Back Blame It on the Mistletoe Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  5. Forty-Two Days till Christmas
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-One
  27. Chapter Twenty-Two
  28. Chapter Twenty-Three
  29. Chapter Twenty-Four
  30. Chapter Twenty-Five
  31. Chapter Twenty-Six
  32. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  33. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  34. January 5
  35. Christmas Day Playlist for Christine P. Bacon
  36. Acknowledgments
  37. About the Author
  38. Back Cover

Me! Holly Judd?! Was here. In Ameeriicccuuuhhh! Mum was almost as excited as me about the whole thing, which is maybe why she forgot to alert me that I still had my “Wake Me Up When It’s Christmas” eye mask pushed up on my head. I only discovered it when I went through security and the officer asked, “Miss, is this your first time traveling alone?” in a worried voice. She then asked the purpose of my trip, and I told her all about the swap with Elle, and my snow globe, and wanting to see Central Park in the snow and a proper holiday parade like on TV. And she paused and replied, “So pleasure not business, then?”

How was I to know it was a choice of two?!

I waited for my bag to chug around the carousel—Mum’s suitcase was the same size as me. Half my packing was essentials (mainly Christmas jumpers, which DO NOT like being folded), and the other half was presents for Elle’s family.

Back in my room, I’d left something for Elle—tickets for the London Eye. Hopefully she’d like that. I checked her account again. Today was the day #FestiveFifteen had kicked off. Just over an hour ago, she’d posted from the plane at this very airport. How did she make a sheet mask look good?!

She must have just taken off. I waved up at the roof and mouthed, Byeeee, Elllleeeee. Then I realized everyone could see me.

Sleep deprivation was real, people.

I mumbled something about being British, grabbed my suitcase and dragged it toward the exit, passing TWO POLICEMEN EATING DUNKIN’ DONUTS.

They looked so perfect, they could be actors. I bet if Elle saw two police officers in Heathrow eating HobNobs, it really wouldn’t have the same effect. Cops, Holly. I wasn’t in the UK anymore. I waved at them. They did not wave back.

Still, first thing ticked off on my 127-point “Perfect Christmas Plan: Mission America” list, which took up the first few pages in my new notebook. I’d had the cover personalized to say “Holly’s Book of the Best Christmas Ever,” and it was probably my favorite thing I owned. I’d left a smaller list of UK stuff back home for Elle to help with her challenge. I hope she didn’t think it was silly.