Page 189 of Screwged for Christmas

HIS SNOWBOUND CHRISTMAS VIRGIN

Falling for the snowbound virgin was the easy part. Keeping her...not so much.

Ivy:

Christmas is the worst time to deliver bad news and I'm not leaving the warmth of my Texas apartment for the colds of Alaska because I love the snow.

I'm surely not doing it for all the hot, plaid covered Alaskan alpha men with bulging muscles and possessive hands. In particular, one bar owner that takes hard muscles to a whole new level. But it sure doesn't hurt.

A little holiday fun will help the news of me dropping out of med school to my sister a little easier. That’s a win-win in my book.

Until my savage mountain man is forced to burst our happy little bubble when trouble finds us in the middle of a blizzard.

Damon:

Devious and deviant is how I feel when I first see her.MINEis all I can think. I'm too old for a young, beautiful thing like her. Snowbound virgins are a firm no on my list of things not to do. Then again, when they have delicious curves, soft green eyes and a sassy mouth… well, we all have our weaknesses. She's mine.

She's my brother's sister-in-law and is naked inside five minutes of arriving in Savage Ridge, Alaska. Not my doing, blame it on local Christmas traditions, but I'm enjoying the hot, winter view all the same.

I'm not opposed to no-strings-attached holiday sex, but she's armed with ugly Christmas sweaters and a sweet, southern drawl that has me looking for ways to make her smile and melt in my hands.

I'm in danger of finding a little Christmas cheer if I'm not careful and I fear I'll want more than just one Christmas with my snowbound mountain virgin before the lights come down.

CHAPTER 1

People who loved Alaska should come with a warning label that read in fat, bold letters: bat shit crazy and loving it! Ivy Kennedy eyed her sister with a stare hot enough to melt the snowflakes clinging to her lashes.

Despite her black-rimmed spectacles nothing seemed to beat back the little, frozen fairy kisses.

Ivy skootched the eyewear up the bridge of her nose and eyed her surroundings, a little nervous at where Zahara had stood them. Sparkly icicles hung from the frozen eaves of the storefronts and several dangled nearby. One good bump from a passerby and she could be spending Christmas in the morgue. Ironic how something so beautiful could be so lethal. Apparently, Alaska and danger went hand in hand and the locals didn’t care about putting themselves in peril.

She drew cold air into her lungs and let it out in a billow of hot air, considering her sister’s batshit crazy request.

“Pleeeease. It’s tradition. You get naked, get drunk, tie yourself to a partner and run. It’s why it’s called the Risky Whiskey,” Zahara crooned, holding up a black-labeled bottle with Moon Lust scribbled down the side in a flourish of gold calligraphy.

Eyeballs glued to the amber liquid, she asked, “Exactly how much do I have to drink and what is it?”

“How much, well that depends how bad you wanna win. And wedowanna win,” Zahara said, patting her plump belly. “Mama needs a nursery and if you beat Ethan for me this year, my prize is a handyman with wood and my set of plans.”

That could be dangerous. When her sister set out to do something, she did it to the nines. Their communal room at the orphanage never saw a holiday without some kind of decoration strung, looped or piled to create a festive holiday. Ivy could only imagine what she would do with a whole house and nothing holding her back. Especially with a baby on the way. Zahara would want everything to be absolutely perfect.

Her sister’s Christmassy red lips parted into what Ivy referred to as the evil sister challenge left over from their childhood days. All teeth and glittery eyes daring her to back down from the challenge.

It got her every time and her sister knew it.

Hoots and cheers erupted from the bottom of the street where the team ahead of them completed their race. White and red streamers snaked through the air, and she couldn’t take in the whole town fast enough with everything that was going on. No rumbling sounds of cars or trains. No smog and definitely no irritated city folks brushing past her on the sidewalk. It was all weird and surreal. Like a small town straight off a postcard. Or out of a tiny snowglobe. The kind she liked to shake at the antique shops in downtown Houston. All hand-painted and beautiful to look at.

At the head of the street where they stood, a long foldout table held down a large amount of real estate with three fold-out chairs on one side and two orange cones in the front. Several plastic trays lined the front with dozens of little shot glasses filled with the same substance her sister dangled in front of her nose.

One team on one side and a place for another opposite them, she assumed. Above it, a single large banner stretched from either side with stark blue lettering, and Christmas lights cast a cheerful glow on the words: Annual Risky Whiskey Run.

“Come on. You wanna fit in, right? Well this is what happens here. It’s almost something every day. You’ll see! I’ll go tell the judge you’re in.”

“Right. Yeah. Sure. An everyday occurrence. Got it.” Ivy brows pinched in confusion, and she caught the sleeve of her sister’s coat before she could escape to tell the judge she’d lured her in to fill her sister’s spot. Not that a six-month pregnant lady could do more than waddle in snow up to her knees if you veered off the shoveled path.

“Did you say naked? As in commando,nada? Not even panties and pasties?” Her voice hit a couple of notes higher than she intended. In a bob and weave fashion, Ivy dodged in and out of Zahara’s line of sight to check if some alien hadn’t kidnapped her strait-laced sister.

“Yep, you’re still Zahara but you don’t sound like my sister. Since when did streaking become a wintertime sport? And for you?” Leaning forward so no one overheard, she whispered, “Icanat least keep on the panties and bra? Right?” Some facts you didn’t leave to chance and miscommunication.

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