Christmas sucks. Christmas as a newly divorced woman in her 40s sucks even more. The pitying looks are too much to handle. So, I do the only sensible thing. I run to the other side of the world to spend it by myself. Except the universe has other ideas. It reroutes my plane so we land miles from where I need to be. There's only one hire car left, so I have to share it with two incredibly hot men. It makes the storm close in, so I’m forced to stay at their cabin until it clears. And did I mention, one of my hosts, Chris Kringle, looks the spit of a sexy Santa? Are you having a laugh? I mean, a romance writer couldn’t even make this up. All we need is the one-bed trope and for him to offer to stuff my stocking. But being with them unlocks a desire I’ve kept secret. A desire to be sandwiched between two men who want each other as much as they want me. Maybe sharing Mr Kringle is the best gift I can give to finally live a little. What’s the harm in a little fun?