More Christmas stories by Serenity Woods
Q. What could be better than getting a billionaire for Christmas?
A. Getting THREE billionaires for Christmas!
Three Wise Men – three Christmas billionaire romances. Which one will you get in your stocking?
Book 1 – The Perfect Gift – buy from Amazon
Excerpt:
To Brock’s surprise, Erin shifted in the tub, moving next to him on the seat so their arms touched. The water came to halfway up her chest, and in spite of the bubbles he could clearly see the curve of her breasts in the red bikini top. He swallowed and tried to focus on her face. It wasn’t difficult—her soft mouth promised enough delights to hold his attention.
“The nice thing about being a grown up,” she said, “is not having to beat around the bush. We’re old enough that we can be frank, aren’t we? It’s been a long time since I dated, but I’d make it quite clear if I wasn’t interested in you. I wouldn’t have come away with you at all if I didn’t have a little hope that dinner and a walk on the beach might develop into something more. But obviously you’ve been grieving for a long time. I know you feel reluctant about moving on, and of course I don’t want to force you to do anything you’re going to regret later on.”
She moistened her lips, her gaze dropping to his mouth. She was thinking about kissing him. He almost groaned out loud. There was no way his erection was going away anytime soon.
She continued, “So if we have a drink and that’s… um… all you want to do, that’s okay, I mean, I understand if you’d rather…” Her voice trailed off as she looked into his eyes.
“Erin,” he said slowly, as if he was talking to a child, “I’m sitting in a hot tub with a hard-on I could use as a battering ram to break down a medieval castle if I wanted. You really think I’m not interested?”
She tried not to laugh. “Well you are a guy, and I know sometimes your brain—or rather your body—and your heart want different things.”
“My heart knows perfectly well what it wants,” he said, only realizing as he said it that it was the truth. “It wants you, honey, there’s no two ways about it. You’re right in that I haven’t been with anyone since Fleur died, and it feels odd to be moving on again, but there’s no question in my mind that I’m ready. I want you. I want to kiss you, I want to strip that gorgeous scrap of material off you, and I want to make love to you. And if that’s not what you want, you ought to make it clear right now, because in five seconds I’m going to kiss you, and once I start, I’m pretty sure we’re not going to be able to stop.”
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Book 1: Treat with Caution – buy from Amazon
Book 2: Treat her Right – buy from Amazon
Book 3: A Rare Treat – buy from Amazon
Book 4: Trick or Treat – buy from Amazon
Book 5: A Festive Treat – buy from Amazon
Book 5.5: No Way to Treat a Lady (Taster) – buy from Amazon
Book 6: A Secret Between Friends – buy from Amazon
Book 6.5: A Taste of Things to Come (Taster) – buy from Amazon
Book 7: An Ocean Between Us – buy from Amazon
You can also buy Treats 1 – 5 (The Treats Quintet) in a bundle!
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About the Author
Official Bio
Serenity Woods lives in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand with her wonderful husband and gorgeous teenage son. She writes hot and sultry contemporary romances with a happy ever after, and is a member of the Romance Writers of New Zealand. She would much rather immerse herself in reading or writing romance than do the dusting and ironing, which is why it’s not a great idea to pop round if you have any allergies.
Unofficial Chat
Thank you so much for buying and reading this book. I so hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it! The beautiful Northland of New Zealand takes some beating as a setting for a romance, which is why a good proportion of my novels are set up here. Sexy stories fit so well with a hot and steamy climate! You can check out all my books at your favorite retailer, or on my website below. If you’re interested, I also write epic fantasy as Freya Robertson, and the first in The Elemental Wars series, Heartwood, won the 2014 Sir Julius Vogel Award for Best Novel. You can check out more about Freya on Serenity’s website here.
Website: http://www.serenitywoodsromance.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/serenitywoodsromance
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Serenity_Woods
Christmas with the Boss
By
Annie Seaton
Copyright © October 2015
Annie Seaton
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead or actual events is coincidental.
This book is an extended version of the short story Gone Surfin’ originally published in 2014.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my whole family.
Christmas is for family time!
Acknowledgments
A special thank you to my wonderful editor and dear friend, Susanne Bellamy.
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Chapter One
Christmas Eve
Jilly Henderson joined the end of the queue at the only service station in the quiet little beachside town of Sandy Heads. She folded her arms and settled in for a long wait; it was Christmas Eve and it appeared everyone was stocking up on their last minute snacks before the shops shut for Christmas Day. Glancing down, she smiled as a pair of large, tanned, sandy, and bare feet in front caught her attention. She straightened and lifted her eyes a fraction, enjoying the sight of tightly muscled calves above those bare feet. Tilting her chin higher, her leisurely perusal continued up tanned skin lightly brushed with blond hair, up to firm thighs that disappeared into a pair of board shorts moulding one of the most perfect male butts she had ever seen. Down south, her feminine bits that had been dormant for way too long gave a little jiggle.
“Always check out the size of their feet, girls. Big feet, big—”
“Sharyn!” The giggles that had gone around the office were in contrast to the corporate black suits and classy chignons of the executive assistants on the tenth floor of the bank building in George Street. Between the bouts of frantic activity that happened on the trading floor twenty four hours a day, Jilly spent most of her work day shaking her head at Shaz’s antics and advice. Shaz always managed to come up with a dry comment to break the tense atmosphere of trading. The one about checking out the size of a guy’s feet before accepting a date had the girls howling with laughter. Until the boss had lifted his head and frowned through the glass wall of his office.
Now Jilly stared down at the feet of the guy in front of her. Not that he’d be interested in her, but this guy had big feet. She let out a soft sigh; the pretty young things chattering away in front of him were keeping his attention to the front of the queue.
She hadn’t been on a date for over a year, so she hadn’t had a chance to put Sharyn’s test into practice. And the quivers below were few and far between these days, so that little tremble low in her belly had put a happy smile on her face. Memories were nice.
Jilly needed no one; she was here at the beach to have a total break. Five days of bliss, alone, no work and no one to bother her.
Mr Big Feet took a step forward as the queue moved and Jilly shuffled along closer to the counter. Her gaze lingered on that tight butt, clad in snug fitting board shorts, before she lifted her eye
s to feast on a golden tanned back. No harm in looking.
Oh, my. Broad shoulders lightly dappled with freckles with a sprinkling of sand stuck to the smooth skin. Small grains were embedded in the sexy hollow at the top of his shoulder. Jilly literally had to curl her fingers to stop herself from reaching up and brushing it away. Maybe the surf god wouldn’t be impressed if a tired and stressed looking woman with dark circles beneath her eyes ran her fingers over that glorious back. To distract herself, she turned away and looked out at the cars, trying to pick which one was his.
Of course. A beat up 1970s Kombi van with two surfboards secured to the roof racks was at the front of the line. Jilly nodded to herself; that would be the surfer boy’s car. Another step forward in the queue and she turned her gaze back to him.
His curly brown hair was sun-bleached on top, and the thick, springy curls just brushed his collar. Even his neck was strong and tanned.
She fanned herself as her wicked imagination kicked into overdrive, and tilted her face up toward the frigid air blowing from the vents in the high ceiling. Even though artificial, the air was blessedly cool. A welcome relief after the strong smell of diesel that had pervaded the hot petrol bay as she’d filled her car. It was just on dark, but Jilly was sure the mercury was still registering over thirty degrees outside.
And her internal temperature was sizzling as the erotic fantasy filled her mind. What a sad life she must lead to be fantasising in a service station! This short holiday was way overdue.
It had been a long, long drive. The sooner she found the beach cottage and fell into bed the better. Exhaling with a tired sigh, she shuffled forward another step as the queue moved fractionally.
“No, the party’s at the surf club tonight.” Jilly tilted her head to the side, looking past Mr Surfer Boy’s broad shoulders. The cashier behind the high counter chatted to the customer at the head of the queue. Mary—Jilly could just see her name tag— reached for the milk that the customer had placed on the counter. The register beeped as she scanned the plastic container.
“Tonight? I thought the party at the surf club was on New Year’s Eve?” The pretty young girl in a red sarong pushed her hair back from her face as she lifted the rest of her groceries onto the counter. Her voice rose shrilly.
Mary chewed gum as she shook her head; no rush here. The dozen or so customers in the queue ahead of Jilly almost let out a collective sigh as they jiggled their feet, tapped their hands and looked at their watches. Even the surf god’s shoulders tensed a little, sending another pleasant little ripple through her belly.
Country service. But Jilly liked it; people-watching was fun, even if she was tired. In Sydney, you were lucky to get a hello at any store. Now Mary, the slow-moving cashier, leaned on one elbow and imparted the correct information about this party to anyone who was interested. “No, it’s tonight. Starts in a couple of hours.”
“Really?”The girl in the red sarong leaned forward. “Are you sure?’
“Yes, it’s at the surf club tonight. The New Year’s Eve party is at the pub on the river.”
“Well, I’m not missing either of them. Have you seen the talent in town this week?” Jilly resisted a nod as the ‘talent’ in front of her stretched to his toes and the muscles in his calves flexed.
“All the local surfers are home for Christmas and the party will be hot!” The young girl pushed her hair back from her face as she turned apologetically to the person in the queue behind her. “Sorry, just have to grab some party supplies. Won’t take a minute.” She flicked a glance back to the cashier and her mouth split into a grin. “Just as well I’ve already been to the bottle shop.”
“Got your priorities right there, love.” Mary, the cashier’s, voice held a tinge of sarcasm.
Jilly watched as the girl headed for the fridges lining the back wall. The next customer in line stepped up to the other register but Mary waved him away.
“Sorry, love. The other cashier is on a tea break. You’ll have to wait.” She flicked open a magazine on the counter and began to read, ignoring the cross mutterings of the waiting customers.
Jilly closed her mouth as another yawn threatened. What was one more delay? Her day had been fraught with them since she’d hit that first red traffic light in Manly this morning. Anyone would think she was having a bad luck day. Black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, shoes on tables—her dad had been a sucker for superstitions and Jilly knew them all. She swallowed as she pushed that thought away; her grief was on hold until she was ready to deal with it.
The entire trip up the coast from Sydney had been a nightmare from start to finish. Heavy traffic had choked the M1 as what had seemed like the entire population of the city, headed for the beaches of the north for the annual break between Christmas Eve and the New Year. Dad had always told her not to leave Sydney on Christmas Eve but Jilly had been so keen to get away from the city after the funeral, she’d decided to put up with the traffic.
But it had turned into a ten hour trip, instead of the five it should have taken. Despite the six lane freeway, a broken down truck near the Gosford interchange had added two hours to her trip. Finally, after crawling through slow bumper to bumper traffic, she’d called into a small town just south of her destination to stock up on groceries for her eight day break. Once she got to the beach cottage she had no intention of getting back in her car until she left after the New Year.
Keen to travel the last short leg of the trip, she’d hurried out to her small sedan with her few grocery bags, and groaned. An old, battered utility had her car parked in. She sat on the grass verge in the hot sun, fuming for half an hour until an elderly couple pushed their laden trolley across the car park. The words that she’d had ready to blast the car’s owner died away as she watched the old man hold his wife’s hand and place her carefully in the front seat, before he slowly unpacked the trolley into the back of the ute. Jilly couldn’t help herself. She pushed herself to her feet and helped him unload.
“Thank you, my dear.” He went around to the front of the car and came back with a small parcel and pressed it into her hands. “Merry Christmas. One of Ethel’s plum puddings for you.”
Tears welled into her eyes and she ran the back of her hand over her face; emotion had clogged her throat for the whole trip but she wasn’t going to give in. “Merry Christmas to you and your wife too.”
He drove away sedately; still oblivious that he had blocked in Jilly’s car. With a sigh, she’d pulled out and hit the highway again.
Smothering a yawn with the back of her hand, she rocked on her feet as she waited and looked over to the brightly coloured products on the shelves along the wall. Everything to tempt the sweet tooth she tried her best not to indulge.
Bad move. On the back seat of her car were three bags filled with salad makings, and fruit. Sharyn and Elise, the perpetual dieters at work had taught her good habits; there was no Christmas cheer for her apart from Ethel’s plum pudding. Jilly smiled as she stepped away from the queue. She was at the rear, so if she was quick she wouldn’t lose her place.
Picking up a basket she headed to the fridge and opened the door. A minute later her basket was filled with a carton of custard to go with the plum pudding, five small bottles of strawberry-flavoured milk—full cream, so there, skinny minnies at work—two family size chocolate bars and two trashy magazines. Jilly stepped between the shelves, and threw in two bags of potato chips for good measure on her way back to the queue. No one had joined it and she got to stand behind the surf god again.
The girl in the sarong was still loading her basket. Not in a hurry, that one. It was Christmas; Jilly had to dig deep to find some Christmas spirit. Finally, the girl came back to the counter, paid for her party goodies and the queue began to move. There were now only seven customers ahead of Jilly and she covered another yawn with one hand.
A second cashier appeared behind the counter and the queue moved forward quickly. Jilly reached down to pick up her basket as surfer boy reached the head of
the queue and paid for his fuel. Bending down, she reached for her basket as he turned to pass her. She glanced his way as she straightened. Did the face match the perfect body?
Oh. My. God.
Jilly froze and forced her open mouth to close. If you could freeze when prickles of heat scorched your skin.
“Miss Henderson.” Her boss, the senior group executive and chair of the Executive Committee of the SBA bank stopped walking and flashed a smile at her. Perfect white teeth, the same sexy grin that she’d admired every day for the past six months. She’d tried to ignore her good looking boss since he’d arrived at the bank mid-year. But now, the impeccable business suit had been replaced with a bare chest and those low slung board shorts, and the fantasy of the last ten minutes left her gasping for composure. Her mouth dried as she stared at the V of dark blond hair that disappeared into his shorts below his navel. The muscles on his front were as ripped as the rest of him. Who could ever have known what that business suit hid?
“Mr Smythe-Phillips,” she finally managed to croak out.
“Feeling peckish, are you, Miss Henderson?”
“What?” Jilly lifted her eyes from his bare stomach to meet a pair of eyes crinkled with laughter.
Sprung. How bloody embarrassing. His grin widened as he pointed to her plastic basket.
Thank God. He was talking about the food. Jilly swallowed and forced the huskiness from her voice. “Ah yes, um…er…um…some holiday supplies.” She stuttered and stumbled over her words like a teenage girl with a crush.
Thank God, he hadn’t noticed her when she’d been salivating over him in the queue. There was no way she could have sustained a conversation with him for any length of time with him half-naked in front of her; she would have died of embarrassment. It was bad enough to be caught out in a pair of skimpy shorts, and a tight fitting T-shirt. At least he was on his way out and she didn’t have to make social conversation.
Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances Page 26