Page 61 of The Holiday Clause

Wren drew in a galvanizing breath, her pulse fluttering with nervous energy. “Logan kissed me.”

Jocelyn stilled and gaped at her, pastry nearly falling out of her mouth. “Logan Hawthorne?”

“What other Logan do you know?”

“Ho-ly shit. I knew he always had a thing for you! When? How did it happen? I want all the details!”

“It was behind the corner market. We were on a date.”

Jocelyn curled her lip in a look of disappointment. “Behind the corner market? Like where the dumpsters are?” She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “He could have done a little better than that.”

“It was cute. It was a scavenger hunt thing.”

Her friend snicked her tongue against her teeth. “Well, you didn’t mention that. That’s adorable.”

“I know!”

Jocelyn looked off in the distance as if picturing it, then moaned with appreciation. “If I had a shot at Logan Hawthorne I’d break him in one use.” She grinned wickedly. “How was the kiss?”

“Sweet. Gentle.”

“Ugh. I’m so sorry to hear that. Maybe he just needs a good spank?—”

“I also kissed Soren.”

“Wait! What?” She shoved the donuts away to focus, chocolate smearing her fingers. “This. Just. Got. Interesting. Spill! I want all the tea, you little hippie harlot!”

“We had a date... Last night.”

“Where?”

“Salt & Ember.”

She physically melted from the couch and onto the floor with dramatic flair. “Of course, he would take you there. That boy has such alpha energy. He’s the sort of guy a woman can run a few rounds with. Tell me about his kiss.”

“It was areallygood kiss.” Even now, Wren’s toes curled remembering the way he held her close, the taste of champagne on his lips. “Slow, but deliberate. Sort of forceful, but not in a rushed way.”

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Go on.” She pulled the donuts back to her lap as if holding popcorn for a movie.

Wren bit her lip, heat climbing her neck. “I haven’t even told you the biggest part yet.”

“Wait, there’s more? Oh, my God! Did you go to bed with him? Because if so, that calls for more than donuts.”

“No.” Her face burned as a nip of shame tightened her throat. She bit her lip and covered her face in embarrassment. “Greyson also kissed me.”

Silence.

Wren peeked through her fingers. Jocelyn just blinked at her, mouth hanging open. “Say something, Joce.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Then she snorted with disbelief. “Holy crap on a cracker, Wren. You’ve actually rendered me speechless. That’s never happened before. Three Hawthornes? Three!” She climbed back onto the couch to give this conversation the respect it deserved. “I guess my first question is... how?”

Over the next hour, Wren gave Jocelyn a full rundown of everything that had been happening in her life. Of course, Jocelyn wanted every inappropriate detail, but that was what made her a bestselling author of some of the hottest Viking smut to ever hit the page.

When Wren finished, Joce looked at her watch and whistled low. “Damn, it’s only ten-thirty. Ah, fuck it. Close enough. This calls for something stronger than caffeine. Oh! And I just got a new bottle of that peanut butter whiskey! Be right back.”

“If you’re hosting an event tonight, should you be drinking?”

“It adds to my charm,” she yelled as she rummaged through the shelf of bottles in the other room, glass clinking against glass. “Besides, I have an iron liver.”