Crew and I look at each other, half laughing and fully terrified.
“They mean TJ.”
He nods, cradling my face.
“Wild Card, we got two choices: we can jump in that Cadillac that says ‘just married’ and peel outta here, letting those cans fly in the wind.”
“Or?” I interject, starting to laugh harder.
“Or we can just accept that we’re never getting rid of our wild and nutty family. And today wouldn’t be nearly as fun without them.”
I turn, taking his hand as we both face front, side by side, as Millie and Nate each take one of the double doors.
The same ones we burst through all those months ago, getting married on a drunk challenge, not knowing it would change our lives forever.
“We’re ready. Open the doors.”
Crew kisses my cheek, whispering, “How bad could it be?”
But as they swing open, a four-count beat drops before “YMCA” starts to blare, and our very own Elvis, clad in the white jumpsuit, also known as TJ, throws his hands in the air and yells, “Touchdown. Niners.”
If this is the beginning of the rest of our lives, I’d say we’re knocking it out of the fucking park.
Horoscope: Big life changes will alter the road to your happiness.
Your lucky numbers: 4, 7, 22, 30
Are your fingers crossed for more Millie, TJ, and Nate…PRE-ORDER HERE or swipe for a sneak peek of Samantha and her guys in Tangled in Tinsel!
tangled in tinsel
Sneak Peek
Christmas music plays in my ears as I scan the twenty-foot Douglas fir. It’s moments like this that make being an interior designer worth it. I’ve been left alone, given an unlimited party budget to deck the halls, so to speak, in this cozy yet extravagant cabin.
I smile to myself as I take in the snow gently falling outside the floor-to-ceiling windows set aside the fireplace crackling below the hearth I just decorated with holly.
If the guests don’t ooh and ahh when they walk into this great room, I will personally pelt them with snowballs. The view alone is a scene from one of those Hallmark movies where the heroine works at a flower shop nobody ever seems to visit. But she still lives in a house outside the normal budget for anyone not coasting past six figures. God, I love those.
But even if my client doesn’t love this—he will—life could be worse. Trust me, last year, I was listening to how plaid is the new gingham by a woman who lets her poodles kiss her on the mouth for way too long. They were, like, really in there, sorting around her molars. I shiver, remembering how gross it was.
This year, however, has set a new bar. It was out with the Karens, and in with the four best clients a girl could ask for.
I tilt my head, trying to scope out the perfect spot for the star in my hand as ringing interrupts the music in my ear.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answer, tapping one of my AirPods, already knowing who it is. “I’m knee-deep in tinsel and red balls.”
My sister snorts from the other end.
“It’s better than blue ones.”
I push to my tiptoes on the ladder, placing the star in the perfect spot.
“You’re dumb. But what’s up? Make it quick. I’m pretty sure Mr. Price and his associates will be back soon.”
She whistles. “Wait, you’re working for that hot-ass CEO again—you left that out this morning when you tore out of here.”
“One, I was going to be late because the roads were already slushy. Two, I told you I was doing some fun festivities decorating for a who’s-who private party. That’s all the info you need.”
She’s not even listening to me because she keeps going.
“—And let’s not forget his band of equally fuckable friends. Are those the ‘associates’ because I’d like them to associate their tongue with my—”
“Oh my god,” I rush out, interrupting her. “I’m hanging up on you. You’re so disgusting. I’m working. What do you want?”
I can picture her evil grin.
“Come on. Fess up…you’ve never, ever thought about it?”
I look over my shoulder before I answer her.
“I’m perfectly capable of entertaining my fantasies with the help of my vibrator. There. Happy?”
“You’re so boring.”
“Hanging up,” I counter, sing-songy.
“Shut up. I’m calling because have you checked the news?”
I’m shaking my head as I climb down the ladder.
“No, I haven’t. What about I’m working is so confusing?”
The sound of her television gets louder until I hear every word.
If you wished for a white Christmas, it looks like Jack Frost has finally arrived.
We’re expecting a record number of inches here in many parts of the East Bay. And in Stanislaus County and its surrounding areas, we’re anticipating feet, not inches, of snow. It’s all happening pretty quickly, folks. Make sure you bundle up because, as you can see, the temperatures are dropping by the minute. It’s time to bring in that firewood and make that last trip to the store because you’ll need those marshmallows for roasting over the next week. You can see Highway 80 here, and it’s already a mess—
Elle’s voice takes over again as the television gets quiet.
“Don’t you take Highway 80? Sam, please tell me you’re done and heading home in the next three minutes.”
I reach around to my back pocket, pulling out my phone. Shit, shit, shit.
“Sam,” she presses, but I don’t answer.
I’m staring down, looking at the maps on my screen. What took me an hour here already shows six on the way back.
“Dammit,” I whisper to myself.
My sister huffs, “I said this morning when you left that there would be a storm. But you never listen—”
“Eleanor,” I interrupt. “Stop talking. I need to finish this tree, and you need to call around and see if you can find me a hotel nearby. I’ll never make it back down this mountain in my Porsche. I’m already screwed.”
“Bitch, are you crazy? Forget the tree. Scram. You might not make it to the hotel.”
“Can you not be so dramatic? I’ll be fine. I just need to wrap this up. You go and find me a decent hotel. Please, and thank you.”
I start to hang up before hurriedly adding, “With room service.”
Elle scoffs in my ear just as the front door swings open. A cold gust of wind forces me to step back as snow flurries inside, along with very blue eyes.
“I have to go,” I whisper, not knowing if she’s still on the phone, as I take out my earpieces and pocket them.
Alec Price is standing just inside the entry by the oversized front door, shaking out snow from his salt-and-pepper hair as he greets me. He’s only forty, but the look suits him.
“Samantha.”
He always pauses for a moment after he says my name. As if he’s considering his words carefully. It kind of knocks me off-balance, figuratively. Okay, maybe I stumble sometimes, but playing it cool around him is hard.
Tucking my phone back into my dark skinny jeans, I place my “work smile” on my face as Alec strides toward me to join me in the living room.
“Wow, it’s really coming down out there, huh? Speaking of that fact—”