The Twelve Holidates: a Sweet Christmas RomCom Novella by Emma St. Clair

of saucers. If saucers had spidery looking fake eyelashes attached to their edges, that is. And yeah, I’m judging her eyelashes. Isn’t that my right ? Chad’s face matches hers, the only difference being the shadow of regret I see in his eyes. Regret and … is that pity? Oh no. Not pity. Nope. Not taking that right now. I’m going down. Right on top of them. There is no avoiding it. Spider-lashes opens her mouth even wider, if that’s possible, since it already looks like she could fit her whole fist inside. The amazing thing is how many thoughts have time to race through my head as I’m falling toward the couch. I put my hands out to break my fall. My palms land right on spider-lashes’ plump backside and then the tree lands on mine. Then it’s me and Chad and spider-lashes and the Christmas tree, all tangled on the couch together. Not awkward at all. With a pop and a shower of sparks, the string of lights goes out, and all I can think about is how Weston was right.