Page 1 of Don't Fall For Your Grumpy Neighbor

Chapter 1

Felicity

This will be my first holiday without my fiancé, Karl by my side. That asshole stole three years of my life, and I’ve got nothing to show for it except a pile of debt and a bad case of the lonelies. Not that I’d have stayed with him to drown out the lonelies. No way. He left me at the altar, and I am not ok with that.

He told me he loved me. We were creating a life together. I wanted children. And I thought he did too.

I went through all the stages of a bad breakup, and sure, I cried for a few months but then my best friend, Emmie, told me I needed to get back out there.

Date.

I’m so not ready for that.

She, however, says I am.

Either way, I don’t plan on dating anyone anytime soon. My plan is to get through this holiday season as drunk as possible. I grab a bottle of wine, and sit at my dining room table, glancing outside.

My neighborhood is a quaint little subdivision with fun and laughter. Everyone gets along, and for the most part, I love my neighbors.

Except for him.

Shepherd Atwood.

The neighborhood grump. While everyone else enjoys the company of others in the neighborhood, Shepherd keeps to himself. Which I wouldn't mind so much if he were indeed a good neighbor, but he’s not.

Like right now.

Leaves from his yard blow into mine, piling up and creating twice the work for me to do. Why can’t he rake his leaves like everyone else in the neighborhood? I should just go over there and give him a piece of my mind.

My anger boils, and I breathe in deep. Yes, I’m going to go and tell Shepherd Atwood exactly where he needs to stick his rake.

Wait. Oh my god.

My lighted Christmas deer display is gone. I look down the street, wondering where on earth they’ve gone. They didn’t just run away.

It was a three-piece set. A father, a mother, and a little deerling. I even named them. Freddy, Freida, and Frou-frou.

My eyes scan my yard, and the only thing littering the lawn is the leaves from Shep’s yard. All of my Christmas decor is gone.

The lights.

The reindeer.

The Santa statue at the end of my driveway.

Missing.

What the heck?

That’s when I see it. A hoof sticking out of his trash container on the side of his house.

I leap to my feet. He threw my reindeer away.

Oh, this is not the day.

He can not throw away my decor on the very day I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’m going to go over there and yell at him.

I’m going to knock on his door and—Oh, I’m just so mad. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet. But it’ll be something to teach him a lesson.

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