Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Three billionaire brothers. One ultimatum. And a childhood best friend who just became the prize.
The Christmas rush began the moment Magnus Hawthorne informed his sons that his billion-dollar empire would come with one hell of a holiday clause—whoever marries first inherits everything.
Too bad they all want the same woman.
Wren Wilde, Hideaway Harbor’s unintentional cat lady, is sick of bossy Hawthorne men controlling her non-existent love life. After years of their territorial interference, she’s finally going after what she wants. But Greyson, Soren, and Logan have other plans—one of them must marry, and all three brothers want Wren.
With no clue how her boring life turned into a billion-dollar competition, Wren refuses to play along. But when three alpha males turn on the holiday charm and refuse to take no for an answer, her defenses crumble.
Wren must decide which brother wins, and this Christmas, her choice comes down to love.
“A steamy, small-town, holiday romance with an unforgettable love triangle that’s guaranteed to heat up readers’ hearts this winter!”
Protector • Three Possessive Alpha Males • Billionaire Brothers • Grumpy/Sunshine • Holiday Romance • Small-Town • Rom-Com • Friends-to-Lovers • Long-Time Crush • First Love • Virgin • Christmas Ultimatum • Holiday Rush • Christmas Competition • Steamy Romance • Childhood Best Friend • Family Rivalry • Won't Take No for an Answer
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
“Dashing Through the Snow”
“There I was,” Wren began the story as dramatically as she always did, “fumbling for my keys as cats coiled between my legs on the cabin porch, their urgent mewing echoing in the frigid air.”
“Here we go…” Logan rolled his eyes.
She ignored him, sitting up to better reenact the chaos that unfolded one year ago, the absolute insanity they put her through that led her to this very place. She didn’t care that they heard the story a hundred times before. She lived it.
So did they, of course.
But she would never let them forget what they put her through. And each time she made them sit through the recap, she added more flourish and dramatization than the last.
“I bit the tip of my glove, precariously balancing my grocery bags in one arm, so I could dig through my purse,” she continued, still able to hear the rock salt crunching underfoot. “It had been a frigid day. I still remember my breath clouding as I spoke to the cats.”
The rescued strays were why people once assumed she was Hideaway Harbor’s unofficial cat lady at thirty. That was back when she was still single. A lot had changed since then.
“Your stories take forever.”
“Shut up, Soren.”
“Get to the point, Wren.”
She shot Greyson a threatening look, warning him to hush. “The metallic bite of wind promised more snow, and we already had a foot from the storm that rolled in before Thanksgiving that year.”
“There was a northern wind, and the temperature was a biting seventeen degrees. Two blue jays sat on a branch,” Logan mocked.
“Patience, guys.” She narrowed her eyes at the men. “That’s what I remember saying to Figgy and the other cats as they perched on frost-dusted chairs. Then, suddenly, the roar of a motor exploded through the silence! I spun, keys tumbling from my grasp as a black super-duty pickup rocketed over the snowdrifts—an avalanche of ice and slush erupting in its wake as it plowed straight toward me! I screamed, and the cats scattered like buckshot.”
Greyson’s deep chuckle rumbled as he lounged by the fire.
“I don’t think it was all that dramatic,” Logan mumbled.
“Get to the good part,” Soren urged.
Wren continued, “Out of nowhere, a snowmobile buzzed from the woods behind the cabin! I plastered myself against the front door in a sorry attempt to avoid a collision as claws scraped wood and the cats scrambled up the walls in sheer terror! My groceries crashed to the ground, eggs exploding, as I threw my hands up to shield my face. The truck slammed on its brakes, spraying snow all over me and my midnight blue siding as it skidded to a halt mere inches from my step. I was terrified. The engine growling like a caged beast as the driver’s door burst open and I screamed, ‘What the hell is going on!’”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Even I know that’s stretching the truth. The snowmobile totally got there first.”
“False.” Logan laughed. “And you can’t start the story there anyway.” He sipped lager from a pilsner glass. “That makes us sound like maniacs.”
Wren scoffed. “You are maniacs.”
“She has a point.” Greyson stretched his thick denim-clad legs toward the raised hearth of the massive fireplace.
“That’s exactly how it started,” Wren continued. “I’m telling the non-fiction version.”
“Your version might be true, but that’s not how it started.” Soren brushed a piece of non-existent lint off his knee onto the oak floor. “You’ve got to give a little background to accurately portray the emotion.”