“Sweetheart, I know exactly how to handle you.”
Those eight little words whispered in my ear by my boss were my undoing.
And what we did after he said them, most definitely landed me on Santa’s naughty list.
If there’s one man who can suck all the joy out of Christmas—it’s my boss, Damon Wells.
I should have known when fifteen minutes into our first interview, he told me that nothing about me stood out from the fifty other applicants.
Yet somehow, I’m sitting shotgun in his fancy sports car on the way to my family’s house for the week.
You’d think he’d show a little mercy this holiday season after my day from hell.
Car towed? Check.
Spilled coffee on my white blouse? Check.
Soaked in Chicago slush by a cab? Triple Check.
Instead, he threatens to fire me.
