmly. After a few minutes of small talk, I grab the wine with my spare hand, and pivot back in the direction of the stairs, figuring I’ll switch to speaker and finish the conversation while I get my bath ready.

  “Anyway, I’m calling about book club.” Tessa’s usually melodic voice sounds worried.

  “What’s up?” I take the stairs two at a time, eager to reach paradise. I can already feel the tension start to leave my body, imagining my body sinking into the hot water.

  “I know we were supposed to have our next meeting at my apartment, but I’ve had a business trip sprung on me, so I’m going to be out of state until the twenty-third.”

  My feet hit the landing and I turn toward the bathroom.

  “Oh, that’s no problem, Tess. Billie and I can host it this time and you can FaceTime us.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.” I reach for the bathroom door and open it, already planning the night in my head. “Our place is p—p—penis!”

  2

  Nick

  I should probably cover my dick.

  She hasn’t taken her bright blue eyes off it since she flung open the bathroom door, and that was at least thirty seconds ago.

  Thirty long, silent seconds ago.

  The little fucker seems to be getting off on her attention though, because it twitches, and her round eyes get even wider.

  Yeah, I really should cover my dick.

  “Hey, Holly.” I continue to scrub the towel over my hair.

  My voice seems to startle her, and I wish I could adequately describe the sound she makes. Imagine a strangled screech, some garbled words and a deep exhalation of breath. Now imagine all three mixed together, and you might come close to the sound I just experienced.

  I’m not going to lie, my cock has never gotten a reaction like that before and I’m not mad about it.

  Taking pity on her, I lazily wrap the towel around my waist and turn to face her, scratching my pec as I do. A sparking sensation under my skin follows the path of her eyes and I realize I might be in trouble.

  “Sorry, I should have locked the door. I was filthy and in a rush to clean up. I wasn’t thinking.” My apology is half-assed because I can’t count the number of times I’ve imagined her eyes on me like this.

  A small squeak escapes her full, pink mouth, reminding me of a cartoon character, and she abruptly turns, making her escape back the way she came.

  Well, that could have gone better.

  Ten minutes later I walk into the kitchen
to find Holly pacing back and forth, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist and her bottom lip clamped between her teeth.

  I would also like to point out that I am now fully dressed. Winning at life, right here.

  “You okay?”

  She startles at the sound of my voice before turning to face me. The scorching sensation under my skin fires back to life.

  This is definitely going to be a problem.

  “Yeah.” She smiles ruefully. “Sorry about that, I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “I guess Brandon didn’t tell you he said I could stay for a few days?” I make a mental note to kick my best friend’s ass.

  Something akin to understanding lights up her eyes. “He was trying to call me today, but we didn’t connect.” She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch.

  “Ah, well, there’s some plumbing problems at my apartment and I needed a place to stay for a couple of days. Brandon said it would be okay for me to crash here.” I grimace before continuing. “I hope that’s okay? I can always find a hotel…”

  “Of course it’s fine! Um, I guess we don’t both need to be here though.” Her brows pull together and a cute little line appears. “I can go back to my apartment until you’re gone.” She gives her head a little nod, as if it’s decided.