Twelve Spirits of Christmas
I’m still working out the kinks in my new life. I mean really, who wouldn’t need some time to process after finding out they aren’t human? That’s right. I’m a Nunnehi, aka the Cherokee equivalent to a fairy. Oh yeah, and anytime I get a little hot and bothered, I turn into a firebird and incinerate the bed along with anything or anyone in a three-foot radius.
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“I love Christmas.” Bryson grinned as he moved his hand to the small of my back. Dimples formed from the corners of his mouth to his cheekbones, causing a woman in our aisle to swoon.
Full-blooded Native American, and ridiculously sexy, he received no shortage of female adoration.
As much as I wanted to grouse about the nightmare to come, the twinkle in his eye made me bite my tongue.
Of course, he loved Christmas. He was a morning person after all. Morning people had a certain outlook on life that night owls didn’t.