Nicole Heart

Someone stole Santa’s suit!

Can two toy store elves solve the crime?

Better yet, can they do it without falling for each other?

Avery has had enough of Alfredo’s complaining. She wears her elf costume with pride. He scoffs

Someone stole Santa’s suit!

Can two toy store elves solve the crime?

Better yet, can they do it without falling for each other?

Avery has had enough of Alfredo’s complaining. She wears her elf costume with pride. He scoffs every time they have to sing and dance.

When Santa’s suit goes missing, Avery thinks this might be her chance to get rid of Alfredo once and for all. If she can prove he's the thief, his dad--the store owner--will have to fire him.

It's the perfect plan until mysterious texts pour in, leading them on an adventure to win back Santa's suit and save Christmas.

★This standalone story is perfect for fans of broody quarterbacks, enemies to lovers romances, and cozy mysteries.★

ARC signup: https://booksprout.co/arc/82275/the-spunky-girl-her-popular-player
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59804420-the-snarky-girl-her-popular-player
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-spunky-girl-her-popular-player-by-nicole-heart

I’m so glad to be out of the house. I love my little twin brothers, Jimmy and Joey, but they’re a nuisance during the holidays because Mom loads our kitchen cabinets with sweets. I can’t blame them for being hopped up on sugar, but I’d be stupid to stay home to help my parents control them.

I’d much rather be here. Jollyland, the mall department store I work in, is far enough from Mountain Ridge that my brothers won’t be able to give me a headache. That’s not to say working at a toy store—especially one the size of an old Toys-R-Us—is a cakewalk. While rotating duties makes the time fly, it also means I have to do tasks I’m not fond of. Take now, for instance. I’m standing on a ladder, praying it doesn’t fall, as I restock the Legos aisle. Compounding my fear is the worry that someone will look up my elf skirt and get a nice view of my candy cane striped butt. Or worse, I’ll drop a box on one of the munchkins running around. Munchkins being a figurative term, except for a few months back when our theme was The Wizard of Oz.

This month, it’s Elf. We went overboard with decorations. I still have cuts from making the paper snowflakes that hang from the ceiling throughout the store.

I huff and let my arms rest from stretching. I’m still ticked that Alfredo, my fellow performance elf, sat around in the breakroom going on about how he isn’t the arts and crafts type. I finally had to scowl at him and say to suck it up if he didn’t want everyone to assume he only got this job because his dad is the owner. Leave it to him to agree that he benefited from nepotism. I despise him. He should have to work hard like the rest of us for good things to happen to him.

Part of me blames the citizens of Mountain Ridge for conditioning him to believe his mere existence is cause for celebration and that everyone should dote on him and give him opportunities he doesn’t deserve. The only accomplishment I’ve seen him earn is his quarterback position. When I watch him play, I can’t deny his talent. He used to beguile me. Popular shy guy with good looks and an air of mystery about him. I assumed he saw life in a way I couldn’t.

Turns out, he’s just a lucky jock without anything positive to say, and that angers me.

I wanted to work here so bad when I turned sixteen, but my audition wasn’t good enough to get the coveted position. My best friend, Lila, consoled me for weeks before kicking my butt and demanding I practice singing and dancing so I’d be ready for my next shot.

Unlike other toy stores, Jollyland has a stage and enough fold-out chairs in front of it to seat fifty customers. People from all over the region bring their children just to watch us perform. The toys are almost second fiddle depending on the month’s theme. Singers and actors have been discovered within these very popcorn-scented walls. My stomach flutters just thinking of the possibility. Working here could be my one-way ticket to stardom, or at least Broadway. And I think I’d prefer acting on a stage over a set anyway. There’s something special about knowing an audience is watching. There are no second takes. You have to bring everything you’ve got to the performance and leave it on the stage for others to judge.

That’s why I love this job. Performing here is practice for the real deal. Unfortunately, I sort of hate it right now because my co-star doesn’t take his role seriously. He lip syncs—LIP SYNCS—during a five-minute performance. Talk about laziness.

Joyous screams come from the end of the aisle, so I turn to see what they’re about. An older boy runs with a shopping cart his little sister is sitting in—coming right at me.

“Stop, you’re gonna—”

The buggy slams into the ladder before my hands can catch a grip. I fall backward, close my eyes, and brace myself for the inevitable crash of my body against the floor. Breath rushes from me as I’m stopped then sinking. The ladder? How did I fall on the ladder?

Alfredo yells at the kids, and buggy wheels squeal away. My head is tilted back, and air cools my forehead where there’s usually the rim of my felt elf hat. I open my eyes to see a rack before lifting my head.

“Alfredo?”

He’s looking at the spot the kids fled from, with a clenched jaw. Without thinking, I touch the strong edges. He peers down at me and takes a deep breath. His arms provide warmth and security while he holds me. I’ll have bruises from the impact, but it could’ve been worse, so much worse.

My hand is still on the chiseled masterpiece called his face, and my brown eyes are locked with his vibrant green ones. He’s so beautiful, if guys can be such a thing.

“Are you okay, Avery?”

His deep whisper soothes me.

I lower my hand to his chest. I’m much heavier than the footballs he’s used to catching. I may’ve injured his arms when they broke my fall. “You saved me.”

“Right place. Right time.” He swallows. “Mind if I put you down? You’re a little heavy.”

“Of course.” I move my other hand around his neck and pull myself up as he lowers me. Yep. Definitely going to be some bruises, on me at least. “How did you get to me so fast?”

An announcement comes over the intercom that the performance will start in five minutes. He points at the ceiling. “Bob told me to summon you for our torture session.”

Maybe endorphins released when he caught me because I find myself laughing and I never laugh when he complains.

“Thank you. I hope your injuries aren’t too bad.”

He frowns. “Injuries?”

“I feel like I’ll be covered in bruises soon. Are your arms okay?”

“I’m used to massive linebackers tackling me and my forearms taking the weight of my fall. I’ll be fine.”

“Thanks anyway. I doubt I’d only have bruises if you weren’t here to catch me.”

“I’d say anytime, but I’d rather not make a habit of saving you.”

I roll my eyes and retrieve my hat from the glossy floor. “Let’s go before Bob comes for us himself.”

*Extended excerpt on my website.