by Logan Chance
A Very Merry Alpha Christmas
Logan Chance
Copyright © 2019 by Logan Chance
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.
Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous
Coco Chanel
Contents
Introduction
EVEREST
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
GRAHAM
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
GRAHAM BONUS
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
NORTH
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Epilogue
Cold Hearted Bastard Sneak Peek
Fake It Baby One More Time
Cold Hearted Baller Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Logan Chance
Also by Logan Chance
Thank you
Introduction
A Very Merry Alpha Christmas
(A Holiday Romance Collection)
Is there anything hotter than getting your very own alpha under the Christmas tree? How about three filthy alphas instead?
This is a fun and steamy holiday collection filled with not one, but three sexy alphas just for you.
NORTH:
North Caspian, a very successful alpha boss and his lively employee, Holly Winterbourne, will heat up your holiday and kindles. North owns a store for the celebrity babies of Hollywood. When Holly accepts a job there, she is immediately intrigued by her Scrooge of a boss. THIS BOOK IS FUN. (No celebrities were harmed in the making of this book)
EVEREST:
Ginger Darling hates her boss. Meredith Taylor is a mean, overbearing tyrant controlling Ginger's holiday plans in the palm of her greedy hands. Ginger decides her boss needs to get laid, and the stranger she met in the elevator earlier this morning is the perfect choice to stuff Meredith’s stockings. He was handsome enough. Not that she noticed.
Everest Snow has a secret, and a mission. He won't let some redhead angel ruin his plans. Date her boss? Gladly, it only helps him achieve his goal...but why can't he get his little matchmaker out of his head? And why is he going along with her ridiculous ideas instead of making a move on her under the mistletoe? Everest and Ginger will liven up your holiday. Get ready.
GRAHAM:
Graham Steele is the owner of the Mountain Goat Resort and Zoe would love nothing more than to get her handmade soaps in every room. "It was only supposed to be one night of bliss before my big meeting. But, I never expected to run into my one-night stand the next morning as I pitched my proposal. And I never expected his counter proposal...a fake engagement."
(Graham is a Holiday Novella previously published in 2018 and will include new bonus material.)
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EVEREST
Ginger Darling hates her boss. Meredith Taylor is a mean, overbearing tyrant controlling Ginger's holiday plans in the palm of her greedy hands. Ginger decides her boss needs to get laid, and the stranger she met in the elevator earlier this morning is the perfect choice to stuff Meredith’s stockings. He was handsome enough. Not that she noticed.
Everest Snow has a secret, and a mission. He won't let some redhead angel ruin his plans. Date her boss? Gladly, it only helps him achieve his goal...but why can't he get his little matchmaker out of his head? And why is he going along with her ridiculous ideas instead of making a move on her under the mistletoe? Everest and Ginger will liven up your holiday. Get ready.
One
Ginger
Ah, Christmas. The time of year that warms your heart. Makes you sing sweet songs of joy and peace, and browse online for the perfect gift. Something that truly speaks of a person near and dear to you. Well, in most cases. In my case, it would be shopping for something that speaks to how big of a bitch my boss is. And not a cool bitch in the way that most women aspire to be a bad-ass boss bitch. No. I’m talking epic she-devil type of bitch. Wanna throat-punch a bitch type of bitch. But, that will never happen, because she is also a mob boss. Allow me to clarify. She owns one of the most successful cosmetic companies in the country. Same difference.
“Miss Pennywise Wannabe is honestly making you work late on your birthday, G?” my friend, Bianca, asks, even though she should already know the answer to that question.
When do I not work late? I’m practically living at my place of employment these days.
I blow out an exasperated breath. “It’s fine, really,” I lie. “I can celebrate my birthday tomorrow. Or you know...never. Keeps me younger this way. Gotta look at the bright side, Bianca, I guess.”
Bianca huffs into the phone, rather loudly. “Do not tell me the twenty or so people I have here waiting to surprise you when you get off work to help ring in your twenty-second birthday is all a figment of my imagination.”
“Bianca, I don’t know what to say. I mean, maybe I can skip out…” I can’t even finish my words before Meredith Taylor, the queen bee of her beauty company, Guru Girl, pages me on the intercom.
She’s one of those mediocre social media influencers turned pro, now prominently legitimized on Forbes richest under thirty list and everything.
It’s inspiring to a girl like me. We’re close in age, and I have dreamed of launching my own line since I was a kid fooling around with my mom’s Covergirl lipsticks.
I have a decent following of people I teach makeup tutorials to online, for my channel Red Hot Beauty Looks, but who doesn't these days? It’s like everyone is practically a model or a guru of some sort, when really the bulk of us are just dreamers working nine-to-fives we despise. Like me. Like right now. But, I want to do something special to separate myself from the crowd. Working for Meredith gives me a little bit of clout. And I try to keep my eyes open to everything she teaches me, even the little things. So, yeah, my days are long, sometimes never ending, and I have to cancel plans with
my friends regularly and I have no real social life. Let’s not even discuss romance. That is DOA. I haven’t had sex with anything bearing a pulse in months. Thank goodness for vibrators and Magic Mike being streamed on Netflix. At least there’s that small blessing.
The trade is worth all the sacrifice. You get nowhere in life just sitting back and watching as a spectator. You have to be down in the field getting your knees dirty if you want to win the game. And damn it, I want to grab life by its muddy balls.
Unfortunately, working here at a beauty company isn't all about glam. I also have to put up with a lot of mundane tasks, too, from my hellish boss. Like getting her coffee, booking her mani/pedi appointments, and sometimes giving her hair a blow-out. I actually don’t mind she asks me to do that, to be honest. It’s one of the closest things she asks me to do for the industry I love. And it also makes me feel like perhaps she views me as someone who isn’t a horrible flop of fashion.
I mean, you wouldn’t ask someone to style your hair for important meetings and networking parties if you didn’t think they looked good, right?
But, there are things about me she’s not impressed with, including my coffee fetching skills, phone answering skills, and overall office duties. I’m honestly surprised I have this job at all. It was a longshot to even get an interview, but for some reason, I’m here.
Maybe she sees potential in me. And that is my hope which keeps me coming back day in and day out, putting up with such a tyrant.
The only thing bothering me about working today is the fact there’s a beauty guru, Trinity Sykes, who’s launching a new mystery product for her Holy Trinity company and I want to buy it so badly. I’m a huge raging fan girl of Trinity. But, there’s absolutely zero way I can buy it from work. And the hype and demand for her products are so great that you have to basically refresh her web page every thirty seconds until launch to even stand a chance at buying something.
I don’t dare log onto Trinity’s website from Guru Girl’s computers. And I double don’t dare even looking it up on my phone.
Trinity Sykes is Meredith’s biggest competition. I’d be slaughtered for showing her support. They've been at war for two years, though no one really knows why. Meredith chalks it up to jealousy, but others whisper about a cheating scandal.
Who really knows.
Not my circus, not my monkeys. Ya know?
Suddenly, a familiar sound fills the quiet space of our offices and I know exactly what it is. Despite rumors on page six of the Gossip Daily, it’s not a cat being skinned alive.
This sound happens about once every three months when a new product of Guru Girl is getting ready to launch. It’s the sound of Meredith going insane. Seriously. It also sounds like a cat being skinned alive, hence the speculation and random PETA undercover jobs. Nails on a chalkboard would sound perfectly angelic, like a harp being artfully strummed, compared to Meredith Taylor in a fit of rage. She's a fucking rusty fork screeching across a dinner plate. I’d trade that sound over her screaming through the office any day of the week.
“Bianca, I have to go,” I whisper into the phone before hanging up as Bianca tries to get in one last rebuttal on the 'whys' of how I need to be home right now.
After a small prayer to the cosmetic gods, I roll my chair back and take a deep breath. Why does twenty five steps toward her office feel like walking the plank?
Right before I reach the threshold of her doorway, painted hot pink, mind you, she screeches, “and you better have my Quad Grande, non-fat, extra hot caramel macchiato upside-down when your late little ass walks in here.”
Ugh. Her coffee. How did I forget? Oh, right. My bestie was guilt tripping me for not celebrating my own birthday. There’s no way in hell I’m walking in there without steamed caffeine perfection as a peace offering.
“Oohh I...spilled it, um, tripping over a...Versace model. They're all over the place today, thanks to the winter ads.” I need to learn to lie better. And faster. “I’ll be right back.” As fast as I can trot on four-inch heels, I move my ass to the hallway with two sets of elevator doors.
It’s a gamble, but the set of doors on the right hardly ever come down in less than two minutes of waiting. I jab the button on the left set of golden doors and bounce impatiently as time crawls. The building’s pretty busy today, thanks to the winter collections and last minute details everyone is working on for the new product line’s campaign. There’s also a crap load of security. There’s always a few guys undercover that you get used to seeing day in and day out when you spend as much time here as I do, but with the holiday rush there must be extra personnel on the books to ensure nothing gets fucked up.
Remember earlier when I said Meredith was a mob boss? Yeah. About that...the beauty community is kind of like the mafia. There’s this hierarchy. There’s these unspoken rules. And there’s an endless game of sabotage.
It’s survival of the fittest when big money is involved. And the beauty industry is a multi-billion dollar game. There’s going to be some serious foul-play. And there’s always some major drama to go along with it. Welcome to my life.
“Oh, come on. Move you stupid elevator.”
Is kicking the door a bit too much? I don’t feel bad about it. In fact, I’d like to Hulk Smash the door right now.
Why does this always happen to me? I swear, I need a refund in life for my bad luck. I have a list of things that hate me. Technology, money, and elevator doors.
But, I’m also not a huge fan of elevators back. So the feeling is mutual there. I just don’t like the feeling of being trapped in confined spaces, and I really don’t trust them. I mean, it’s basically a rope connected to an anvil. Whoever invented elevators was some kind of evil genius. It solved a problem, sure, but at what cost? I’ll tell you—my sanity.
When I was six, I was trapped inside of an elevator for two hours during an epic blackout in New York. While it made me have a greater appreciation for firefighters, it also manifested severe anxiety for riding inside of elevators.
My office in this building is eight floors up and in my apartment a few blocks north it’s ten. Unfortunately, it’s a necessary evil for living and working in the city.
“Oh, for the love of lipstick,” I groan. “Work you damn demonic thing.”
Someone behind me laughs. I don’t dare turn around because I might be willing to Hulk Smash them too. I am in a no mascara-smudging mood.
Instead, I chance creeping on my phone to see if Trinity Sykes’s mystery box has gone live yet.
Of course, it has.
And it’s already sold out.
I stab at the elevator button again.
“Calm down, Killer. It’s a busy day around here. You have to be patient,” a deep voice says from behind me. “You’re only going to break it.”
Don’t turn around, Ginger...
Don’t turn around, Ginger...
Don’t turn around, Ginger...
Don’t turn around, Ginger...
I turn around.
Holy dream touch blush, Ginger.
He’s not what I was expecting. Mainly, because I have to look up. Way up. The man is like a skyscraper. My eyes are level with his chest when I face him, planted right in the center of his charcoal grey tie. It’s a long, painfully slow haul all the way up to his eyes. I gulp once I reach his top floor. The man's eyes are like brilliant gems in his sockets. All twinkling and marvelous. A celestial canvas of emerald stars. I’m a bit lost as I stare at him, unabashedly gawking, until he cracks a playful grin.
That too, folks, is equally as marvelous.
His teeth are as white as the Milky Way and bone straight. Full pout too pretty for a man but perfect for him. His neck is thick and has those muscular handles across his shoulders that turn even the smartest of women into inept drooling zombies, but instead of craving to eat brains, I really just want to wrap my lips around his dick.
There.
I said it.
Even though it's so out of line.
/> He's a stranger...beautiful, but still.
I feel myself quaking. And that is just not normal. But neither is this mystery man. He is otherworldly. A beautiful alien waiting for a ride.
From the elevator.
I need to calm down.
Or lie down.
With him.
He can invade my Area 51 anytime.
Stop it.
I clear my throat and scrape a little bravery together.
“It’s already broken, sir, in case you can’t tell by the fact that it isn’t coming down.” I tap my painted blood-red nail to the button as proof.
He grins wider. “So why did you press it so many times, Killer?”
“I...” My brows knit together as I try to trudge up a lie. And fail miserably. “Look,” I sigh, “I’m just trying to get out of here. I have enough on my plate without dealing with this too. So, please, don’t harass me when I’m already up to my eyeballs—that are not as spectacular as yours, mind you—with drama and trouble. Thanks and Merry Christmas.”