Whiskey Kisses For the Mountain Man

I’m not what she’s looking for.

Too old, too gruff, too set in my ways. I work at the Distillery for my best friend because it’s quiet, off the grid, with good whiskey and no distractions. I’m not the type of man who gets involved in town politics, and I sure as hell don’t do Christmas festivals.
But this year, my best friend somehow decided to sponsor the whole damn thing. And that means working with her.
Lettie is half my age, all fire and ambition, with big-city energy and a mouth that never quits. She’s the festival coordinator, and she’s hell-bent on making Eden Ridge sparkle like a Hallmark card. I told her no. She ignored it. Now I’ve got twinkle lights on the damn distillery and a curvy spitfire bossing me around like I work for her.
She thinks I’m just an old mountain man standing in her way.

She has no idea I’m about to be the only thing standing between her and a holiday disaster—and the only man who’ll ever touch her again once I get my hands on her under that mistletoe.

This Christmas, I’m done playing nice.
She’s mine.