HO HO HENNESSY
Fuck Mistletoe.
Screw Jingle Bells.
Ho-ho-ho can kiss my ass.
Who in the hell drinks mulled wine anyway?
Instead, reach for a damn shot of Hennessy to keep you warm this holiday season.
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Finding himself at The Last Riders’ clubhouse was the last place Hennessy planned to be during the holidays. He hated snow, hated wrapping gifts, and he preferred his Harley over a sleigh. He and the Grinch were more than best friends; they were brothers. And he had planned to ride out the holiday fa-la-la-ing his ass to Florida …
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… Until a curvy cutie had him sinking to the depths of playing a naughty game of Dirty Santa that he’d had no intention of playing.
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The rules were simple:
Guess who’s sending you the naughty but nice notes or you get a lump of coal in your stocking. If you got three lumps, then you were shit out of luck, because there would be no sex until after Christmas.
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The 12 days of Christmas have never quite been spent like this …
HO HO HENNESSY