God grant me the strength to survive mistletoe and the barnacle of boardroom princesses… Holly f*cking McAdams.

My best friend’s little sister and pint-sized menace.

Thanks to her lost luggage, a surprise snowstorm, and a conveniently “full” hotel, she’s the little spoon for the night.

Her so-called “brilliant” plan to avoid accidental spooning?

A catastrophic failure, in case you were wondering.

There’s a code—a bro code I take very seriously—but some kind of mistletoe-fueled voodoo hijacked my better judgment.

Maybe it’s the possessed mistletoe playing matchmaker with a demonic flair.

Could be the manifestation panties I can’t get out of my head.

Or her cute little librarian glasses invite me to “her stacks” if you get my drift.

And you’ll never convince me that the thigh-high striped socks she wears to “keep warm” are anything less than a tactical maneuver designed to leave me putting a book over it—and I’m not a big reader.

Everything about her is a snake charmer’s symphony, conducting a full-scale assault on my co—er, anaconda.

When Nick asked me to give his baby sister a ride… did he really expect me to survive her thigh-high socks and my rapidly deteriorating self-control?