Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I got the pleasure of listening to her brag about how she gave Mac her number, and how he took it. I knew it was Mac she was talking about because she called him the sexy man beast. She is cute, too, with her shiny blond hair and those plump lips of hers that are made for kissing. I reach up and touch my mouth. She is curvy in all the right places, and even I thought her makeup was on point. I sigh, knowing I can’t compete with how glamorous she looks. I guess he likes those put-together type girls.
I usually have pencils tucked behind both ears and holding my hair up while I can’t figure out where I put my pencil.
I’ll fix the box tomorrow. I get up from my work bench to go back into the house with a new plan for the evening forming in my mind. One that involves me in my pajamas with my Kindle surrounded by snacks. The perfect night for a single girl.
As I always do when I walk into the house, I hit the power button on my laptop to wake it up to check for new sales. I see there’s another email from this Nicolas man. He’s a persistent little bugger.
I’m in your neighborhood. I’ll swing by soon.
“What the heck?” I read it again. How does he know what neighborhood I’m in? He must’ve meant to send that email to someone else. That has to be it. I fire back another quick email for clarification. I should delete the whole email chain. This toy company wanting to meet with me has scam written all over it in glittery holiday colors.
The sound of bells jingling drift into the house. I walk over to the living room window and peek out to see where the sound is coming from, but all I see is Mac’s adorable cat in the window looking straight at me. He’s a little cutie pie. Maybe I could somehow lure him over here, and then Mac would come looking for him. I’ll have to think more about that plan later.
“Jocelyn.” I think I hear my name called. I walk back toward my side door that goes out to my garage. I step out and look around, but I don’t see anything. The doors are all closed. I walk over to my work area and stare at the stupid mailbox. I already know I’m going to fix it even though I’m upset with Mac. It’ll drive me nuts knowing it’s out here broken.
“You do amazing work.”
I let out a small scream, then turn around quickly to see who said it. An older man in a red suit is standing there with a hat on his head that looks like a Christmas stocking. He’s holding up an ornament I made. My heart begins to race. I should be afraid, but the man doesn’t look as though he’d hurt a fly. He has a kind face with a bushy white beard, and he’s a little on the plump side. He’s the quintessential dadbod Santa. I size him up just in case I have to make a quick getaway and decide I could totally outrun him if I had to. But that still doesn’t explain how the hell he got into my workshop.
“Don’t be scared. I’m Nicolas, or Santa, if you like.”
I stare at him. He’s clearly deranged if he’s going around introducing himself as Santa.
“I told you I was stopping by.”
I grab the broken piece of wood from the mailbox as a weapon.
Nicolas holds his hands up.
“Why are you in my house?”
“This is your workshop,” he points out.
“What do you want?” I start to circle around the table. He doesn't seem scary, but he still let himself inside somehow. The garage doors are closed. It’s not like he magically popped in here from the North Pole or something. “Great cosplay. Now you should leave.”
“I need your help.” He lets out a long sigh. “I can’t keep up like I once did. Each year there are more and more kids.”
“Kids that you have to deliver gifts to for Christmas?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes!” His whole face lights up with a smile. “This is so much easier than I thought it would be. I was sure I’d have to show you some magic. Though, to be honest, I think you could use some magic.”
Okay, he’s crazy. That’s the thing about crazy. It can come in a sweet looking grandpa package. He starts to reach inside his suit. Is he getting a weapon?
“Don’t move!” I shout, but he keeps moving, taking a step around the table toward me. I bump into something, making me swing the piece of wood in my hand. The Santa man jumps back, pulling his hand back out of his jacket. Glitter flies between us as he stumbles back to miss being hit. I hate glitter. It’s pretty and all, but it’s hell to clean up.