My Favorite Grump

By Beth Michele

A Grumpy Sunshine Romance...

 

I can't decide what I want to do with her. But for starters, I'd like to kiss that scowl right off of her face.

 

Aiden

I'm a sucker for a pretty face, and I've never been known to back down.

So what if she's a little grumpy?

But what is it about her that draws me in? It's certainly not her sunshiny smile or her cheerful disposition.

Whatever it is, I won't stop until I get what I want.

And I always get what I want.
_____

Charity

What is it with this guy? Is he following me?

And what's with that smile?

And those abs...

Not that I noticed them. Because I couldn't care less.

Really...I couldn't.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Michele
• Release date: Feb 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215771105

Beth Michele

Beth Michele is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of M/F and M/M Contemporary Romance who writes sweet, funny, and sexy stories with heart and snark. She is a lover of the written word, and pens love stories about flawed characters who fight toward a much-earned HEA. She can often be spotted hiding out with her laptop or ereader somewhere quiet, preferably on a bench overlooking the ocean. Beth is a mom to two incredible teenagers, who, when they were born, stole a chunk of her heart and refused to give it back. Come Find Me! Website: http://www.bethmichele.com Instagram http://www.instagram/bethmicheleauthor Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bethmicheleauthor/ Subscribe to my newsletter: http://bethmichele.com/1/subscribe/

Book preview

Charity

I fucking hate the holidays.

Spread good cheer, they say. Who says that, anyway? I call bullshit.

If you’re going to spread good cheer, how about spreading it every day of the year. Because if you’re going to be nice, you should be nice all the time. Not just when cupid shoots you with an arrow and gives you heart eyes like Bugs Bunny.

This fucking sucks, I grumble, plowing through the crowd at the mall. Everywhere I look, stores are vomiting hearts and it’s nauseating as hell.

Charity Weston. My sister Hope places both hands over my five-year-old niece’s ears. Language, please.

Oops.

I’m not really sorry, though. The holidays bring out the worst in me and I’m helpless to stop it. Gee, I wonder why that is. Could it be that our dad left us on Christmas morning when I was twelve? For a stripper named Candy? Nah, that probably has nothing to do with it.

I mean, come on, Dad. Could you get any more cliché?

Did you watch Scrooge over Christmas again? Hope grins. Scratch that, he transforms at the end. See, there’s still hope for you yet. She elbows me with a snort. "Get it, Hope."

I get it all right. I accept that I have a corny sister.

She links her arm through mine. Might as well put my name to good use.

Don’t get me started, I say, acid dripping from my tone. Why did our mother, and the man who shall remained unnamed, decide to gift us with a childhood full of excessive teasing? They couldn’t have come up with something better than Charity and Hope? How about something normal like Lisa and Tracy?

She holds her head high while mine always seems to droop. I like my name.

Of course you do. I wave my hand in a circle. Because you’re joyous like the rest of these alien beings.

Mommy! Bella calls out. Candy, candy.

Hope and I pause in front of the sweet shop and stare at each other. She shrugs, grabbing hold of tiny shoulders and ushering Bella inside. She’s a better person than I am. Somehow she’s managed to shrug off the bitterness and move on with her life. Whereas me, not so much. I wear mine like armor, protecting me from the big bad world.

A jolly pedestrian bumps into me and smiles an apology, a shopping bag overflowing with red-foiled gifts swinging from her arm. For a minute, I stand frozen as the world moves around me. I’m trying to summon a good memory to latch on to, but my mind’s a blank. I know they’re in there, but for some reason, everything pre-Dad leaving got wiped away by everything post-Dad.

Ti Ti, Bella yells from inside the store. Vawentine’s Sower Patchers. She holds up the bright yellow bag wearing a toothy smile. If there’s one thing I can’t resist in this world, it’s my niece. She lures me in with her cute pudgy cheeks and my favorite, swallow hard, candy. Buy, Ti Ti, buy. Her tiny hand holds the bag up and I pluck it from her fingers.

Thanks, Niblet. I tug on one of her braids. How ‘bout I buy you one of those giant heart lollipops? The ones that are bigger than your head?

Ohhhh. She tugs on Hope’s skirt. Can she, Mommy? Can she?

My sister sighs. No one can resist big brown eyes and the skirt tug. I guess so.

Yay! Big lolly! She jumps up and down, giggling.

Man, what I wouldn’t give to go back in time when laughter and smiles were all I knew—and candy didn’t have a double meaning.

Aiden

I must have the word sucker stamped across my forehead.

It’s the only reason why I’m entertaining this harebrained idea my sister cooked up. The more logical explanation would be that I’m the oldest of three siblings, and the word yes rolled off my tongue so often that the word no seemed to disappear from my vocabulary altogether.

Pretty please, Genevieve pleads with her green eyes, the color a sparkling jade. She almost has me believing this is a good idea.

Almost.

So let me get this straight. I lean back against the kitchen counter. "In addition to organizing my niece’s Valentine’s party, and helping Mom wrap all the gifts like I do every year, you want me to do this."

Correct. She pushes forward with her case before I have a chance to protest. Besides, you love the holidays. Remember when we were kids? You were always the first one awake, running downstairs to see if Santa came, the Valentine’s Day fairy came, the—

All right. All right. She has a point. I’ve always been enamored with the holidays. Perhaps because growing up, they were a big deal in our house; parties, a giant tree glittering with white lights, family and friends surrounding our table. Genevieve has the advantage here. This is my favorite time of year and she knows it.

It’ll be so fun. And if you do this for me, I’ll make sure you have your own personal bottle of that Martinelli’s sparkling apple cider that you love at Mom’s party.

I fight back a grin. Try again. You can do better than that, sis.

She taps a finger against her lips. Yankees tickets? Box seats next summer?

Next summer? Talk about delayed gratification. I smile. But no, I already have connections there.

Genevieve chews on the corner of her lip, racking that devious brain of hers. Finally, her eyes light up. I’ve got it. How about the simple fact that you love your sister and you’d do anything to make her happy.

A chuckle slips out. Debatable.

Hey! She smacks me on the arm.

Ow.

There’s more where that came from, bucko, but you can reduce your suffering if you just say yes.

I grab a chip from the bowl and shove it into my mouth. I still haven’t heard what’s in it for me.

A mischievous smile spreads across her face. My undying gratitude.

Another chip makes it past my lips before I respond. Sorry, that just isn’t doing it for me.

She half-laughs, half-scowls. You’re making me work really hard for this, you know.

It’s about time you worked hard for something. Her mouth opens in a giant O and I get smacked again. I like razzing her about the fact that she married her high school sweetheart who also happens to be a self-made millionaire. The sole reason she spends her time volunteering and not at a full-time job. Apart from that, siblings and teasing are synonymous. Come on Gen, I’m kidding.

I know. She snatches a chip from my hand. You’re pretty transparent.

You know, if you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not working.

Her high-pitched snort makes me laugh. You are funny, I’ll give you that.

At that moment, my niece Clara barrels into the kitchen and latches onto my legs, staring up at me with round, sky blue eyes.

Hey there, Doodlebug.

Unca Aiden, Unca Aiden. Mommy said you’re giving kisses for the Valentine’s Day thingy!

My gaze flicks to Genevieve. "Did she now?"

Yup, she says with a crooked grin