There are two things I’ve always hated about December: Yuletide and Carols.
Apparently, my besties are tired of my Scrooge-like behavior. Instead of commiserating with me at my annual nonChristmas, foreverSingle party, they’re forcing me to go on a luxury trip to the worst magical place on Earth—for two.
I’ve never been girlfriend material. Too much work, not enough good feelings. Now I have ten dates, ten shots to find a plus one. The one caveat? My friends pick the dates—even ex-boyfriends are not off limits.
Dealing with the past, stepping outside of my comfort zone, meeting strangers … What can go wrong? Everything. Or nothing. I can’t decide which is scarier. A long time ago, I vowed to only let my brain make the important decisions. What if my heart didn’t get the memo?
