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HER
Every good bedtime story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But this one? It started in the middle—
The middle of the woods. The middle of the night. The middle of nowhere. The kind of place where no one could hear you scream… unless they wanted to.
And trust me, the nine shadowy figures watching me through the window? They wanted to hear everything.
They didn’t come bearing gifts. They came bearing hunger.
They weren’t the only ones ready to play reindeer games, though. I might’ve been caught, cold, and cornered… but I’d always had a soft spot for holiday chaos. Even if the odds were stacked against me.
Because, baby, I don’t just handle a challenge. I f*ck it raw and ask for seconds. The more the merrier.
THEM
The cabin was supposed to be empty. A safehouse. Instead, we found her. All curves and fire and just begging to be unwrapped.
A real Christmas miracle.
She didn’t scream. She smiled. She didn’t beg us to let her go. She dared us to keep her.
And what was more festive than cracking open a present early?
Especially when that present moaned when you touched it, tasted like sin, and came tied up with a bow—sprawled out in front of us and absolutely ours.
We didn’t go looking for holiday cheer. But hell if we weren’t going to fill her with some.
The More the Merrier is a dark, standalone novella with a HFN. Please heed the trigger warnings at the beginning of the book.
Every good bedtime story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But this one? It started in the middle—
The middle of the woods. The middle of the night. The middle of nowhere. The kind of place where no one could hear you scream… unless they wanted to.
And trust me, the nine shadowy figures watching me through the window? They wanted to hear everything.
They didn’t come bearing gifts. They came bearing hunger.
They weren’t the only ones ready to play reindeer games, though. I might’ve been caught, cold, and cornered… but I’d always had a soft spot for holiday chaos. Even if the odds were stacked against me.
Because, baby, I don’t just handle a challenge. I f*ck it raw and ask for seconds. The more the merrier.
THEM
The cabin was supposed to be empty. A safehouse. Instead, we found her. All curves and fire and just begging to be unwrapped.
A real Christmas miracle.
She didn’t scream. She smiled. She didn’t beg us to let her go. She dared us to keep her.
And what was more festive than cracking open a present early?
Especially when that present moaned when you touched it, tasted like sin, and came tied up with a bow—sprawled out in front of us and absolutely ours.
We didn’t go looking for holiday cheer. But hell if we weren’t going to fill her with some.
The More the Merrier is a dark, standalone novella with a HFN. Please heed the trigger warnings at the beginning of the book.
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Used availability for Sybil Knight's The More the Merrier