A Christmas to Dismember by Addison Moore (best desktop ebook reader TXT) 📕

I had worn a sticker with Macy’s code on it in the event I accidentally bump into her Mr. Right. I could have doubled her inventory for the afternoon.

“Did it hurt when you fell out of Heaven?” he asks. “Because I think you’re an angel.”

“Yikes.” I can’t help but make a face.

“That bad, huh?” He winces as if he already knew the answer.

“It’s not bad if you were trying to make me laugh. What do you do for a living? I take it you’re not on the road honing a comedy routine.”

He chuckles, and there’s something warm and inviting about him.

“I’m an investment broker. I got corralled into coming here by my brother.” He takes a moment to frown into the crowd. “But”—his eyes sweep over my features—“I’m beginning to think this just might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m Brad Wilson.” He holds out his hand and gives a sturdy shake. Impressive. Firm, yet not too aggressive.

He leans in and…I think he’s sniffing my hair.

I pull back abruptly “I’m Bizzy Baker—Wilder.” I add that all important last bit quickly. “I just got hitched last September. And would you believe I keep forgetting that I’m married?” A nervous laugh titters from me, but Brad doesn’t look so amused.

“What?” His expression irons out. “Did you say you’re—married? Geez.” He growls out at the crowd, “I knew this was going to be a big waste of time.” He stalks off without so much as a goodbye.

“Hey! Wait! I didn’t get your number! You’d make a great brother-in-law!” I call out after him, but it’s no use.

The sound of a woman tittering from behind sends me spinning on my heels.

Standing before me is a chestnut brunette with deep olive skin, the face of a supermodel, the body of a Victoria’s Secret Angel, and the mind and heart of the devil himself. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s a direct relation of that nefarious underworld warlord.

“Camila?” I blurt her name out before I can process what’s happening. Camila Ryder is Jasper’s ex-fiancée—the same ex-fiancée who happened to weasel her way into becoming his secretary down at the homicide division. Recently, we’ve sort of made peace with one another—sort of being the operative phrase.

“Don’t worry, Bizzy,” she says, fiddling with her phone. “I won’t say a word to Jasper.” Her thumb taps over her screen as she holds up her phone. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words.” I see Jasper’s name just above a picture of that redheaded man, Brad, sniffing my hair, and I groan at the sight.

“Give me that.” I try my best to snatch the phone out of her hand, but it’s too late. She’s sent him the text.

“Why would you send that to him?” I speed the words out in a panic.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She hikes up a notch to get a better look at the crowd. “Five o’clock shadow, red chinos, you’re mine.” She takes off, and I shake my head at her. Camila deserves whatever Red Chinos has in store for her and then some.

My phone bleats in my hand, and I squeeze my eyes tightly a moment before I have the courage to look at it.

What the hell is happening?

That’s what I’d like to know.

“Bizzy?” a woman chimes once again, and I look up, fully expecting to see Camila, but I’m more than pleased I don’t.

“Eve!” I practically jump out of my skin with excitement. Thank God. I can finally get the inquisition going and make a beeline for that bakery as I try to explain this nightmare away to my husband—that is, if I still have a husband once the day is over. The irony of losing my Mr. Right at an event geared toward finding one isn’t lost on me. “Fancy seeing you here.” A nervous laugh titters from me. “But I guess you would be here. I mean, you own the place.”

She offers up a warm laugh of her own. “That would be true. A friend of mine coerced me into hosting the event. Believe it or not, the registers are ringing overtime, so I guess in that respect it’s not a bad thing.” And heaven knows I can use the cash. She shrugs my way. “I just saw your sister, and she mentioned the two of you were coming out to do a little shopping. I guess you got a little more than you bargained for.”

I nod. “I’m strictly here for moral support—and to do a little shopping. How are you holding up after the other night?”

Her features darken. “You mean at the inn?” Her eyes shift side to side as if she was about to whisper a secret my way. “I’m not doing well. I was hoping to reconnect with Quinn. I never expected that night to end the way it did.” But I’ve dreamed of it ending exactly that way for years.

My eyes spring wide open. “I don’t think any of us expected that. How did you know him?”

“Actually, we ran in the same circles. I was just as highbrow as the next billionaire.” She makes a face. “Okay, so I didn’t quite have billions, but my father left me a comfortable sum.”

“That’s great. At least you won’t have to worry about your financial future.” Not that I forgot what Angelica told me. But I’m fishing to see if their stories line up. Angelica could have gotten the details wrong.

“Nope, the well is dry. I married an idiot and he gambled away my inheritance. After the divorce, I hardly had enough to get this place going. The rent is high, and I barely make ends meet here.” Quinn Bennet was supposed to be my ticket back to Easy Street. She glowers into the crowd. And he would have been had he not opened his mouth and shredded me with his words. He knew I couldn’t stand to hear those things. But he kept pushing and pushing. Why did he have to push so hard? I