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.
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 …
… 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.
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.
The 12 days of Christmas have never quite been spent like this …
HO HO HENNESSY