How to Cheat at Dirty Santa

By Amy Spector

Some things are worth risking the naughty list.

Jonah Newfeld is not someone men fall for at a glance. They have to get to know him first. So when he meets the perfect man, he knows he needs to play the long game.

Nathan Sharp is the newest guy on the customer service floor. He’s clever, kind, blessedly single, and volunteers weekends at a local animal shelter. Jonah wants to raise babies with him. But when Nathan’s sister starts trying to fix him up with her veterinarian, Jonah’s plan is put into jeopardy.

Jonah needs the perfect plan if he wants to win over the man of his dreams. But a terrible plan will have to do, and more than a little help from his friends. If Jonah can pull it off and manage to get the boy, it’ll be more than worth being put on Santa’s naughty list for good.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Dec 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781685500085

Amy Spector

Amy Spector grew up in the United States surviving on a steady diet of old horror movies, television reruns, and mystery novels.After years of blogging about comic books, vintage Gothic romance book cover illustrations, and a shameful amount about herself, she decided to try her hand at writing stories. She found it more than a little like talking about herself in third person, and that suited her just fine.She blames Universal for her love of horror, Edward Gorey for her love of British drama, and writing for awakening the romantic that was probably there all along.Amy lives in the Midwest with her husband and children, and her cats Poe, Goji and Nekō.

Book preview

How to Cheat at Dirty Santa

By Amy Spector

Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2021 Amy Spector

ISBN 9781685500085

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Cover Design: Amy Spector

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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For Aaron and the boys.

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How to Cheat at Dirty Santa

By Amy Spector

Chapter 1

Why don’t you just ask him out?

I ignored Reed, instead, focusing on the far wall with its pale gray paint and friendly, white-faced clock. The steady tick of its hands was the life-preserver that kept me afloat as the chaos of the customer service floor bobbed around me.

He might say yes.

Asking Nathan Sharp out on a date was not an option. I was not someone you fell for at a glance. I was the guy you had to get to know first. But that was okay because I had a plan.

If orchestrating bumping into Nathan was an art form, I was well on my way to becoming one of the great masters. The Claude Monet of stories the two of us would tell our children. Someday my current work—Your car in the shop? Want me to drop you home?—would hang in the Louvre. I just had to get the timing right.

At exactly 4:58 P.M. I dropped my headset, grabbed my satchel, and blew Reed a kiss because I knew he hated it. Wish me luck.

He rolled his eyes.

Instead of heading out front to the bank of elevators that would be crowded with departing co-workers in a matter of moments, I hurried to the back stairway where only the fitness nuts ever congregated. Reed and Lydia called them the Fitbit Brigade. I couldn’t even afford a new pair of glasses; I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of splurging on a watch that made a big deal about walking.

I pushed through the stairwell door just as the noise of shift-end anticipation roared to life.

In the snow-covered lot, someone had parked far too close to my car, and cursing, I was forced to climb through my